Well, just 9 days behind schedule in keeping up with the old journals! (I am writing this on 10/21 - from Puerto Escondido, MX). So back to Mazatlan then... we arrived in Mazatlan about 8:00 am and were greeted by very humid weather. We went down to the hull of the boat to get the bikes and gleefully found that they had fared as well as we had during our overnight voyage (thanks to our thermarests, sleeping on the floor was quite comforatable). Our friend Carlos (that lent us the tie downs) was already removing the straps. We hopped on the bikes and were in the old town within about 10 minutes. Our travel book had mentioned that we "needed to run, not walk" to the Hotel Bel Mar. We found ourselves right in front of it but there was a big sign in the window that read "se renta" so we thought it was closed. Just as we were about to leave, we saw another couple from the ferry head inside a hallway. I quickly followed and found an enchanting marble corridor of Spanish tile and dark mahogany. There were about 10 rocking chairs as well, all occupied by older Mexicanos, rocking away and peering at the crazy gringa on a motorcycle. I quickly grabbed Jeff and he went for a look. They wanted 240 pesos (~$24) for a suite on the top floor with an ocean view and air conditioning, but no phone. This was a little over our budget so we decided to check out the hotel with a phone. Mazatlan was a city that we would be able to connect in so we were really hoping for an in-room phone. But, the other hotel's phones were too old and I couldn't disconnect the line so we went back to the Bel Mar.
We checked in to the "Mexicana Suite" of the Bel Mar hotel, perfectly situated on the sixth floor, and parked the bikes in the enchanting marble corridor in the lobby. (Don't ask, I have no idea why they allow us to do this). After unpacking, I decided to ask the desk clerk if I could borrow their phone line so that I could get e-mail. This is always a tricky situation because everyone seems to be a little leery of technology down here. Ususally after stumbling through some bad Spanish trying to explain that the computer will dial a local number and there is no long distance charge they look suspicously at the tiny handheld and wonder how 'it' can dial a number, shake their head and say no way. But this time the lady at the front desk was very accomodating. I was evenutally able to convince her to let me connect. A friend of mine from PGE (Joe) was going to be in Mazatlan during that week and we were trying to time our days there to hook up with him and his girlfriend, Pam. I hadn't been able to get his e-mail with the scoop on where he was staying yet. After downloading e-mail we received one that let us know the name of their hotel. We decided to double up on the Green Hornet and go down the beach to find Joe and Pam's hotel. After finding it we left a message with the security guard and then hit the beach for some open water swimming and body surfing. The water temperature was perfect and watching Jeff get knocked around in big surf was entertaining. We had a couple of coronas and lunch at the beachfront palapa bar and headed back to the hotel. Jeff hopped in the shower and just as I was about to head down to the phone to call Joe, I heard a knock at the door. 'Lo and behold, there was Joe and Pam at our door. Excellent! After a tour of our room, (I'm not so sure that they were as thrilled with it as we were) we all headed out for a little dinner. Unforunately, my stomach was still freaking out and I decided that eating might not be a good idea. We went to a really neat little restaurant in the old town called El Tunel, that was recommended to Joe and Pam. Since I wasn't eating, Jeff suggested I get a drink called "Horchata", made of rice milk and cinnamon and other spices. He got one too. It was delicious and is now dubbed "the beloved Horchata". After dinner, Joe and Pam suggested we visit the local microbrewery. "Microbrewery!!", we exclaimed, "let's go!". We all hopped into a taxi (all taxis in Mazatlan look something like the old Volkswagon "Thing", some with doors, some without). Anyway, into Jose and Pepe's cervezeria. Inside, we found Flintstone type murals on the walls and very colorful furniture. It looked more like a theme park disco than a microbrewery, but hey, it's Mexico, not Portland. Joe and Pam had been the night before so they already had a beer of choice. We all ordered and also ordered a sampler platter so that we could try them all. We found the brewery to have a very entertaining waiter named Isaac who spoke pretty good English. After our beer, we called it a night and decided to all get together for dinner the next night at 7:00 at Joe's Oyster Bar, to catch the sunset. Off we went in our Thing/Taxi to rest our weary heads.
