From the Airport

 This is the day I was to return to work.  By circumstance, I am sitting in the Tucomen Airport ((Panama City). My time here adds up exactly one week.  If you were in this situation, here is what you would have done yesterday and the day before.  (Monday and Tuesday).

Monday:

1. Mapped out a strategy to arrive at Seabord Marine, Inc. to book passage for Yota back to Miami.
2. Found out you were in the wrong part of the city. They had moved.
3. Gotten lost for an hour, finally found them after asking directions 5 times.
4. Been graciously attended, gotten Yota manifested onto a ship sailing Wednesday (Today).
5. Returned to the National Office of the Aduana to see if they needed anything further from you.
6. Found out they didn't need anything. All customs would be handled in Colon. Shipping would be from the port of Cristobal.
7. Returned to the Policia Technical Judicial to have what you supposed would be final inspection of the vehicle.
8. You know these guys, so there shouldn't be any problem.  There wasn't really, but they were clearly disappointed that you weren't carrying out your grand scheme for pushing on to Columbia.
9. They checked the car for hidden compartments, etc. It didn't take long and they tell you to come back at 2:30 to get it signed off.  It's 11:30.
10. You decide the police work better with doughnuts, so you drive back to town to buy some. You find the doughnuts, buy a dozen, and get impossibly lost. 
11. You ask directions. A crazy man jumps in your car, and says he will show you the way back. He does, but then insists on taking him back.
12. You take him back, then get lost again. You pay a cab driver to show you the way. You arrive about 2:45.
13. The PTJ gives you a bunch of documents, and directs you to another building to get signed off by the Director Gereral's office.  The PTJ are happy with the doughnuts and make a bunch of photocopys for you free of charge.
14. You then proceed to the Director Generals office where they stamp and sign a rheem of papers and send you on your way.  You breathe a sigh of relief because by then it's 15 minutes before closing time. 

Tuesday:

1. Rise and Shine at 0630.
2. Have breakfast and leave Panama City at 0730 for the 85 kilometer drive to Colon.plenty of time to get everything done.
3. Arrive on the outskirts of Colon about 0930. stop for directions. "Do I need to enter the Central City or is the Aduana before that. First stop is the Colon Main Office of the Aduana"?
4. "No senhor. You can turn off at Cuatro Altos and you needn't enter the city."  "OH Boy, this is going to be easy."
5. No sign for Cuatro Altos or anywhere else.
6. You end up in the city. The traffic is so heavy and the pattern is so confusing that there are five cops (count 'em) directing traffic at one intersection. They look more confused than anyone. You get turned around somehow, headed in the opposite direction and end up in Cristobal instead of Colon.
7. Cristobal is your final destination, so you need to know where it is. But, you are hopelessly lost.
8. You hire another cabby to show you the way.
9. He tells you that you need a special pass to get to the area where then Aduana is. Things are starting to look ugly.
10. He takes you to the building on the main highway where you show your documents and get the needed pass.  The cabby then shows you the way to the Aduana.
11. You enter through a gate for large trucks, not a peedestrian entrance, and some guy motions you to the left. After asking three people, you find the office in the building where you must go.
12. You are very politely attended.  You are told that the manifest documents from Seaboard are not Stamped. you must go to their office in Colon and get them stamped.
13. You thread your way through the maze back to Cristobal.  You find the Seaboard dockside office. Mind you, there are no signs to lead you. You hand your documents to a very nice smiling lady who makes six more copies and stamps them all without uttering a word.
14. You head back to the Aduana. By now, it's probably 2:30 PM.
15. They take 3 or 4 copies of everything, stamp it all, give you the stack of remaining documents.
16. Back to Cristobal.  There you check into to the local dockside Aduana  There your car undergoes a very rigorous inspection. After that you go somewhere else and pay some money.  It's not much. About $7.00.
17. Then someone tells you you need to have your car washed. Someone else tells you you don't have to.
18. Getting a little tired of all this, you drive through the gate to dockside. Someone points at a big white building.  You drive around it looking for an office or an entrance. You find a big ramp and drive up it and into a warehouse.  It's a very big building. You wander around for a while. Then someone tells you to go back out and come in through another door. 
19. You do so . You end up in a small office.  A bunch of forms get filled out and stamped. You are told to go back to your car.  A nice young fellow comes out and inspects it from top to bottom. You sign a paper and think you are done.  Not so fast.  Another older guy comes out. And he does the very same inspectoion. You sign another paper.  He puts a sticker on the window indicating vessel name and destination.  This is good.  Finally you arfe finished. Yota is on her way. Now it's raining. And you are on foot in a strange place.  It's about 4:30 PM.
20. So, you wander out into the steady drizzle. You leave the dockside area, and start to walk down the road to look for a cab to get you to a bus station.
21. Some guy waves you down frantically and says, "You can't walk there."  "I can't, why not?"   "They will rob you!"   "They will, who?"  "The people who live there."  "Live where?"
22. "Over there!"   He motions torward a couple of big apartment buildings.   It does look like a crummy neighborhood.
23. So, you trudge back to the fence and follow the fence line (That puts youi 200 feet father away from the neighborhood. ) Then you start to walk toward the main road.  You are wet, but,, by then the rain has let up a little.
24. 15 minutes later you find a cab..  He stops and you get in. There are 3 other people in the cab.  You tell the driver youi want to go to the bus station. He turns right around and goes straight back to the bad neighborhood you just came from. He goes a little farther and there is a Bus stop with about 12 busses parked.
25. "How do I know which bus to get on?"    "The Prettier one."
26. That would be the big one at the back of the line.  So, you get on and the driver motions you to sit down.
27. It's a nice big bus with comfortable seats.  You take a seat near the back and settle in for the ride back to Panama City.  It's about 5:30. It feels great not to be driving.
28. Aboutr 7:00PM you end up at the main bus terminal in Panama City. The terminal is right next to a really nice modern shopping center.  You treat yourself to na nice steak dinner, and then head to an internet cafe to purchase your trip home. You are, at last, free to leave the country.
29. Then, a short cab ride back to the hotel..You will miss Central America very very much.  It is nothing like your preconceptions and predjudices might have led you to believe.  Nothing at all.

CROSSING THE FINISH LINE

November 14th  froms Panam City:

Yota crossed over the Panama Canal on the 10th of November.  Independence Day of Panama from Spain. Geogrphically, that marks the end of the trip through Central America.  It was difficult at times, but worth the effort.  I don't think that I'm exactly the same person as the one that crossed the border into Mexico on October 11th. 

For the last few days, I've been trying to make arrangements for what to do with Yota.  I can put her in bonded storage, but it costs about as much as to ship her back to the states. I can sell her, but have to pay an import fee of about $2500. which means I would net maybe $4000.  And I'm not sure of the legality of that. I'd be doing business with a dealer who   says  he would do all the paper work.  But, it could take days to walk that through the beurocracy. 

It took me two days just to figure out the scheme for warehousing.  The first day here, I stood in line all day long just to be told that I was at the wrong agency.  The next day was spent driving around endlessly looking for the National Customs House, the Policia Technical Judicial, and the warehousing people.  I found all of them.  but it's impossible to go anywhere without getting lost. Nothing can be resolved over the phone. I have a good map, but it doesn't help much.  There are hardly ever any street signs and no numbers for induvidual buildings.  I spent 45 minutes looking for a street. Then, it turned out I was on it the whole time

Other than that, theres not much to blog about. I'm having some work done on Yota today. Turns out she wore out her tie-rods banging into pot holes on the way here.

The length of the trip from Merritt Island to the Canal was 7090 miles exactly.  It's 1170 air miles from here to Miami.  It's a small world, but it's folded kind of funny.

That's it from Panama....
Guy

ACROSS THE BORDER AND OVER THE MOUNTAINS

From the town of David, Panama,           Tuesday Morning, November 10th

Silly name for a town, but I had nothing to do with that. I arrived at the border with all my tranquillity still intact.  Little did I know, I had left the docking device for my camera in my room in Coast Rica. I will try to call them, and get them to send it to me in the states.  For now, I can't download any more pictures or even charge the battery in my camera. It was fully charged,so I got some good pictures yesterday. The border crossing was four hours, but I didn't let it bother me.

Later,I saw a road sign that said Punta Robalo.  As some of you fishermen know Robalo means Snook, a very nice game-fish.  Well, I decide, I better go find out what that's all about.  As you may have guessed by now, the thing I love most about this kind of trip is hamming it up with the locals. I never feel lonely. Yesterday was to be no exception.

Punta Robalo is a little fishing village on the Laguna of Chiriqui, an estuary maybe the size of Cheasapeake Bay, maybe smaller, but very big.  I approached some of the locals. At first they didn't look too friendly.  I turned around and was about to drive back the way I came.  There was this very gringa-ish loooking lady, distinguished with grey hair walking in sort of the same direction I was going . "Do you live here?" I asked in English.  She turned to me, smiled broadly, and said ""Yes, I do. I'm here with the Peace Corps. My name is Christie."     "Wow, my name is Guy. I'm a tourist just passing through. I saw the sign and came down to see if there were any Robalo around.""      "Well, I don't know too much about fishing, but there´s a little dock over there that passes for a local hangout. I'll show you where it is. You can get a beer or a soft drink and I'll go find you a fisherman.

