In the time between my last post, I broke 10,000km from Alaska (this doesn't include the more than 3,200km on my coast trip from Vancouver, B.C. to San Diego, C.A. in the Fall of 2010). Breaking this momentous number, reminds me to reflect on each of the kilometers I've ridden so far. I think of first starting out in Alaska, and looking ahead at the daunting task of covering two continents on a bicycle. Leaving Anchorage, and into the great unknown of the interior of the wild yonder, was intimidating to say the least, but exciting at the same time. I had to say goodbye to some new friends I had made, and I had a difficult time leaving the city, and the few days following.
Riding recently, has new challenges, and a new level of difficulty. The heat continues on the mainland, but it is considerably more humid now. I knew of course that the heat would increase, I am heading for the equator after all. Because the heat is greater, I have to drink more water, and thus carry more water, which results in more weight I'm slugging along. To ride in heat like this, is difficult to describe, it's something that one has to experience to truly appreciate the severity. I'm carrying more weight since San Diego, this has an extra effect of course. Yet another factor that is different in Mexico, is that the roads are incredibly steep sometimes. For the first time,
ever, I had to get off and walk my bike on some parts of a hill because it was
that steep. Gone are the days of bombing hills, to see how fast I can go, and savoring the reward of the struggle uphill. Now after getting up difficult hills, I have to ride the brakes the whole way (most of the time) because a lot of the roads are more rough. Coming around some corners, I've been surprised a few times to find some massive potholes, eroded sections of road, rocks, or just a really bumpy road.
There are some many things different in Mexico, that I notice everyday. Most I enjoy a lot, and some, not so much. I haven't had a shoulder for any length of time (except maybe crossing a bridge or something), since the States, and may never have one again. The bus drivers here are
terrible. Most of the drivers are
terrible, especially close to the cities. It is really frustrating at times, nearly getting clipped off my bike, several times in a day. It makes riding a lot more stressful, and a lot less enjoyable. I've really noticed the difference getting on other roads, with little or no traffic, and noticing how much happier I am pedaling.
Still I'm enjoying other things, so much more. It's funny how curious people are as I ride along. So much so, that sometimes as I pass people in towns, they will yell from the front of a building "where are you going?" or "where are you coming from" (in Spanish of course). Lots of people continue to wave, honk, and offer warms smiles, and kind conversation. Passing through tiny towns, and feeling like I'm the only foreigner to have been through the tiny town, is quite the feeling.
As always, with all the difficulties I encounter on this trip, there is always a flip-side. Although the difficulty has seemed to increase since Baja, the goodtimes and extraordinary memories I've made since Baja, has seemed to increase. I've made a lot of new friends recently, finding it difficult to leave areas to continue riding.
After spending a few relaxing days back in La Paz with Peter, Suzy, and the other traveler, Hannes (from Germany), I packed up, and left for the ferry. Arriving in my usual "timely" (late) manner, I had barely enough time to get on the boat. I had to fight a headwind from La Paz, the whole 20km or so, to the ferry terminal. When I arrived, I bought my ticket, stowed my bike and gear in a room on first deck among the cars and trucks, then went upstairs. Watching from the water as we motored along, Baja faded into the sunset. It felt like I was heading to a whole new place, a place I had never been (I've traveled to northern Baja many times, but never anywhere south of there). After sleeping on the wet, pitching deck that night, I woke up in the morning to a wonderful sunrise over the water, and in just a couple more hours, arrived in the port at Mazatlan.
I made quick progress to get out of Mazatlan, and head south. Getting out of the city, I noticed right away - the deserts are now gone. Not quite green, and not quite brown, the land is covered in life. It felt like I was no longer in the Mexico that I had come to know.
I spent the following few days trying to make good progress. The road skirted the mountains (massive ones at that), although I still had plenty of ups and downs. The humidity and heat was intense, and I was not used to riding in such a climate. The worst is trying to get up hills, sweating profusely, gasping for air, then a truck or car will blow a nice cloud of black nastiness into my face. Holding my breath is pointless, and impossible. Even to this day, as I pack up camp just after breakfast, I'm soaked in sweat before I even get on the bike. I think I'm starting to adjust to it - I just assume that everyday is going to be just as hot or worse, as the one before.
