Goodbye Puppy, Hello NC Yamaha dealer

Welcome to my triplog! I hope you will enjoy accompanying me on this journey of motorcycle and of spirit. For those of you who don't know me, I'm a musician from New York City who rides a very large bike - a 1300cc Yamaha Venture. So far I've ridden in about 20 states and 7 Canadian provinces, and I can safely say that some of the most challenging riding I've had is in my very own Manhattan, with Brooklyn a close second.

Currently, I'm writing this in my parents' house in Winston Salem, North Carolina, where I am waiting for the local Yamaha shop to receive and install a coil that somehow controls the fuel mixture and has been making the bike run like crap the past few hundred miles.

My original intention was to leave for this trip on February 1st. This was before Big Mama started acting funny, and I realized that february is not an easy time of year to sublet an apartment for 2 months. I had 5 separate people planning on coming over to see the apartment back out at the last minute, one of whom was actually on his way over when he received an offer for a much cheaper place in exchange for pet sitting. Ouch. So, for 3 full days I was all packed, ready to go, only waiting for someone to come by and rent my apartment. This is one of the most frustrating situations I could possibly imagine myself in.

Out of complete frustration, I decided I needed to leave. Right now. So I got my things together, put Django, my 5 month old terrier, in his cage on the back, and pulled off. I was too busy trying to get out of town to realize that there was about an inch of fresh snow on the ground, and about 50 feet into my multicontinental trip the rear tire slides right out from underneath me and the bike slams onto the pavement. I was fine, Django was fine, Big Mama was not. Both the crash bars got bent - the rear one into the side luggage, putting a big crack down the side, and the front went into the foot panel, pinning it into an upright position, rendering the bike unrideable. To top it off, she wouldn't even start up again.

The only time that bad situations occur on these trips is when I become destination driven and forget the reason that I ride motorcycles. It usually takes something like this to get me to slow down and stop being so damn impatient. Once I went back up to my apartment, defeated, with a very confused puppy (see pic), and got some of my emotions out, I went back down to assess the damage more level-headedly. I figured out that I could actually bend the bars back into more or less their original positions without causing structural damage. I put the battery on charge for the night, and decided that if it starts in the morning, I'm going to North Carolina.

The next morning Big Mama started, warmed up smoothly as usual, so Django and I hopped on and took off. Crossing the George Washington Bridge was a very big deal - I hadn't ridden out of the city in a few months. The only problem on the trip down to NC was that it was cold - really, really cold. I was also concerned about the puppy, but he did just fine, and was a lot warmer than I was, wrapped up in his blanket in the crate. Usually he sits right on the back seat, with his harness tied up to the passenger grab rails, but it was much too cold for that. Stopping every 50 to 75 miles, I made the trip in 14 hours - in a car it usually takes 9 or 10. Crossing the border into North Carolina from Virginia, I met a guy who said the temperature on his truck read 16 degrees F.

The next day, after taking Big Mama to the shop, I took my old car, my '88 Thunderbird, to Durham, where Django would be left with some very good friends - Amber, whom I lived with in NYC for a year and a half and who rode 12,000 miles with me this summer, and her wonderful partner (and my good friend) Kate. I know they will take good care of my boy, but it was tough letting him go.

Back in Winston, I got to ride my sister's horse, and also discovered some of my dad's old photography equipment from the 70's and 80's. This got me motivated to figure out how to use them, and gave me something to do while waiting for the bike to get done. So, in addition to taking digital pictures for this blog, I'll also hope to be shooting some "artsy" photos with the nifty Canon AE-1 and Olympus-Penn EE-2.





Thanks for sticking with me on my first blog posting (ever!), I hope this provides enough background information to get you started.

Thurs, Feb 12 - North Carolina to Alabama

This trip is turning out to be a very difficult one. I guess they can't all be easy. I rode a lot today, and covered lots of miles - exactly how many, I don't know, because one of the problems Big Mama was giving me was that the battery was sometimes not charging, and occasionally disconnecting altogether. Besides that, the shifter lever is not working right - I don't know why. Either the bike is really low on oil (probably not likely), or a bolt is loose or fell off or something. Being that it's February, all the recreation areas here are closed, so it's "ninja camping" for today, although right now I think I'm within the boundaries of William B Bankhead National Forest. I had to pull the bike up a really steep, muddy, gravelly path to get it off the immediate sight line of passing cars and cops. It will be very difficult getting it down the hill. It's a terrible feeling being in the middle of nowhere trying to hide, but being not quite sure that the bike will actually start in the morning. I'm also $10 over my budget of $30 a day, mostly because of the slightly embarassing and equally frustrating experience at the Yamaha Dealer in Gadsden, Alabama. I figured I'd take it in just to ask their opinion about the battery problems - what it could be, and how I (while traveling) can deal with it. Instead of asking questions or coming out to see it, the guy immediately starts filling out an invoice sheet, while the mechanics started looking at it. I didn't know exactly what he was doing until he told me to sign a sheet authorizing a $65 per hour labor rate. When I told him I didn't want that, he went back to tell the guys to stop working when they responded "we already fixed it" - the battery terminals were too loose, so they screwed them in tighter. They also tested it to make sure it was charging properly, which it was. All this in 3 minutes, that I would have paid $65 for if I had signed the sheet! They guy offered that I pay $13, so I agreed, paid, and left. I'm not sure what I was looking for as far as this national forest campground on the map was concerned, but it was getting dark and I wanted to make sure I got there. Frustrating as it is, the campgrounds are closed (well, the one I took the time to pass - too dark to go looking for others), so I found a little crappy service road to camp on. It's only 7 central time, but I am ready for bed. No more 600 mile days, and no more choosing a camp site after dark!

Am I in the Deep South yet?

Friday, Feb 13 - Alabama to Mississippi

It took me more than 30 minutes to get the bike back onto the road - about 20 feet down the hill. Each time I moved, or even when I didn't, my tires made a rut in the mud, making it impossible to move by foot. The bike fortunately started easily, and I tighened up some bolts on both the battery and the shifter. I had no battery problems today, and as the day went on, the shifter started getting smoother as well. I'm also $3.60 within my budget. That's good news.

The bad news is that it was rather chilly in the morning, and at about noon it started to rain, not to stop even now at 6:00. I had my new GoreTex pants on, and my rain liner in my jacket, so most of my body stayed dry. My gloves got soaked though, and I had to ride the last hour with bare hands and the grip heaters on high, burning my knuckles and freezing my fingers. Next time I'm at a grocery store I'm picking up some rubber kitchen gloves for these situations. Nothing is soaked, but the edges of my sheepskin buttpad are wet and smell like a wet dog. The edges of my fleece coat are also wet - this would be fine, but these are the 2 items that make my pillow! Now I have to lay my head on a cold squishy dog! Hey, it wouldn't be far off from Django back home.

While eating some food and drying off, I got to talk to some people who were asking about the trip - this is something I haven't really done yet, and it seems to legitimize some things in my head. On my last trip this summer, Amber was there, and she took care of most of the communication stuff, so it's a bit unnatural and tough for me to hold up conversations with random people on the road.

Tonight I'm camping free and legal, at a no-fee public campground, something unheard of in the Northeast or Canada. It's towards the end of the Natchez Trace Parkway, a nicely maintained but slightly monotonous 2 lane road with no intersections or trucks.

Things are looking up a bit today, but I still have some things undone, mainly getting my apartment rented. For the most part I'm very optimistic and excited about leaving the country in a couple days. It's always a significant weight off my shoulders when I cross a border. Now I can change the outgoing voicemail message on my phone to say I'm out of the country, and people will leave me alone.

Now that it's dark and I'm finishing this log, it stopped raining. If it had stopped an hour ago I would have cooked dinner. Damn.

Campground critters - no, I didn't try to pee on them.

That isn't supposed to be a body of water there.