Sounds great.  She showed me where the hangout was, the guy there stuck a beer in my hand, and I sat down to wait.  It wasn't long till she came back with Manuel, obviously a fisherman.  Manuel explained that at certain times of the year, the Robalo  school up in  the river (there are several rivers that dump into the estuary) The fish comeProbably to spawn.  Hence the name Punta Robalo. He said he would take me fishing if I came back in the morning. I wanted to come back, but didn't want  to use up a whole day.

He took me to see part of the day's cacth. A snapper and a grouper, a few mackeral and a Barracuda.  Not great by Brent Oatley standards, but it was fun and I got some pictures.  On the way back to the hangout, we stumbled across Christie again. She was teaching an English Class to some local ladies. They were in a building with no windows or doors, so I walked in and said Hi to everyone. I decided I should be a guest teacher  since the subject was English.  So, I worked on a few phrases with them.  they were giggling and happy. I think they had been making jokes about Christie and me because we were about the same age.

So. I left, a happy camper, and felt like I had brought a few smiles. I got a few good shots of my classroom experience and of a few of the locals. It was lotsa of fun. I planned to stay at a town called Chiriqui Grande, but it looked pretty bad there, just not a place you'd want to stay.  It was only about 4:30, so I decided to cross the mountains. In hindsight, that was a poor decision, but all the roads had been good up to that point.  The crossing route is highway 4 on the map, and there is absolutely nothing between the estuary(on the Carribean) and the Pacific Highway. The road was under repair in some places but not unmanageable. The problem was that it got foggy. So foggy, I couldn't see the road very well. Oh dear, what to do?

I started to just pull off the road and stay the night, but it was too early, only 6:30.  Then I got my break. Two mini-busses, like comfotable ones for tourists passed me up. They were travelling a little two fast for the conditions, but the lead bus had a flashing green strobe light on the top.  "These guys must know the road. ", though I wished they would slow down a little." I'm with them."   I followed them all the way to where  the terrain flattened and the fog was no longer a problem. ( maybe 80 kilometers) A strobe light is easy to follow, even in fog.

I arrived here in David  about 9:00 PM at a nice hotel in a not so nice part of town.  It was what I could find.  It's about another 250 kilometers to Panama city from here.

Guy

SOUTHERN CARIBBEAN BEACHES

Monday November 9th from Puerto Viejo, Coasta Rica:

At the extreme Southern end of Coasta Rica, on the Carribean Coast, there is about a 110 kilometer stretch of open beach.  It runs from just South of Puerto Limon down to Manzanillo which is right at the Panamanian Border.  There is virtually unlimited access to the beach.  There are no condominiums, no gated communities, no Burger Kings, no Kentucky Fried Chicken, nothing that would remind you of home.  ( Except there are a lot of younger Americans here)

The beaches here have a much more Carribean feel to them. The population is a little darker. The food is nice and spicy. The sauces will immediately breaks you into a sweat (if you're not sweating already) In fact the best two meals I have had on my whole trip have been here. The music tends a little less to Latino and has a little more of a Reggae beat.  I spent all of yesterday exploring this area.  The waves have much better shape to them than on the Pacific side, and there is a surprising amount of Ground Swell. The fishing is great,and the water is so clear, I can see my feet (clearly) standing in five feet of water. I don't have air cond. in my room, so I spent half the night sleeping in a hammock on the balcony. I could hear the waves breaking across the street at about 40 yards.  It was just right. Why would anyone want to be anywhere else?

My neighbor at the hotel, Jim, an American apparently can't answer that question. He's been here 4 months. And, he has no plans for leaving.  One problem, Coasta Rica is expensive, and these beaches are no exception.  My two pound lobster for lunch cost me 40 bucks.  The fish Burrito I had for supper (made with Marlin) was about $10.  I don't think I had ever eaten Marlin before. To me it´s much better than Swordfish.

I have photos, but I won't post them till I get to Panama. Right now I don't want anything to disturb my tranquillity, especially not the computer. I will put most of the photos on the side, but I do have one where I could see a big point break way far off.  I will put that one at the  bottom, and you surfer guys might get a glimpse of how it might be.  I did get to do some body surfing in front of the hotel this morning. It was delightful. Oddly, the water seems saltier here. You can float like a cork with no effort.

Love from tio guy..

Monte Verde, the Cloud Forest, and my Mysterious Place......

Posted Sunday November 8th from Puerto Limon, Caribbean Coast


Off line Blog Friday 6 November:

Today was the day to visit the big live Volcano at Arenal, and then to drive the back country to get to the Cloud Forest around Monte Verde. It was pretty much a day of spectacular scenery, and slipping, sliding and bouncing along some rough but very pretty mountain roads. I have a good number of photos which I will post at the end of the blog as usual.

I stopped at a coffee cooperative and got some free samples of the best coffee I have ever tasted. I bought a couple of bags of it. It is organically grown in the Mountains around Monte Verde. As always, my timing was off. I drove up in a driving rainstorm, and I got the feeling I was the only client that showed up all day. That happens to me a lot.

I drove right through the cloud forest coming from Arenal rather than from the main highway. When I asked someone which to Monte Verde, they said “You just passed it. So I went back to look for a hotel. I found one on a little moutain road about 2 kilometers off the main road. It’s the most Idylic spot I have ever seen. Look at the pictures and you will see what I mean.

There are a lot of people here, but they are very quiet and, to me, they seemed a little more serene than most folks I know. There are no phones or TVs in the cabins. Seem a little odd? I thought so. I had a few brief words with some people, but not much. I ran into a guy from Boston who was a little more talkative. As we parted ways, he said “Oh, I believe there is a Shaman Service tonight. You’re welcome to come.” “Uh, I’m a little on the conventional side, And I’m not exactly sure what a Shaman does.”

“Well he’s like a guy who figures out natural healing qualities of certain plants and herbs, and he can see into the future and the past to see what will work for you. It originated with some of the ancient pre-Christian Religions.”

“Oh, I see, there’s a spiritual element to it.” “Oh yes, very much so.”

Then I remembered that the guy in the cabin next to mine looked very much like a Shaman. Sort of indigenous with very long hair pulled back, and a deep voice.

Why does this stuff always happen to me. I just hope no-one bleeds any chickens around my place. There is a swimming pool, warm thermal springs, and a bar and restaurant. I will be headed for the bar momentarily. From Monte Verde Deep in the “Selve” (Spanish for Savage Wilderness)

Guy

FOOTNOTE TO FRIDAYS BLOG:

You would surely believe that I could make it to the bar without an incident. You would. But, you would be wrong. I stepped out of my cabin, and it was pitch black. I couldn’t see anything. OK, I’ll go to my vehicle and get a flashlight. So, I step down onto the stoop, and carefully put my foot down on the concrete step. Feels solid, so I shift my weight forward onto the top step. Problem was, it wasn’t a step. It was the top of a water chute built into the side of the mountain. It was made of concrete, but wasn’t meant to be walked on. Now, there is nothing slicker than a water chute in a rainforest. Nothing that I have seen.

So, My left foot, the one on the chute, slipped out from under me. Everything else followed. Right foot, arms , legs, ass, and all the rest. The chute was only about 5 feet long. It was at a steep angle, so within a half second I found myself sprawled into the roadway below the cabin. I wasn’t sure if I was hurt, so, I just laid there for a couple of minutes. Someone came up with a flashlight and asked “Are you OK?” In perfect English. Hoping to save whatever dignity I might have left, I hopped up and said, “Oh yes I’m fine”.

“We thought you were a wild animal at first.” I never heard a wild animal holler, “Oh Shit”, but, who knows?

Anyway, except for some serious looking bruises on my elbows and hands and a very sore pinky finger, I figured I was, surprisingly, OK. I made it to the bar, had a couple of stiff drinks, gazed toward the rushing river , and felt much better.

The next morning, I was sore almost everywhere. Painfully aware of my 70 years, I decided to head for the hot spring. It was early and there was just one guy in the spring. Awkward silences aren’t permitted down here so I said “Muy Buenos Dias!”. He said Good Morning. Then, I told him I did have an accident last night. He seemed very concerned and motioned me over. He examined my pinky finger, my various bruises, and pulled on my arm till it sort of slipped forward. Then, he did the other arm. Then my shoulder blade joints, then my shoulders. Each time, something would snap into place. I figured either this guy is the Shaman, or he’s a chiropractor. Turned out he was neither. He worked for the Aduana, or Customs Agency. His name was Gerardo. Between the hot spring and the chiropractory, I felt much better.


I found out that morning that the guy in the next cabin was a Shaman. There was more than one. Several. In fact. I guess there is some sort of rating system that determines degree of Shamanism. Hey, I’m not knocking it. I think they are maybe better than some of the people we call doctors. The shaman had a strange habit of leaving his door slightly ajar all the time. It might mean,”I’m here if you need me.”

Interesting night! I won't forget it.When I took my fall, he wasn't around.  I believe he was presiding over a ceremony of physical and spiritual cleansing that took from 8:00 PM till 3: 00 AM.  Maybe, I should have showed up for that. I only found out about it next morning.