In the morning, Jeff and I decided to go for a run/walk. It was very hot and humid and afterwards, Jeff was looking red as a cherry tomato. After a quick shower, we decided to head back to "El Tunel" for lunch and some "beloved Horchata". Unfortunately El Tunel was closed so we decided to check out another restaurant in the old town and what do ya know, there were Joe and Pam sitting at an outdoor cafe, enjoying a refreshing, cold cerveza for breakfast. We were all hungry so we went to little restaurant down the street with blessedly cool air conditioning. After eating and telling Joe and Pam even more of our travel stories, we parted ways and promised to meet again for dinner. We returned to the Bel Mar with plans to do a little typing and then head out to the beach. Well, as it turned out, Jeff's cherry red face after running apparantly was an indication of a mild case of heat exhaustion and after returning to the room he promptly passed out for about three hours. After watching the glorious sunset from our balcony we met back up with Joe and Pam at, appropriately enough, Joe's Oyster Bar. After a couple of cervezas Jeff seemed to be coming back to life after his little run this morning. Apparently the Portland weather hadn't adequately prepared him for a brisk 4 mile run in the blazing hot Mexican sun and humidity.
We had a really nice dinner with Joe and Pam, said our goodbyes and promptly headed back to the brew pub. It was pretty slow in the brewery and we talked to our friend Isaac for an hour or two, enjoying teaching each other our respective languages. This is the best way to learn a language, when you both speak some of the other language. About 11:00 we decided we better get going as we needed to get up early for a long day to Guadelejara. Adios to beautiful Mazatlan and thanks Joe and Pam, it was really fun hanging out with friends from back home.
We had a hard time getting out early on the 14th but finally got ourselves together around 10:30. Off we headed for the road towards Guadelejara. This day, our scenery really changed. We finally left the deserts of Baja and found lush green fields and rolling hills. We made our way down the road and stopped a couple of hours later for some lunch in a little local roadside restaurant. While eating our delicious lunch, we overheard the family at the table next to us speaking both unaccented English and Spanish. We finally went over to talk with them. The Dad had on a big white ten gallon hat emblazoned with a Budweiser Eagle. He was with his three kids. As it turned out, he was some sort of manager for Budweiser and the family lived half the year in Idaho and the other half in Mexico. They were really nice and it was fun practicing our Spanish with them. The three kids were totally fluent in both languages and made Jeff and I green with envy. Looks like we had an open invitation to stay at their ranch should we pass back through. But we had a goal of getting to Guadelejara, so we bade them a fond farewell and off we sped.
Thus far, we had been riding on the "libre" road. Generally these roads aren't very well maintained, are two lanes, go through lots of small towns,are much curvier and are home to the dreaded 'Topes'. Topes are sizeable speedbumps that can appear without warning. Fortunately Suzi and TGH can handle them a lot better than us. Basically, the Libre roads are a lot slower. We decided to bite the bullet and take the "cuota" into Guadelejara, considering that we would be pushing darkness, climbing into the mountains and having to fight big city traffic when we arrived. We arrived at our first "caseta" and were happy to pay $2.50/bike. And so, there we were, enjoying our smoothe pavement and satiating our interstate driving fix when 'Lo and behold, there came another "caseta", this time $7.50 per bike. Ah well, we have to right? Yea, yea. Anyway, after we coughed, choked and sputtered up a total of $50 in tolls for both bikes, we were finally on the perimeter of the city and just before dark. I should mention that as we made our ascent to Guatelejara, the temperature became blissfully cool and the mountains were beautiful.
Well, time for my first real Latin American traffic. There is a certain ordered chaos to it all. Traffic moves rapidly and small vehicles and motorcycles weave in out of tiny spaces. Of course, buses think they are small vehicles too, so at any moment you might find any number of unexpected objects in your path. It's quite the adrenalin rush. I clung tightly to Jeff's back wheel, determined not to be separated. After about 25 minutes, we found ourselves to be surrounded by the beautiful old colonial buildings that Guadelejara is known for. We were searching for a hotel from our travel book that was supposed to be a few blocks away. Just as it was getting dark, we found the street and I went up to find the price and whether we could park the bikes somewhere. We were in luck! They had a room and after some coaxing, the guy agreed to let me park the bikes in the lobby. Before he had too much time to mull it over, I ran out and got Jeff and we brought the bikes in and we hauled all of our stuff up to the third floor.
After a quick shower, we went out to walk through the numerous beautiful old squares and get some dinner. Just 2 minutes from our hotel (in the first square), we found out that there was the Guadelejara October Festival going on. There were numerous free folkloric concerts and other entertainment in and around the town center. We watched a couple of acts and then headed off for some dinner. We planned to check out some more stuff the next day.