Saturday, Feb 14 - Mississippi to Texas

This trip definitelyisn't getting any easier. The day started and ended rather wet, with a slight overdose of frustration towards the end.

In the morning I met an interesting guy. He's the type who at first seems normal enough, but quickly starts talking about life and you realize he's a little smarter and quirkier than the average person hanging around Mississippi. We met a guy like this in Southern Utah this summer - the type that it able to look at the world truly objectively, then develop an opinion on it. This guy was an anthropologist who specializes in astonomy-anthropology relations, but is currently working on uncovering a new theory on the history of the Natchez Trace. I got a ton of information from him that helped me appreciate the history behind the road I've been riding down the past few hundred miles. Most of my stuff was still wet from last night, including the intense downpours that woke me up a couple times. I strapped a couple things to the top of the bike, but even now they're still wet.

I decided to take a stop and have something I hadn't enjoyed the past 3 days - a cup of coffee and some real breakfast. This was shortly after crossing the border into Louisiana, and was very good.

I picked out a campground that looked nice on the map, that was close enough that I could turn in early and make a nice dinner before it gets dark. Little did I know, Sabine Pass State Park is a)closed, b)at the end of a long road full of huge oil facilities and really poor towns, and c)nowhere near any other campground. I saw an RV park nearby, and when I called the number to check in (strange as it is), the woman snapped at me, and threatened to "call the law" if I tried to set up a tent on her property. On top of this, it had started to rain, and I was dangerously low on fuel and not really near and gas stations, or anything else for that matter.

A funny thing about Texas is that although they make a huge deal about everything being so big and expansive, Texans are very territorial - there were more fences and No Tresspassing signs here than in any other state I'd been to. No ninja camping tonight, I'm afraid I'd get shot or arrested or something.

Eventually, on the way to a state park campground far out of my way, I saw a "camping" sign that let to another RV park, this one more crowded with huge motorhomes, and seemingly better equipped. They wanted $15 a night (beats the $35 motor home rate), which puts me significantly over budget, but at least I get a nice shower and can still cook my meal, albeit in darkness.

As if I wasn't frustrated enough, I left some things out to dry while in the shower, and got out to find it had rained, either quickly and hard, or the entire time I was in there, because now everything is once again soaked. I hope my cameras still work. Tomorrow will be chock full o' Texas. I don't think I like Texas.

Sunday, Feb 15 - Texas, Texas, Texas

The only thing that really went wrong at all today was being over budget. This is due to an extra long mileage day, and a breakfast at Denny's. I thought Denny's was supposed to be cheap! $9.61 after tip isn't a good deal for a crapo breakfast. Good thing I'm headed to where the food is better and cheaper.

I wasn't so sure of Texas distances - everyone always talks about how big it is, so I really didn't know if I'd be able to make it all the way to the bottom today. I did, and I'm at a county park campground ($15) in Arroyo City, recommended by the Tourist Information lady. I'm hoping to find some places like that in Mexico, but I don't know if they'll be where I want to go. Made a nice lentil dinner, ate it all, and got the bike packed up for the night just as it got dark.

The weather has been a little crazy though. I had to ride all day with a wet right boot, because apparently it didn't make it all the way under the tarp last night. Some other stuff was wet too, but most of it dried out by the afternoon. It rained a little at the beginning of the day, then really overcast, then instantaneously clear until about 3:30, then overcast and rainy, then overcast and windy while I made dinner.

Tomorrow it's Mexico! I have no clue what to expect - none at all. It's probably good like that, no disappointments. It's a US holiday though, so I hope the insurance places are open. I feel generally good though, like I've had a fulfilling day.

Monday Feb 16 Texas to Victoria, Mexico

I have no clue where to begin writing this, besides saying that I'm really, really far away from where I was 24 hours ago.

Brownsville was actually a pretty nice town, very clean and modern. It took me a few U turns to find the place to get Mexican auto insurance, but it was really easy once I found it. COst me $30 for 5 days. I later found out I could have gotten it at the border crossing plaza with less hassle.

A $2.25 toll took me over the Veterans bridge, and there was no line at either the US customs or the Mexican side. The US Customs officer wanted to know where I was going (I lied as per the advice of the insurance broker - "Yucatan"), if I'm carrying more than 10,000USD's, and if I really rode that motorcycle from New York City.

The Mexican side was very confusing - cones were everywhere, lanes I wanted to be in were blocked, and ones I didn't were clear. Surprisingly, the customs people spoke very little english, and only asked me to open up my tank bag, didnt even look in it, and told me I was done. Then I realized I needed a vehicle import sticker, and had to go back a step, dodging traffic cones along the way. I don't know how cars do it, they would be completely stuck.

Here is the confusing part. Inside the building there were 4 sets of windows. For simplicity I will number them from left to right. 1. Imigracion 2. Seguro y copias 3. something I didnt recognize 4. Permiso de vehiculares

Naturally I go straight to 4, where I wait, 2nd in line and noone at the window. Someone came eventually, helped the other guy. I tell him I need a permit and started handing him my documents. He says go to 1. The woman at 1 sets me up with a tourist visa (262 pesos) and tells me I need copies of my documents and to take it to 4 and bring her back the reciept. I already have copies, so I wait on line to find out that I also need a copy of the form 1 just gave me! So I go to 2, where noone is there. I wait, and someone shows up and makes the copy. Copies are for tips only - I gave hime 50 cents. Back to 4, get the permit (439 pesos), back to 1 again, and then I'm done, and have a huge pile in my arms of papers, documents, reciepts, and my wallet. I bypass the customs, again weaving around cones, and I'm finally in the smelly dirty city that is Matmoros. Another couple of U turms (with people laughing at me when they see that I'm going back the way I came) and I'm on highway 101.

Something that confused me was the way the highways are set up. Each direction has a lane and a half, sort of an extra wide shoulder over a dotted white line. People drive ON this line, so that if someone wants to pass, they can freely do so without hazards to oncoming traffic. Everyone goes their own pace, it's not a race like on US Interstates.

The further into Mexico I got, the more beautiful the scenery became. Farmlands, then big rolling hills with brushy vegetation and cactus, then bigger hills and a huge lake, then tons of orange groves and the scent of oranges everywhere. Then, as I got closer to Ciudad Victoria, the outline of HUGE mountains showed up at the top of a hill. Although not as tall or sharp, it was a similar feeling to entering the Rockies from the east. I had no clue there would be giant mountains right there.

Victoria is a medium sized city with the usual outskirts, downtown, and market neighborhoods. Although I passed by a campground, I figured a hotel would be nice now that they won't be $60 a night, so I came back into the part of town I entered in to take a second look at some motels.

This one cost 220 pesos per night, and comes with a nifty little parking space for the bike. It's pretty dirty and run down, but I prefer that to paying twice as much (at least) for something with a shower curtain.

After taking a walk, I decided my first night in Mexico deserves some food, so I got some chicken from a very happy family a block down. It was damn good - came with rice, a soupy bean thing, a bag of salsa (?) and some tortillas. All for 60 pesos, about $5. Leftovers will be my breakfast.

The cool looking import sticket that sort of matches the decor of the bike.

Parked in the spot at the motel in Victoria

A dirty, dirty bike...

...and some awesome chicken

Tuesday, Feb 17 Victoria to Valles, Mexico

Today started with one of the most beautiful and challenging rides I've had yet. Right out of Victoria, the road (which wasn't easy to find) dove straight into, and up, the mountains. The pavement was mostly smooth, and the curves were nicely banked, although there were no guard rails to keep me from falling to my death if I took a curve too wide. Best of all, there was almost no other vehicles besides myself, so I didn't have to worry about passing slow trucks. I could also pull over and take pictures with no passing cars. I didn't do this much, because the riding was too good.