The Pacific Beaches Northern Coasta Rica

Thursday, November 5th from Tilaran (near the Arenal Volcano):

The last two days have been checking out beaches along the Nicoya Peninensula. First Los Cocos, which turned out to be a little gaudy for my taste.  Then overnight at Tamarindo which was quite nice. I had a sweet little hotel right on the ocean. I could walk out the back door and there was probably 30 miles of deserted beach to my right.  To my delight, the hotel was owned by a French couple, and was a rendezvous for the local French expatriates and visitors.  There was a big French Bakery on the premises, and that meant fresh Croissants for breakfast. The only people I could find to chat up were Julian,the guy that had the parking lot concession for the main beach. and an old fisherman.

I accused Julian of being the richest man in town after he charged me 500 Colones to park for half an hour. That's about a buck and a half.  I showed him my spare tire and said he was just like the guy that tried to charge me duty on the tire.  "Wow, thats a nice expensive tire. You should have to pay." By then we were both in hysterics. I told him I would be back looking for a loan. He laughed danced and blew a whistle as I was leaving.

The old fisherman, I found about a half mile down the deserted beach. He wanted to know all about America, why we were so mean to the immigrants, and how I had got to Coasta Ricaa.  I wanted to know what kind of fish he caught,how many, what he did with them.

The next day was the Playa de Samara, a renowned surfing spot. You couldn't have proved it by me. The waves weren't any bigger than Cocoa Beach. But it probably wasn't the right day.  The most interesting people I met were 3 young ladies, an American, a Canadian, and a German girl. They were doing save the turtle work. apparently it'squite hard work. They were enjoying a day off. The beach was fabulous. I got a few pictures and a couple of video clips of it, had a nice fruit drink. (no alchohol)  and then headed back inland. That's where I am now. Tomorrow, off to the Volcano. Then to the Cloud Forest which is also nearby. After that head South. I'll put the beach photos on the side. It's easier but they don't give good detail.

WHAT HAPPENED IN GRANADA ??

What happeded in Granada?


Not too much the first day. First thing I did was check into the Hotel Granada. The Hotel Granada is an old Spanish Colonial Style hotel located very close to Lake Nicaragua. It's the largest hotel in the city, but still maintains a stately and dignified ambience. No Honky Tonk here. Don Carlos, the owner would not stand for it. A little more about him later.

After a short boat ride on the lake, a look around town, and a stop at american style sports bar for 1 beer and some fish and chips, I returned to the hotel forn a decent nights sleep. Next morning, I walked around and bought a few cheap souvenirs. Went back to the hotel at 9:30 ready to head for the Coasta Rican border.

Then a new world opened up for me. I had checked out, had breakfast, was putting my last item into Yota, everything carefully arranged for the border crossing. I noticed a very distinguished looking gentleman the next car over was doing about the same thing. "Are you headed for the frontier?" I asked in English. "Yes, I am." was the friendly reply. We talked a few minutes, then he asked, "Would you like to travel together. I've lived in Coasta Rica for 25 years." "Great", I said, '"Sounds like it would make things a lot easier."

"I'll just have my breakfast Sit down with me. Have a coffee, then we'll go. " Roland was with two friends, so we all sat down at two adjacent tables and had a very pleasant time sipping and conversing. Nothing out of the ordinary, just friends enjoying each others company. Then, who should show up, but Don Carlos, the hotel owner

Let me talk abot Roland first: Roland Becker was born in Germany. He moved to Coasta Rica 25 years earlier to manage some properties that his father (who had come here to invest) had left to to him. He had closed a successful business in Germany to do this. He spoke not a word of Spanish at the time he came. He is now a free lance journalist and photographer who does stories (mostly travel) for German, Spanish, and, I suppose English magazines and periodicals. Before doing the travel, he covered such events as the civil war with the Contras in Nicaragua and in El Salvador. He told me a great story about being in "No Mans Land" between the lines of combat. Roland is dedicated to developing other parts of Central America, but not exactly like in Coasta Rica. It should be done with great care not to sully or destroy the natural beauty of the country and to thereby deprive the very people who come here of what they are paying to see. He considers Nicaragua the most unspoiled of all the C.A. countries. I have to agree. Roland has a High Def camera which is almost always on. He's doing a piece on travel in Central America.

Don Carlos lives in New York a bit more than half the time, and in Nicaragua when he's not in New York. He is a soft spoken Latino gentleman, who instantly demands respect through his calm quiet demeanor. How he maintained that demeanor living in New York, I can't answer. But, he is a delight to be around. He had heard about Roland. I supposed that Roland had spoken to him before, but I don't think they had known each other for a long time. Don Carlos owned some property that he was interested in showing to Roland. It would be about an hour ride by boat.

"Are you up for it Guy?" asked Roland. "You bet I am" . If ever there was an easy decision this was it. So we took a long boat ride and explored the property which turned out to be a magnificent private island, complete with beautiful scenery, a boat landing swimming platform, a hand crafted stone pathway that circled the island, and a ridiculouly cute family of monkeys who bark like dogs (big dogs). It had to be the best day of my trip. But, I said that yesterday, and the day before, and the day before that. Oh, well, each day feels like a best day.

There are quit a number of photos for this day.  I will try to place them at the end of the total blog text because I get better quality, and some of them are pretty good.

Roland and I had a medium difficulty border crossing, but it seemed like fun with 2 people.  It was late and I did have some visions of the border closing while we were in no-mans land between countries. But, that didn't happen. It all played out well.  I am touring the northern beaches area right now.  I'll talk about that a little later on. Everything is great here.  When I finish in the North, I plan to hook up with Roland in San Jose. He needs to go to Panama also to register a car he bought in New Hampshire.



       

WHO IS EDWIN VALLEFRANCO?

Edwin was a fellow I picked up at the Honduras/Nicaragua border.  He had come up to me as I was going through the nritual of border crosssing. He explained that he was a miisionary and that he needed a lift down the road for 50 or 60 kilometers.  I looked at the load of stuff he was carrying, a very big suitcase, some other miscellaneous articles and what looked to be a big tent (folded up of course). I didn't really think so.

By the time I had suffered the last indignity of the border game, which was a guy telling me I needed to pay a duty on my spare tire, (I refused to pay it) I got on the road and there was Edwin.  "Theres no way I can leave this guy standing on the road." My  heart woulldn't let me.

So I pulled over, moved a bunch of my stuff around, and we somehow got his stuff into the car.  Edwin is one of those guys I would call a "Billy Bathgate" type of Christian. Billy was a character in the folklore of the English church. He was a lay person, not a scholar,, and I don't think he was ordained. His enthusiasm for God and Faith and for Christian love was said to be so great that he couldn't stop saying "Praise the Lord", "Ahmen", "God Bless You" and so on.He was singing, clapping, tapping his feet. Full of joy and not able to hold it back. All the time.

Well, Billy's description would fit Edwin.  He is one of only two people I have ever known that were that way. Turns out that Edwin was wotking in a tiny village way back in the Mountains. I was to drop him off at a small town about halfway to where I was going. There he was to meet his family, his wife and  three daughters. He has a son, but I believe the son had stayed in the village.  From Where I dropped him, they would take a bus ride of about another 50 kilometers back into the mountains.  From there, they would travel the next day, 12 hours on horseback to what I guess you might call his "Parish".

Edwin was Honduran by birth, had lived in the states for a couple of years, and had come back to Central America to preach and to bring healing of the spirit,and by doing so, the body. I asked him "You're a faith healer?'    "Yes, I guess I am. I've seen a lot of miracles out here."   "Do you have a sponsoring church/? "   "No, I don't,  I'm not much into regular churches. I do have a guy in Houston, Fred Carpenter, who sends me $ 50.00 every month.'

"How do you live?"  "Where do you live?"       "The Lord provides everything that we need. Sometimes we may be hungry for a couple of days, but then someone will come with a couple of big fat chickens, some vegetables or some home made ice-cream, and say  "Here, the Lord told me to give you this.  We usually have a roof over our heads, but often sleep in sleeping bags,. When I decided I needed a computer, someone appeared and gave me one."

Finally I dropped Edwin off, reluctantly, then met his wife and daughters took a couple of pictures together,and parted ways.  With his manner and things he told me, Edwin had brought me to tears. His parting words were "God Bless you Bother. I won't forget you. "  I'm crying as I write this.

Gosh, I thought, "After Edwin, anything else will be a letdown."   WRONG !!

I got to Eleni on Sunday evening, found a nice hotel, got something to eat, and settled in for the night.  Next day was to be Cigar Day.   Nobody had heard of La Communa, but the son of the hotel owner led me through the streets of Eleni to the "'Fernandez Tobacco Company". He left me, and I walked in.  The Security guy looks at me a little funny.  I'm a bit early and, I suppose most people come in groups. But nthe guard is quite nice and he hollers at somebody who hollers at someone else and out walks this smiling young guy chomping on a big stogy and says "Hi, my names Greg." I'll be glad to show you around." Perfect English.

"Would you like a cigar while we tour the plant"    "Oh, you bet I would."   He pulls a big Robusto out of a big rack, hands it to me, then passes me a lighter. I bite off then end and light up.  This is just where I belong at this moment in my life.  Greg showed me the whole operation, the rolling room, the storage areas for the wrapper and the filler, where they package the finished products, where they treat the wrapper, the whole shebang. All the time we wer touring the plant, I was happily puffing on my Rubusto.