The next morning, we got up kinda late and had a super cheap, delicious breakfast and headed off for the tourist office. We got some information about the schedule of events for the festival and some other tourist info and went sightseeing through the many beautiful plazas. The architecture in Guadelejara is spectacular. We went to the Casa de Cultura to see the ceiling murals depicting the The Four Riders of the Apocalypse by Orozco. Truly eerie, lying down on the bench looking skyward to see tormented souls decend into hell. Afterwards, we walked through the big outdoor market. By this time, I was anxious to get connected and pick up e-mail and update the journals on the website. We were close to the hotel so we grabbed the computer and headed for some internet cafes that the tourist office told us about. Upon arrival, I made my cumbersome request to use their phone line, which is somewhat complicated in Spanish seeing as my Spanish is not "perfecto" and they are not exactly technologically savvy. Anyway, three shops later and we were in business. We are receiving e-mail just fine but have had difficulties sending which I have not yet figured out. But, we got the week 2 journals up and received mail and I was very happy. It was now time to go check out the fokloric festival.
As we approached the stage we saw what appeared to be the overflow crowd spilling out onto the sidewalk. Oops, false alarm it was just a bunch of Hombres watching 'Karate Kid' through the plate glass window of a nearby appliance store full of TV's. We eventually made our way through the crowd to the outdoor theater and began watching folkloric singing and dancing troops from all over South America. After a short time, the already menacing skies opened up and shed their tears upon us and we were forced to run for cover. We decided to get some dinner at a decidedly local restaurant. As we were eating, the guy next to us made no effort to conceal the fact that he was staring at us. We were just about to get the bill when old Sergio invited himself over. Naturally, my dear sweet hubby could not say no. "He's harmless", he said and besides I think that Jeff was impressed by his claim that he could drink 40 beers in one day. Thus began our night of annoyance. This guy was already rather tipsy and really just gave me the creeps and I wanted to duck out ASAP. We made our getaway by claiming that I was still sick. Our escape was shortlived though. We were just about to walk out the front door when we spied a table with three Brits. Naturally, we got to talking and they wanted us to join them for a beer. "We can't", I proclaimed, "we just escaped and he'll see us". With much confidence, our new friends ensured me that we would be safe. But Sergio had, by now, latched firmly onto us with all the grace of an inebriated pit bull. We had a great time talking with Troy, Paula and Joanne sharing travel stories and dealing with Sergio's unwanted advances on all us ladyfolk. By this time, Sergio had downed many a beer from the bucket but had not chipped in to the kitty. After the dinner hall closed Sergio did contribute to the cause by pointing out another cheap bar (we were now celebrating Joanne's last day in Mexico before her flight home). Joanne was now the object of Sergio's eye and it didn't help the situation when Jeff had convinced him that her name was "Jo-mama". So there we were trying to talk over Sergio's incessant questioning "Jo-mama, habla Espanol?". Anyway we had a great time hanging out with Paula, Joanne and Troy. Somehow Jeff had convinced the Brits that I did in fact look Welsh and could therefore reasonalby qualify as a "Welsh Tart". (Note to self; no more Monty Python for Jeff) Troy and Puala had just returned from South America and were telling us that there are a lot of people bypassing Colombia because the problems there are getting worse every day. Jeff has this hairbrained theory that if we go there during Christmas and New Year's, all the kidnappers will be too busy celebrating the holidays to bother with us. I'm not sure I'm buying it though. We'll have to see when we get to Panama.
Seeing as we didn't hit the hay until about 3 a.m. the night before, we didn't get on the road to Colima until about 1 or 2. But this was going to be a short day, right? Let me just say there's no such thing as a short day. We had a very nice ride to Colima through more beautiful rolling hills, farmland and lovely, paved roads. We were trying to contact the family of our friend, Veronica, in Portland. (Veronica is Jeff's boss's wife and she is from Mexico). Unfortunately, we could never reach them. We were really looking forward to staying in a home for a couple of days. Living in hotels all the time is a little draining. We wanted to be a part of a family instead of just customers. We decided to take a spin through the enchanting town of Comala where some of Veronica's family live, rode through the town center then stopped for some dinner at a riverside restaurant. We had our first meal of Huachinango (red snapper) a la Plancha. It was the best meal we've had thus far. We were now ready to drive the 20 minutes or so to Colima to find a budget hotel for the night. It was about 6:00 and we had about an hour of daylight left. Round and round and round the zocalo we went but nary a free room was to be found. It had been about an hour and half and it was now dark. We decided to head back to the road we came in on, as I remembered hotels there. We got all discombobulated but eventually got there only to find 4 star hotels. We wound up spending about $42 for a room with air conditioning. I thought it was great. Jeff thought it was highway robbery. I needed a little splurge after that run around town in the dark. There was a poolside cafe there as well. Since my stomach was finally nearly mended, I went to the cafe on an ice cream run. It was delicious. We ate our ice cream and watched CNN in English (our first English tv since leaving the states) and finally drifted off into our deliriously comfortable bed.
