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.
Saturday, October 31, 2009
Thursday, October 29, 2009
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
Love,
Guy
Tuesday, October 27, 2009
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
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
Monday, October 26, 2009
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.
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.
Sunday, October 25, 2009
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.........
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.........
Friday, October 23, 2009
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.
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.
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.
Wednesday, October 21, 2009
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
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
Tuesday, October 20, 2009
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.
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.
Monday, October 19, 2009
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
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
Sunday, October 18, 2009
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.
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
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
Wednesday, October 14, 2009
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 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
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
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.
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.
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.
Sunday, October 11, 2009
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..
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:
- 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.
- It was a low scoring game and we won. So the counter-mojo didn't hurt.
- 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."
- Noticed how green and lush it is here in central Texas at this time.
- 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.
Friday, October 9, 2009
ON THE ROAD AT LAST
October 9th
The first day seemed a little surreal. It started off very nicely
The first day seemed a little surreal. It started off very nicely
- Left the nhouse at 6:30 AM. appeared to have everything packe and in order.
- 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.
- So far, so good. Parted Company. Missed the turn for Interstate 10 and ended up bogged down in construction north of Jacksonville.
- Lost an hour or more. Got headed in right directrion.
- Yota ran out of gas just east of Pensacola. She coughed and stuttered her way onto an exit ramp
- We were in a bad neighborhood..A bunch of people hanging out under an overpass.
- I asked some Homeless guy to watch Yota, paid him 5 bucks and left walking to get gas.
- Came back with gas after half an hour. the guy was gone,but Yota was still in one piece.
- 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.
- Am I having fun yet? Don't know.....
Sunday, October 4, 2009
Counting the days
Sunday, October 4th
Minus 5 Days and Counting:
This from one of the wags in my Shop, from Charlie Farrell:
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
- DO NOT LET YOUR ALLIGATOR MOUTH OVERCOME YOUR HUMMINGBIRD ASS
- DON'T TRY TO REINSTALL THE HONDURAN PRESIDENT BACK INTO OFFICE.
- LEAVE YOUR VIAGRA AT HOME.
- STAY OUT OF TROUBLE.
- CALL ME IF YOU DO GET IN TROUBLE.
- 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.
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
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