Travel motivations...

The Wild Adventures of Roaming Hamsters...

As with all the extended trips I've made over the course of my life, I remember and crave one thing after leaving a country.  Food.

My husband and I just returned to the United States yesterday after being in Mexico for 2 months.  When we realized we actually were coming back, the first think I thought of was the food I wanted to eat.  I dreamed about Navajo Tacos, Roast Mutton Sandwiches with a Hatch Green Chile, Pizza, Green beans steamed with a little bit of butter and salt, roasted Asparagus in a balsamic vinegar/soy sauce reduction, Amy's crepes, German Pancakes with salted butter, Coconut curry, mango rice and , and I even missed Chinese food.  Which is really saying something because I'm not a huge fan of Chinese food.  I missed the food I'm used to so much that we even went to a questionable Chinese Buffet in a little town we stayed in. The food was okay.

Navajo Taco

I can tell you all the towns and cities I've been in and what I ate if the food was memorable.  I think that's how I remember the places I've been.  For instance, in Los Mochis, Sinaloa, Mexico, we ate these amazing pork tacos....the spices were perfect and the beans and cabbage and lime juice made it perfect.  In  Hermosillo, Sonora, Mexico we had homemade Rootbeer and Ubola (a grape juice with fresh squeezed lime juice and sparkling water) and Elote...which is corn with cream and rolled in cheese...I loved it! And last but not least, the "Limonada" that was served everywhere we went.  It as fresh squeezed lime juice in sparkling water and a little sugar. 

Elote

In La Cruz de Huanacaxtle, we had, for the first time Palletas.  The Palletas are THE best!  They're fresh fruit popsicles.  We had passionfruit, guava, grape, pineapple, and coconut.  There were quite a few other flavors such as strawberry, tamarind, chocolate, and so on and they were sooo good!!

Passionfruit Palleta

Even now, I still think of the food I loved and miss from when I lived in South Africa.  In Newcastle it was the "chips" from a place called "The Palace" where we would go to get fish and chips.  They were the fries that came in a white paper box and because they were in the box for a little while and were fresh and hot, they were steamed just a little and I loved them.  I think of the Chololate Mousse cake that we ate in Petermaritzberg.  When my parents and sister came to visit I took them there.  I still miss the cooked and mashed pumpkin they eat there.

When we went to visit my sister in Germany, one of the family's we stayed with served us some dish that had potatoes and it was divine.  Maybe it was german salad?  When we drove to France from Germany on the same trip, the baguettes were to die for.

I know what food I'm going to miss from Mexico and I'm already wondering what country's food I'm going to miss next.

Limonada

On the road again...but a so very different road!

The Wild Adventures of Roaming Hamsters...

Well, the day of departure from Oaxaca came.  Tuesday 20 March 2012 was the date and everything was going well.  We had the bikes loaded and strapped down on the custom made pallets (las tarimas), we were able to drop off our laundry, we got a ton of cash to pay our bill, the driver agreed to let us ride from Oaxaca to Mexico City and last but not least, we had, according to my husband, THE best hamburger. EVER.

We had passed this little hamburger stand quite a few times and they looked and smelled good every time we passed.  After the not-so-good tacos we had the day before, we decided to try this hamburger place.  I got the Con Queso without onions and my better half got the Hawaiiana we each got a coke and shared some papas (fries).  What I loved about the hamburger was that it was wrapped in plastic.  Now, I love the burgers in the U.S. but I'm not too fond of the paper wrapped burgers because everything soaks the paper and then your hands get the juices on them.  With the plastic wrapper, your hands stay clean.  The burger was good and fresh.  I liked the fries and of course the coke was good.  Would I say it was the best hamburger I've ever had?  Probably not, but it was a darn good hamburger!  I would definitely go back and even if I were in the Oaxaca area again, I'd make it a point to stop there.  Yum.

Our only little hiccup of the day was when we went to pay the bill and a credit card was handed over only to be told that they don't accept cards, only wire transfers or cash.  Cash?  Really?  Our bill was $13,310.63 pesos.   This kind of put us into a tail spin because we weren't sure how we were going to A: Get that much cash or B: Get the money transferred.