About Greg. He was born in Miami of a Cuban Family.  Knew the Cigar Business, didn't know Spanish all that well, relocated to Nicaragua a year ago to take the job with Fernandez.  He seemed in his element to me.  The tour didn't take more than 45 minutes.  I asked if it was possible to buy some cigars at the factory. He said no we don't sell them here, but I can give you some.  "O.K, that'll work."   

He reached into the rack which had several bins, and pulled me out a nice selection of 5 cigars.  "What? Am I in Cigar Heaven?"  I thanked Greg, told him he had made my day.  He said I had made his. We parted company.   Fernandez doesn't market under its own name, but manufactures such brands as "Rocky Patel" and "Miso".   Not sure about the spelling of Miso.    So, these are very expensive sticks.

My next stop was Drew Estates who do market under their own name and is the largest operation in Eleni.  No amount of pleading would get me through the front gate.  They were nice about it. The gaurd cxalled a secretary, thse secretary came out, she tried the cell phone of the Public Relations Director, one Pedro Gomez.  She couldn't get him.  She gave me his number.  Great effort, but just could't get in.  Oh well, Fernandez more than made up for it.

Next Tour stop;  The town of Granada just South of Managua the capital.  Today is actually Wednesday, the 4th so I'm a day  behind with the Blog.  Some really great stuff happens in Granada.

DANLI TO ELENI

I had a lovely drive from Yojoa to Danli. Didn't get lost even once.  The huge mountains gradually gave way to rolling hills and then to a fertile valley with rich farmland.  It reminded me a lot of Virginia. I had, by then, developed some techniques for getting throught the police and military checkpoints witrhout being singled out. I would squeeze up close to the vehicle ahead of me, and go through with my nose practically up the other driver's tail-pipe. If it was a bus or big truck, so much the better. Once, when a cop started to raise his hand, I gave a cheery wave. He and  his buddy waved back and forgot to stop me.

I got to Danli feeling pretty good about everything, scoped out the town a little and checked into the hotel which my friend at Canopy Tours had reccomended.  By evening, I had settled in. I wandered out to the patio of the hotel and found a couple sitting, he sort of halfway in the hammock and her seated in a chair. I walked over and gave them my best "Buenas Noches."  They were both in an agreeable mood, so we started to talk.  Turns out the guy was a cigar vendor. He showed me ssome samples. I thought they were too expensive. US $80 for a box of 20.  So he gave me a sample, and after we had talked for a while, they left.

I ordered a Rum and coke from the bar,and asked for some matches. I lit up and proceeded to smoke maybe the finest cigar I have ever experienced. beautiful gray ash, even burn, easy draw, aromatic, it was great.  I finished the cagar, settled into the hammock, and finished my second rum and coke. There was a soft breeze, music coming from next door, everything was right. I was at peace with the world, at peace with my maker, and at peace with myself.  The music was from a big festival for kids and their parents. All the happy yelling and hollering just added to my moment. I got up sleepy and headed back to the room.

The next day, Saturday, was a housekeeping and rest day in Danli. I did a little looking around, went to one tobacco operation that someone sqaid might be open. It wasn't.  All I got to do was peek over the wall. That afternoon and evening I spent a lot of time talking to Selme, the head day clerk at hte hotel and watching soccer. someone had arranged for a guy to come by and show me some cigars. He showed up about 6:30 PM.  A sleazy looking fat guy who broke out some ridiculous looking little cigars,cheaply wrapped in nothing but cellophane, no box, no nothing.  I told him as nicely as I could that, no thanks, that wasn't what I wanted. I had decided to eat at a Padarilla (upscale restaurant) about 2 kilometers from the hotel on the main road. So,  got up and left.


I nodded at Selme as I was leaving.  "You're going out?"  He seemed a little incredulous.  "Yes," I said, "don't worry about me."  I noticed the cigar guy was getting into a very nice grey Toyota crew cab truck. It looked like he was getting in on the passenger side. I'm not really sure.  when I got to the traffic light, I turned left and the Toyota turned behind me.  " I hope this guy isn't following me."  I turned into a small shopping center to see if he would follow me.  He didn't, but he took the right-hand fork in the road then hit his brakes and started to try to turn around.  It was a bad place to turn around. I came out of the shopping center, took the highway in the opposite direction, headed out of town, and then turned around and came back on another road I knew about by then.  I knew that I had lost him.  I didn't see him again. So, I thought he just wanted to sell me those cigars.  I head back to the Paradilla.  Kind of nervous, but enjoying my supper.  There aren't a lot of people in the restaurant. Just one family, a couple, and myself.

So during dinner a truck pulls in and nobody gets out for a while. I walk over to the door. It looks like the truck, but maybe not.  After I look out, somebody gets out of the truck and comes in.  A pretty big guy.  He goes over to the cash register and buys a pack of cigarettes or changes some money, I'm not sure. Then he walks out and I see two trucks leaving.  This doesn't feel right but maybe it's nothing.  Well if it is something, I have to face it. I can't stay here all night.

So,  pay the check and ask he waitress to keep an I on me till I get nout of the parking lot,  I leave my lights off and creep out to the main road. There is a Toyota  truck much like the first one parked about 100 meters up the road facing me.  By now my heart and my imagination were bouncing like pinballs. The only thing I could think of was to head straight torwards the truck at fairly high speed.  I turned on my lights and hit the brights. I careened pase the Toyota and glancd over.  I didn't see anyone.  Must be my imagination.

I got back to the hotel, and Selme and the two security guards were standing right out in front. They were watching me intently.  Coincidence. Probably it was. So I jumped out and asked "Todo Traquillo Aqui?" That means, "Is everything OK"?

Selme asked me where I had been. I said, I think calmly, that I'd gone out for a bite to eat.  As I was entering the hotel, I heard one of the other guys telling someone on his cell phone "He just went to the Paradilla to get something to eat.  I didn't remember mentioning the Paradilla.  Had it not been for that, I would have shrugged it off as my overactive imagination.  The again I might mave misunderstood the guy on the phone.  I really didn't want to believe it was other than my imagination, but I'll never know for sure
I barricade myself in my room and got an uneasy nights sleep.

The next morning was another border incident that left me about $130 lighter and couldn't be compared to anything other than Mr. Toads  Wild Ride.  My spirits weren't exactly soaring, but that's when I met  Edwin VillaFranco.

                                                      TO BE CONTINUED..... 













  

TOBACCO ROAD

November 1st, 2009:

THE PHOTOS HAVE BEEN POSTED FOR THE JUNGLE CANOPY AND FOR LAKE YOJOA..

The last two days have been spent in Danli, Honduras and in Eleni Nicauragua.  This is the principal Tobacco growing and Cigar Manufacturing Area for both Countries.  Un fortunately I pulled into Danli on a friday evening.  all the factories and farms were closed for he week-end.  I stayed in Danli two nights for a rest stop.  Had Yota washed, got a haircut, got laundry done, but couldn't find any cigars worth buying.  The good ones were expensive and the el cheapos weren't worth having. I didn't get to see a factory except for peeking over a wall. 

Tomorrow (Monday) I will try again in Esteli.  I've picked out two factory/farms I want to visit.  La Communa, and Drew Estates. Let's see what happens.  From there it will be on to Granada, a (I've been told) upscale kind of town just south of Managua, the capital.  I plan to take a boat ride from  there on Lake Nicaragua, biggest lake in Central America, and supposed to be quite nice.

Manhana 

HONDURAS EARNS AN A++ RATING...........

From the beautiful Shore of Lake Yojoa at Monto Verde:

IGNORE UNDERLINE.  CAUSED BY NETBOOK COMPUTER AND BLOG EDITOR.

I haven’t said much about Honduras yet, so here goes. I got a little bit of a bad first impression at the border and close to the border. Remember,I had to drive in 50 kilometers to get my car permit. I think a bad first impression will always be the case. Once I got as far as the small city of Tela on the Gulf Coast, that impression started to vanish.


I had driven down to the beach to look for a hotel. It was getting late, and I wanted to settle in for the night. I spotted this huge resort hotel and resort complex. “Hmm, I probably won’t like the prices.” I got out of the car to talk to the guard gate. “It must be very expensive here.” “ Yes it is, but they have “promociones.” Promociones, that’s the magic word for me. I think I’ll ask.


Si senhor, the normal rate is US $156. But we have a promotional rate of $70.00. “Sold!”


The place must have been 5 star. A sprawling complex with shops, restaurants, bars, everything, gymnasium, a pool that must have covered 3 acres, and right on the beach.I stayed there for the night, and left for La
Ceiba the next morning after a leisurely breakfast.

I put some photos of Telamar Villas at the bottom of the blog yesterday along with some from Cabanas del Viajeiro in Guatemala (Rio Dulce).


I passed a very relaxing night at Telamar, and then off to the city of La Ceiba to visit friend Carlos. We talked about his time in the Honduran Army, time when he and Julio lived in New Orleans, and a lot about politics and about me. He showed me around a little, made some good suggestions as to where to stay in La Ceiba. And had a couple of beers in the process. He has a fairly large house but a lot of family living with him. So we decided I would stay downtown at the “Gran Hotel Paris”. A lovely place right on the central plaza. And not very expensive. Carlos made a phone call and set me up.There was good parking in front of the hotel. I could walk around some, but not stray too far into the outlying areas. The next day was off to the Sambo Creek Spa and Canopy Tour.