Still recovering from our lack of sleep in Guadelajara, we slept quite late and were starving when we woke. We ordered some breakfast and ate it while we packed up and didn't get on the road until about 11:30. We headed out of town on gracefully winding roads that dropped us off on the coast route. We took a wrong turn and had a 12 mile detour through a gorgeous palm tree forest. Once back on track, we headed down the desolate coastal route towards Playa Azul. Not long into our route, we began an incredibly long set of twisties that totalled about 75 to 100 miles. Lots of tight turns and all sorts of livestock spilling out onto the road. Delightful pavement too. Every once in awhile we would cross a river that would empty into the Pacific Ocean. The scene was so primordial that I half expected to see a dinorsaur munching on the palm trees. The coastal route brought some of our first sightings of the human pickup pile-up. That is, every pickup that passes has so many people in the bed of the truck that it's a wonder that it can move. Anyway, we hoped to stop for a soda/snack break along the way but there really weren't many options. The day was waning and we hadn't eaten since about 9:30. We stopped and split our last Clif Bar and some water and made our final push for Playa Azul, a little beach town of about 5,000. We made it and found a hotel just before dark. We were absolutely famished so we took a quick shower in our $8 room (more our style) and went out for some more Huachinango. Sated at last, we walked down the beach to the festival that was going on in the town square. As usual, we were pretty beat so we hung out for a while and headed on home to catch a few zzz's.
Disclaimer:Warning the following musings from a certain Jeffrey Eugene may contain subject matter that may incite, offend, agitate, put off, send in a tizzy, get some panties in a wad, the following individuals: Sergio; Republicans; Friends of the Idaho Militia; Women who love their SUV's; Parents of children under 18 who neglected to screen the information firsthand or have not told their kids about the creation of life; women who take risks without any forethought and men who don't; and anyone else that may or may not take life too seriously.
A few random thoughts: I'm not sure if it's the constant vibration of a single cylinder motorcycle, the thrill of travel or just plain too much time on my hands but here is what I think about during a typical day on the road; I didn't think Sergio was that bad but towards the end of the night I came to realize that his claim of being able to drink 40 beers in a day was probably just testosterone talking; For the most part you never see very many people exercising down here. Wasting energy exercising is a luxury afforded to either the very rich or the very good. Every once in a while when I am running, some guy, who looks like he can run a sub 2:10 marathon, will zip by me as if I were standing still. Generally all I get are incredulous stares. Probably all asking why would someone put themselves through the agony that this gringo is obviously inflicting on himself; All the Mexican gas stations are regulated by the government and are called Pemex; Which caused me to think that this could be a wonderful solution to America's fixation with lowering an already low, in comparison to the rest of the world, federal taxation system. So what we would do is turn over the remaining industries related to transportation to be regulated by the federal government, including all the gas stations, railroad and airlines. Kinda analagous to the US postal service. The way that it would work is that 'Big Brother' would set prices and the profits made from sales would be used to support and maintain the infrastructure and replace the federal income tax. For instance all gas stations would be called AmeriGas and be uniform in layout, services and price. In order to insure adequate profits to eliminate the federal income tax and build an alternative means of transportion we would have to raise gas prices by about a buck or two. Which wouldn't upset me too much because maybe we'd get some of those petrol sucking SUV's off the road. Think about it, does a suburban housewife with two children really need to be driving a 4WD, two thousand pound, 8 mpg behemoth, the width of a small tank, to the neighborhood grocery store? (no Kathy, I'm not in any way singling you out) This way it would be an idividual's decision to gobble up natural resources by driving a gas guzzler and they would also pay for the privilege. For people living in rural areas who would not benefit from alternative means of transportation and who are already suspicious of 'Big Brother', say like the state of Idaho, there could be discounts in the price of services provided. Hey, its just a thought; Linda is becoming such a good motorcycle rider. Everyday she surprises me with her improvement. Which brings me to the gender differences in learning how to ride a motorcycle. It all can be traced back to the sperm and the egg. Women are what I would call "Egg Carriers". They are born with a finite number of eggs and each one is a precious comodity invaluable to ensure the survival of humankind. This is why women do not enjoy taking risks without first learning and relearning, testing and retesting their skills. They learn motorcycle riding kinda like a woman walking with a dozen eggs on a freshly mopped floor. They tread very delicately in order to avoid cracking any eggs. Men on the other hand are what I would call "Sperm Doners". Every day they produce 6 billion sperm. Each one is as easy replaceable as the others. And so goes the behavior pattern of men. They are easily replaceable and they act like it. This also causes them act before they think. With little experience they will just as easily throw a motorcycle into a blind curve as they would, say, go river kayaking down the Deschutes river in Oregon before they know how to execute a roll. (I'm not mentioning any names but you get the point); And then again maybe I've just got too much time on my hands.
