Meandering through inland Mexico, we passed the third Bullfighting ring that we had seen in one morning. On the side of the road I spotted several dapper young lads in their shiny skin-tight trousers, crisp white shirts and perfectly placed ties – bullfighters-in-training.  If we had been driving  just a little slower I could have pulled off my red bandana and held it to the side of the sidecar to be part of the action.  I would have loved to see their reaction.

As we headed to Mexico  City, we bid a fond farewell to our traveling companion, Franco.  He is staying in Toluca a bit longer while he searches for someone who may be able to fix his front shocks (those darn BMWs).  We are hoping to meet up again further south.

We had hoped to avoid the megalopolis of Mexico City but there was no way of escaping the city to head in the direction that we wanted to go.  The city is home to an estimated 22 million people, approximately a fifth of the country’s population. Mexico City was everything that we had expected – its size was daunting and as we struggled to find our way out we felt that the urban sprawl would never end.  Our views became increasingly dramatic as we headed east of the capital, the landscape covered with volcanoes and eventually becoming a cactus-strewn desert.

While in Oaxaca we visited the ancient Zapotec capital of Monte Alban, standing on a flattened hilltop 400m above a valley floor.

Although we had previously visited similar ruins in Chichen Itza on a previous trip, the ruins at Monte Alban seemed even more spectacular because of the location, surrounded by dramatic valley and mountain landscapes.

Despite many signs throughout the ruins indicating that vendors could not sell their goods in this area, peddlers were approaching us at every turn.  Unlike our experiences with peddlers at so many other historical sights around the world, this experience actually ended on a high note.  Each of the peddlers immediately stopped their sales pitch as soon as we said “Non Gracias” and the conversations shifted to a combination of a history and geography lesson for us or an opportunity for these indigenous craftsmen to practice their English on us.  We enjoyed hearing about the skills required to craft their wares, seeing them point out the location of their villages in the surrounding valleys, and learning first-hand about the Zapotec culture.

South of Oaxaca we began to pass through fields of agaves.  We had entered the area of the country where the majority of mezcal is produced.  Mezcal, a distilled alcoholic beverage similar to tequila is made from a form of agave plant.  There is a saying attributed to Oaxaca regarding the drink: “para todo mal, mezcal, y para todo bien también” (for everything bad, mezcal, and for everything good, too.) The smell in this area was so strong that you may become intoxicated simply by passing through.

High in the hills of Oaxaca we approached yet another road construction sight.  The flagman waved us forward and then held back the remaining traffic.

As we headed forward, we saw that he flagman was holding back traffic at the other end, leaving us the only travelers in the construction zone.  Suddenly all of the workers began rushing toward us.  This wasn’t looking good.  When one of the workers hopped onto the side of the side car, put his arm around me, flashed me a huge smile and asked me to take his picture, I recognized that this was a roadblock of a different kind.  These workers were so intrigued by the Ural that they simply wanted to create a quick break from their work so that they could all come and take a closer look.  We shared a few laughs and chatted in our broken Spanish before they finally decided that it was time to get back to work and set us free to continue our journey.

Moving from Oaxaca state into Chiapas, we climbed even higher into the cloud forests inhabited by modern Maya in their colourful and elaborate native dress.  Many of the indigenous communities that we entered rely on subsistence farming and have no running water or electricity.  We truly had a feeling of entering a past time.   At the height of the rainy season, the buildings in one of the villages were heavily flooded.  It was heartbreaking to see the church that represents the centre of the community drowned under eight feet of water.

Having now traveled 4,000 km through Mexico, we had seen none of the frightening corruption or violence that we heard so much about.  In fact, we were disappointed that we needed to leave so quickly and are anxious to return.  We are now continuing south, searching through the fog for the Guatemala border.

Tracey

 

 

Chapter 1

“I could never fall asleep on a motorcycle.”

Heard that a thousand times. Well, guess what? BONK! Somebody’s helmet keeps getting stuck in my armpit.

Easy fix. Turn right. Oops! This bright yellow helmet just keeps rolling back and forth while I swerve around the road.  Can’t stop laughing.