The Tour has 18 separate cables on which you go whizzing through the treetops and over a beautiful stream and a waterfall. Once my guide got stuck on a branch that had fallen. He motioned me to come on down. He pulled me through the limb and vines that had fallen with it. After that it was clear whizzing. It takes over an hour to do all 18 cables and it is great fun. The longest wire is 300 meters.

After the wire whiz, you get to relax in the thermal springs. It’s amazing, the pools go from super cold to boiling. They are fed by seperate springs. You can sort of pick your temperature. After the exercise, I opted mostly for the coldest one. I have some pretty good pictures of the ride and spa and will post at Blog’s End.

After that, I headed out, ambling toward the Nicauraguan border which is about a 2 day trip from here. The owner of the Canopy Tour, a wonderful guy from Nebraska, (I lost his card but held onto the brochure.) spent a lot of time telling me where to stop and where probably not to stop in Honduras and Nicaragua. He was easily the most helpful person I have met down here And I have encountered quit a few expatriate Americans. I was him that steered me to Lake Yojoa.

The scenery in Honduras is just mind boggling. You are constantly swiveling your head and saying “Wow, look at that.” I have gotten one photo from the balcony of the hotel here which actually captures a small bit of the grandeur of this country. I will post that.

The only other funny thing that happened was an encounter with some fruit vendors. I stopped in what I would call “El corridor de las Frutas” Three vendors them came running to where I was, all of them carrying multiple bags of fruit They started giving me samplesof each type of fruit, so I joked with them that I would eat the samples, then leave. They all gave a friendly laugh, and said “Oh no, Senhor.” Once you become friendly down here you are almost obligated to buy something. So I bought a small bag from each of them. I have pictures of the vendors and of the fruit. I bought two kinds of lychees and something called a “Mangita”.

I ate as much fruit as I could last night and again this morning and gave the rest to the security guard here at the hotel. His name is Jose and he totes a sawed off shotgun (at night).

This morning I'm off to the town of Danli, cigar and tobacco capital of Honduras and close to the Nicaraguan border.

Hasta la Vista, Baby,     Guy

WHOOPS CAN'T SEND PICTURES. THE COMM LINE IS TOO SLOW. TRY LATER.

HONDURAS IS OK.

I don't have time to say a lot. Suffice to say that it's Thursday the 10th.  I'm fine. I visited with family friend Carlos in La Ceiba yesterday. Carlos is a brother of a very dear friend of Yara and I back home. Julio Cardinales. carlos oriented me. We had a lovely visit, became friends, spoke of many things including some good stories about brother Julio.  Honduras is much different than Guatemala. A lot more prosperous.  Not by our standards, but nice cars, people well dressed, more business like, but not quite as sweet as in Guatemala. The scenery is MAJESTIC.  I have some more photos I will post at the end of the blog. I'm off to do the Jungle Canopy ride at Sambo Creek.  Two hours hanging on a wire and sliding through the jungle. should be thrilling. Hope it's not too much for an old guy.

Love,
Guy

MY THOUGHTS ON LEAVING GUATEMALA.....

Of all the countries I have visited, and there have been many, I think that Guatemala is the one that will always tug the most at my heartstrings. After a terrible start, it turned into an experience that reached me to the very core.

I spoke of the young school girls who were collecting donations at a roadstop in Mexico. They were obviously from a good school. and were acting kind of shy and kind of silly at the same time. When I threw a whole pocketful of money into the cup, they went into a sort of half song-half poem.  The girl who had taken my money was about a foot away from my window.  Her smile was as broad as her face, her eyes were bright, and she was chanting in this beautiful young voice. A flashbulb went off in my head, and that darling little face will always be there engraved into my memory. It seemed the very essence of the Mexican Spirit.

A few days later, I was leaving Guatemala City. The traffic was slow and I was behind a big sort of flat bed straked truck. There were about 15 people in the back of the truck. They looked like refugees, very ragged clothing, some without shoes. they were all ages. The truck was old and dirty The weather was blustery. In the very back of the truck, dead center there was a little girl, I would guess 11 years old. She was sitting crosswise, but her head was turned and she was looking directly at me, staring.  There was no emotion whatsoever in that face. She had on a head shawl or some sort of blanket. Her eyes seemed vacant but focused directly onto me. She looked at me that way for at least 5 minutes.  Neither of us looked away. I couldn't help but wonder, "What is this girls future?"  "Can she have a real chance in life?"  "Why can't I do something to help?" That look also burned it's way into my memory in a way that I will always be able to visualize it. I imagined that she was thinking, "Why is just this one person able to drive around in this big beautiful car?"

A simular experience, but very different. Opposites ,actually

You see those scenes in Guatemala, but you find the people have a kindness and a friendlinessthat you can find nowhere else. In their lack of material comforts, there is a sort of nobility that comes out. You can't explain it. You can only sense it. The little time that I spent in Guatemala would make my whole trip worthwhile. I believe it really is "Gods Country".

Next Blog: yet another border crossing nightrmare, but a pleasant ending to the day

Rio Dulce and Lake Izabal

Oct 26th, From Rio Dulce Guatemala:

Left Guatemala city about 7::00 AM.  Took about 90 minutes to thread my way out of the city. Spent most of the day driving, but arrived here by 3:00 PM.  This is an undescribably beautiful country, although the signs of poverty are often visible.

I passed through a place not much more than a wide spot in the road. The sign said proudly "La Tierra de Dios".  (God's  country). I stopped and made friends with a local named Jorge.  Jorge led me through a pasture to a butte over the river where I got some nice photos.

Then when I found my motel for the night outside the little town of Rio Dulce,  the motel owner was nice enough to do the same thing.  These are really very nice people. and easy to get to know. Rio Dulce turned to be a little bit of a Honky Tonk. I thought it would be more isolated.  But,I am a few kilometers outside the town exactly where the lake runs into the river.

Everything is just fine and I am comfortable in my own skin again. But, who knows? Tomorrow is another border crossing. You can scroll down for photos which I will now attempt to put at the end of the blog.

Guy.

The Day and Night from Hell..........

Sunday, October 25th : Guatemala City

Most of the day Saturday,  I ran parallel to the Pacific Coast.  I wanted to take a quick jaunt down to the Ocean, and see what it was like.  I missed the turn and started running out of time. I haven't seen the Ocean since Mazatlan. aand I miss it. 

Everything was going well, I was nor stopped even once by the Mexicans. They seemed more interested in what was going the other way. About 50 kilometers from the Guatemalan Border, I got waved to the sideof the road by two guys wearing what looked like very official badges of some kind.  It looked sort of like credentials for a NASCAR Race.  Official Government looking stampings all over them. They told me I needed a guide to take me through customs.  One of them was to accompany me to the border.  You gotta be kidding me.

About 25 kilometers later two different guys show up next to me at a stop on a motorcycle.  You need a guide senhor. "I don't need you guys!" and I took off at a high rate of speed.  The moto wasn't a big bike and I figured I could lose them. But, I made a wrong turn, and they came swerving up behind me.

I decided to give in.  I let them lead me through the town down winding, narrow sreets, which would nhave been very difficult for me. We ended up at what looked more like a farm than a border crossing.  There were about five buildings arranged in a circle. My guide sent me into the first Building. I sat down with a nice gentleman who stamped my passport and relieved me of about 350 pesos.  Easy enough.

We went to the second building, and a nice lady took my passport and all the information on my car.  It sonuds easy, but there were no markings on the outside, or inside of any of the buildings. Aldeo, my guide then took me to a third building where they sprayed the inside of Yota with some ghastly liquid. Then we went to a fourth building to fill out some kind of forms for the police.  There was no copying machine or, if there was it was broke. In the middle of all this, my drivers liscense had fallen out of my papers.  Someone saw a girl pick it up and run off with it. Aldeo's buddy chased her on the moto and got it back. Dear God! Aldeo and I  then had to drive into Guatemala to get copies made. Everything else was done. Yota had been let in  by then.  In the process of doing that, I banged my head on a street sign and put a huge gash in my forehead,  Blood was streaming down my forehead. Aldeo grabbed a towel from the back of the car and made me press it hard against my forehead.  I took a long time to stop bleeding.  The copies were made and Aldeo said he would deliver them tothe police whom they were for. He seemed to know everybody by name, and by then I trusted him and told him so. He called me Amigo, I called him Hermano and we parted company. I hope he gave them the copies. If not, maybe I  am a fugitive in Guatemala.

To drive into Guatemala, even from Mexico, is a culture shock. Guatemala is to Mexico what Mexico is to the States. a much poorer Southern Neighbor.  At first. the whole place looks like one big ""favela".  (Brazillian word for slum).  It was getting late, but I figured I could drive the main road to the capital at night.  It was OK except for one missed turn where I ended up lost in a medium sized town.  IIt was Saturday night, and the streets were teeming with merry-makers. It's scary, because you can't just stop  and ask for directions.  You have to pick your spot carefully. They are nice people for the most part, but  ethnically, they are more indigenous, and a foreigner really stands out.