Once again, we were really tired and didn't rise until about 9 am. I think the heat, humidity and riding all day really takes a toll on us. Anyhoo, we decided to have breakfast at a beach front restaurant complete with ocean view and the soothing sound of humongous waves crashing on the beach. We sat down and had much confusion ordering. It turns out that they thought that we wanted two of everything. Which would have been enough food to feed a small village. How they thought that we could eat so much food is beyond me. When they brought two Coca Colas and two coffees we were suspicious. Then came two orders of fruit salad and two orders of heuvos rancheros. We knew we were in trouble. We finally straightened things out with the manager. We felt really bad as the waitress got a good bum chewing also. After an hour and half breakfast, we slunk out, hopped on the bikes and headed down the road. We didn't have an exact destination but had an idea of a really long day to Acapulco.
Shortly after leaving, we encountered our first bad road conditions. Mexico had been hit hard recently by earth quakes and massive flooding. This road was very cracked up from the quake. Yippee. New riding experiences for me. I'm not sure who gets more anxious about my new experiences, me or Jeff? Much to his surprise though, crummy roads are no problem for me. The bikes run like a champs over massive pot holes. We sped along the road, weaving our way through the slow moving 4-wheel vehicles. We stopped for a potty break in Zihuatenejo with plans of carrying on to Acapulco. I was feeling rather pleased with my riding in the last few days after some good improvement through the twisties and rough roads and was a little over confident when I found myself in another precarious situation with parking Suzi (remember, my kick stand is too tall and I have to have the right slant to park). Once again, not remembering to lean uphill, Suzi went down on her side. Darn it! And a parking lot full of onlookers to boot. Jeff said that from now on wherever I drop the bike is where we'll stay. With the help of David we found Casa de Huespedes La Playa for $15 a night and secure parking for the motos. Not the swankiest room but ya couldn't beat the location with the bay view and the soothing sound of the waves lapping at the shore. It was about 3:30 and we were desperately in need of laundry services so we set off for a lavanderia. After three tries, we found a place to do our heaps of laundry with same day service. We changed a few traveller's checks, bought Jeff a shirt, got a snack and headed back to our room with plans to go swimming.
Naturally, a little nappie-pooh was in order so we laid down for a bit then walked out the front door onto the beach baring our ghostly white skin to all who would look. Which was just about everybody. Thank goodness for our fashionable EQ suits, otherwise we would have looked really bad in comparison to all the tan bodies lying around. We took a dip in the delightfully cool Pacific. The waters in the bay were really dirty and smelled of gasoline from the nearby Marina so paranoia drove us out of the water after a short period of time. I then went for a walk while Jeff went for a 4 mile run up into the hills. We enjoyed some more Huachinango that night over a few beers with David, the guy that helped us find our room. His English was quite good and it was lots of fun teaching each other new words. We only had to walk about 5 feet from the restaurant patio to our door and it was off to the land of sweet dreams.
Hey, what do you know, we were on the road by 8:30 the next moring with plans for another 300+ day. Acapulco was about 180 miles away so we planned for a lunch stop there. More marginal roads but not too terribly twistly so we made decent time. As we approached Acapulco, we hit heavy traffic on very curvy, lousy roads. We made our descent to the centro where traffic was very chaotic and I had a few hair raising close calls with the crazy cars. This was the first city that we had been in that was VW central. VW has a huge plant in Mexico City and in Acapulco, VW vans and bugs (of the older variety) are a dime a dozen. We passed through the crazy part of town up through the quieter hills, full of hotels. We stopped at the first restaurant we saw - starving out of our minds, as usual. We had a delicious lunch and talked for a while with the proprietor about road conditions. I wasn't feeling very excited about doubling the distance we'd already come but we decided to push on, atleast half way to Pinotepa. The guys in the restaurant encouraged us to go the whole way though.
