YAOGBB

Undead zombie motorcycles

2012-02-02T13:56:00.000-07:00

The dead do come back to life. Zombies, vampires ghosts and Frankenstein monsters are enduring myths, but despite their immortality in fiction, the dead really come back to life in the motorcycle industry.

Possibly the best example of the motorcycle that refused to stay dead is Indian. Numerous parties have to revived Indian from the day the final clod of dirt landed on the company casket. The Indian sold today is a moto Frankenstein monster, cobbled together with bits of this and that, including a fake Harley Davidson motor made by S&S. When the real Indian motocycle (not a typo) went under in 1953, its famous name was bought, sold, stolen, fought over, mostly by scammers and a few mad financiers who believed they could breathe life into the dead brand. This past year, Polaris, the maker of the so far semi successful Victory brand of motorcycles have taken over the Indian name, which might be its best chance yet.

Norton stopped large scale motorcycle production in 1976, but they never actually died. Chopped up by an evil owner, like a starfish, each part still alive, a parts factory, a development works, a famous name for selling T shirts, an american who kept improving the Commando to the point that he built a brand new motorcycle. More money and all the parts have been brought together and Norton is once more selling bikes.

Triumph is the succubus of motorcycling. Experiencing several near deaths since the first Triumph hit the cobblestones in 1902, Triumph motorcycles were consistently rescued from a sinking corporate ship wreck to live on while each rescuer (except the most recent) went bankrupt. Rescuscitated by Ariel, BSA, Norton Villiers, a workers cooperative who refused to go home when their factory was supposed to be closed, and a parts vendor who built a few bikes a year from left overs, Triumph staggered through the 80's and 90's while a new owner built a new factory. Today Triumph is back on track as major European builder of motorcycles, claiming to be the oldest brand in continuous production, a spurious claim given that the new bike that only inherited a name, which was probably a good thing.

Excelsiors and Hendersons were long forgotten, having built their last motorcycles in 1930, but like a ghost or the Loch Ness Monster, they re-appeared briefly in the late 1990's, in an attempt to cash in on the lucrative made in USA cruiser bike market. They ran out of cash, but not before building about 5,000 Super X cruisers before disappearing into the mist once more.

Royal Enfield "built like a gun", went under in 1970. But back in the 1950's RE spawned (licensed actually, but cut me some slack here) a factory in India. Zombie like the factory continued to build the same 1953 Bullet 350 and 500 cc motorcycles as the decades ticked past the swinging sixties, whatever the seventies were supposed to be, the 80's, 90's, no fear of Y2K digital collapse here, the immortal Bullet was the choice of Indian military, police, and the rider with a few extra bucks who wanted to rise above the horde of developing world tiddlers available to the Indian ridership. As India was still running steam locomotives and bullock carts were a common road hazard, a 1950's Bullet was no anachronism in their Indian home. The India bikes, named Enfields, presumably the Royal was unwanted given Indian independence from the British Raj, but with the rising interest in vintage motorcycles, the Royal name was bought and went on the India tank, along with the opportunity for enthusiasts worldwide to buy what every bike collector dreams of finding, a brand new, never ridden, still in the crate, vintage motorcycle. A new redesigned Bullet has lost a bit of vintage authenticity, with modernisms like EFI, disc brakes and electric starting, but like their North American doppelganger, the look and feel of the ancient Bullet has been kept. Interestingly, if Triumph can claim to be the oldest marque in production by virtue of having purchased the name, they will have to step aside for Royal Enfield, who supposedly sold their first machine in 1899 and have a much stronger claim for continuous production.

The MV Agusta motorcycle were a sideline for the Italian Agusta helicopter company, mostly because owner Count Agusta, liked bikes. The most famous MVs were Grand Prix racers, the last four strokes to succeed in GP before two strokes made four strokes uncompetitive in the late 1960's (until moto GP banned two strokes). Agusta also built high quality premium priced road bikes to finance their racing team. When the count died, the company lost interest. The MV Agusta name was sold to a number of owners including even Harley Davidson. The body-snatched MVs are as exotic and expensive as the originals ever were, but lacking the creds of GP racing.

Benelli was an Italian motorcycle maker that thrived under government import restrictions in the 1950's but fell on hard times in the late 1960's, when the Japanese responded by building the bikes in Italy and the government eased up on import restrictions. Benelli tried a few things, including being the first motorcycle manufacturer to make a production six cylinder motorcycle, ironically a reverse engineered Honda 500 four with two more cylinders. The Benelli Sei did not save the company from bankruptcy, the name was sold to a Chinese motorcycle company, who some fear will hide their oriental products behind the Benelli name. So far the Benelli name has only re-appeared on made in Italy exotics.

Ossa motorcycles were a Spanish company best known for their two stroke off road competition bikes. Ossa closed its doors in 1982, but in 2010, the name was revived and Ossa is back building off road competition bikes again.

The reason for all this is nostalgia. Motorcycles are more than transportation, they are fashion accessories and retro is in. In the 1970's motorcyclists mostly laughed at archaic Harley Davidson moto dinosaurs. Today Harley Davidson and their shareholders are doing the laughing. One wonders how many of the optimists who continue to hope they can buy an instant heritage by moto grave robbing will be as merry.

Been a while

2011-11-12T11:49:00.001-07:00

I see it has been a year since my last post. No big bike trips. Putting the KTM back together took the rest of the summer of 2010, and finally got it finished in the fall. I had the engine completely apart and checked everything. It was surprisingly clean inside considering that it had ground away most of the intake cam follower. It has two oil filters, which must have cleaned up most of the filings. However after putting it together and doing some local rides this past summer (2011) it started to make some really nasty noises that sound like the crankshaft-connecting rod. So I parked it and will be taking the motor apart again this winter. I did a big road trip in my car instead, going through the US to Ontario to see family and friends and taking in the big Antique Motorcycle Club of America rally in Davenport Iowa on the way back. More on that in another post.