The markings on the highway are often poor.  There are often no reflectors.There are huge dust clouds. And, everyone passes without regard to the solid line.  Nevertheless, I pulled into Guatemala City at about 9:00 o'clock.  I asked a very nice looking man who was buying gas where I could find a hotel. He said he wa s going that way, and I could follow him.  I did and he led me to the Barcelo Hotel. It was the swankiest place in town I'm sure. Not my kind of place. I should have stayed there. I figured it would be easy to find something else near here. So I did.  It turned out to be another of those "rent it by the hour" places.  There are many, I suppose,  but this one was the worst. 

"You want to rent for the whole night"  the guy at the window asked me.  "Yes I do. I want to sleep here." ''OK, that'll be alright".  "600 Quetzales".   I really should have left by now,but , I was tired. The guy didn't take my money.  He just said "You can go to the room."  Odd, Oh well. I parked Yota in the garage, then went up the stairs.  There was no door handle, no lock, no nothing, just a.blank wooden door. What the?

I went backto the office and asked, "How do I get in?"  "Go knock on the door!"  Go knock on the door?" "Yes, they will let you in" "Let me in, but its my room."  "Si senhor, but they are still cleaning the room."            "Cleaning the room, You mean somebody just.........""    Nothing but a shrug.

I waited and then knocked again.  The cash drawer built into the door slid out. Some gargly voice came from behind the door.  I deduced that it was time to pay.  Dear Lord! I had wanted to use my credit card that night because I was short on Quetzales.  I had asked about that and they said sure.  But there was no way I wiould hand a credit card to someone I couldn't see in a place like that.  so I put in 400 Quetzales and a bunch of pesos.  The Pesos came back with some words about Mexico.  "What about dollars?"  "OK"!  "How many?"    "15"!    "Here's a $20."    The $20 disappears.  Nothing else happens.   I bang on the door. 'Wheres my change?  40 Quetzales come back out.    Then the door slides open.  Inside there is another door to my left.  so thats how they do it.  To my surprise, the door I came through slides shut and latches.  I try to move it but it's locked in place.  I'm locked in the room.
 
"Hey open the door, I gotta get my stuff."  The door slides open.  I unload Yota, bring what I need for the night,  I had jammed the door by then.  I unjammed it, and let them close the door.  I was a prisoner in my room. the room was beautiful, very luxurious, with a Jacuzzi and mirrored ceilings.  "How do I get in to these messes?"   I put a hot towel on my head to nurse my wound,and looked up at the mirror.  That was the best laugh I had all day.  Other than a lot of racket all night, nothing else happened.  They let me out in the morning and I moved to a proper hotel whrere I am now.  I did a little sight-seeing around the city today , and will head off in the morning.

Is this for real.  Yes, I'm afraid so.  Have I considering turning back?  Yes, I have.  Will I?  honestly don't know.  I've not felt threatened by anyone, On the contrary, they have been super nice. but I suddenly feel conspicuous, and to feel conspicuous is to feel uneasy.

Guy            Not much photography today.  The capital is beautiful in the central zones. But.........

Another day in the life of a Mexican Traveler

This morning I started off fromOaxaca at 8:00 A.M.  Determined to make the Guatemalan Border, I pushed hard all day. By 3:00 PM, I had covered about 200 kilometers.  7 hours driving to go 130 miles.  It started with a nasty traffic jam with nothing moving and everyone honking. I hadn't seen that here yet. then there was hours of driving on twisty,kind of slick mountain roads. Yota doesn't do well on slick pavement,so I must be very careful.

Then, mid-day, the police closed the highway, to run a road race. I was motioned to turn off the road.  Thinking, "Oh no,wat have I done now?  But, I noticed everyone was being motioned off.  OK, maybe theres been a truck jack-knifed.  Then with a roar of engines, the first of the cars came barreling through.
They had to come to a near stop right in front of us. (Speed Bump) So I have some good pictures.  (end of blog).  The race lastd about 3 hours.

After that, I went through a small town.  Almost every building (if you could call them buildings)  had a sign up.  "Fabrica de Mescal" or "Artesenato Agua de Mescal ". It sounds folks are making their own hootch and selling it on the side of the road.  Yota obligingly stopped, and I went to check it out.

There were three big vats, some other parephenalia, and burro whoose job is to walk in circles , powering a machine which crushes the mescal roots. They were selling the distillate in plain unmarked plastic bottles. "Will this stuff mess up my head", I asked.  "Oh yes, but you must ntry a little." The nice man gave me some in a traditional little cup shaped loke a sea-shell.  Wow, this was far better than what I had at the distillery.
"Do you like it?" he said. " Oh yes. it's sublime."  I don't know the word for sublime. but I made a fuss over it. He grinned happily.

"Now, I want to chew some of the root."  I had done this at the factory. and it is great stuff, a little like sugar cane with a slight apricot taste. And not sickeningly sweet  It has no alchohol content until it is distilled.  So he hacked off a nice chunk for me and i sucked it dry. "How much do I owe you?"   "Nada Amigo. My Pleasure".   "Wow, thanks, Adios".  I got some photos at the Fabrica de Mescal.  Downstairs.

The only other thing that happened was that I got pulled over at a military checkpoint. I had a total list of the Vehicle contents in Spanish (Thank you Mr. Halivan). so, it only took 10 minutes or so. Then they waved me on.  I have to pass through a little corner of Chiapas toget to the border and thats where I am now. The police and miitary prescence here is scary,and I was a bit unnerved. I am still some 250 kilometers from the border.Tomorrow will be more of the same.    

FIRST TASTE OF MEXICAN JSTICE

Thursday, October 22th from Oaxaca,: Mexico

Yep, you heard it right. Oaxaca. Pronounced Oh-Hock-a. It’s my jumping off point into Guatemala. I’ve felt very comfortable up to now being in Mexico which I am very familiar with. I must confess to a little apprehension about the unknown. I opened my Malaria pills tonight, and took the first one.

Wednesday and today were both days of hard driving. I spent 5 hours in Guadalahara arranging to extend my Mexican Auto Insurance for a few days. It was a Circus. That was with everyone being helpful.

I had planned to take the Pacific coastal route, but decided instead to go straight up the middle. Straight through Mexico city, then on to Oaxaca. Toll roads all the way, which I said I wouldn’t do.

Two nice things happened on the way to Mexico City. A bunch of 15 year old girls were standing on thee road collecting money for, I’m sure a good cause. One little girl with a big cup in her hand looked at me reprovingly. She held a single finger in the air twisted her head and finger a little as if to say, “Just 1 Peso”. Who could resist that? So I opened the window and dropped a bunch of coins in the cup. To my surprise they all simultaneously recited some nice little poem for me. I felt good about it.

Then, later, I saw a live smoking volcano a long way off from the road. I stopped and looked at it through my binoculars. I thought that was pretty neat.

In, Mexico City, I had my first run-in with the law. I was driving on the “Periferal”. What we would call the beltway. I stopped at a light, and then suddenly the were sirens going off all around me. A cop walked over to my window and said, “Your liscense Senhor.” He looked at all my papers which were in order. He seemed Decent enough. Then a second guy came over shouting and waving some kind of book at me. It was the traffic codes for the Federal District of Mexico. It turns out that non Mexican tagged vehicles are not allowed on the Periferal on Tuesdays or Thursdays. It was Thursday by then. The two choices I was given were: Either appear in court the following day, or pay a 1500 peso fine right on the spot. That’s about $120.00. Of course I paid the fine. In a matter of 10 minutes, they had plucked me like a chicken. I drove away 1500 pesos lighter.

I took a few pictures of the mountains coming into Oaxaca. I’ll look at them and find the best one or two and stick them in with the other photos at the end of the blog. You just can’t do justice to mountains with a photo unless you have a great camera with a wide angle lens. You really have to experience them. The mountains in Southern Mexico are stunning. The geography changes every twenty or thirty miles. I did take a couple of video clips today, but still haven’t figured out how to post them.

That’s how it is October 22nd.

PHOTOS AT THE BOTTOM

SEVERAL OF YOU SAID YOU COULDN'T FIND THE PHOTOS.  THEY ARE ALL TOGETHER AFTER ALL THE TEXT FOR ALL THE BLOGS.  YOU NEED TO SCROLL ALLTHE WAY DOWN.

THE TEQUILLA ROUTE

Muy Buenos Dias a Todos,

Guadalahara, October 21st:

I decided to jog inland to Guadalahara. I read in my Frommers that Guadalahara was the birthplace of Mariachi, Tequilla, and theJarabe Tapatio, or, The Mexican Hatdance. That sounds like the heart and soul of Mexico to me.

I found the Tequilla and the Mariachis, but not yet the Hat Dance.the Tequilla centers around the town of Tequilla 45 kiometers outside of Guadalahara coming in from the Coa.stal side. I had wanted to at a decent hour, so I had taken the toll road part way but had gotten off it by then.

There are 24 distilleries in the town. So I asked a local. He told me which one he thought was best. the name is something like Corridia. I can't remember the name, but I'm toting around a couple bottles of the stuff. The tour was great. They showed the process start to finish. There was the inevitible sampling. But, it was a tiny amount. Less than a decent shot altogether.

