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.