A few days after Mazatlan, I was cooking breakfast at a hidden camp spot, when I heard a strange tearing sound. I looked over to see one of my tent poles had snapped, and pierced a hole in my rain fly. The next few days until I reached Puerto Vallarta, I had a sort of lean-to, instead of a tent.
Late in the day one afternoon, making good progress in the searing heat, a blue VW beetle pulled over (loaded with surfboards). I knew right away this was a good sign - a fellow surfer, that saw my board. Gavin from Canada proceeds to fill me in on all the good surf breaks I should check out within the following weeks. He gives me the excellent recommendation to turn off before Tepic, and go through Santa Cruz and south to Puerto Vallarta. I am so glad he mentioned the other route.
After some serious up, down, up, down, up, down... I hit the beach again near San Blas. I talked to a few people, and it sounded like the good surf, with the current swell, was probably at the point in Santa Cruz. I arrived in the tiny town, that is worlds different than the one I know in California, late in the day. I got to the beach, with only about an hour of light. I stripped quick as I could, threw on my trunks, waxed my board, and jumped in the incredibly warm, refreshing ocean.
I had been looking forward to getting back into the water for days, and this was my first surf session in mainland Mexico. With only a few people in the lineup, they all seemed to be locals. They all seemed real laid back, and real welcoming. It probably helped that I'm a decent surfer, and was trying my best not to be a kook. One of the older guys, Cesar, was curious about my trip, and after getting out of the water, we talked for a while into the dark.
For two mornings in a row, I crawled out of my tent, pulled on wet trunks, and went for an early morning surf. From the warm water, I watched the sun rise over the mountains. They are really steep near the ocean, and create quite a strong off-shore breeze in the morning - ideal for surfing. The wind blows along the wave face, creating misty spray, that lands behind the wave. A couple of times, a sea turtle came up to get a breath of air close to me. It was obviously startled to see me, and quickly retreated into the depths. Both mornings, by myself, enjoying an awesome left rocky point break in tropical Mexico, to myself. Priceless...
After taking a relaxing day off, surfing the mornings and the evenings, I was ready to get back on the road. From Mazatlan up until this point, my morale had plummeted from the heat, the traffic, and lack of interesting things. The rest in Santa Cruz was just what I needed. I left town, with a broad grin on my face. I really enjoyed the road for a while from then on, with little to no traffic, and tropical trees with fruits lining the road.
South of Las Varas, the road was back to being terrible, and I was introduced to the world of "semana santa" in Mexico. If you are unfamiliar with this holiday, I'll give you a synopsis: everyone in Mexico gets a two week holiday, heads towards the beach, and a drunk-fest ensues.
Fortunately the kind guy at the surf shop in Sayulita informed I could take a detour, as well as camp and surf, at Punta Mita. When I arrived at "La Lancha", I met two other surfers heading for an evening surf. Chase and Charlie both live in Puerto Vallarta, and after we had a few good waves, talked on the beach for a while. Chase invited me to "sleep on his roof" in the city. I hadn't planned on staying in Puerto Vallarta, only to check it out, but it sounded like an awesome chance to check out the town. After camping on the beach that night, I packed and rode to town.
I spent a few hours at a coffee shop on the internet, waiting to meet Chase somewhere. When I was leaving, I was approached by a fellow, who (with a big smile) tells me "I was looking for you. I saw your bike outside". I walk with Gino outside, and meet his wife Anna, and dog Goffey. They are excited to hear about my trip, but the thing that struck me, was how they stressed how much they wanted to help me. I'll never forget them saying something like, "whatever you need, we can help you out". I was running late to meet chase in downtown, and had to say goodbye. They invited me for dinner the following evening, and we swapped info.
Riding to the other part of downtown to meet Chase was ridiculous. The roads turned from paved, to cobblestone. I had to ride on the sidewalk, but then the closer I got to the Malecon, the more people clogged the roadways and sidewalks. It took me probably at least a solid hour, to cover a short distance, having to walk my bike most of the way.