After some frustration on our part, we ended up calling the bank and having them up our ATM withdrawal amount and prayed that the ATM would let us take out that much cash at once.  I thought it would since there are always lines for the ATM, on what I guess is payday.  Cash rules here and often times when we pull out our credit card to pay the whole system of efficiency comes to a stop.   Remember that VISA commercial where the people in the coffee shop are singing and dancing and coffee and muffins are being paid for with the easy swipe of a credit card and then it all comes to a halting screech when someone pulls out cash?  That's what I think of every time we pull out our card and I have to chuckle a little bit.  We're not used to the cash thing, but we're getting better at being prepared.  However we were not prepared to pay our bill of $13,310.63 pesos in cash.  But it all worked out okay and the ATM actually did let us take out that much cash.  Even though the bill was equivalent to $1,043.04 caring around that amount in pesos felt like we were carrying $13,000 dollars.  It's a strange thing to do.

All was taken care of and we waited around to watch the bikes get loaded which was a nail biter if there ever was one.  We'll show the video to all who are sincerely interested.  The reason for the stress was that there was only about 4 cm on each side of the trailer to spare for loading the bikes.  But they were loaded just fine.

We waited a while and the driver told us it was time to leave and we jumped into the cab.  He said something about papers and jumped out.  We waited, and waited, and waited until I was so hungry that the smell of grilled hamburgers 50 feet away was literally driving me crazy.  We didn't want to risk going to get a burger and then the driver coming out and having to wait for us so we popped into the little shop next door to get a drink and a snack.  But it took forever!  We were so worried Tomas, the driver, would come out and want to leave.  But it all worked out.  We ended up waiting an extra hour and a half past the original departure time.  I have no idea why, probably paperwork.

But, we were on our way on a new adventure of riding in a truck and being able to see what traffic was at night in Mexico.

For truckers, this tale may border on the mundane, but for us...it was an adventure all in itself.  To properly contextualize the circumstances, recall that our motorcycles are our life, iy a throy ways.  They are a bit likout the depth of a single bed, and about 7' wide.

For the first couple of hours, LaNova and I sat up front with the driver.  It wasn't a bench seat, so LaNova had to sit on the center console where the driver keeps his paperwork.  But, about 9PM-ish, LaNova retired to the sleeper, and I followed suit.  The next 6 hours were spent in sleepless tumult, tossing and turning, trying to squeeze both our bodies into this tiny space, bouncing around like b-b's in a box, and anguishing over the torturous sounds emanating from the back.

What we thought was a bouncing, pot-hole laden ride from Oaxaca to Mexico City, was quickly re-assessed as being a luxury ride as smooth as a baby's bottom upon arrival in Mexico City.  Never in my life have I experienced such...je ne sais a quois!  Because of the blackness of the night, the headlights simply illuminated the fact that the pavement was indeed black.  Any hopes of seeing the road was lost, and all that remainedund like a Gitmo detainee.  It was heart-wrenching.

Up front was another story.  You see, the trucks running from Oaxaca to Mexico City are more like 'locals'.  There's no king-pin.  It's just a single, box, Kenworth truck.  The cab is a trimmed down cab, about the width of a car, and the sleeper is actually a through-way build-out in the box, about the depth of a single bed, and about 7' wide.

For the first couple of hours, LaNova and I sat up front with the driver.  It wasn't a bench seat, so LaNova had to sit on the center console where the driver keeps his paperwork.  But, about 9PM-ish, LaNova retired to the sleeper, and I followed suit.  The next 6 hours were spent in sleepless tumult, tossing and turning, trying to squeeze both our bodies into this tiny space, bouncing around like b-b's in a box, and anguishing over the torturous sounds emanating from the back.

What we thought was a bouncing, pot-hole laden ride from Oaxaca to Mexico City, was quickly re-assessed as being a luxury ride as smooth as a baby's bottom upon arrival in Mexico City.  Never in my life have I experienced such...je ne sais a quois!  Because of the blackness of the night, the headlights simply illuminated the fact that the pavement was indeed black.  Any hopes of seeing the road was lost, and all that remained was the imagination of what were traveling.  At one point, it felt as though we were driving down the railroad tracks, driving over the ties, occasionally jumping over the rails and back again.

And then...like a cool breeze on a sweltering journey through the desert, everything stopped.  The noise.  The rumble.  The tumult.  Everything.  It stopped.  We had arrived.

