Letter from the United States: frontier spirit

http://www.guardian.co.uk/world/2012/jan/31/letter-from-us-frontier-spirit

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I am sitting in a coffee shop in Durango, a small town in the south of Colorado. The air is hot and dry outside; the jangle of cups and pleasant chatter calm me. I'm 23, and six months ago I was studying in Plymouth in the UK. The only reason I am now here working, on a seasonal job repairing the trails that crisscross the San Juan mountain range, is that I was lucky enough to be born in this country.

Tea is my calling, though: I'm as British as can be, having spent 18 of my years between Plymouth and south Wales. I come from a single-parent family, my mother is a social worker, and she has single-handedly brought me and my sister up. Maybe my story tells a part of what it's like to be a graduate from a windy and wet island. So many of us have taken to the wind – friends carried off to Canada, Australia and places where they may find work and a better life. Now don't misread this as pessimism, or words from the mouth of a lazy man: I've worked in bars, kitchens and call centres to pay for my education.

I turned up here in the dusty town of Durango during a lightning storm, with a backpack and $500 to my name. The horizon is broad here: you can project your ideas and dreams on to it.

Life is slower, people are more open, and chances are still here for those who hard and prove themselves. That's still the American spirit, you see, something we don't hear about so much any more.

My job involves spending 10 days out in the middle of nowhere at a time; I work with eight other motivated people of a similar age. We sleep out in tents in all weathers and bust out 10-hour days for around $7.50 an hour. We work hard and with a fiery attitude.

On our four days off between spells in the mountains, we return to town. Like in the towns of the old west you might imagine, a steam train runs through downtown twice a day, taking tourists through winding canyons to higher elevations. We sleep in the motels on the outskirts of town, flashing signs and free Wi-Fi.

Grand hotels sit on the main street, but they are not for us. We come here for the old saloons sometimes in the evenings, a place for us to relax and unwind.

We may indeed be the lost generation, but we are getting lost in some very interesting places.

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