Once the road mellowed out, it was mostly large fields with small trees and cactus. Also at this point I crossed the Tropic of Cancer. A few of the towns I rode through were completely stuck in time. It could have been any point in the last 100 years and the towns would look just like they do now, including the clothes, cars, mules on the side of the road, everything.

After a few of these towns, the road got twisty again, this time with huge trucks overstuffed with unintelligable agriculture. It was also getting hot out, and my shift lever continues to act funny, so I stopped in a rare shady spot and had some peanut butter (I'm out of granola bars) while I read the bike manual. It had no good suggestions except "lubricate hinges". I'm pretty sure it's not the hinges, and since the bike is running great besides that, I'm afraid I'll mess something up in I investigate further.

I ended up in Ciudad Valles where I sprung for the 300 peso hotel. Again, this puts me over budget, but I'm really tired and don't care right now. This hotel is nice and clean, with remote controlled A/C and television. I really shouldn't make this a habit, so I went to the supermarcado across the street and got a cheap dinner of queso Oaxaca (which is absolutely awesome and addicting) and prepackaged refried beans. I also got a big bottle of water, oatmeal for a few breakfasts, and a can of soda, everything for about 50 pesos.

A lot of people tend to stare at me. Probably because 1)they have never seen such a huge motorcycle before, and 2)I am the only American in the whole province of San Luis Potosi. This is OK, because I stare back. This is because 1) I cant belive these old trucks can take that much of a beating and still run, 2)I've never seen people who use a mule instead of a car, 3)That guy had a HUGE mustache, and 4) I like Mexicans, and can understand their lives' frustrations, joys, and curiosities. So I smile and wave, and they usually wave back.

Wed, Feb 18 Valles to Pachuca, Mexico

Some very hard riding today, on some twisty, bumpy, sometimes gravelly and/or slippery roads from one tiny mountain village to another.

I was shown even more of Mexico's infinite number of climate zones. Some parts of my ride today could have been in Vietnam, some in the Swiss Alps. There was also some high desert terrain a la southern British Columbia, and some rush hour city driving through Pachuca.

Every one of the towns I passed through had a unique vibe - no two were even similar, but they all had a certain Mexican-ness that I'm unable to describe. Some I drove through, some I ride through at 5 mph, some I stopped to take a picture, and one of the larger towns, of which I'm not even sure is on my map, I took my time. I started with some of the best orange juice I've had, and walked around a bit, through the market, and got an awesome flour/corn/cheesey fried thing from a street vendor that was delicious, and only 4 pesos.

I find that sunblock really works. When I left the hotel this morning it was cloudy and overcast, and once it cleared up I didn't stop to put some on. When I realized I was crisping, I put some on and didn't get any more burnt. Figures.

It took a long time, but after battling the city traffic in Pachuca, I found a hotel for 240 pesos, not bad, being that it has a private garage (where I gave big mama a much needed bath) and a nice shower. I get the feeling most of these cheaper hotels are not exactly designed for sleeping. Perhaps it's the room service "menu" here, or that the workers always seem to be quicker to quote me on the 4 hour rate than the "todo la noche" price. Regardless, they're cheap, mostly clean, and kind of cool and unique - a step up from Super 8 in my book.

Hopefully tomorrow I can cover more ground in Mexico - this country is really big, and I haven't been always going directly south. I'm a little anxious to get to Belize, where I can understand people and relax after a few days before going to Guatemala to finally learn some Spanish.

It looks so out of place in these towns...

Bus stop.

The "menu"

Thurs, Feb 19 Pachuca to Veracruz, Mexico

Today became a manifestation of the major lesson of a motorcycle trip. I started off very much destination driven (see end of previous entry), and ran into some problems that forced me to think differently. If I hadn't taken the signals, today could have ended up much worse.

I spent the entire morning riding around completely l..lo..los - confused. After going through numberous towns not on the map for about 3 hours, I finally gave up trying to find a road to Zactlan that seemed to exist on my map, but not in reality.

Frustrated, I headed North to Poza Rica, and ended up in the back of a long line of stopped vehicles. Being that I'm on a motorcycle (and I'm special like that), I scooted up to the front to find that there had been an accident. Not surprising, being that this tiny 2 lane twisty mountain road was full of slow trucks and had no pull-over spots. After 15 minutes, it was clear and I tailgated my way to Poza Rica.

At this point it had been 3 days since I'd talked to anyone who spoke english, and I started getting very slightly homesick.

I decided, since I'm obviously not going to make it very far south tonight, that I'd follow signs to las ruinas El Tajin. It looked fancy, and a bit like a tourist trap, so I figured it could be good for me. It was also raining, and I needed a break.

On pulling into the complex, I saw a familiar sight that made me happy - 3 Honda Goldwings and 2 Harley ElectraGlides! The plates said they were from Missouri, Illinois, and South Dakota. I found the guys eating in the open air restaurant within the stands of people selling El Tajin hats and other crap. Serendipitously, there was one empty seat at the table, so they asked me to join them. Although a slightly different breed of traveler (they didn't even try to speak any spanish, and stayed on the main highways), it was very nice talking with them, and one even picked up my tab.

After eating a slightly mediocre meal there (by Mexico standards - still better than any US "mexican" restaurant), I pain the 50 peso admission to see the pyramids. It was amazing, but I could only stay long enough to walk around and take some pictures - it was already about 4:00.

Not seeing any hotels that looked good and/or within my budget, I headed down the coastal route towards Veracruz.. Although it doesn't say so on the map, this is a toll road, 18 pesos.

Eventually I found a sign that said "HOTEL", and in smallet letters underneath "camping". It had finally cleared up and was beautiful out, so I made a U turn and found the hotel/campground, a nice place along a river at the end of a long rural road, 4km off the highway. It's very quiet here and the owner is very nice (my spanish is geting un pocito better). If I feel lazy enough, I might lounge tomorrow and stay another night here. Now that I'm out of the mountains, the roads will be a little quicker.

On a last note, I'm pretty sure I'm actually farther north than I started out in Pachuca this morning. I really don't care though.

These trucks, when not stopped like this, actually travel at about 20 mph.

This is awesome.

Friday, Feb 20 No travel

It rained most of the night, into the morning, and stayed overcast after that, so it was an easy decision to spend another night camping here. Noone else is staying here, and everyone is hidden away indoors, so it fels like an abandoned village.

So far, being in Mexico, there are things that I haven't experienced that people at home told me I would. I haven't yet:

1) got in an accident

2) got arrested

3) got pulled over by cops who want money

4) got diarrhea or vomited for at least 24 hours

5) got robbed, or

6) got yelled at and attacked simply for being an American

Instead I've gotten curious looks, cops who want to know how many CC's the bike is, people who try to speak english to me, and people who just think it's funny that I don't understand a thing they're saying.

Since it was still raining and I wasn't going anywhere, I sprung for a nice lunch at the hotel "restaurant". It's in quotes because it's a few tables, a kitchen, and one woman who cooks many more meals there for herself and her family than for people like me. I gathered up enough spanish to ask for something spicy with shrimp, so I ended up with Camarones Diablo. It was very tasty, came with fresh tortillas out of the oven, and my only complaint was that it might have been more pleasant to peel the shrimp if the heads weren't still on.

Some trumpet playing, a walk on the beach (I finally saw the Gulf of Mexico for the first time today, after having been so close all week), and I'm about ready for bed. I'm studying the map to see if I can find a route that doesn't take me through Veracruz. After Veracruz, no more big cities until Guatemala City, if I even go through that.

Sat, Feb 21 Veracruz to Villahermosa, Mexico

Today was a very long mileage day. I started on a full tank of gas and filled up 3 times. Although I've been trying to avoid the toll roads, opting for the "libre" instead of the "cuota" routes, it is difficult in this part of the country.

