EXT. STREET - MINCA, COLOMBIA - DAY - August 10th, 2024
A small mountain “town”, if you can call it that. Several shop fronts face the broken paved road. A dozen or so YOUNG MEN stand around the streets among their motorbikes.
HECTOR (50’s, Colombian, a veteran driver 20 years on the job, short and stout with an infectious jolly smile) pulls his taxi cab up to the group of young men. Shane sits in the back seat.
Note re: Hector’s taxi* - on their way up the steep, winding mountain roads, Shane wondered, “If I lean my weight forward toward the front seat, will it help create momentum to push this car up the mountain? Shane does not take credit for the little vehicle reaching the town’s summit. But… he did lean forward quite a bit).
HECTOR: Amigo mío, lamentablemente no puedo llevarte hasta tu albergue. el camino está demasiado lleno de baches.
Hector points to a narrow road ahead. He holds one of his hands out in the air then bounces it up and down. Shane understands “camino” as “road” and “hand bouncing gesture’ as “bumpy”.
SHANE: How…?…Yo…allá?
HECTOR: Moto-bike!
He gives points to the motorbikes on the road and gives Shane a thumbs up. The international sign for “good”.
HECTOR: Or Jeepo?
But then rubs his thumb and finger together, the international sign for “expensive”.
He points to the group of gentlemen, and leans across his passenger seat to crank the window down.
A young man, PATRICK (20, dark hair and an expressionless face), leans into the window and converses with Hector in Spanish.
Hector turns back to Shane to translate what he and Patrick discussed in Spanish. However, since Hector does not speak English, he simply emphasizes the same Spanish words from Patrick back to Shane.
Shane, unable to speak Spanish, does his best to clarify.
SHANE: Cuantos minutos? Cuatro?
He holds up FOUR fingers to confirm.
PATRICK / HECTOR: Si / Yes.
SHANE: Caunto dinero? Quince?
Shane holds up ONE finger, and then quickly flashes to FIVE fingers to confirm.
PATRICK / HECTOR: Si / Yes.
“Fine”, Shane thinks. “15,000 COP is like $4. Four minutes on the back of a motorbike up a little dirt hill. No problemo.”
CUT TO:
EXT. DIRT MOUNTAIN ROAD - MINCA, COLOMBIA - DAY
Shane grips the seat of the motorbike as Patrick winds them up a mountain road. Surely ten minutes or more has passed on this four minute ride. Shane leans forward and speaks into Patrick’s helmet.
SHANE: Mucho mas minutos?
PATRICK: Si. Mucho mucho.
Shane laughs until he realizes Patrick is not laughing.
SHANE: Si?
PATRICK: Si! Mucho!
SHANE: Cautro minutos, no?
PATRICK: Cuarenta!
Patrick holds up four fingers. Shane realizes that must mean forty, not four, based on their current timing.
Shane looks ahead at the winding mountain road. Through the clearing he sees endless, lush green mountains, the peak of them way out in the distance.
SHANE: No!
PATRICK: Si!
SHANE: Jeepo! I want the Jeepo!
Patrick laughs as if Shane was fucking joking, and continues riding.
Shane braces himself. Annoyance. Anger. Shame. Acceptance.
SHANE (to himself, in his head): Fuck it. A beautiful ride through the mountains for a a few bucks. You are here for an advetu-
Rain drops start to bead on Shane’s arms. Then his shirt. And without knowing the art of a gradual build, the skies open immediately and release heavy weighted rain drops by the sheet. Patrick slows, but continues his climb uphill. After all, he is the pro here.
Shane’s grip tightens on the seat and his knees close in around Patrick. If they weren’t amigos before, now they are hermanos.
LATER:
The rain still coming down twenty minutes later, they come to a wooden sign that reads “MANO VERDE HOSTEL, 5KM” with an arrow pointing down off the main “road” down a rocky, dirt path. Very rocky. Very dirty. Very y smooth.
PATRICK: Yes?
SHANE: Oh fuck.
PATRICK: I, smooth.
SHANE: Yo no es smooth.
Patrick laughs, and slowly guides them down the turbulent path, weaving ditches and rocks and fairly deep water streams along the way.
SHANE (with certainty to himself in his head): I won’t die. Not like this.
But his inner monologue is interrupted as they turn a corner and in the clearing he glimpses the most beautiful view of rolling lush green canopies coating a rolling landscape of hills as far as the eye can see. A blanket of fog and cloud hover above the trees, and yet sunlight warms the entire valley.
SHANE: Whoa…
LATER:
Shane walks behind Patrick’s motorbike as he uses both the power of the engine and his own two legs to propel the bike on the steep hill, like a toddler pretending to ride a two wheeler thinking no one will notice their shoes on the ground.
They arrive to the hostel:
EXT. MANO VERDE HOSTEL - MINCA, COLOMBIA - DAY
Shane, still on foot, approaches a moment after Patrick. As Shane reaches him, Patrick pulls his helmet off, sweat and rain drenched, panting from his hard work.
The two smile and slap hands in congratulations. While Shane’s surprise that they made it safely is valid, as a first timer, Patrick should not be so elated. Should he?
Shane looks at the view out from the open porch of the hosel, his home for the next few nights. Well worth the ride.
He takes out a 20,000 COP bill, wanting to throw in a little extra for Patrick for the journey. Patrick looks at his palm with the bill sitting flat in it, then looks back at Shane. Waiting. Waiting. Waiting.
SHANE: Fifteen?
PATRICK: Cincuenta.
Shane holds up five fingers. Patrick nods.
SHANE: Ah, fifty!
Patrick nods.
Shane rifles through his damp bag to find more bills.
SHANE: I really need to learn Spanish.
Happy you made it safely, looks well worth it!! ✨
Wow Shane