I arrived at the pub in the dark, and with only minutes to spare; they were closing the bar. I was greeted by Chase, and several different people with him, who were all sitting on the patio. Upon seeing me, everyone was enthusiastic about getting me a beer. Chase had been waiting for me, and informed them of my trip. One of the guys had said apparently before I arrived, "man, if this guy shows up, I'm going to buy him a beer. No, I'm going to buy him a beer, then a six pack".
Well he was good on his word. Walking back to Chase's house, Julio ran into an Oxxo and bought me a six pack of beer. His cousin, Andre, felt compelled to give me something, and pulled his special bottle-opening ring from his finger, and gave it to me. Bestowed with gifts, and laughing at it all, I walked my bike to Chase's apartment. His neighbor, friend, and coworker, Graham, is a photographer and works at some of the clubs. He got us in later that night at one of the popular spots, and we had a great time dancing the night away.
The following day, I said goodbye to Chase and crew, and went to downtown to wait for Gino and Anna to get out of work. Graham happened to come to the same coffee shop, and we hung out there both working on stuff. Later on, I met Gino, and biked with him to their apartment. They cooked up a delicious feast for me.
Gino and Anna are an incredibly warm, friendly, and generous couple. Gino is an experienced photographer who is trying to become a freelance photographer. He's from Monterrey, and speaks English as well as Spanish. Anna is from Germany, and before meeting Gino, spent a lot of time traveling around Mexico. She trains dolphins, at the same company Gino works for. I spent the next few days with them, having a lot of fun, cooking meals, relaxing, and having lots of laughs. After four(?) days, it seemed like it was time to get back on the road. I packed up that morning, and loaded my bike. They picked up some savory, fresh, local ceviche and we sat down on the tile outside the apartment in the shade, and ate. We talked for a bit, and by then it was already around 3 or 4 in the afternoon. It seemed like for the three of us, it really just didn't feel like it was time for me to leave yet. Anna had made a joke about bringing all my stuff back up the stairs and into the apartment. After talking it over a bit, that's what we did. For the first time
ever my bike was fully loaded, I was ready to ride, then I stopped and unpacked everything. We had a good laugh about that. I told them "you are too welcoming!"
The following day, Gino used one of his courtesy passes, and we went zip-lining in the forests above Puerto Vallarta. We were up before dawn, biked to the dock in the dark, had a VIP boat ride (there and back), unimog ride, rode some mules, ziplined - what a day. We made sushi that night, and had a good (2nd) last night party at the apartment. In the morning, Anna went to work, and after packing up my bike and belongings, I left... for real this time. Gino biked with me out of town and took a bunch of great pictures, after about 20km, we said goodbye and parted ways. Before leaving town, we agreed that we wanted to meet again somewhere, back in PV or otherwise. I encouraged them they should try and meet me somewhere along the way on my trip, maybe somewhere they haven't been before.
I will continue to repeat myself, I know I will. Timing is something that fascinates me on this trip. Unfortunately, Gino and Anna had lost one of their dogs, earlier in the day when I met them. They were only at the coffee shop to get their mind off of it, and don't frequent it, when they happened to meet me.
After biking the short distance to Las Palmas, I camped just beyond town, finding a cattle fence to open and go past, and tucked away among some trees. The following day, was one of most difficult days of riding of my trip.
I knew I had a climb ahead of me, so I started early. As usual, when the sun is shining, it starts to get hot. I made some good progress, but before long, was soaked in sweat. I spent the entire day climbing up the long, winding hill. For ~30km I was climbing up the hill. The worst part is near the top, after climbing around 6,000ft in one day (I later checked the relief map/terrain elevation), the hill became progressively steeper. For the first time
ever I actually
had to get off of my bike and walk it. The hill was just that steep. I was spent, walking my bike, constantly looking up, and hoping to see the the top. Then when I rounded a corner, I saw a truck stopped on the side of the road. I was walking over to them to see if they needed help, before one of the fellows was asking me something (I had no idea what he was saying).
Turns out their engine was overheating (no surprise, I heard lots of cars bogging down on the hill, struggling up the hill as well). They thought their thermostat was stuck shut, but couldn't loosen the two nuts holding the thermostat housing. I explained I had the same tools they had: vice grip, crescent wrench, etc. I dug around in my zip lock bag of other things, from my handlebar bag. I found a 10mm box open end wrench. It fit
perfectly to the bolts on the housing, and they were able to get it off, and remove the thermostat, and relieving the overheating problem.