Most of the day was spent "in the zone", just riding, singing to myself (yeah, I do that), and generally thinking about life, or sometimes nothing at all. I tried turning on the radio for the first time this trip - it only lasted about 2 minutes, because it took my concentration off the road and my thoughts, which I suppose is the reason for radios anyway.

This morning, around Veracruz, I saw lots of campgrounds and hotels that offered camping. There were so many I figured there would be some when I'm ready to stop for the night. This was not the case, and I kept riding until about 6:30 when the sun was almost gone before pulling into an overpriced motor inn next to a gas station. 300 pesos, and there's no hot water, not very secure parking, and the window shows me a wall of the industrial building next door. I'm in Villahermosa, a tourst town with billboards advertising hotel specials starting at 499.

Tomorrow I'm headed straight towards Belize. I don't know if I'll get to cross the border tomorrow, but I'm not pressed for time- I still have more than a week before my classes start.

I talked to my roommate today as well, and a sublettor has been arranged! I can now relax and finally get lost, because I have until May 1 to be back to NYC.

Not a pleasant sight to see while walking on the beach.

It's a maximum security motel.

Sunday, Feb 22 Villahermosa to Chetumal, Mexico

A very nice day today. Lots of miles, few of which included epic quandries through unmapped towns. Belize was just slightly too far away to comfortably make it today, so I decided to stop for the night in Chetumal.

Being that the Mexican Caribbean was at the center of the Mayan Empire, there are many archeological sights along the route across the Yucutan Peninsula. One of which I stopped at, an ancient city with lots of pyramids. This time climbing was permitted and there were ropes going down many to help on the tricky spots. This was amazing, to climb to the top and look out over an ancient city and see nothing but jungle vegetation beyond it. I climbed a few, got cramps in my legs, took lots of pictures, and got made fun of by some local teenagers hanging out in the parking lot. There was a total of 3 cars parked there.

Apparently, just about everything is closed on Sundays in Chetumal, even the tourist information center. The guy came out and helped me anyway. He gave me a very useful map of the city and told me all about the area, in Spanish, which would have been useful if I understood what he was saying.

After a relatively long search for an acceptable hotel, I found one for 200 pesos, the cheapest yet in Mexico. I did see one for 140, but that was uninhabitable. It has a ceiling fan and a window over the street, but again, no hot water! I really want, nay, need a shower!

Little did I know, today was a good day to come into Chethumal - tonight is the annual festival. Lots of street vendors with really tasty junk food, beer you can drink while walking around (it's legal here), and micheladas, the spicy mixed beer drink so popular here that I can't seem to enjoy. There was also a huge parade, of which the highlight for me was a guy carrying an american flag with an Obama mask on - he was very much celebrated and cheered on by the locals here.

At first Chethumal seemed like a tourist town - on the bay, right off the highway on the way to Cancun. Also, some people spoke a very small amount of engligh. Then I realized that I'm the only gringo in the whole town, and people still looked at me funny - that made me feel better.

I'm over budget again, mostly because of the extra long mileage and all the carnival food. I'm considering staying here another night to relax, sleep in, and not spend so much money, but I might just go to Belize instead.

Awesome.Awesome.Sunset over the bay. Awesome.
I really dig the police bikes here.

Mon, Feb 23 Chetumal, Mexico to Belize Zoo

Another awesome day. This trip just keeps getting cooler.

I left Chetumal early in the morning and got a good headstart to the day, to ensure I didn't have to rush through anything. Belize is a small country, and I've read and heard so much that I didn't want to miss anything.

The border to Belize has a large "free zone", with casinos and duty-free everything. I skipped that and went straight to the insurance shack, where I bought a week (it was cheaper than 4 or 5 days) for $15US. This came with yet another sticker that needed to go on my windshield. Too many of these and I won't be able to see where I'm going.

The border crossing:

I went straight to the crossing, which was apparently the wrong thing to do because I had to turn around, park, and get my passport stamped and vehicle import stuff done (which didn't cost me anything), then go back up the road a hundred yards to get the bottom of the bike sprayed with some chemical stuff. Maybe I'm dense, but I don't see any point in that. It cost me $5belize (a BZD is 2 to a USD). I gave them 50 pesos and got 2b back. I am not really sure how that math works out, but whatever. There was a guy talking me through all this, who at first I thought he worked for the customs, but realized later he just wanted a tip. I gave him my 2b change from the spray, because he actually did help out a bit. A very inexpensive and hassle free border crossing.

I found an ATM at Corozal, and on the way out of the town I was stopped and checked out at a police checkpoint. The cop was very nice and interested in my trip, and I kept getting an increasing feeling that I really like Belize. With reggae music playing at the customs building and cops who want to stop and chat, I felt very relaxed.

Out of Corozal I ended up on the wrong road, a REALLY bumpy, potholed, rutted, slightly paved farm road that went through huge fields of nothing. For a while I even thought that was the main road, and hoped it wasn't like that all the way to Belize City. Eventually it intersected what actually was the main road - a better paved, wide 2 laner with absolutely no road markings, and only an occasional sign. This was the main "highway". At this point, I gained enough relaxation and confidence in the few other drivers that I took off my helmet - something I rarely do, only on occasions like National Parks - and rode without it for the rest of the day.

And everyone speaks English! Even the Mexicans and Guatemalans, if only a little. Distances are measured in feet and miles, and speed in mph - very cool.

In Orange Walk I found an internet cafe and a restaurant where I had some old fashioned beans n' rice with some of the tastiest, most tender chicken I've had yet on this trip. I'm very glad that I'm eating meat for this trip - I'd be missing out on a lot of good eatin' if I kept doing the veg thing. After all that, it was off to Belize City.

The city really didn't impress me much, and seemed like it was just a place where lots of people live and work - nothing more. Even the touristy parts of town seemed a little bit lame. So I kept heading down the road (yes, there's only one). After a while, and in the middle of nowhere, I saw a sign for some sort of nature resort, or retreat, or education center, that advertised food and accomodations, so I figured I'd check it out. It's the Tropical Education Center at the Belize Zoo. A neat place that offers camping, and was giving a night tour of the zoo that night. They also have a dining room where dinner and breakfast is served. I'll take it!

Over the spaghetti dinner I talked with the other guests - a German couple driving down through the Americas, a couple of fun older ladies from southern California, and a dentist from England.

The night tour of the zoo was really cool - it was only 4 of us and one guide. The zoo is very rustic compared to the Bronx zoo that I'm more familiar with - it's more of a rescue shelter than a zoo. I got to hand feed bananas to tapirs, stand face to face with leapords, and hear the really loud shouts of howler monkeys. The zoo isn't very well supported financially - just about all the carnivorous animals are fed chicken, because it's cheap, instead of whatever their normal prey would be. All the animals we saw, being nocturnal, were very active and came right up to us.

It's been a good day. I like Belize.

Tues, Feb 24 - Belize Zoo to Belmopan

Today started with a bit of a disappointment. After talking with some of the people at the Tropical Education Center, I felt like it would be really cool to do what they were doing and volunteer at the zoo for a couple days. I even got to talk to Sharon Matola, the founder and director of the zoo a while - I caught her peeking under the bike cover to check out the bike, so we chatted a while. She's a very cool woman who has done more for Central American wildlife than just about anyone else. Anyway, I found out that you have to PAY to work at the Belize zoo - $25US per day, not including anything! This seems fine for a tourist, but I'm not a tourist. I can see how people would pay to have a personal zookeeper as a guide for the day, and for the "experience", but when you're traveling on $30 a day, it's a little different. Bummer.

So, I wrapped up my tab at the place and headed out. Sharon recommended that I check out the "hummingbird highway" before heading straight towards guatemala - it's one of the 4 main roads in Belize, and not a very long ride.

On my way down the Hummingbird, I saw some really nice small mountains (or large hills), and thought it would be great to take a little hike. Very soon after that, I saw a sign for a national park! Yay!

