A Night at Vinikus

It was Saturday evening. We had no plans and with not much to do in Monteria, our options seemed limited. But that really wasn’t the case. You see, I have a theory, especially when traveling, and in a sense this theory has spilled over into my regular Vancouver life. The truth is that I don’t like making plans. I much prefer to go somewhere and leave the planning in the hands of fate or blind luck and go from there. It seems much more interesting to have a starting point with no specific goal or objective in mind. Roll with it, go with the flow...that sort of thing And so the starting point for this evening was Vinikus—a small little counter bar outside with loud music, smiley waiters, lime green décor and hard-on-your-ass metal chairs. We had just come from the internet café and I was in need of lemonade or at least some re-hydrating liquids to quench the thirst from the previous evening’s bender. We sat down to a wonderful fresh squeezed lemonade and began talking and just enjoying the cool that breeze that seems to come with evening. I knew something would transpire, it always does…and within 20 minutes, our English conversation got the attention of 2 English speaking Colombians, who came over and joined us. And that is when our evening began. I smiled at how quickly destiny dangled its fingers and plucked these individuals out and plunked them down beside us. Our conversation drifted to our being here, and why we actually chose to come to this place. Not many foreigners find themselves in this town, and I suppose most locals find it odd or at least intriguing. I suppose if I were to live in a small town in northern BC and met a Colombian, I would find it unusual that they chose that place over a city like Vancouver or Victoria. A discussion came about the differences between North Americans and Colombians, and I was asked to name 3 to compare the people. My response; Colombians are much more open, warm-hearted, and show their emotions readily. And so far, it is so true. Open in the sense that they don’t seem to bullshit you, they tell you like it is, but also open in the sense that immediate friendships seem to develop almost instantly, through the form of invitations to homes, farms and companionship to other places. And then I began to silently wonder why it is that most North Americans are not as warm. Is it because we have some self-preservation mechanism that doesn’t allow people to get close? What has made us so guarded? I am just as guilty as anyone I know, but why does it take so much effort to let people into our lives? I felt the same when I was in Indonesia, and also wondered the same things. It isn’t a new thought or self-posed question, but one that resembles some conundrum in that I alone cannot explain or solve it. Don’t get me wrong, there are amazing and beautiful people that I have met back home, but friendships seem to take more effort, unless of course there is that immediate inexplicable connection—you know the one where things just click and you really begin to think about previous lifetimes and soul groups. Regardless, as the evening progressed last night, more people joined the little circle of chairs we had formed around the bar and discussions flowed between English and Spanish with less ease than the rounds of drinks, smokes and fits of laughter. There are some wonderful people here, and it is great to know that no matter how far away one comes from, or the differences in culture, there are just as many if not more similarities.