I thought afterward, how it's almost like I traveled all the way from Alaska, over 10,000km with that box open-end wrench, to arrive at that moment so they could use it...
I made it over the hill a short time later (fortunately I could ride, past where I helped the people), I found a suitable campspot out of eyesight from the road, and proceeded to make camp and eat as quick as I could, before crawling into my tent, and passing out from exhaustion.
A few more days of riding, and I reached Guadalajara. I had a few hills, up and downs, and a lot of open land in between, with scattered farms. It took me a good 1.5 - 2 hours to get into the city, a testament to how large it is. Guadalajara is the second largest city in Mexico.
Meeting Izhak (one of the guys that works at the house) at a coffee shop, he rode with me back to the apartment: La Casa del Ciclista en Guadalaara, or for short, they call it, GDL en bici. It's a community supported project, funded by a company that supports alternative and renewable energy. I met Sofi, and Jorge at the house. I got a quick tour of the place - they have a full workshop, full of all the tools needed to rebuild a bike. There's a kitchen, dining area, bathroom, and a patio.
After I found a corner to drop my bike and gear, they cooked up a fine meal for me, and we watched movies from a projector - ah the good life! We spent the weekend having a great time, biking around the city at night, as well as on Sunday (they close lots of the roads in the city down, just for cyclists and people to walk). They all speak more English than I speak Spanish, but when I arrived I didn't know this, and said "you know it's great you speak only Spanish, this is going to help me practice more (in Spanish)" Then they started speaking in English, "well...Actually..."
It's amazing seeing a house like this, where everyone is enthusiastic about furthering the bicycle as a mode of transportation, and use in general. People occasionally stop by the shop during the day, with problems with their bike, and either drop them off, or get a quick fix. GDL en bici had their weekly meeting one evening, and were asking me what
I thought was missing in the place that could help make me feel more comfortable as a touring cyclist in the house.
I finally met Bernardo, who is more of the coordinator of the house. Together, they are all an incredibly warm, and fun group of people. Yet another place I'm finding it difficult to leave. Izhak made it apparent I'd be staying longer, when we first rode to the apartment. He asked me how, "how long do you plan to stay?" I said I wasn't sure, a few days maybe, then he informed me "no, you're gonna stay at least a week." Here I am, going on two weeks.
The fires have been raging in el Bosque de La Primavera - the forest on western edge of the city. My eyes were burning a couple of days ago, when the winds turned, and blew the smoke into the city. Yesterday, and today, my eyes still feel irritated, but not as bad at least. I had a chance to help make sandwiches, and carry donated food/beverages to provide for the firefighters, which was cool. It's too bad I don't have firefighting experience, I would have loved to be able to help fight the fire.
I'm making use of the workshop at the apartment. I've got my bike stripped at the moment, and am in the process of overhauling it. The only thing I knew I had to replace upon arriving, was my chain. Then we were checking other things, when Benardo noticed that my front wheel had some scoring/scratches in the hub - strange because I had
just replaced all the bearings in La Paz. With not much selection, and having to buy some decent hubs that are only sold in a pair, I had to have both my rear wheels built.
Looking back, I think it was a bit stupid to having started the trip with a used wheel. I bought the front wheel from another mechanic for something like 40 bucks. Now I've got a whole new front wheel, reused the spokes and rim on the rear, and have both new hubs... awesome. I hope I won't have any more problems with them for the 20,000km+ left in the trip (besides occasionally regreasing the hubs).
We've gone through and checked everything on the bike. Re-greased the bearings in the pedals, the headset, to even replacing some of the rusting bolts in certain spots.
The people here are incredibly helpful. They even gave me a bike to use around town, while I'm fixing mine. Izhak, Bernardo, Jorge, Sofi (and everyone else!)... what a wonderful group of kind, friendly, welcoming people. Bernardo is especially helpful, with any of the things I need to get. He even took a detailed map of the city, put markers on it to help me find the shops where I need to get stuff.