Blue Hole National Park consists of 2 caves, a lookout tower, and the Blue Hole, all connected by a few miles of trails through the jungle. The entry fee was $8B, and I was told that camping is allowed for another 5b.

The hike was beautiful, and you can go most of the way into one of the caves without a guide, only a flashlight. I only have a small flashlight, so it was extra exciting, and I really couldn't see a damn thing. The lookout tower was really neat too, and very rickety, slippery, and difficult to climb up. After the hiking I was glad to be able to take a dip in the "blue hole", a neat swimming hole that is small in diameter, but very, very deep, hence the "blue".
I rode a little farther down the Hummingbird Highway (not a highway at all), taking in the beautiful scenery, then turned around and came back to the park to camp out for the night. Being that Belize is expensive, I think the only way I'll stay another night is if I can camp out again and find cheap things to do. Heading west towards the border anyway tomorrow.



The view from the lookout tower. This jungle vegetation is really dense and pretty.It was very hot, humid, and muddy on the trails - and this is the "dry season"!

Wed, Feb 25 Belmopan to Guatemala

I woke up shortly last night to the shouts of wild howler mokeys. It´s an unmistakeable sound like nothing else I´ve heard (as a musician, I notice all sounds).

In the morning I filled up the tank and took the short ride to San Ignacio, a bustling small town centered in tourism, and the home base for innumerable outposts and outfitters. I´d heard that these tours are great and unforgettable, but they were way over my budget, and required me to remind myself that I'm not a tourist. When people ask though, I call it a vacation, for lack of a better word, and many of these people don´t speak much english. I got some amazing breakfast burritos and papaya juice from a taco stand with a guy who gave me props for the Leatherman tool that´s been glued to my hip the past 2 weeks.

On a recomendation, I took the little hand-cranked ferry across the river to see the local Mayan ruins. They were neat, and I got to climb to the top of some. The difference between these and the last two I´ve been to is that the signs were written in english, so I could read the history of the excavation and overhear some of the tour guides with their groups of rich Americans on family vacation and retired couples traveling the world.

It was only about noon when I was done, so I decided to go to Guatemala.

The Border Crossing:
The first person to approach me at the border was an unofficial currency exchange guy. He told me where to go to check out of Belize and to come to him afterwards, because there is a 37B exit fee. That was the only number he got right. I paid the exit fee, got my passport stamped, and came back to him to change my Belize dollars to Quetzales.

Although I didn´t realize it at the time, I now see that although he didn´t screw me, he did milk me. Some have said the exchange rates are unfair, or the calculators are rigged - I don´t think this is true. He bought a BZD for 3.2Q. This makes sense since BZD to a USD is 2:1 and Q to USD is 7.5:1. He also clearly punched the keys and showed me his calculator the whole time. He got me with quantity - he took it upon himself to scare me into thinking that the crossing was going to be so expensive that I had to change every bit of cash I had. He started spouting off numbers - ¨20Q for you, 80 for the vehicle, 35 per day for insurance, and how long are you staying? 3 weeks? There are no ATMs until Flores, and you need hotel and food¨and so on. This worked on me. I changed the 100 peso note I had been keeping, all my Belize money, and an extra 40US out of the emergency stash I hide on the bike. When I get to an ATM, I´ll have to replace that, although it will be in Quetzales.

On the Guatemala side, I was immediately hounded by even more money changers, all claiming to have the best rate. The Guatemala customs agents were all very nice, laid back, and tolerant of my poor Spanish. The passport stamp cost nothing, the import sticker 40Q (about $6), and insurance isn´t necessary. In fact, the closest short term insurance dealer is not until Flores, the first large town a few hours away. The officer at the gate didn´t even look at my passport, and I was let through to Guatemala.

The road was terrible. It was much like the road I ended up on at the top of Belize - bumpy, potholed, and rutted - this one with a few big puddles that got me and big mama covered in mud. After a few miles it smoothes out and becomes mostly paved, with bumpy perpendicular unpaved strips usually about 10 feet wide. And alas, the overwhelming joy that is the tope in Mexico and the bump in Belize exists here as well, but I haven´t yet figured out what they´re called here (NOTE: I now see that they're called Tumulos). Coming near Tikal, one of my must-sees, I saw a sign for a resort that offers camping, so I rode the few miles on the really bumpy road, then the half mile offroad to find that the place is actually very pretty and nice, on a large lake. I had some food at the restaurant and talked with some English speakers there who know Guatemala well and helped me find a good route to Quetzaltenango and some things to see along the way.

When I went to set up the tent, one of the poles broke. There´s only 2, so it´s important to the workings of the tent. And last night, my flashlight broke - the bulb blew (at least it didn´t happen inside the cave). When I get home, I´m going to write a colorful letter to Mountain Hardware - it´s a brand new tent. A couple of the men helped fix it temporarily, with some string, so it will work for tonight, but I´d really like it to fit in my saddle bag like it used to.

When I went to do some work on the bike, some leaves and twigs were falling on it. The owner who speaks some english said ¨the howler monkeys like your bike¨. I look up, and there´s a family of howlers way up in the tree! Looks like I´ll be serenaded again tonight.

Tomorrow it´s Tikal, where I´ll probably spend the whole day. I have high expectations and have heard a lot about this place. Hopefully the road getting there will be alright.

Thurs, Feb 26 - Tikal, sort of

This morning was very frustrating.

I packed up my things and paid my bill, and started heading down back to the main road when I realized my luggage rack is empty. Usually it carries a bag with the bike cover, a bungee cord, and a block of wood that I put under my kickrest in the mud or sand. Last I remember it was also carrying my packtowel that I use to dry my body (I have another one for food and the bike). I turned around and went back to see if I had left it in the parking at the ranch I was staying at, but alas it wasn´t there. Looking at my camera, I saw this picture:
This means that I had that bag on there when I crossed into Guatemala - I didn´t leave it at the campsite the night before. I rode most of the way back towards the border looking for it on the sides of the road, about 8 miles each way, but nothing. It was either stolen by someone in the past 24 hours, or it all got bumped off the bike by one of the enormous potholes in the road. I can´t possibly see what anyone would get out of a torn up old motorcycle cover, a block of wood, and a rag, but that cover is worth the value of the bike, as it generally deters theives when I´m in risky parking spaces.

After giving up on that, I headed to Tikal - the road was actually well paved, contrary to my map, but it was very long. Once in the park I was given a sheet with people who write down the time through each checkpoint to make sure I´m not speeding over the 45km/h limit, which is dreadfully slow for a road like this. And it´s a really, really long road, about 10 miles into the park.

I´m still getting used to Quetzals. It´s not easy, being 7.5 to a dollar, to calculate in my head, and I´m still sort of in Peso mode. Belize was 2 to 1 so it doesn´t really count. This means that when a guy tries to sell me a map at the gate of the park for 20Q, I should tell him to go jump off a cliff. But no I´m like duhhhhh ok, and I buy the expensive crap-o map-o that has the worst english translations I´ve ever seen. I should keep it just for the amusement.

When I get to the park, I find out that the entry fee for a day is 150Q! this is really expensive, and beyond what I feel comfortable paying to go see some Mayan ruins. Besides that, I got a Disneyland sense, with rich american tourists running around everywhere, and po
or locals trying to sell them all crap.

I´m sure Tikal is great, but I´m just not in the mood to deal with that today. Add 40 wasted miles to the 16 from the morning.

Now I´m headed south, where I am told there is some beautiful scenery and great archeological sights - I think I might be done with those for this trip, though.

I´ll have to find a new bike cover in Guatemala city, but for now, I´m just trying to head in the other direction of all the tour buses.