At about 2:30AM, the driver stopped at the central warehouse in Mexico City, hopped out, and quickly said, "You can stay here in the truck.  I'm going home and will be back in the morning."  With that, he was gone.  Sitting there staring at one another, LaNova and were dumbfounded.  Sure, we had been a little worried about what we were going to do once we arrived.  But, we never dreamed that the driver would let us camp out in his rig.  We hunkered down, burrowing under some blankets, and fell asleep.

End of Chapter 1.

Chapter 2 began with the insanity that can only describe the chaos that surrounds one of the largest trucking warehouses in all of Mexico.  Transportes Castores boasts a fleet of over 1,000 drivers, with equally as many trucks and rigs, and at least that many trailers.

We awoke to find ourselves in the middle of this chaos.  Our truck was parked in front of a loading bay, and our driver was busily collecting paperwork.  Since we had so little room in the cab, Tomas let us put our backpacks in the back of the truck with the load.  He unlocked the roll-up door and let me grab the two packs before the fork-lifts and pallet jacks started shuttling the load away.  It was in those 30 seconds that I was able to finally breath.  The bikes were fine.  They appeared to be in the same condition as they were just 12 hours prior.

Mexico City to Hermosillo was the next leg of the journey.  Tomas informed us that the bikes were scheduled to depart Mexico City at 8PM, but that there still wasn't a truck available.  And because there was no truck, he didn't know who the driver would be and if we could hitch a ride with him, or not.  It was 10AM.  That meant 10 hours of sitting around in a massive shipping warehouse, gambling on the probability of being able to hitch a ride with the next driver.

After weighing our odds, we decided to take a bus.  Tomas was kind enough to take us right to the bus station where we could find any trans-national bus.  After walking up and down the bus station, and getting quotes from every bus company, we decided that we would go with the First Class bus on the TAP line.  The 28 hour ride would take us from Mexico City to Hermosillo, with only 14 stops...in luxury.  The counter agent informed us that it was a "Confort" (yes, I know that is not how you spell Comfort) bus, with internet, AC, 5 movie screens, power points for computers, and fully reclining seats.

That is NOT what we road on.

End of Chapter 2!

LaNova and I tried to purchase some snack foods to hold us over for the next 28 hours.  Because of the previous night's accommodations, we both went into the bus station bathroom to bathe with wet-naps.  We collected our three backpacks and boarded our luxury transportation.  But...what was that smell?

The first thing we noticed was the overwhelming scent of the restrooms.  Oh, well.  We tried to put our bags underneath.  But, the driver said they were small enough to fit in the overhead compartments.  That wasn't entirely true, but when I tried to ask the driver to put one of the backpacks underneath...he WALKED AWAY from me.

We got the ghetto, retard, step-brother bus in the bus family fleet.  That luxury liner that the counter agent sold me on?  Not this bus.  We got 3 TV screens, and they barely functioned, i.e., flickered on and off.  We got a toilet in the back that was backed up and had a lovely poo-speckled seat.  We got seats that reclined and leg rests that didn't.  In short...we got bamboozled.

But, hey...it wasn't a truck!

Off and on for the next 30 hours (yes, we ended up being two hours late) we road the toll road from Mexico City to Hermosillo.

Apparently, LaNova matches the profile of a really shady character because she was rousted twice along the journey by the military checkpoints.  They would stop the bus, board, and perform random searches.  LaNova was targeted twice.  The second time, they just could NOT understand why she didn't speak Spanish.  They searched her bag, checked her ID, and tried to talk to her.  (It was kind of funny...in a sick "I'm not with her" way.  hahahaha)

But, the pìece de résistance was Culiacán.

Remember Culiacán?  The home of the world's number one drug lord?  Also the infamous site of our Mexican car accident?  Well, guess what!  It happened...again.  This time, it was the bus.  A little grey car thought it would short-cut the inside as the bus tried to make a left-hand turn.  (In everyone's defense, this particular intersection was the intersection from Hell!  Three left-hand turn lanes merge onto a two-lane street with no lane markings.)  But, let's be honest.  Really?  ANOTHER car accident?  And you thought riding motorcycles was dangerous!  hahahaha

Eventually we made it to Hermosillo.  And, I just want to say, we missed it!  We're sorry we couldn't stop along the way and visit some of our other friends in Culiacán and Los Mochis and San Carlos and Puerto Vallarta and so on.  But, we are so very happy to back in Hermosillo.