From there a short hop into town. Found another cheap hotel. Washed up and headed for Mariachi Plaza. It was a slow night (Tuesday) so I had to pay for my Mariachis. 10 pesos per man per song. I got some good photos and a great video clip. The photos are way down at the very bottom of the blog. Today, a walk through the historic District, then back on the road.

Guy

Monday, October 19th

The good news: Yota is fine. She just needed a new hose for her power steering. She got an oil change, and a check up, including having her suspension system checked over. It cost about 60 bucks altogether.

The bad, I’m a few days behind schedule. And I’m spending more money than I would like. One big problem is the tolls. Any road that will get you somewhere in a reasonable amount of time costs big bucks.(about 12 1/2 cents a mile) Gasoline. You have to pay. It’s a little less than we pay, but that will rise the farther south we get. The Peso suddenly got a little more expensive, but that may just be Mazatlan. Hotels and food are not expensive by our standards. As long as you go Mexican.

Tomorrow at 6:00 AM We’re off in the direction of Puerto Vallarta. Another place that doesn’t interest me more than a little. I’ve decided to take my time and stop to absorb it all and to stay off the toll roads as much as I can. To just barrel down the toll roads would be like seeing the U.S. from the Intertsate Highways.

That’s it. Nothing of interest. Got car fixed. Did Laundry. Blogged. Ate at Burger King. Walked around a Wal Mart. (Waiting for car) Drank my one beer. All stuff I could have done at home.

Guy

P.S. Scroll all the way down for photos past all of the text for all entries to the blog. I can’t merge the photos into the text.

GUESAVE AND THE BAND

Sunday, October 18th, Mazatlan:

I said that yesterday was a special day for me. It was. There is a small town in the Central Sinaloa called Guesave. This is a special place for me, though I had never been there. It is the birthplace and home of the late and great Valentin Elizalde. Elizalde was the founder and lead singer of “La Banda Guesavena”. He was, to me, one of the greatest Mexican singers of his time. The Banda Guesavena sounds like a combination of Tia Juana Brass (with a lot more Brass), German style Oompah, great drummer and clarinet, and this wonderful singer of traditional Mexican and regional songs. I had chanced across some videos of “Valentin Elizalde and his Banda Guesavena” The ladies in the audience would line up, come onto the stage, and each would dance with him a few turns while he sang without ever missing a beat. You could sense the adulation of the crowd. I liked his music, and his stage presence so much, I read upon the man.

He was born to wealth, but was very much a man of the people, generous, charitable and caring. He was assassinated at the age of around mid thirties (I’m not sure of the age) by Sinaloan drug lords while returning from a performance. He was and is much revered around here.

It seemed logical to me that there would be a memorial to him in Guesave. I pulled off the highway thinking to perhaps visit the site, have a serious moment to pay my respect, and maybe leave some flowers. I asked someone, and quickly found the site. As I approached, I heard (could it be?) It was. “La Banda Guesavena.” This deliriously happy music that I love so much. What are the chances I would drive 3000 miles, and step out of the car at that exact moment. I was beside myself, “Loco de Alegria”,

I got to talk to the band members, and shake hands with a few of the family. I listened to the music for a while then left, A very happy traveller. The older gentleman who seemed to be the de facto leader of the band told me that they were only doing instrumental now and there was not to be another lead singer. He was that much loved, revered, and respected that he could not be replaced. That teared me up. Scroll down to the bottom of the blog and check for photos.

As for today, I’m still stuck in Mazatlan waiting for a mechanic to look at Yota. I have an appointment for 9 AM tomorrow. It’s lovely here, met a few interesting folks, but I would like to be on my way. I’m gonna go out for a bite to eat and my 1 beer. See you later.

Guy

PUNISHED BY SIERRA MADRE........

Saturday Evening, October 17th

This blog will have to be off-line also. I’m staying in Mexican style hotels because the price differential is so great. I haven’t found one with internet yet. I will look for a wifi network tomorrow. I maybe here for a couple of days. Yota is having some problems that need attention.

The last two days have been stunningly beautiful, but challenging. Yota and I left my “sweet chalet” just after first light. I met the owner, David, in the parking lot. We took an instant liking for each other. We talked for a while and agreed to exchange e-mails and I gave him the blog address. David is that kind of joyful, irrepressible Mexican that you have to like.

After that, Yota and I drove to the Divisadero and had a look. It’s not,as you would imagine. Anything like the Grand Canyon. It’s more like a great valley that stretches for hundreds of miles along the center of Sierra Madre. It spiders off in many directions.

Then we decided to continue following the path of El Chepe. Well guess what? El Chepe has bridges and tunnels. What happens next, I will tell in scant detail:

We experienced 9 hours of driving on narrow, rutty, often non-existent mountain trails. Most of them don’t exist on any map. We zig-zagged up and down mountains, crossed the divide, and then threaded our way out. We were lost half the time

We ended up still in the mountains of Sinaloa State in total darkness. Sinaloa is a very tough neighborhood. We actually encountered some bad guys. A gang of what seemed to be local toughs hanging out at an intersection just past a small town. We stopped at the intersection. We didn’t know which way to go. In That type of situation, my rule is: Act first. Be friendly. Try to get a laugh.

I drove over to them, lowered the window, and said, “Muy Buenos Noches”. One of them said something like Hola, que tal” “Whats up”

I said, “. Yo estoy un poco perdido” “I’m lost”. The Mexicans have an annoying habit, if you have an accent. They call someone who speaks or they think speaks English. “Llama Carlos”. So here comes Carlos. Carlos is a tough looking guy with a New Yorkish accent who speaks perfect English. I explained my situation.

He asked, “What are you doing out here man”

I said, “Paseando” That got a good laugh out of the other two guys standing next to Carlos, and he smiled. Paseando has no exact translaton, but it means wandering around aimlessly taking it all in.
Carlos said, “Well, be careful.” “Just go straight ahead on this road.”

“Thanks. “I’m trying to be careful, but………”

He turned to his buddies circled his finger in the air and pointed down the road.

Yota headed down the road slowly at first, then picked up speed.

It was about 9:00 PM. By 10:30, we had found a paved road and a motel in the town of El Fuerte.

I haven’t talked about what happened today,but today was the most remarkable day of the trip. One of the most remarkable of my life. Later. I have some good photos, and I think I can insert them at the very beginning of the blog. I can’t insert them into the text. Blogspot has a software problem.

Guy from Mazatlan

I'm going to try to post some photos at the beginning. Scroll all the way down to look for them.

On the Road to Anahuac

Thursday Evening, October 15th, 2009

This blog is being written off-line from the little town of Creel. Creel is in the heart of the Western Sierra Madre. About 10 Kilometers fiom the “divisadero” or Great Divide, the most accessible part of the Copper Canyon. It’s a cute little town, but a little touristy. The train stops here and people get off to overnight.

I found a nice little cabin about a mile out of town. It has a front porch, a living room, a fireplace and a refrigerator. It’s quite cold here at night. So I have a nice fire going. It’s apparently not well known. Only 500 pesos for the night. ($ 32).

I veered off the main road this morning and took what was described as a tertiary road. I was trying to find alittle town called Anahuac which stands next to a large mountain lake. The “tertiary” road suddenly turned into not much more than a cow path. I drove back to a little town I had passed and asked of two ladies who were sweeping the sidewalk if this was indeed the way to Anahuac.

“Yes, yes” they assured me, that is the way. I asked, “Will I make it?” “Oh yes, you’ll get there.” they said in unison. They must have been telling me what they thought I wanted to hear So I turned around again and headed down the cowpath, Now, it’s said that there are bad guys around here. I havent seen one myself, but for a few moments, I expected “El Chopo” himself to step out from the bushes. El Chopo is Mexicos most wanted fugitive.Not to be confused with El Chepe, the train.

Soon, I realized there was nothing but cows and campesinos out here. I really started to enjoy it, The scenery is so beautiful, that, at one point I teared up, I took some nice pictures. I can’t insert them into the text of the blog, because of a software problem. But I think I can put them in at the very brginning. And, I did find my way out. I never found Anahuac.

Guy

AYE ! CHIHUAHUA !!

"CHIHUAUA"     "SIERRA MADRE"

The words evoke memories of Pancho Villa.   His first great victory was right here.  His final determining defeat was here.  It also makes you think of Humphrey Bogart in his great 1940's  movie ""Sierra Madre", the mother of all mountain ranges. 

Today was a rest day in Chihuahua. I spent a couple of hours in the library reading about the state (estado) of Chihuahua and the city of the same name. Tomorrow, Yota and I begin to follow the route of "EL CHEPE".  That's an elegantly appointed train which follows the route of the "Barracas de Cobre", the Copper Canyon from Chihuahua over and across the Sierra Madre and descends to the town of Los Mochis on the Gulf of California.

                           EL CHEPE LINK

Yota and I will not ride the train. We will follow the roads that parallel the tracks, take a few side roads, stay where we might, and just take it all in.

Guy 

The slightly funky motel and other adventures...

Monday, October 12th


Got a late start Monday morning. Did a little shopping and waited for the currency exchange to open at 10:00 AM. On the road at 11:00. Monterrey is in the Eastern Sierra Madre. My next destination is Chihuahua in the Western Sierra Madre. So; Yota and I ran parallel to the Mountain Range all day. We are overnight in the town of Torreon, roughly halfway.