Thurs, Feb 26 - Raxruja, Guatemala

I saw some crazy things on the road today. First off, I got very confused coming out of Flores. It´s like many roads in Mexico and Central America, that starts out as the main road into town, and suddenly turns into a city street, then an alley, and YOU have to figure out how to get to the road that goes out of that town and to the next one. I took the wrong road out of that town, and ended up going far out of my way (for the third time today). I´m getting good at asking ¨Donde esta la ruta a Coban? Es esta la ruta? Todo recto? Bien, gracias¨.

Soon after coming onto the correct ruta, I came across a road block. Not with the police, the military, robbers, or people trying to sell things. This one was by a large herd of cattle, all running up the road towards me! After a while they cleared out, and I got to pass through.

This road is one of only two that connect the Northeastern part of Guatemala with the cities in the south and west parts of the country. So I expected it to be relatively well paved and devoid of obstacles, which it mostly was. That is, until the road ended in a small body of water.

Naturally, I was confused for a minute until I noticed a ferry loading up cars on the other side. This one wasn´t hand cranked, though. It was rigged up with 3 outboard motors, all along the downstream side of the boat. I felt just a bit out of place on this rickety makeshift ferry (that cost 5Q) with cattle trucks, old beat up cars, and a 100cc dirt bike. The largest bump yet on this trip has to be the one getting off the ramp of this ferry onto the gravel road up the riverbank - it sent my butt flying so far off the seat I was standing straight up and had to death-grip the handlebars to sit back down.

I also saw the largest spider I´ve ever seen. I don´t know what kind it was (I didn´t stop to ask it), but I can say that I passed it at 60mph and could see EACH LEG moving! AARRGGHHH!

I´m far away from the tourist towns now, with the ¨eco-tourism¨resorts and ¨adventure tours¨and ¨jungle safaris¨. Now I´m riding through towns so isolated and traditional it looks like I´m watching National Geographic. The way people look at me pass by, or yell, or whistle, or wave, I might as well be driving a DeLorean. People bathe in the streams, by the road, the women balance their belongings on their heads, and every building has a grass roof, regardless of the composition of the walls.

I found a very simple hotel room for 35Q, by far the cheapest yet, and had dinner at a restaurant down the street for 40. Guatemala so far rates significantly under Mexico for food, but makes up for it in the gringo-on-a-motorcycle shock value.

No specific plans yet for tomorrow, I´ll just keep heading south and play it by ear.

Fri, Feb 27 Raxruja to Antigua Guatemala

I should start looking at my compass more often. If I did this morning, I would have known that I was already on the east-west road, not south like I thought. So when I made the left turn at the T intersection at the end of town, I thought the next 12 miles of some of the bumpiest roads yet was the route to Cobàn - after all, there were buses going on this road with ¨Cobán¨ written on them.

I once read that asking for directions in Central America is only possible with people who actually drive, noone else. When I asked the gas attendants, all they knew is that Fray is the town I was currently in. In fact, they didn´t even understand ¨Cobán¨, even after my pronouncing it a few different ways. I ride a little farther, make a U turn, and asked a bus driver in the same gas station. He immediately pointed right back the way I came.

Apparently I missed a turn yesterday, because a while after passing my hotel (2 hours after leaving), I went straight, but didn't recognize the scenery. And a few looks as my compass told me I was heading west, then south. This must be the way to Cobán.

Some tricky mountain riding going into Guatemala City, with lots of slow trucks to maneuver around. My map has nothing to say about Ciudad de Guatemala, except that it exists, leaving me completely on my own to find my was across this huge metropolis, complete with highways, traffic, and urban sprawl. It took a while, but I made it to the road to Antigua, with the help of an English speaking guy at a gas station - boy, was I glad to find him.

All the roads in Antigua are cobblestone - this makes for a beautiful city, to match the cathedrals, arches, and really old architecture. However, it´s very difficult riding, expecially at slow speeds in the traffic. On only hunches, I made a couple turns and ended up in a neat looking hostel where I got a bed for 50Q - I'm sure if I looked I could find something cheaper, but this is nice, it's been a long day, and so far I'm the only one in my room. I'll probably stay here 2 nights.

Sat, Feb 28 Antigua, Guatemala

Some crappy news today - my digital camera was stolen.

I used it at the cybercafe 1 block away - plugged it into the USB port near the floor, and didn't realize I left it until back at the hostel. 2 blocks of walking and it was gone - the guy there said someone else used the computer right after me. It was a crappy camera - it was all scratched up, the zoom was broken, and it took less than sensational shots. The 2 gig SD card was worth more than the camera, and all the pictures from it are here on the blog.

What this means, though, is that I can't post pictures on the blog anymore, and what use is a travel log without pictures? Being that the price of a cheap camera is about a week's budget for me, the rest of the pictures will have to be on film, and eventually scanned in.

I finally did laundry today! Well, I had it done at a lavanderia up the street while I fought the crowds and salespeople at the large market. I was getting really stinky, and it was a necessity if I was going to be walking around a crowded city.

Antigua is a really neat, hip town, but it loses a bit of its natural charm with all the Americans, Canadians, and Europeans. The upside to this is that most of the visitors are young budget travelers and backpackers and hippies like myself. It is about as bilingual as Quebec City - conversations always start in the local language, but if you answer in english, chances are you'll be understood. This also creates a gap between the visitors and the locals - it seems very difficult to live in Antigua.

The food here is a decent step up from the rest of the country so far. Ceviche is very popular and delicious, and almost always made with shrimp. And the coffee is all one would expect and more - one of my favorite coffees at Fairway back home is called Guatemala Antigua, and it's got nothing on this stuff.

Speaking of stuff, my nose has been runny and I've been feeling a bit fatigued - this could be from the long days, the past few without a hot shower and with very dirty clothes, or maybe that there's a resident cat here in the hostel. Whatever the reason, I'm drinking lots of Emergen C and taking it easy today, and tomorrow it's only a couple hours ride (I hope) to Xela (that's the more informal name of Quetzaltenango), where I'll be staying for a while.

Sunday March 1 Antigua to Quetzaltenango, Guatemala

A terrible ride this morning, that kept getting better and better all the way to Quetzaltenango. On a recomendation from one of my hostel roommates who had been in Antigua 3 months, I went to a really nice and surprisingly inexpensive breakfast place, situated in the courtyard of a hotel in a 500 year old building. A plate of eggs and beans with an english muffin and some more of that amazing café (con leché) ran me a whopping 25Q, about $3.

It was cold and overcast when I left, and as I headed up the road into the high mountain passes, it got cold, overcast, and wet. One of my big frustrations with riding in this part of the world is the buses, trucks, and older cars, but most specifically the old school-bus style ¨chicken buses¨ that are all painted up and will stop just about anywhere. They belch out giant clouds of black smoke and, unlike most of the trucks, their exhaust pipes are about 2 feet from the ground. They go very slowly when I want to go fast, and they go whizzing by when I need to slow down on slippery curves or gravel stretches.

There's a huge, multi-lane, well marked highway from Antigua to Xela - that is currently being built. Today I had the pleasure of driving all along this massive construction site, with long stretches of a gravel, dirt, and/or mud, and with very thin lanes.

As I went along, the road improved, and so did the weather. At this point I realized how beautiful this part of the country is, with its mountains, volcanoes, and alpine towns. Xela is one of the largest of these towns, and shares the same scenery of towering volcanoes that peak well over 10,000 ft. Although not quite as old as Antigua, many of the streets are cobblestone, and the architecture is the same, with everything gated off the street, and the world's narrowest sidewalks.

After learning much about the geography and street layout of the town, I finally found the house of the director of ICA Spanish School who, ironically, speaks very little english. He was very good at making himself clear and understood, and repeated things as many times as I needed. I left Big Mama at his house, probably not to be ridden much in the next couple weeks.

After meeting my family who I will be living and eating with, I went out with some of the other students, who had all been here for a very long time, 8 weeks and more. Apparently, which I've heard from other sources as well, these spanish schools don't work so well if you're hanging out every night speaking English with your friends - it's best to be out in the city, talking to locals and doing things with your family.