While I’m laughing, I almost drive off the road! Better keep watching the road.

Chapter 2

“Let’s go for lunch.”

I stop at a roadside diner.

Hey! it’s the make fun of the gringo day! let’s have a jalapeno eating contest……. They’re not that hot at home……

Holy cow! guess what they are a lot hotter here!

After earning the respect of the locals having lunch, we also get involved in a tortilla eating contest as the lady just keeps making more and bringing more.

Is this some kind of ritual? How do we stop? What do we say? Finally ‘no mas‘ and we can continue on our way. All for the low low price of $3.50 for the  three of us.

Chapter 3

“Lets drive Franco to the BMW dealer so he can get all that expensive stuff fixed!!”

The Ural creates a sensation. A crowd gathers, the service techs gather, the locals gather, the staff gather…….. Poor Franco, no one wants to help him out because they all want to see the Ural instead.

Finally he gets the attention of a manager who books him in and starts the process.

“Hey! it’s time to change the oil on the Ural, can I borrow a drip pan, I’m much to cheap to pay for you to do it.” “Sure, here you go.” So I ask him where I should park out back. “Out back?? No,no,no. Please do the oil change right here on our fancy cobblestone floor in front of everyone”.

So I begin my first adventure in what feels like reality TV – ‘Celebrity oil changing’ .

Chapter 4

“Let’s go to Oaxaca.”

Oh, the best way to get there is through Mexico city – the largest city in the world. Sounds like fun.

“Holy cow! Look at the boobs on that…guy? Did you get a picture Tracey?”

Apparently it is ‘Boob Appreciation Day’ in Mexico City and the streets are filled with guys wearing frilly bras and other assorted lingerie.  Unfortunately, Tracey did not get a picture.

“Oaxaca!” We stayed in an ‘auto hotel’, famous for their by-the-hour rentals and private carports where guests can secretly retreat with a mistress for a few scandalous hours.

Tracey can tell you about the ruins, I’m gonna tell you about the locals who must start drinking mezcal pretty early in the morning.

So we are pootling along and looking for a bite to eat. “Hey look! a roadside stand with an ambulance out front! Let’s go!”

We join a table alongside the ambulance driver, the nurse, and the patient (complete with IV bag and stand). It’s gotta’ be good if they are stopping on the way to the hospital!

We don’t have a clue what anyone is saying, but we are apparently the funniest thing they have seen for a long time. The chicken soup is great, the blue corn quesadilla is great. They happily place one of our stickers on the roadside stand and hop on the Ural for pictures. These two women who are serving us are laughing so hard that they are falling down everywhere. They attract the attention of another women wandering past and she hops in on the fun. Soon she is out laughing uncontrollably as well. They are eventually joined by more hip (not the replacement but the style) elderly couple and the party is on.

Soon we have to leave. But we continue to laugh all day. We have no idea what anyone was laughing about, including ourselves. But we laugh anyway.

Miles

 

Our ferry trip across the Sea of Cortez provided some great scenery and was an opportunity to meet several interesting people – both Mexicans and other travelers.  Unfortunately we did have a few mishaps over the course of the journey.  After a less-then-restful night spent sleeping on the benches in the ship’s restaurant, I headed to my favorite cool spot on the upper deck for some fresh air.  When we were hit with heavy rains an hour later, I was headed back to the main level for cover when my feet flew out from beneath me on the treacherously wet iron staircase.  I proceeded to descend the last half of the staircase on my butt.  Ouch!  Ouch! Ouch! Ouch! Ouch! Ouch!

As we came into sight of Mazatlan, the ‘Pearl of the Pacific’, we spent the last couple of hours of the trip spotting dolphins surfacing from the waves, chatting with other passengers, and enjoying the tremendous views.

When it was time to disembark, we found the Ural with a flat tire which made getting up the off-ramp a bit of a challenge.