Then the weird stuff started to happen. I’ve been staying in American style hotels and spending more money than I would like. So, I decided I would look for something a bit more Mexican and a litle more of a bargain. There was a sign on the highway, “El Aeropuerto’’ To the Airport! Sounds good, Must be some hotels there. Wow, there’s a really nice one. It has a wall around it for secure parking.

So, we turn in. There’s a security gate, We stop and a crackly loudspeaker blares something at us. I just sit and look dumb. A distinguished looking fellow comes out. I ask, “Gotta room for the night?” You want a room?” “Yes, that’s why I’m here,” “Can you leave early?” “Sure, I plan to anyway,” “8:00 oclock OK?” “Yeah, that’ll work.” “How much?” 400 pesos (32 bucks).

I’m hooked. “Is the parking secure?” “You have your own garage.” Yota breathes a sigh of relief. “I’ll pay cash.” “You have to.” I pay. “How about the key?” There is no key, Senhor.” “:No key, what if I want to go out:” “You can come and go as you please, at any hour.” “Lets have a look.” He motion s me around to the other side of the building. And guides me into a double car garage. The floor of the garage is tiled and sparking clean. He motions me upstairs. The place is like a palace. Marble everywhere. Modern and perfectly decorated.
 

There seems to be no good neighborhoods in Torreon, so I go buy2 beers and some chips and come back to unpack. I notice that there is a window with a money grate facing into the back of the garage. “Pay Here” it says in Spanish. Now I get it. This is a Pay by the hour place. A rendezvous, a short time house. Business is bad. So they rented it to me for the night. Oh Dear. I crushed a beer can, wedged a big heavy suitcase against the door with the beer can between the door and the suitcase. My alarm. Now its morning and I’m ready to get back on the road.

Sunday 11 October


Sunday evening went pretty well, I arrived in Monterrey and checked into the Holiday Inn, The receptionist told me that there was a festival going on at the “Plaza del General Ignacio Zaragoza”. Well, I figured I’d better get down there for that. He said “Take the metro. It’s easier“.

And it was easy. I just got on in front of the Hotel and got off at the end of the line. It was really fun. The plaza and the streets around it were alive with people. There were acrobats, mimes, and musicians performing all around the plaza on on the streets adjacent. There was a big pavillion with a super duper band. All free. Just walk in.

Monterrey is a very cosmopolitan city with a population of 3 ½ million. It seems very prosperous. It made me remember why I love Mexico so much. There is always activity on the streets of any town or city. People seem to be out of the house and having fun. The lovers are always hand in hand, or kissing, or looking longingly into each others eyes.

It is all very sweet.

Grand Entry into Mexico

October 11th

I couldn't be happier.  Here i come across the bridge to Mexico.  Hmm!  there are lots more cars going the other way.  I see 5 lanes.  The one on the right says "Nada para Declerar"  (nothing to declare)  Well, I'm not leaving anything here. Let's try that one. Uh-oh, whats that big red light coming on?  Well, the gate opened anyway, but why is there a siren going off?  I look to the right, then to the left.  There is a guy in  a tank, a military tank nwith a big cannon.  He has a automatic weapon strapped on. The guy is wildly gesturing for me to go on through.  OK, never argue with a man who has a tank. 

So,  I barrel on through the gate and end up on a side street which isn't very pretty. Traffic  behind me. gotta get moving.  Well, maybe this is how they do it here.  Only person that cares is the tank man, and he just wants me out of the way.  Somehow, I end up on the highway to Monterrey.

20 minutes later, I come to a check point.  Where's your tourist card and your permission for your car?  Huh?  I dunno. I wasn't sure I needed them. Well, you do you've gotta go back to the bridge.  How do I find it?  Just go that way  OK!  I turn around.   Dear God, do I have to back back across that beidge?

I ease up to the immigrations office at the bridge.  "Is there a back way into this place?  I seem to have  a problem."  "How'd you get here?"   "The guy in the tank sent me."  "Alright,  I'll open the gate and you can go around back."   "Muchas Gracias Senhor."  He smiled.

Two hours later, I get on the road with my tourist card and my permisso for the vehicle.   True Story?  Yep.


Guy from Monterrey..

SAN ANTONE

Overnighted in Baton Rouge and then another 10 hour drive to San Antonio. Several things happened:

1. On the way out of town, we visited Tiger Stadium. Since it was game day with the Gators, Yota circled the place once, then I got out in my orange baggies and blue shirt, stared at their 2007 National Championship Billboard, and tried to cast off a little counter-mojo. 
2. It was a low scoring game and we won. So the counter-mojo didn't hurt.
3. Stopped for an hour  and had lunch, in Houston just off the interstate (at IHOP) with my niece Michelle. She and her hubby, Bill are great adventurers. they have lived in Egypt, Indonesia, Angola and other spots around the globe. Her advice:  "Be Careful. Trust your own luck if you have to."
4. Noticed how green and lush it is here in central Texas at this time. 
5. Checked out  River Center and the Alamo last night.  Can only use an old surfer term to describe it. Totally "bitchen".  Sat at a free concert of some ancient Indian flutes and swilled down a $6 Chinese dinner.  If you haven't been here, ..................come sometime.

Guy on the road to "Old Monterrey"

ON THE ROAD AT LAST

October 9th

The first day seemed a little surreal.  It started off very nicely

1. Left the nhouse at 6:30 AM. appeared to have everything packe and in order.
2. Reached Jacksonville by 9:00 AM. Had breakfast with my childhood Pal Charles Harvey. Chas and I have known each other for longer thqan either of us can remember.
3. So far, so good. Parted Company. Missed the turn for Interstate 10 and ended up bogged down in construction north of Jacksonville.
4. Lost an hour or more. Got headed in right directrion.
5. Yota ran out of gas just east of Pensacola.  She coughed and stuttered her way onto an exit ramp
6. We were in a bad neighborhood..A bunch of people hanging out under an overpass.
7. I asked some Homeless guy to watch Yota, paid him 5 bucks and left walking to get gas.
8. Came back with gas after half an hour.  the guy was gone,but Yota was still in one piece.
9. Came to New Orleans to meet another friend, Jim Saylor. Discovered I didnt put his number in my new cell phone.  It's almost 10:00 PM,  and I still gotta go check into a motel.
10. Am I having fun yet?    Don't know.....

Guy

Counting the days

Sunday, October 4th

Minus 5 Days and Counting:

This from one of the wags in my Shop, from Charlie Farrell:

RULES OF THE ROAD FOR THIS TRIP THAT

YOU ARE EMBARKING ON

1. DO NOT LET YOUR ALLIGATOR MOUTH OVERCOME YOUR HUMMINGBIRD ASS
2. DON'T TRY TO REINSTALL THE HONDURAN PRESIDENT BACK INTO OFFICE.
3. LEAVE YOUR VIAGRA AT HOME.
4. STAY OUT OF TROUBLE.
5. CALL ME IF YOU DO GET IN TROUBLE.
6. GOOD LUCK AND SEE YOU IN NOVEMBER.

            CHARLIE THE SORRY DEVIL...... 
  

Well, it's not Viagra Charlie. It's Levitra.  And it is definitely not invited on the trip.


Thanks for the bit of humor.

     

Today and yesterday were spent packing the Toyota, rearranging and repacking.  All of the mosquito equipment, the just in case medicine for dysentary, flu, malaria.  Tools and spare parts for the car, Winch and chains,  electronics gadgetry,  charging cords, sleeping bag and pillow, (not for sleeping out, but in case of dirty bed linens), folding chair, compass, maps, guide books, insect repellant, sun block, first aid kit, small refrigerator for meds, inverters for 12 volts to 115 A/C.   And on and on and on.

See ya.....

Guy

  

  

About Yota

Yota is the creation of Mr. Andrew Andrew Pipkin of Mobile, Alabama. Andy is an expert on Toyotas and has built up 3 different 1999 4Runners. Yota is probably the mildest of the trio.

Nevertheless, she has a lot of great features including; a factory lift kit, a special transmission with dual locking differentials. This type of differential set up equalizes the power to all four wheels under difficult road conditions. Not all 4 wheel drive cars have locking diferentials.

She has oversize wheels with 32 inch "mudder" tires. Also, she is a "limited Edition" with leather interior, moon roof, simulated wood dahboard. She is "tres chic" as the French like to say.

She has been prepped and readied for the trip by Toyotalex LLC of Rockledge, Florida. Yota is bursting with confidence while I am saying, "Wow, what have I gotten us in to?" By the way, Andy is affiliated with and part owner of the website http://ultimateyota.com. If you might be interested.

Toyotalex' website is: http://toylexperformance.com

Guy

Chasing the Pan American Dream

It was in the late fifties that I began to think about traveling the Pan American Highway. I was in my late teens, and happened to read a magazine article about two guys who did it on BMW motorcycles.

I thought about it on and off over the years. Now, at 70 years young, inspired by the movie "Bucketlist" I have decided to chase my dream. I have purchased a 1999 Toyota 4Runner with a lot of special features. I plan to depart my home in Central Florida on the 9th of October of this year. "Yota" is the cars name. I will speak more of her later.

Some of my friends have asked me to send e-mails and pictures from along the way. So, that is what this Blog site is all about.

Guy