It feels a little strange to be at a sort of destination, not to be riding for a little while, but this is also a bit of a relief too - riding hundreds of miles a day is difficult, tiresome, and risky. I'll have a while to stay here and decide what to do next, but there probably won't be too many blog articles coming out. It will probably continue when I get back on the road (or if something really crazy happens, or if I get a digital camera and want to post pictures).

A Grim Reminder in Guatemala City

Soon after riding into Guatemala City, looking for the route across town, I hit some traffic that was very slow, and mostly stopped. I pushed my way to the front to find an accident - a motorcycle was laying on the road and a lane was closed, with emergency vehicles all around.

As I passed, I saw that they had laid a stretcher upside down over the rider's body. All I saw was his helmet, his arm out the side, and the blood trickling down the hill on the pavement. A very sobering image.

I take this as a reminder that this can happen to anyone, regardless of where you are, what type of bike you ride, whether or not you wear a helmet, etc. I am also reminded that sometimes we ride carelessly - we pass trucks on blind curves, change lanes without signaling, go fast around curves, and take in the scenery when our concentration should be on the road. All riders are guilty of these things to an extent, and it could have been any one of us on the pavement in Guatemala City.

I'm not taking this experience as a sign to do anything different than my normal riding style, routine, or anything else. It is only a raising of my awareness.

Thursday, March 5 Xela, Guatemala

If you're wondering why there is a sudden gap in my entries, it is because I'm not really traveling right now - I'm in Quetzaltenango learning how to speak spanish in 2 weeks (I'm starting to realize that it is actually possible).

If you're curious as to how that's going, it's really cool. The family I live with feeds me 3 meals a day, usually simple but hearty meals. They speak absolutely no english, so if I need or want to communicate with them, I have to use my terrible spanish, and hope to understand their response. There's also a few children in the house - they're especially difficult to understand, but easiest to talk to (usually they point to my moto gear or trumpet stuff and ask what it is, and questions like that).

I took a ride today for about an hour and a half, up a road that I didn't quite find on the map, so I went as far as the road went, until it turned into sand, and turned around and came back. The bike ran terribly. This is partially because it hasn't been ridden in a few days, partially because the elevation here is so high, and partially because it was so dirty (the back brake made some terrible sounds). I did get a great view of the city that doesn't seem to be very common. If I had my digital camera, I'd post some pictures of it up, but alas, it is somewhere in Antigua.

After muchos verbos and such, my brain is pretty stuffed for the week. I think this weekend I'll ride down to the beach and get some sun on the rest of my body besides my nose and the bottom half of my cheeks. It will be my first time at the Pacific Ocean this trip.

Saturday, March 7 - Chichicastenango

A beautiful ride today, getting lost for a while that led to some beautiful riding that I wouldn't have normally done unless I was lost - that's the way things work on a bike.

I wanted to take the main road to Chichicastenango, but ended up on a road that went down out of the mountains instead. I ended up on the south side of Lago Atitlán, a beautiful lake surrounded by volcanoes. On the road there I saw a huge eruption of one of the volcanoes - they're very active here and it's an almost daily occurence. Once I found the road around the lake, it took me up, and up, and up, into some really high elevations. I guess I topped out at over 10,000 feet.

The road to chichi is really dangerous. There is one hairpin curve after another, and a thin layer of small grain gravel on the road. A few slips of my back tire convinced me to take these all in first gear. Besides this, the chicken buses come up this road, and take up the entire road on the curves, so if I see one coming, I need to come to a complete stop and wait for it to come around the curve.

Chichicastenango is a neat small town high in the mountains. It's famous for having a big market, but I've heard it is best on Sundays, so I didn't get the whole shebang. There are less tourists than Xela or Antigua, and the market is just as much for locals.

What brought me more joy in Chichi than anything else is that I can actually understand Spanish now. People now ask me where I'm from, which I was able to answer before, but now I can understand their more subtle questions. For example, the people with whom I ate pollo frito at the market wanted to know where I was on September 11 (I was at school in North Carolina then), and if I live near the statue of liberty. They want to know what I think of Guatemala, and Obama, and if I think having a big motorcycle makes it safer to ride. I had originally thought of learning Spanish as a pit stop in my trip, but I'm starting to see just how much a difference it makes to be able to communicate with people in ways other than visually with my bike and aurally with my trumpet. This made me very excited and gave me the energy for another week of classes and homework and lots of verbs.

Monday, March 9 - Brake Problems

I finally got a chance to take off the side case and see what is making that weird sound in the back brake.

The mechanic who changed my tires before I left told me that I'd need new pads eventually, but could do it when I got back from the trip. He was very wrong.

The pads wore down to the metal, and have been scraping grooves into the rotor. Now I not only need new brake pads, but something needs to be done about the rotor, or else the new pads won't last me the ride back to the states.

I ordered some pads online, and they should be here in a week or so. Which means I might have to stay at the school another week, or else I'll just be waiting with nothing to do. Meanwhile, I can try to find someone here that might be able to use a lathe to smooth out the rotor. I'm sure it's possible, because they reuse everything here, especially automotive parts.

Regardless, I am unable to do any riding for a little while - something I'm pretty bummed out about. For now, it's more huevos y frijoles.

Wednesday, March 18 - Frustrated in Xela

I'm still living with my host family from the school, although I'm not taking any more classes. I will leave Xela as soon as I get the brake pads in the mail, but for now I'm stuck here. Of course, there are worse places to be stuck.

What is frustrating is that I'm also getting sick, probably at least partially by a lack of good nutrition - my family basically eats all starch and no greens - a meal might be something like beans, a ham sandwich that I won't really eat, tortillas, corn thingies, and sweet bread for dessert, to go with the crappy powdered coffee that everyone drinks here. Unfortunately, almost all of the amazing coffee produced here is exported, leaving the locals to drink the cheap powdered stuff made in Colombia.

Yesterday I had to go to the market to get some fruit. I ended up with 15 mangoes that I got for 5Q, about 75 cents. I have no clue what I'm going to do with 15 mangoes, besides poop a lot. I also got some avocadoes and bananas, so hopefully now I'll be getting enough vitamins to fight this off.

I've also been back and forth with the decision to go further south. I'm not sure how my new brake pads will hold out with a grooved rotor, and I've heard some terrible things about the Honduras border crossing. Money and safety is also an issue. On the contrary, I've heard some amazing things about Honduras and El Salvador, and upon more research found out about a border crossing near Copán Ruinas that is supposed to be the lesser corrupt of them. Like I always do, I won't know where I'm going until I get there. For now, I'm sick, stuck, and slightly frustrated.

Friday, March 20 Quetzaltenango, Guatemala to Copàn Ruinas, Honduras

Finally, another day worth writing about, full of travels and adventures just the way I remember them.

Yesterday I got my brake pads in the mail. It took a while to pry the calipers wide enough open to accept them, and a little hammering to get them into place, but they fit and work. However, when I tried to star the engine to try them out, it wouldn't start - dead battery. I think I might have a bad battery - this is by no means the first time I've had problems like this. I took it to the moto shop with I got my oil changed a couple days ago and they happily put it on charge overnight for 10 Quetzales. In the morning, after breakfast of a couple pieces of fruit and some coffee and goodbyes with my host family, Big Mama cranked right up and off we went. With new brake pads, and oil change, and a few weeks' rest, she ran great and didn't give me any problems at all.

I, however, am still sick. Although not as bad as yesterday, I'm still stuffy, and with so many huge changes in altitude I've had the ears-need-to-pop-but-can't feeling all day, leaving me uncomfortable and nearly deaf. At a gas station someone asked me something I couldn't hear, and when he got his english speaking friend to ask, assuming I didn't understand spanish, I couldn't hear him either! It turned out they just wanted to know the size of the engine. I could have guessed that, and usually do - when someone asks me something I don't understand, my immediate answer is "mil tres cientos".