As we sailed through the exit door, our bag sailed off the back of the bike.  In the pressure to get off the boat quickly, we hadn’t noticed that it wasn’t tied down.  We stopped just outside the boat to put air in our tire and re-pack our belongings and were on our way, accompanied by a new traveling companion, Franco, a Swiss motorbike traveler in his 13^th month of a world tour.

After a long hot night on the boat, we were craving a cold lunch in a shady spot.  Ceviche at a road-side restaurant fit the bill.  We then continued along the coastal route through Rosario (a colonial mining town) San Blas (a tranquil fishing village slated for decades by government tourism officials to become the next big resort town but where development is now permanently on hold).

Although we passed through a couple of light rain storms, our spirits weren’t dampened and we continued to enjoy the friendliness of the Mexicans on the mainland who were doing almost as much smiling and waiving as those in Baja.  I must admit however, that my incredibly comfortable sidecar chair was no long incredibly comfortable after my earlier tumble down the stairs.  I spent a couple of hours trying to find just the right seating position to keep me from wincing at every vibradore. 

The roads of Mexico are lined with stands selling everything imaginable.  When we happened to spot one selling one of our favourite treats, jackfruit, we had to stop.  As we wandered around the side of the road enjoying our morning snack, we were marveling at the tree beside us and wondering what it was.  Upon further examination, we discovered that it was actually a jackfruit tree, laden with fruit that was probably two feet long.

Much of our time along the coastal route was spent under a canopy of greenery with tiny yellow butterflies and enormous white butterflies floating above us.

Along with endless dogs, cows, goats, horses, and burros, the ditches were filled with plants that this amateur horticulturalist struggles to keep alive in my garden at home:  castor bean, butterfly bush, and cana lilies.  Our views along the coastal route alternated between pristine bays, ramshackle fishing villages, and the backs of pickup tracks packed with locals.

Eventually we made it to Puerto Vallarta– the beach town stretching around the Bahia de Banderas and backed by lush palm-covered mountains.  We enjoyed some great people-watching along the malecón and picturesque cobbled streets and viewed the crown-topped steeple of the Templo de Guadalupe.  Just south of the city we came across an interesting-looking hotel on a rocky piece of the Pacific Shore, Mar Sereno.  Although the front door was wide open, it took us almost 15 minutes to actually find someone in the hotel.  Given that the entire place was empty, he agreed to give us a reduced rate and thus our evening on cloud nine began with an entire luxury resort to ourselves.

 

 

It was fortunate that we stopped when we did because a storm hit within minutes of us getting our bags into the room.  It was fabulous to watch the storm with the windows wide open on two sides of our corner suite.  The rain poured straight down for hours and the lightening put on quite a show throughout the night.

When the rain cleared in the morning I was off to swim and explore the resort.  The place looks like it was absolutely stunning in its time but with a huge reduction in foreign tourism over the last ten years, it looks like it is now empty most of the time and getting run down.  The doors are made of intricately carved solid wood, the hallways are painted with murals and the entire hotel is filled with ornate tile work and ceramics.  The main pool overhangs the lower levels of the hotel and while you are swimming, all you can see is the ocean and you can’t help feeling like you are swimming in the Pacific.  At ocean level there is a second restaurant, man-made beach inland from the rocky shore, and seawater pool that fills up with the tide.

Eventually we tore ourselves away from this beautiful but sadly neglected paradise and continued our southbound journey to Manzanillo, Mexico’s busiest commercial seaport and the site of more evidence of Mexico’s declining tourism trade.  Although the government has poured millions of pesos into renovation projects in the city to attract visitors, tourism isn’t keeping up with development and for every new nightclub or restaurant that opens, another shuts down.  Over the last few days it has been more than a bit depressing to see beautiful destinations falling into decline because so many people are simply afraid to visit.

Tracey

 

Vibradores, my new-found curse.

This evil invention must have been designed by the most cruel woman. What is a ‘vibradore‘? It is a series of speed bumps which get closer together as you enter a village.

Sounds simple enough.

Sounds like a good safety device.

Sounds like a way to keep your attention alive.

Sounds like a way to have those crazy white lightning bolts on the back of your eyelids!