The road out of Acapulco was manageable chaos and the road flattened out quite a bit and we cruised on down through lots of small rural towns. We now find an extraordinary number of free roaming livestock, primarily burros, cows, pigs, horses and goats (of course, zillions of dogs too) in the road, which makes for slower going. We are now getting into the areas where the indigena (indiginous people) live. They usually all wear the same clothing and the women carry all kinds of things on their heads (like say, a basket of laundry or dining room furniture). Anyway, we got a second wind which blew us into our destination of Pinotepa Nacional. We encountered our first rain drops of our trip about 30 miles from town but they were very light so we thought we shouldn't count it.
Craving air conditioning after our long day, we got a $17 room just as we entered town. We showered and ate in the hotel restaurant. Didn't see a lick of the town. We watched a little tv and it was off to sleep in the luxurious air conditioning.
I had my first close call today on the way to Pinotepa. The road was washed out in numerous sections so only one lane would be open from time to time. Usually, I'll try to determine whether or not I can maintain my speed through the rough patches or if I have to slow down a couple hundred meters out. From what I could see, one particular wash out looked tame enough so I pressed on only to be confronted with a double dip pothole the size of Delaware. It was too late to do anything so I hit the throttle and hoped for the best. As the front wheel skipped over the first bump and nosedived into the second my back wheel slamed into the first hole and popped the bike up into the air at an angle. I knew I was going airborne as soon as I heard the rear monoshock suspension bottom out. Fortunately, TGH landed on his feet and after a few squirrely moments I was back on the street no worse for wear. All this happened at about 70 miles per hour. Meanwhile because Linda was traveling at a more reasonable speed and heard my warnings over the communicator, she had no problem negotiating the hazard. I really should be more careful and ride more like Linda does (see previous dissertation concerning gender specific motorcycle riding styles). Anyways, I had to go back and retrieve my spare quart of oil that bounced off the bike. I didn't realize it at the time but the container had cracked from the fall and as I was rolling down the road, oil was rolling all over my backpack. Just a little insult to injury to keep me honest.
We weren't too worried about getting an early start since we only had to go about 100 miles. The restaurant in the hotel was right next to where we packed up the bikes so we had breakfast before hitting the road. We spent about a half hour chatting with three girls that worked at the hotel. They just couldn't believe that we didn't have kids. We only talked so long because it took that long to convince them that we really were married and that we share the same room. Anyway, not far down the road we were in Puerto Escondido. We pulled into the main street and were greeted by the friendly tourist office hostess. She talked to us about the town and helped us find a place to stay. I walked over to the hotel to check for parking and decided it was a good deal. $15 for a large room and large bathroom, with parking, a nice pool and 2 minutes down from the main strip. We checked in, cooled off in the pool and headed off to the beach. We found a nice little beach front restaurant with palapas and I ordered some lunch while Jeff ventured out into the big waves for some body surfing. We had a nice afternoon in the sun, chatting with the many vendors and taking turns in the water. As we were heading back to town, we decided to stop for few beers at another beach front restaurant. While there, I saw some paintings that I was interested in buying. The table next to me was also interested in looking at them. I bought a painting ($4) and we continued chatting with our neighbors, two couples from New Zealand. The girls were sisters. The older sister and her boyfriend had been travelling and living out of NZ for a number of years and the other sister and her boyfriend were visiting (uncommonly similar to the Brits we met in Guadelejara). After chatting with them for awhile, we decided to meet up again later to play some pool. I headed back to the room and Jeff got in a bit more body surfing before it got dark.
Later, we headed out for some dinner at a restaurant with specials of the day and both got complete meals for about $4 each. After dinner, we headed off to meet our Kiwi friends at "Banana's", the local gringo bar. We all enjoyed playing different games where 6 people could be involved. After paying our pricey bill, we headed down the main strip to the hamburger stand where our friends eagerly anticipated the best burgers in town. The stand was conveniently located in front of the door of the only disco in town. After everyone had numerous hamburgers, our friends headed home and we headed to the disco. Jeff was beside himself when he was able to show off his rapping skills when Vanilla Ice and the Sugarhill Gang came on back to back. The daughter working the hamburger stand asked Jeff if he knew the significance of such music and I have to admit that it was the first time I've seen Jeff unable to come up with some hairbrained theory. We danced a couple of songs but then the music got very weird and it was rather late so we decided to call it a night.