My friend Peter of OSS (outdoor sleep systems), who donated a tent to me for my trip, while I was in Utah, is sending me some new poles. So now I'm waiting for the poles, and am I'm using the time since I've been here to get a lot of other stuff done that I've been procrastinating on. My bike and gear is showing the distance, and things are breaking down. One of my mounts for one of my pannier bags started breaking, so now I'm fabricating whole new supports from a plate of aluminum, for both rear bags. I bought new bike shorts, since both of mine I've had for 13,000+km, and are starting to tear/become see through... I need a new map, new skillet, and a few other things still.
I bought extra parts for the bike, and gear. I'm trying to make use of everything here since the next large city is probably going to be Oaxaca. It sounds like I might not even have good bike shops again until Colombia, so I'm going to be carrying an extra cassette and chain in case I need to replace them along the way. After almost two weeks here, I'm itching to get back on the road, and hope I do. My new friends are doing their best to keep me here, and the draw of the lovely women here, is almost too much. A fear I've had on the trip - getting stuck in a city, is something I want to have happen when the trip is through, not when there is still so much to see (although of course at the same time, I admit, I do want it to happen).
Once I get my new tent poles, I'll get back on my way (hopefully). I'm planning on booking it to the coast, where hopefully many awesome waves await my arrival. I have wanted to surf mainland Mexico, and Central America, for as long as I've been a surfer. Always seeing perfect barreling waves in magazines and surf flicks, I've always wondered what it would be like to surf them. To actually have a perfect barreling wave in warm water (HOPEFULLY) with less people, is something I've never really been able to experience. I've had a few barrels in my life (a brief moment spent inside the tube that is formed from a curling wave) but none that have really been open enough to allow me to get deep inside, for more than a second or two. Although I risk breaking my board in waves like these, or worse - no guts, no glory.
Some Thoughts While Riding:
I used to be a quitter. There are several things in my life that I quit, that I look back, and think of frequently how I shouldn't have. In a way, I think it's a good thing that I quit some of them. Now I understand what it feels like to look back and think of how I shouldn't. I have a lot of drive and determination, probably because I know what it feels like to quit. I took a waterpolo class in college, because I thought it was going to be fun, and help get me into shape (definitely the latter) before my first bike tour. Starting out the first day, the class was packed with people, maybe 60. Everyone was in speedos or suits, everyone had played before and looked like in phenomenal shape... and there I was in my surfing boardshorts. The coach asked me where I played before, noticing how out of place I probably was. I told him my high school (not wanting to get kicked out and sent to the beginner class, although later I learned there was no beginner class, they were the same). We warmed up with a bunch of swimming exercises across the pool, and I was just trying to stay above the water most of the night. Later that class, while scrimmaging, I had no idea what I was doing. I was flailing in the water, and trying just to swim (A few months later, I asked him how easy it was to tell that I didn't play, and he said "yeah, it was pretty obvious).
The next class there were half as many people. Everyone had played in high school for years, was in awesome shape, and most were trying to get on the college team. It was just as tough as the first night, but I kept on. The class continued to lose a few more people after a few more practices, to the point where we sometimes didn't have enough people to scrimmage with, so the coach would jump in the pool and play with us. I finally got a speedo, hoping to get any help I could (I think it definitely helped). After a while, I was actually able to swim and play offense, and defense. I even managed to score a few goals from time to time. Towards the end of the semester, the coach made it a point to tell me how impressed he was, with how much progress I had made.
I returned the following year, and took the class again.
One thing I think of, is when I quit wrestling in high school. Granted, I didn't thoroughly enjoy getting sweaty and rubbing up against other dudes, but it was physically challenging and demanding. I always remember the slogan, "Those who stay, will be champions". It's so true, I knew it back then, but didn't have the drive that I have now. Good things
do come to those who wait.
Struggling up hills, I have to stand lots as I bear the load. Butterflies dance around me and my bike, doing circles, asking me with their motion "oh, are you having trouble? Come on, it's not
that bad..." I stare at the pavement, slowly creeping past beneath me. I feel my sweat collect on my face, drip, and fall to the ground. Landing next to oil stains, or a fresh drop of coolant. I gaze up from time to time, to monitor my progress, and see a jungle covered land. A truck blasts past, and blows a big cloud of black, dirty, exhaust into my face. I try to hold my breath, but gasp for air, and with it, all the particulates of the nasty cloud of smoke.