My plans for today were very uncertain - I knew I wanted to cross into Honduras at Copàn Ruinas, but didn't know how close I'd make it in a day. The road to Guatemala was just as I remember it going the other way - cold, twisty, and wet. This time it was also foggy, at times so much I was cruising at about 20mph, trying to see if the road curves or goes straight.

After a couple hours' "confusion" in Guatemala City, I found the road to the west, thanks to 2 cab drivers who both spoke a little english and a motorcycle delivery guy who had me follow him all the way to the ramp onto the highway. It was about 2:30 when I left the city, and at that point I started considering the possibility of getting to Honduras today. I had read that these border crossings tend to be less hectic and quicker in the evenings when they're getting ready to close. Although it was getting late, there wasn't much around so I decided to make a run for the border.

The Border Crossing:
I arrived at about 5:30, and there were few cars, but lots of trucks lined up on the side. This is the most unoffical looking border yet - no fancy booths, signs, or modern buildings; only some hand-drawn gates, money changers in the parking lot with stacks of bills in one hand and a calculator in the other, and a few shacks with teller windows right next to opened doors.

The guy who changed some of my Quetzales for Lempiras (at 2L:1Q) after questioning me all about the bike (mil tres cientos!), told me to go to window 4. At window 4 I got my Guatemala exit stamp, payed the $3usd or 25Q fee, and went to the next building to take care of the vehicle stuff. Unlike Mexico, it is necessary to cancel the vehicle permit, even if coming back. None of the guys in this border speak english, and my hearing wasn't getting much better, so it was difficult to figure out what these guys wanted. They guy at this building got a little frustrated with me - at first I thought it was where I get my Honduras permit, not realizing it was a Guatemala station. Down the road a hundred meters was the Honduras place, even less official looking yet. No signs at all, just some desks with stacks of papers and computers in small rooms with open doors - no windows this time.

I went up to the first guy at the first desk I saw, and it turned out to be the right place for a vehicle import. He was a young, cheerful guy who kept talking to me about stuff, of which I understood maybe 20%. When I understood something I'd answer, and he'd keep talking more - about women, Honduras, Christian Rock (he made me watch 2 music videos on his computer before filling out any papers), whether I beleive in God, etc etc. A couple copies each of my license, title, passport, and $29 US, and I'm done. No windshield sticker this time, just a document to show the cops.

By the time this guy got done talking, it was dark. Fortunately Copàn Ruinas is only 10km away, and touristy, so things are always open. The road was mostly well paved, and I found the town easily - another town with rutted cobblestone streets. The first hotel I found was really expensive, and the guy was mean. I'm pretty sure I left my clear lensed goggles on the desk, but it wasn't worth going back in for them - they were half broken, scratched up, and I forgot the word for "goggles".

The second place had parking space for the bike and rooms without bathrooms which is fine with me. It is 150 Lempira, which I'm still trying to figure out what that is. (upon writing this i see that it is $7.94). My dinner of baked chicken with some really good mystery sauce, rice, and lots of much-needed veggies cost me the same amount. This really is a touristy town - walking the streets, I heard more english than spanish, and no matter what I said in spanish, the waiter insisted in answering me in english. I just spent 2 weeks in Xela taking classes and I want to talk some Spanish, damnit!

If I don't have a similar experience as Tikal, I'd like to check out the ruins this town is named after. Then I'll head east to the Caribbean coast, a decision seconded by the overzealous Honduras customs guy.

Saturday, March 21 Copàn Ruinas to Tela, Honduras

The only thing worse than a rooster that lives in a hotel is 2 roosters that live in a hotel. There was a rooster that lived near my window in Xela, but it was never quite like this. They started taking turns cockadoodledooing at what I think was 5am, and are probably still at it as you are reading this now.

I decided to give the town of Copàn Ruinas another chance and took a walk to find breakfast. The town once again failed. Not much was open, people weren't really that nice, and the place I went to was slightly overpriced and not very good. It failed even more when I went to the ruins to find that it costs $30USD to see the pyramids and tunnels and $15 just for the pyramids. The guys directing traffic in the parking lot were nice and we talked a bit before I left.

A nice curvy (but not twisty) road made for some really nice riding in this hilly, jungley landscape that seems exactly like Honduras should look like, although I wouldn't have known that before. It was nice until the clouds came in, followed by the rain. I did what I usually do in the rain - go into meditation mode and ride all the way through.

Coming out of San Pedo Sula, a semi-modern industrial city, I came across a toll booth. On the list of vehicles and tolls, I didnt see motorcycles, so I got the car amount ready and chose a lane. As I pulled up I saw a motorcycle whizz by between cones in the far right lane - at the same instant I was getting yelled at by the toll collectors that I need to use the last lane. Definitely my first time getting in trouble for not weaving around traffic and avoiding tolls.

There were many police road blocks, but at most of them they were either not pulling people over, or busy with other cars, so I passed. At one, however, they asked me to pull onto the shoulder. The episode that followed wins the Awkwardest Moments award of this trip so far. Not only was my head still stuffy and my hearing messed up, but I also decided to play the "no espanol" card. What follows is the dialogue as I percieved it:

Me: Buenas dias.
Cop: blah blah blah
Me: si... (I assume he wants my vehicle permit, so I take it out and hand it to him. I was right, and he looks at it.
-silence-
Cop: (with a slight smirk) blah blah licensia
Me: si, por supuesto (I get out my license and give it to him. He slowly takes it and looks at it closely, wiggles it to see the hologram, and slowly puts it in his other hand with my permit, as his smirk grows ever so slightly)
Cop: blah blah blah
Me: ¿que?
Cop: blah blah blah
Me: No comprendo
Cop: blah blah blah blah blah ticket (in english)
-silence-
Me: Ticket? Porque?
Cop: blah blah blah (similar to last thing he said, smirk getting larger)
-silence-
Me: no comprendo
-more silence-
-more smirking-
Cop: blah abrir blah (pointing at my right luggage case, the one with my trumpet, first aid kit, and some rope)
Me: ok (I open it, and he looks at the first aid kit, but doesn't even take notice of the odd looking trumpet case taking up the entire space. When he's done, I close it.)
More Silence. Slowly, the cop hands me my license, then my permit, with a smile on his face. When I put them away, he reaches out to shake my hand, smiles, and wishes me a feliz viaje.
Me: uhhh, gracias....adios...

Clearly he wanted a bribe, but did not want to initate the idea - he was waiting for me to do that. It is also possible that he wanted me to offer a bribe so he could then officially get me in trouble for offering a bribe to a cop. Either way, I dummied myself out of a potentially unfortunate situation with the Honduras police. My lack of spanish came to the rescue.

Later, my lack of spanish hurt just a little bit. When I pulled over at a rest area type thing with tables, some food stands, and a convenience store to eat my peanut butter and granola, a pretty girl who works there sat at my table and wished me buon provecho. A minute later, she asked me a couple normal questions, where I'm from and if I rode that motorcycle all the way here. After that, she lost me. Most people stop there and wish me happy travels - this girl really wanted to talk though. And believe me, so did I! I was, however, able to explain that not only do I speak very little spanish, but I'm a bit sick and can't hear very well. Not the most suave words, but it was the truth and cleared some things up. I guess there will be no spanish speaking chicas for me on this trip. Practice, man, practice.

Although it was earlier than usual, I was Tela on my map - a small town on the Caribbean Sea with a beach icon and a nearby wildlife refuge. I got there to find that it's really not very touristy, and a neat little town. I found an old rundown hotel with rooms with baños, but no running water. It's across the street from the beach, has a fan, and cost 150L, so I can't complain. I see a beer and dinner in my near future. And some studying of my spanish notebooks.