Since we didn't go to bed until about 2:30, we didn't rise very early either. We headed down the road for some breakfast and then planned to hit some other beaches. We took the shortcut that our tourist office friend told us about and landed on a very nice, secluded beach. We camped out under a palapa and headed down to the water. The water was nice and cool and the waves were a bit smaller so it was a bit easier to lounge around in it than the other beaches. After hanging out there for a while, two guys approached trying to sell us a boat ride to see sea turtles and visit other beaches. They said it would be an hour and 15 or 30 minutes. Jeff wasn't keen on going but I thought it would be fun. We talked them down to a still expensive $15 and agreed to meet in 30 minutes. We got in the boat and made our way out to where the "tortugas" can be seen (all of about 5 minutes out). We spent about 15 minutes driving around looking for turtles. We saw a couple of them from a distance. When we spotted one, the driver would gun it towards them and of course, the turtles would dive under the water. We never spotted one up close. They decided it was time to go in so we got a rapid explanation of what beaches were where (in Spanish) as the driver pointed to different beaches. We headed back to the lagoon to pick up another passenger after about a half hour. We thought we were going somewhere else but they were just water taxing the other guy and us back to the beach by our house. We were quickly getting the idea that we'd been suckered and as we got off the boat, Jeff proceeded to tell them we weren't paying $15 for the ride. They responded that $15 is nothing for Americans, as if we owed it to them. Many an explitive ran through my mind. After a 15 minuted argument we still paid them and left feeling bruised. Jeff was feeling really disenchanted with people in general at this point. It was at this time that we started to consider hightailing it out of Mexico to get to Antigua on a Monday to start our language class. This would mean that we would miss both Oaxaca and San Cristobal de las Casas - two cities that we were both looking forward to. We agreed to make a final decision after finding out about the road conditions to Oaxaca.
On our way in from the beach, we stopped to talk again with our friend at the tourist desk. We talked about Oaxaca and San Cristobal. Oaxaca had been hit three weeks earlier by a bad earthquake and had horrible rains as well. The road there was supposedly still in lousy condition and the road from Oaxaca to San Cristobal was also bad. We decided to head off the next day (Friday) straight for San Cristobal, still planning to be in Antigua on Sunday.
In the morning we were up and ready to leave by about 8:30. We headed out of town and decided to stop in another little town about an hour down the road for breakfast, Puerto Angel. After my usual difficulty in parking my bike we had a quick breakfast and were back on the road. Puerto Angel is another tourist destination, but smaller than Puerto Escondido. It was devestated by a Hurricane two years ago and still recovering. We wound our way back up the 5k of twisties out of town and just down the road took our turn towards San Cristobal. The roads improved again and we went through some nice, gently curving roads and headed up through some mountains to the Isthmus of Tehuantepec. As we crested the summit, we began to feel some pretty strong winds. This part of Mexico is very narrow (215 km across) and has the Pacific to one side, the Atlantic to the other. We came down through a broad fertile valley and the wind was really bugging me. It was more blustery and less predictable than Baja. We had travelled about 190 miles and were really hungry and planned to eat in the first big town. We stopped for gas but didn't see anything we wanted so kept on going. The road was now straight as an arrow and we were looking forward to making good time. Unfortunately, the wind was kicking our butts. All the traffic was moving at a snail's pace. Not only was the wind giving the many semis trouble, the road was also riddled with potholes that all traffic tries to dodge (except us). The wind was so gusty and when we slowed down to first gear pace, I had serious doubts about my ability to stay rubber side down. Jeff encouraged me to tail a truck and get in the draft. We did this for quite some time, until we reached our next turn off. At the turn off there was a gas station with a great buffet style restaurant. We pulled in and parked the bikes - kickstands away from the wind. As we were eating lunch, we spied a number of old race cars that'd pulled in, with a bunch of gringos in riding gear. We went out to talk with them and they informed us that they were doing a stage race across Mexico in these 50's style race cars. They inquired about the roads ahead. They thought these were the worst roads they had ever seen. We didn't really tell them that where they were going was worse than where they had come from. We inquired about the wind and they thought we had another 60 miles or so of it. This was bad news for us. We bade them farewell and good luck and headed off into the wind
About 30 miles later the wind mellowed a little and we were able to pick up the pace to 60 mph or so. The day was waning and our side trip to San Cristobal was beginning to seem like an unreachable goal. We stopped in the median before making our turn to SC. We decided it wasn't going to be worth getting there early the next morning and having to leave the next day for a long haul to Antigua. With that, we headed off for the next reasonable sized town this side of the Guatemalan border. This turned out to be Tonala.