It never ceases to amaze me how pissed off I'll be in one instant, then sometimes, just a few km's away - I'll be jaw-dropped and speechless, enjoying some incredible sight. This trip definitely has extreme pendulums: laughing hysterically, making amazing memories I'll never forget, to getting so angry, I'll be cussing out loud. The important thing is with each feeling, I walk away cleaner, lighter, stronger. We have these emotions for a reason.
A trip like this would not be same, with any other form of transportation. My bicycle is a catalyst for conversation and meeting people. I would
definitely not be meeting as many people if I wasn't on my bike.
Typically, I've seen that Mexicans have endearing greetings. They'll walk into a room, and introduce, or say hi, to everyone. The woman greet me with a hug, and a kiss on the cheek. The men offer a broad smile, and a handshake. A lot of people are very courteous here. Often people will tell me good afternoon, or goodnight, walking down the street and making eye contact. At most businesses after I buy something, they say "que te vaya bien" which basically means have a good day in a nicer way. It's kind of funny because I'll test people. I'll purposely say, buenas tardes, or buenas noches to people, and out of custom, it's almost like they have to say it back to me (when I can tell they kind of don't feel like saying it). It's almost like it's taboo not to return the kind thought.
The wildlife is changing dramatically recently. Riding along, I'll hear strange, different sounds from birds I've never heard before. Many different birds and plants, I've never seen before: black birds with long tails. Birds of prey with large white spots underneath their wings. Trees with spikes all over them, bushes covered in vines, and others.
Sometimes while riding, I'll hear a rustling in the bushes nearby. Expecting to see a deer as I turn to look, I see nothing. At some point, I figured out that the noise are lizards, big ones. I never knew that they have
huge iguanas here.
I've always heard about "culture shock", and tried to make myself consciously aware of the possibility that it could happen to me. It definitely is strange to be in another country, and have all the norms I considered norms, to be thrown out the window. At first it was exciting and different, now I think I'm getting used to
the differences, but I'm constantly observing, and comparing the
differences. I hope one day, my analytical mind will drop it, and
accept things as new norms.
I meet lots of other Germans, that are traveling as well. It's crazy how many Germans I've met along the way. Some are cyclists, others are using buses or renting cars. Traveling must be a real accepted and encouraged thing to do in Germany.
I developed a sense of comfort relatively quickly in Baja, and I think even more so recently. After having so many people ask me "you're biking through Mexico? Aren't you worried about all the...?" I was a tiny bit apprehensive. I'll admit that I was keeping an extra eye out, waiting for somebody to jump out of the bushes and mug me. Or a car full of Narcos to blast me off the road...
I only remember one moment, that I might have had culture shock. It was about halfway down Baja. I saw a truck driver with 'aviator-type' sunglasses on. I felt transported to the movie "Buckaroo Bonzai", and like I was in another dimension.
I came to the realization that I
really don't like the touristy places, and tourist traps. I first noticed this when I was in Canada in Jasper/Banff, crowded with tourists, cameras, and an awkwardness. It's a great feeling when I'm in towns, or other places, and I look around and feel like I'm so far away. Arriving in Sayulita, and seeing lots of white northerners, and other tourists, was a bit of a downer after feeling like I was in the local places, seeing 'authentic' Mexico for a while. Ameca and even in Guadalajara, although large cities, feel like foreign places. The other day biking back to the shop, another white guy (clearly American/Canadian) made eye contact with me from a corner. He simply said "hey dude!". Ha, it's funny having a connection to people, I might not otherwise.