Mexico v. California

The Wild Adventures of Roaming Hamsters...

Does anybody remember 17 October 1989?  I do.  Allow me to set the scene:  The San Francisco Giants were playing the Oakland A's in the World Series.  It was an awesome time for Bay Area residents.  It was also the day that the Bay Area experienced one of the most traumatic events in recent memory--the Loma Prieta Earthquake with a magnitude of 6.9.

Now, there have been many people out there who have been wary of our Mexican Adventure.  And, given the exploits of American media, that's understandable.  But, what is the most intriguing about our journey through Mexico is this...

Since we have been in Mexico, we have felt more earthquakes than ever experienced before.  I felt one in the middle of the night a couple of weeks back.  And, then, just this afternoon, we felt one while having lunch!  (see 7.6 Earthquake Hits Mexico)

To be fair, we didn't really feel much.  It was more of a feeling that you get when a semi passes you really close and you can feel the earth roll.  But, I just think that it's interesting.  Sure Mexico, along with California, is on the "Pacific Rim of Fire".  But, how often do we really feel an earthquake?  And, what are the odds that you're going to feel one while traveling?

Truly good times.

PS~  For those who got caught up in the "lunch" aspect of the story, allow me to inform you that I had the best hamburger that I've ever had!  A road-side stand.  Delicious.  Fresh bun.  Perfectly cooked patty.  Amazing in it's simplicity.  YUM.

This is the end...or is it??

THE PAST FEW WEEKS...

This is the end.  This is the end of my riding a motorcycle on this trip.  Please, no tears.


The past six weeks I've been experiencing pain in my right hand.  My thumb, index finger and little finger are all in protest.  I didn't think much of the soreness at first and then at the pain because honestly, my hand isn't the only part of me that has felt pain during this trip.  My right hand just seems to be the one part where the pain doesn't ever go away.  The last few weeks I'd been waking up at night and noticing that my hand still hurt even when I was asleep.  I couldn't do much with my hand.  I think it's due to past hand injuries and strains as well as the possibility of the handle bar to brake lever position.  I think my hand is just too small to comfortably reach the lever so I have to strain to use the brake.  That's not too big of a deal normally, but when you're riding in Mexico, there are a lot of speed bumps (topes) to slow down for and I think the repetition didn't do my hand any favors.


After my fall where I hurt my ankle and leg we stayed at a nice little hotel in La Crucecita called...Nova Hotel to recuperate.  It was all well and good.  We were there for 4 days and were on our way to Salina Cruz and then onto the Guatemalan border when half way there, my hand just couldn't take it anymore.  I made the decision that in order to save my hand, I had to stop riding (so dramatic, I know).  But it's the truth.  If we had to keep riding, then I think that eventually the repetition of slowing for the speed bumps would've done some permanent damage to my hand.


So, what are we doing now??  We've decided that since I can't ride anymore, we needed to find a way to get the motorcycles back the the States since we didn't want to sell them.  So, we're here in Oaxaca getting the bikes ready to be shipped back home.  How did we get to Oaxaca from La Crucecita?  Good question.  We got here by lashing both bikes on the back of a pick-up truck and praying that they wouldn't slide off the back and down a mountain.  I'm serious.  Check out the photos.  We had less than adequate straps to secure the bikes the way we normally would if we had the right gear, but thanks to my husbands forethought, we had some extra straps that did the job.

WHEN YOU'RE OFF THE BEATEN PATH...

So, we're here in Oaxaca getting the bikes ready to be shipped back home.  But, how did we get to Oaxaca from La Crucecita?  Good question.  We got here by lashing both bikes on the back of a pick-up truck and praying that they wouldn't slide off the back and down a mountain.  (I'm serious!)  Check out the photos.  We had less than adequate straps to secure the bikes the way we normally would if we had the right gear, but thanks to my husband's forethought, we had some extra straps that did the job.

Allow me to elaborate:  Oaxaca is a fairly decent sized town.  It is situated almost half way between the Pacific Coast and the Gulf of Mexico Coast.  It is your final "city" before crossing over into Guatemala.  But, La Crucecita (Bahias de Huatulco)?  It is quietly ensconced in along the Pacific coast, surrounded by the most amazingly beautiful tropical mountains (hills for those of you readers in the Utah area).  The problem with La Crucecita is that there is no STRAIGHT road from it to Oaxaca.