How does this work? the shape and design of the ‘vibradore‘ causes your testicles to rise up off the seat of your vehicle, this is then followed by a hearty ‘slap’ on the seat as you drive over them……….

The spacing seems exactly right to continue this motion while increasing in frequency and violence until your eyes will pop completely from your skull.

No man would ever have devised this torture device.

Onward and upward!

Mexico continues to amaze me at every corner – the roads have perfect camber, perfect pavement and spectacular views. All my years of questing to drive the best roads of our world have been in vain. So far every road here has been remarkable, you could spend a lifetime in the mountains, deserts and canyons here with thousands of kilometres of great driving.

And then you stop.

Every community we have stopped at has opened its arms to us – providing fabulous lunches or dinners or breakfasts.

But it’s not just eating. It’s a lifestyle. People here have a defined sense of community. They are not hunting for their next paycheck, not hunting to get the next TV, not hunting to get a new car. Everyone we meet is happy and hospitable. They exude a sense of family and a sense of quality.

Even with my terrible Spanish, the people of Mexico have shown us a heartfelt desire to be providers, not to be consumers.

We could learn a lot from these people.

When we take a drive through the smaller communities in our own backyard, many shops are closed. People move away because the drive to have more pushes us to believe that it is important. It is hard to find a restaurant or hotel in these small communities – we do not support them, they cannot survive.

Here they thrive.

We could learn a lot from these people.

Miles

This is the sound of the two of us rolling and laughing our way down the Baja California Peninsula.

Despite a giant fence and tightened U.S. border controls, the Tijuana border appears to remain as porous as ever.  Only about one in ten vehicles were stopped at all, including ours.  An agent had Miles open the bag on top of the bike and asked what was inside.. and that was that.  He didn’t even look at our passports.  The official who handled our motorbike paperwork was a biking enthusiast and sped us through the remainder of our border crossing process so that he could come outside to look at the bike and pose for a photo.

We were thrilled at the response that the Ural received along the road.  Construction workers, truck drivers, children, military check point officials and many others all stopped to take a look and give us an approving wave as we passed.  One of the advantages of traveling on a bike became clear as we noticed the ever-changing smells on this route – from sea water to fish to the pungent scent of a cantaloupe that lay smashed on the road.

In a few spots along the highway, the road was ripped up for construction and we got a taste of off-road riding on the Ural.  “Wheeeeee!” Otherwise, the highway was so smooth and the curves so well designed that it was a fantastic experience, easily rivaling the best roads in the world.

In the tiny village of San Vicente we were greeted with enthusiasm everywhere we went.  It seemed that we were the only tourists in town and they made us feel so welcome that we couldn’t help staying the night.  In the morning Miles had the chance to enjoy one of his favourite dishes – menudo.

Just south of San Vincente we began to see several cactus farms, followed by tomato farms, followed by the untamed stretches that make up the majority of Baja.  The Transpeninsular highway snaked into the Desierto Central with its wild landscapes of giant boulders, towering cardon cacti and bizarre cirio trees.

This is where we passed a well-equipped cyclist, Jorge Guerra. Tempted by our offer of drinking water and the shade of an enormous cactus, he stopped for a chat and told us of his trip from Mexicali to Cancun to promote peace in Mexico and to encourage more Mexicans to ride bicycles.

Jorge’s bike was adorned with a lock of his girlfriend’s hair (for luck) and a rattle snake skin that he found on the road, including the rattle.

His energy put these two motorized travelers to shame.

The scenery for our final drive in Baja was endless stands of cacti and mesquite trees against a backdrop of jagged peaks with spectacular views over the sea.  We arrived at the ferry terminal in Pichilingue to discover that there was a ferry leaving two hours later.  We bought our tickets and were on our way to the mainland.

We met many people on the ferry. People would approach us and say “I saw you in Ensenada” or some other location along the way. After several limonatas and spirited attempts at Spanglish it was time for a sleep on a bench in the cafeteria, the only place that was cool enough to sleep.

Tracey