Just because I haven't seen anything, doesn't mean that it isn't going on. I'm referring to the "narcos" - a problem in Mexico. I occasionally get asked if I've had trouble with them, and get informed of the dangers of coming into contact with them. The funny thing, is that at least somebody from each state will tell me about the dangers of the Narcos, in the other states I'm traveling to. Then I'll talk to other people, in other states, and they'll tell me about the dangers of the states that I traveled through. However, a month before arriving in GDL, I heard they took over a bunch of buses in town, kicked everyone out, and set them on fire. It was in response to the arrest of one of the top figures, in one of the cartels apparently. I always see cops, or military, with automatic weapons. They have checkpoints on the roads, or I'll see a loaded truck full of men and machine guns, passing me on the roads, looking for Narcos I suppose. The only thing different about the mainland, is that the soldiers wear jungle BDU's instead of the desert cami's.
Learning Spanish has got to be the most on-going, frustrating thing, I've ever done. At first all I heard was "Hola, blah, blaaaaaa, blah. Muy blaaaa, blah blah, tambien". Right when I think I'm making progress, it seems like I take a step back at times. The saying, 'the more you know, the less you do', I think aptly applies. I like to think that comparing myself now, to the day I set foot across the border in Tijuana, that I must speak a little better. I can at least respond to the same old questions, "where are you coming from? Where are you gong? How long has it taken?" etc.
The real interesting thing about learning Spanish, is that I have a memory for most of the words I learn along the way. I think one of the funniest memories, was recently. I was in the grocery store the other evening, trying to find a new skillet/pan. They didn't have the size I wanted, so I went to customer service to see if they had others somewhere else. I asked if there were any different casoroles, and the woman went to go check in the storage area. Well she returned with a bottle of Cazadores. I now know, that sartin is the preferred word for pan (casoroles are pots).
Animal cruelty (like other places) is a bit of a problem. One day, biking around Puerto Vallarta with Gino, we stopped to witness a young boy torturing a cow. He had it's head tied up with rope. At first, it seemed like he was trying to direct the cow to another pen, but then it was obvious he was just yanking the cow around with sole intention of causing it pain. He drove his fingers into the cow's nose, yanking it around. He took the rope, and whipped the cow, smacking it hard against it's ribs. Several times, he pulled the cow's head down, and smashed his knee into it's face. The other sad thing is that his older brother, or uncle, or whomever, was in the shed nearby, within eyesight, and said nothing.
Not sure if I mentioned it, but Don, who left a comment on my last post, - should have said thanks for the water and the kind (quick) conversation. Good inspiration to keep trucking up the hill towards La Paz.
I started reading
Maiden Voyage, that I swapped with my friend Suzy in La Paz for (she's into sailing as well, and I gave her
Endurance that I just finished).
Maiden Voyage is about a young girl that circumnavigated the world solo, in a sailboat. I can relate to some of the things she said, in particular one thing she said so far: 'Leaving a safe-haven behind, and heading out to sea alone. Something I would have difficulty dealing with, for the entirety of the trip'. - It's not
that difficult for me, it's just that usually after I stay somewhere for more than a day, I get comfortable in my spot, and less motivated.
Even in the states, I never understood why people like "Banda" type music. It is incredibly annoying. In México, people will sometimes park their cars, open their doors, and blare the "music". Fantastic motivation to end my rest breaks, and get back to biking.
I think of how happy I need to be, to be back on the bike riding (and
usually remind myself recently when I'm dripping in sweat, crawling up a hill, gasping for my next breath). My trip could have been over from my knee pain, and the alternative would hardly be as interesting.
There are some things I miss about the states. I miss tasty homebrew, ping pong, pizza, sushi... I miss driving fast on the freeways at night, getting lost in some good music. I miss sitting in a comfy couch, and watching a movie. (Of course I miss the familiar faces at times too.)
There are milestones in the trip, of different kinds. One of them, is retiring a map, and moving onto another. I've done it several times, and each time is the same. I pull out the new map, and look at all the new cities, unfamiliar places, and roads. By the time I'm done using the map, I look back at the tattered, dirty paper, and recall so many memories of places and faces, that went from unfamiliar, to quite familiar. Then the cycle continues. Every time I take a look at a new map, I feel a bit daunted or overwhelmed at the task in front of me. I always just remind myself of how far I've come, and how I always have a little bit of that feeling, every time I start with a new map.