At only 230 km from La Crucecita, Oaxaca requires one to wind through some of the most beautiful areas on one of the scariest roads in Mexico.  This "road" was so windy--it was one lane wide at some points, with jungle-cliffs on BOTH sides.  There were potholes the depth of whole tires and sections of road that were, nearly intentionally, demolished.  

To get there, we had to figure out how we were going to transport the motorcycles.  Given the condition of LaNova's hand and leg, we could not ride.  But, La Crucecita is so far off the beaten path that they don't have regular shipping.  In fact, we tried looking into renting a pick-up truck and the cost...just to drop off (not including mileage)...was US $2,000!!!

The concierge hooked us up with a friend who had a pick-up truck.  For only US $200, Chai would drive us, all of our gear, and two motorcycles door-to-door, to the shipping company in Oaxaca.

First off...there's no shipping docks in La Crucecita.  And, without a ramp, it took 6 guys to lift the bikes onto the truck.  But, the tie downs were a little questionable, not to mention the fact that, we didn't come with ratchet straps.  (Please, no criticism, given our load, that wasn't going to happen.)  So, we totally MacGyver-ed the bike tie-downs.

The bikes were secured...but let's be honest...there's secure...and there's SECURE.  They were the former.  On that mountain road from La Crucecita to Oaxaca, there were times when I thought the bikes, our gear, and us were all going to slide right out the back, down the hill, and off into the oblivion we call the jungle!  But, miracles DO happen, and we made it.  It only took 8 hours!!!

Moral of the story:  Always carry extra straps and always listen to your own body. 

PALLETS AREN'T FURNITURE...

The first order of business, upon arriving in Oaxaca, was off loading the motorcycles.  Here, again, there wasn’t a loading dock, and we didn’t have a ramp.  So, with a little elbow grease, and some carefully stacked pallets, we made some stairs to get the bikes off the back of the pick-up.

Transporte Castores is not exactly in the “touristy” section of town.  Our concern was that we would have to go a long way to find a hotel, but without the use of the motorcycles, which were to be loaded onto a truck.  So, it was quite the miracle when we discovered a perfectly acceptable hotel right across the street, complete with A/C, flat screen TV, and hot water!

The next trick is getting some pallets made to strap the bikes down to.  You see, we have to ship the bikes some 3,000 km from Oaxaca to Nogales.  There is at least one stop where the bike will have to be off-loaded from one truck and on-loaded onto another.  Oddly enough, the shipping company didn’t know where to have custom pallets made!  The warehouse worker suggested a carpenter just a block away.  But, that guy wanted $2,800 pesos per bike!  That’s almost U$S 500!!!  Seriously???  We’re not looking for a sofa…we’re building pallets!

Of course, here’s a challenge…once we get the bikes loaded and sent off to Nogales, we still have to get OURSELVES there.  This is NOT the end of the story.

WHAT’S NEXT??? …

The plan is to get the bikes to SLC.  Once there, we’ll be visiting the doctor and reassessing our journey.  We’ll let you know what’s next.  When we know…you’ll know.

I sure hope they stay on!

I wish I had a better camera to try and get the whole view.

One lane mountain road.

10 Hours, 200 Miles, 156 Speed Bumps

The Wild Adventures of Roaming Hamsters...

We started off with a plan--we ride from 6AM to noon, we take a break every 2 hours, we start looking for gas at 150 miles, we eat sugar snacks and drink plenty of fluids.  That was the plan  It was a good plan.  After this much time in Mexico, we'd finally honed our technique to accommodate riding in Mexico.  But, nothing prepared us for yesterday!

We started at 6AM.  Check.  The temperature was perfect, in fact, the temperature even dropped to 68-degrees, at one point.  It got to about 75 by 10AM.  We were doing great.  We were riding well, taking breaks, and staying cool.  At our 10AM break we pulled over and realized that we were still another 70+ km away from Puerto Angel...our final destination of the day.

Puerto Angel--a recommended destination that is situated on the coast, and only about 7 miles from the main highway.  A number of tiny towns dot the area with trailer parks for camping.  Puerto Angel, a good place to stop.