Not far down the road, we approached train tracks with a train blocking our path. We were the first ones there and it didn't look like the train would be moving for a while so we parked the bikes (but had to make them face the way we had come because of the slant of the road) and dismounted to consult the map. Well, to our surprise, the train unhitched some cars and started moving. Uh-oh! Jeff ran over to his bike, backed it up and walked it to the side of the road. That looked precarious to me because of the hill so I got on mine and after a great deal of maneuvering, finally got to the side of the road. Not a pretty picture, friends. Picture this... I was sitting on my too-tall, too-heavy bike, fumbling around with my not-so-savvy slow speed maneuvering skills, trying to back up and then turn around to get out of the way. Meanwhile I'm blocking both lanes of impatient traffic full of tractor trailers and buses who were just now beginning to lay on their horns. He implored "why didn't you just push the bike??!!". "It's too heavy", I explained. "I was afraid I'd drop it again". And so, with much frustration we remounted the bikes and rode about 20 more miles to Tonala. We road up and down the cramped main strip and passed a couple of hotels. The first one we saw looked the best and we pulled in. Too expensive! We tried the next one and I checked out the room. It had ac and a bizarro bathroom with what seemed like a dungeon door (heavy, metal). Jeff plunked down on the bed and flipped on the tele. To our great pleasure, we found that we had cable and all the movie channels. We were treated to a night of American movies in AC. Unfortunately, there was a little ant farm in the room too but it bothered Jeff much more than it bothered me. I went out in search of "comidas" and returned shortly thereafter with some delicious sandwiches. The benefit of going somewhere without Jeff is that I get treated extra special. Usually when I buy things they'll usually throw in a gift or two. The guys at the restaurant threw in an extra half-size sandwich for free. I know, I know, it's sexist but hey, who looks a gift horse in the mouth?
The next morning, we wanted to get an early start as we planned to cross the border into Guatemala. It was Saturday and we knew it would be busy. We got off about 7:30 or 8:00 and headed down the nice, smoothe asphalt of the Pan-American highway. There was a brisk wind again today but it was sporadic and we only really felt it when the mountains didn't block it for us. Tonala, our departure point, is nestled in a narrow valley between beautiful green mountains on either side. The road runs right through the valley. We planned a breakfast stop for about an hour down the road. Shortly before our planned stop we discovered that we were on another cuota. RATS!! Instead of turning back to get on the free road we begrudgingly paid 50 pesos each. We were not happy about this. There were no signs to indicate our entry on to the cuota. There were two equally well paved roads running next to each other. Well, we got off in a small town for breakfast and were back on the road by about 9:30. We stayed on the cuota for about another hour and made our exit before the next toll both. About 20 miles from the border we stopped for gas at a nice, big Pemex. No mishaps. Yahoo! Off we went again in search of the crossing. We somehow made our way, with no wrong turns, through the next big town before the border. It was lucky because it was poorly marked. We were hoping to arrive at the border by 12 and be out of there by 2. We were only about 35 minutes behind schedule as it was a bit further than we thought. We rolled up to the border for my first Central American border crossing. Jeff had gotten ahead of me so he was telling me through the communicators to come around the cars and buses to the front of the line. When I found him he was surrounded by a group of hombres, ranging from about 5 to about 70. This gave me a bit of a panic as they were all grabbing at the bike and saying "meester, meester, I watch bike. No problem. I watch bike". For a fee, naturally. Much to their surprise, I wasn't a "meester" and soon they started to call me "mees", although they'd forget every other time and call me "meester" again. I guess they don't get a lot of practice with saying "mees". Anyway, since both of us were there, we didn't need anyone to watch the bikes. I took our documents into the office, got the passports stamped and we were headed to the Guatemala side. "Wow, this is gonna be easy", I thought. And so we got on the bikes and rolled over the Guatemalan offices. Adios Mexico!