There have been times riding, every once in a while, that I feel a bit overwhelmed. I had a moment recently, dealing with all the hills in between Puerto Vallarta and Guadalajara. I stopped to take a break in the shade of a concrete bus stop bench. The sun was hot, and blazing. There was nothing but a small house in sight. I looked around, and felt so far away from anything, or anyone. Sometimes I have these moments, where I think "what if I have trouble. What if something breaks on the bike?". This is why I carry lots of tools, equipment, and rely on improvisation if necessary. Fortunately, I've had nothing serious happen on the trip so far. So when I have these moments, I just think "well, nothing else I can do, but keep on riding", and get back in the saddle, and push on.
A few things I found interesting in Mexico:
You can ride around in the back of trucks, and not get a ticket - which I finally had the chance to do this past week. In the towns/cities, you can buy just about anything, from your front doorstep fruit, toiletries, water, propane... People drive around in small pickups, and sell anything and everything from them. Most of them have speakers, and broadcast what they're selling (which is really pretty annoying to wake up to. Good luck trying to sleep in). One of them I thought was funny was a company that sells propane. In La Paz, I would hear these trucks saying "It's aaaaaaaaaaaaaallllllll gooooooooooooood" (at least what I thought they were saying). I never did find out what the company was, only knew they were selling propane. There's another propane company that I always here, in front of the shop in GDL, Seca, with the equally annoying tune "Seta, seta, seta, gasa". - This one has a short tune, always getting stuck in my head, and waking me up almost every morning.
Drivers are much different down here. In the simplest way of putting it, they suck. Not
all the drivers of course, but lots are terrible, especially the buses. A lot of times the closer I am to the cities, the worse it gets. Even when I'm off the bike, and driving around with people in their cars, I cringe sometimes because of how close accidents nearly happen. I've noticed out front of GDL en bici, that tons of cars honk before entering intersections, trying to give notice to other people that they're passing through.
Of course, the cleanliness is something different I'm adjusting to. Sometimes walking around stores, or other areas, I might see a cockroach scurry across the floor. After going to the bathroom (number 2), people don't flush the toilet paper, instead they put it in the trash can (I still don't know why they do this, maybe so it doesn't clog the pipes). There is lots of trash sometimes littering the roadsides, or places when I'm trying to find a campsite.
One day, somewhere between Guadalajara and Puerto Vallarta, I witnessed two different people, in one day, throw an empty beer can out of the window. The same day, while I was taking a break in the shade at a Pemex to stretch, a fellow walked up and asked me about my trip. He sipped on his beer in between sentences. When he was finished with his beer, he left it on the wall, instead of walking 2 meters or less, to the trash can - I don't understand it.
In Guadalajara, there is a lot more diversity that I haven't seen in Mexico before. I observed it a little in Puerto Vallarta, but I've seen it a lot more here in the bigger city. I've been accustomed to seeing the cliche Mexicans: dark hair, eyes, and skin. In GDL, there are lots of white people, Asians, and more native looking people.
Beautiful women are ubiquitous. I will be in the smallest of towns, underdeveloped, and see attractive females.
There are so many different kinds of foods and drinks I've been trying.
There are quite a few non-alcoholic, delicous beverages, tuba or tejuino, both are quite tasty. I tried a fruit in Santa Cruz, called a
Carambolo, one of the tartest, sour/sweet fruits, I've ever had. My mouth exploded with intensity from the fruit. I
prefer the enormous Jaca fruit, mild and sweet. In Jalisco alone, there are three unique kinds of food: carne en su jugo, posole, and torta ahogada.
Wild animals are everywhere. I see lots of cows, goats, and dogs on the sides of the road. There are lots of chickens running around towns too. The roosters are like watchdogs, not only hooting at sunrise, but anytime someone passes by their home, myself included.
Sometimes the men have a strange and interesting demeanor. Every once in a while, a guy will be sternly staring at me, and may, or may not approach me. At first I thought they were going to tell me off, but (continuing to stare at me sternly) kindly ask me how my trip is going, and may even offer help, still with a stern look. Without smiling, they'll wish me the best in my trip, and say goodbye.
There are tons of Chinese food restaurants in Mexico. In GDL, there are even quite a few different eateries, lots of which offer more of a fine dining experience - very different than lots I've seen in Mexico thus far.
Kilometers ridden so far: 10,584.1