We decided that, with 70+ km to go, we would stop for lunch early, and rest for an hour or two, then continue on to Puerto Angel.  So, we looked for places to eat.  But, at 11AM, there isn't a lot open for lunch.  (Mexico tends to take its lunch at around 1PM, 2PM is seems to be preferred.)  So, we picked the first open taco stand we could find and sat down.  But, by noon, it was warm.  Very warm.

The temperature had surged to about 92-degrees with an average humidity of 60%.  By noon, we had traveled about 150 miles, over 120 speed bumps, averaging a speed of 28 miles per hour.  We had about 40 miles remaining, and we were beat.  By the time we filled up for gas and got underway, we were exhausted, but relieved to know that we were at the turn-off to Puerto Angel.  Just 7+ miles of coastal road should take us easily to Fernando's RV Park.

But, Puerto Angel and the surrounding towns are NOT what you think they are.  Apparently, the travel brochure failed to mention that this is basically a hippie commune.  In fact, it reminds me much of Bolinas (in Northern California).  And, Fernando's?  Hippie Central, complete with converted school buses parked in the sandy, dusty wastelands just off the road.  Oh, and did we mention that this is also purportedly the home to some nudist colony?  Shocking.

Needless to say, neither one of us felt comfortable at Fernando's, or even Puerto Angel, for that matter.  But what could we do.  We were both beginning to show signs of heat exhaustion.  The long day's ride had taken a toll on us, and walking, sitting, standing, breathing all seemed to be too much.  It took all the energy we had to decide to leave.  (Yes, just the decision, alone, was difficult.  Think of the old adage:  Bird in hand...)

We headed back to the main highway (7 miles away) where the gas station was.  The plan was to ask for directions to the nearest hotel.  But, on the way, LaNova's bike stalled on a steep hill.  She had gotten stuck behind a water truck that couldn't pull the grade.  When I found her sitting on the side of the road, she had just gotten the bike started up.  She was exhausted.  I was exhausted.  We were on a steep grade, in the beating sun.

***You know, looking back on yesterday, and recalling the day's experiences...it's hard to even believe how we made it.***

We got out of the sun for a few minutes, and after a shotty pep-talk by me, we got back on our bikes and kept going.  Our Scala's had run out of batteries, and so the instruction was, if you need to communicate, honk and use hand signals.  (My idea.)  Right.  Hand signals on slow, windy, hilly coastal roads.  Genius.  So, when LaNova honked to signal that I was going too slow, I thought she wanted me to pull over.  But the side of the road had soft ground, and LaNova lost her footing.  The bike tipped over and landed on her leg.

We were now 4 miles from the main highway, 4 miles from the gas station, 4 miles from even a hope of a hotel, with heat exhaustion, and now...an injured ankle.  This day couldn't get any worse.  Or...could it???

By the time we got to the gas station, LaNova's ankle had begun to swell.  The problem is, the gas station attendant said there were no hotels in the little, microscopic town of "San Antonio".  She suggested Potchutlo.  Perhaps there would be hotels there.  15 minutes away.

Somehow, LaNova managed to ride to Potchutlo.  With a right ankle that hurt so bad she couldn't put any pressure on, she rode to Potchutlo for what seemed like an eternity.  But, Potchutlo doesn't have any hotels.  In fact, it has one stoplight, and no signs indicating hope of any kind.  Riding through the stoplight, we hoped we would find something...but the town immediately disappeared and turned into windy, curvy, mountainous road, with NO pullouts, no turnarounds, no signs, no nothing.

On we rode, and on, and on, and on.  43km (26mi) at 15 miles/hour.

Finally, we came to a Pemex (the National gas station of Mexico), where I signaled we would stop.  I hurried ahead so that I could help LaNova.  You see, by this point, she could no longer raise her foot up to engage the footbrake.  She could not put any pressure on her right leg, whatsoever.  So, I had to help her as she would stop, to hold the bike, put the kickstand down, and turn it off, then lift her out of her saddle and onto the ground.  Did I mention it was hot?

At the gas station, a taxi driver informed us that we were just outside the tourist town of Bahia de Huatulco.  He also informed us that, the average price for a room with air conditioning was $150.  Fine.  I didn't care.  All I wanted was to find someplace where we could stop and I could get LaNova's leg looked at.  Concerned about how LaNova would be able to ride, I inquired as to the road conditions.  "Oh, fine.  Just like a regular highway.  Wide and smooth."  Twenty-three kilometers of dirt construction road!!!

We got into the main town, and I was looking for ANYWHERE that might have air-conditioning.  When I saw NOVAHotel, I thought...this is going to be pricey.  But, there are some points in life when price doesn't matter.  After a day like today, with an injured wife, you don't argue...you pay!

$35 per night for air conditioning, TV, internet, matrimonial bed (double), covered, locked parking!  This place was an answer to our prayers.

We survived.

****STATS****

308 kilometers / 191 miles
10 hours
Low 68F / High 92F
Humidity Avg. 60%
Speedbumps (topes) 156
Avg. Speed 28 mph

****STATS****

PS~  LaNova's injury report:  Slight bruising on upper right calf.  Strained ligaments on lateral shin.  Localized discomfort anterior right ankle.  Swelling has subsided with only remaining tenderness in point-specific regions.  (Dr. Christian René Loraine, PhD in BS)

Acapulco - An Alternate Reality

The Wild Adventures of Roaming Hamsters...

We opted to ride the bus into Acapulco proper from Pie De La Cuesta to try and get a bushing made for my motorcycle.  Boy, was that the correct decision.  The streets there are CRAZY!  The whole place is built on the edge of a mountain and there are endless hills and not regular hills like back in the States, crazy inclines that seem impossible to drive up, and these are the STREETS.

With a business card in hand and only a vague idea of where we're going, we hail the bus and jump on.  Here there are no "Bus Stops" with signs.  There are busses that have signs in the front window or written on the window that tell you where they are going, but there aren't any signs on the street of where to catch the bus.  So what you do is you stand on the street where you know your bus is coming and when you see the bus you want to take, you basically hail him like a cab and he stops.  So far the most we've paid for a one way ride is $7 pesos.  Yesterday's bus cost us each 6 pesos bringing the grand total for a one way ride into Acapulco to $12 pesos or roughly $0.94.  

What a ride.  I'd looked at the map of Acapulco's roads and knew it was a bit windy, but I had no idea that the windy was on the edge of a cliff with crazy traffic.  So I was very happy that we took the bus instead of trying to navigate on a motorcycle in a city we didn't know and even worse, in the heat.

The first thing I noticed about the area and the ride into the city was that on one side was the beautiful ocean and on the other was advertisements and graffiti painted and spray painted on the cliffs.  The town seems to be a little rundown.  It's a very hilly city and as you look up, all you see are houses.  Houses here, houses there, houses up and down the hills.

The bus driver was nice enough to let us know where we needed to get off after we showed him the address on the card and it was on a main street.  I have no idea how close or far we were from the center of town but that's where we were dropped off.  We started walking down the street looking for the correct address and stopped and asked a nice couple that was selling magazines and candy and stuff on the sidewalk.  The nice woman told us that it was a few streets back.  Then another nice man who just happened to be walking by must've heard the name of the street we were looking for (Rio Grande) and chimed in telling us that it was by the grocery store.  We thanked them and headed back the way we had just come.

Conveniently enough, we just happened to walk by a machine shop.  Christian inquired whether the bushing could be made and the man said yes. We asked when it could be ready and he said about 5 o'clock.  That was 4 hours away.

Honestly I wasn't too excited to be hanging out in Acapulco for 4 hours wandering the streets in the high humidity and heat.  But we needed the part made and considering the fact that he could make it by the end of the day, we agreed.  It was going to cost $100 pesos ($7.81 dollars).

The street was loud and crowded and traffic was insane.  Christian kept asking me if I was taking pictures but I didn't exactly feel super comfortable taking out my camera and snapping away.  So he said he would do it.  Now, you have to understand that everyone is about 5'9" and they have darker skin here.  Christian is 6'1" with blond hair and blue eyes.  He was wearing a white, short-sleeve, button-up shirt, his ASU hat and a backpack.  He was obviously not a local.  So I was a little concerned.  But he wasn't worried and took a few pictures and we continued up the street to a "Coppel" store which is similar to a Target (C says to tell you that they sell Mopeds there but they also sell Mopeds at Wal-Marts here too).

We ended up being fine and we walked into the Cool-Heaven-of-Air-Conditioning, Coppel.  It was wonderful.  The humidity here is worse than anywhere we've been and I have a hard time with it.  I really dislike being sticky and even worse being hot so the combination of the two isn't exciting for me.  So I am VERY grateful for A/C.

There turned out to be a Movie theater inside and we watched the movie "Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close" with Tom Hanks and Sandra Bullock.  We got popcorn which I was pleasantly surprised tasted exactly the same as at home and we both got a cherry icee which cost $105 pesos ($8.21 dollars).  The movie was okay.  I wouldn't watch it again, but it was a good "dollar movie" as we say in Salt Lake City where we still have movies that cost a dollar.  So it was worth a dollar, but no more.  We paid $84 pesos ($3.28 dollars per ticket) so I don't feel too bad.  [For the record, I, Christian, enjoyed the movie.  I would not watch it again, simply because I do not enjoy crying and having my heart ripped from my soul.  But, as far as a "good, emotional, dramatic, heart-felt" film goes...it was very good.  It was about 9/11 and an Aspergers child.  Need I say more?  That said...it was a very good movie, but not one your spirit can handle twice.]

By the time the movie was over, it was time to pick up our new part.  It was ready and we were very happy!  We went back the Coppel and celebrated with McDonalds for Christian and a frozen yogurt for me.  It was a good day.

Oh, one last thing...on the bus into the city, there was a Winnie the Pooh decal on the windshield and on the bus back, the word "Winnie" was painted along the whole top of the bus with pictures of Winnie the Pooh as well as Piglet and Tigger.  They must really like Winnie the Pooh here because there are also Winnie the Pooh stickers on the tiles in our shower.  This is an odd fixation that someone has GOT to explain to us!!!

The Bus Rooftop Mural Reads "Winnie", as in Winnie the Pooh

And The Hits Just Keep On Coming

The Wild Adventures of Roaming Hamsters...

Though last night (Sunday, 26FEB12) was the first night that we slept without the 3AM serenading banda music, neither one of us slept much.  We got up around 6:30AM and packed our gear.  For the first time, we were on the road at 8AM, in anticipation of a long, hot ride to Acapulco, and we were not disappointed.  By 2PM, the temperature was around 97-degrees and approximately 50% humidity.  I could feel my face mask burning into my cheeks as we rode.

We stopped for a delicious salad at a road-side stand, with an amazing view of the ocean.  It was gorgeous.  The food was good.  The company was beautiful.  But, all things must come to an end.  Somewhere around mile 207, LaNova’s rear brakes began to fail.  She communicated this to me, but, due in part to the heat and my own riding frustration, her concerns were only met with my ill-temper.  Finally, I pulled over. At that point, I became acutely aware of how severe her brake problem was when she fell over.

LaNova lay on the ground, and I struggled to extricate her from under the bike.  Hot and tired, I proceeded to lift her fully-loaded bike back up, and roll it into the shade.  By this time, LaNova was in tears.  She had had enough, and rightly so.  It was that moment that marked the end of the adventure.

Upon close examination, I discovered that her rear brake lever had become detached for want of a pinion bolt.  How she was able to make it to mile 207 without rear brakes, or with a rear brake behaving in a sporadic and chaotic fashion, we’ll never know.  But, there should be adequate kudos given to LaNova’s skill.

Luckily for us, we were stopped directly in front of a motorcycle repair shop.  I was elated to discover that the shop had the metric bolt that I needed.  Unfortunately, I found that, with the loss of the pinion bolt, a critical bushing had been lost, as well.  This, the shop did NOT have.

I pulled the bushing off of my rear brake set and replaced LaNova’s.  Then, I found a tolerable substitute for my bushing, and installed it.  I was banking on my riding skill to be able to accommodate the tenuous makeshift bushing.  And, with that, we resumed the final 15-mile stretch to Acapulco (Pie de la Cuesta).

When we arrived at Pie de la Cuesta, LaNova petitioned for a hotel room, and I was all to enthusiastic to oblige.  We found a nice room, with air conditioning, fan, TV, safe parking, refrigerator, and HOT WATER.  I emphasize the hot water because that was one of the specific questions that I asked.

We unloaded our gear, turned on the AC, and stripped down in exhaustion.  LaNova was the first to wash the day off of her…but…without hot water.  When I went downstairs to inquire as to the status of the hot water, the girl suddenly didn’t understand any of my Spanish.  All of a sudden, she became very quiet.  After pressing her a bit, she acknowledged that there was, in fact, no hot water.  Of course, she did offer to bring up a bucket of hot water, but we opted out.