One of the things I resolved to do was to clear out my garage of surplus motorcycles. Having a big garage is like having a big closet. They tend to fill themselves with all this stuff, turn your back for a decade or so, and next thing you know you can't close the door anymore. I don't have any ambition to be on that Hoarders reality show, but you would not think so if you saw my garage. I did manage to shift a couple of bikes onto some people who apparently still have room in their garages, but all came to naught when I was walking through a nearby alley. Leaning up against the fence in a backyard was a derelict sport bike. A double take revealed it to be a Yamaha RZ500. For those who aren't familiar with the RZ series, they are two stroke sport bikes incorporating much of what Yamaha learned by building world championship Grand Prix racing bikes, the moto equivalent of Formula One car racing, which was totally dominated by two stroke engines until they changed the rules and switched to larger displacement four stroke engines. Most RZs were two cylinders but for a few years Yamaha made a four cylinder two stroke that was inspired by their Moto GP world champion bike. They did not make many, as two stroke motorcycles are an acquired taste, most people prefer four stroke engines. I am not most people I always loved two strokes.

Back to the backyard bike. I needed another bike like I needed a second head, but that did not stop me from knocking on the front door. The bike's owner answered the door, he knew what he had, but wasn't much interested in keeping it, and needed money. He said he would a take a thousand bucks. The bike did not look like much, and given it had sat unprotected outside for 2 years, it was a fair price. I thought I might be able to clean it up and flip it for 2K, or if that was not an option, part it out on ebay and still make money. The guy said it ran when he parked it out back. I got him the money, took it home and hosed off two years of grime, put some gas in the tank, it started and ran, but only on two of its four cylinders. Any bike that has sat outside for two years will benefit from having the carburetors removed and thoroughly cleaned. That did the trick and now the bike ran on all four cylinders.

A few turns around the block reveal this bike to be the craziest bike I have ever been on, what a hoot! Like its racing cousin not much happens until you hit the right RPM, and then all hell breaks loose. But it breaks loose in a totally competent way, just as one would expect from a highly strung but highly capable purely racing bike. In this case ugly was skin deep. The plastic body work had seen much abuse, including a home rattle can repaint without benefit of proper decals or graphics. Underneath was a pretty good bike that had obviously been either well looked after or at worst suffered only benign neglect (minimal hamfisted butchery) with good tires, chain, sprockets, cables etc.. This puppy will clean up nicely. I will need to do a lot of evaluation on this bike before it goes up for sale again (if it ever does). Sigh, this does not bode well for my non-appearance on a future Hoarders episode.

Update, cleaned up nicely and entered it in the Edmonton bike show. As the non original paint job on it is the Marlboro pattern used by the GP500 bikes, I got a decal kit and turned it into the Marlboro bike. Hopefully the anti smoking nazis won't turn me in. My kid, proof that great minds think alike, bought me the same decals for Xmas, not knowing that I had done the same, so now I have a spare set to get me through my first crash.

¡Perdito! Or; ¿GPS? We don' need no steenkeeng GPS

2010-11-03T12:57:00.001-06:00

I actually planned to get lost on this trip, and unlike most plans, this one worked exceptionally well.

I know a bit about planning, planning was one of the things I used to have to do for earning my daily crust. One thing I learned is that the more planning you do, the more likely your plan will fail. This appears so obvious now I write it down, but somehow it has totally escaped the notice of Mrs. Gant, Mr. Critical-Path and everybody's favorite, Ms. Microsoft Project.

I determined that for this trip I was not going to repeat that failure prone exercise of having a detailed plan. I had goals and objectives. One needs to have goals and objectives before one can plan. The good thing about goals and objectives, unlike planning, it is possible to come up with goals and objectives in a few minutes, freeing the rest of the afternoon for other things, like beverages.

My goal was to have a good time, my objectives, to ride my motorcycle through the entire (Canadian) winter, maybe as far as South America, and to see what there is to see along the way. That was easy! No route planning required, any reasonably bright sixth grader can tell you South America is south. (That is why it is called South America.) All I needed to do was to put the sun side of the horizon on the clutch lever in the morning and keep going.

That was the plan.

It eliminated spending hours and hours poring over maps, highlighting routes, and plugging way points into my tiny GPS. Planning taught me that setting measurable targets greatly increases the likelihood of missing them.

I did have a Garmin hiker style GPS that I thought was cool when I first got it, I love gadgets, but for my style of traveling I found that nothing beats the old school gas station road map. There is a reason that a roadmap unfolds large enough to half cover the bed in a 20 dollar a night motel room, something that no amount of zooming in and out on a GPS screen can match. A GPS is great if you need to know exactly where to go, and when you will arrive. “In 250 meters turn left,,,, In 100 meters turn left...” When I have a map I am in control (or lost, the one thing a GPS is good for is telling you exactly where you are).

I was taking one pocket gadget, my Blackberry had GPS and Google and Blackberry maps, as well as the ability to email, browse and talk to people. The Garmin was benched and traded, one less thing to have to keep track of.

The phone GPS turned out to be worse than useless once I left Canada, no fault of RIM, the makers, the problem is service providers. I got my 'world edition' Blackberry from Bell Canada, supposed to work almost anywhere. Until Bell locks the phone so that it only works on Bell networks and their partners in crime. With an unlocked phone you can switch providers by changing the SIM card. Bell's world is a great deal smaller than the one I was in. Once you are off the Bell network and you are unlucky enough to find another network that actually lets you use your phone, you are roaming, a license for predatory cell phone networks to rob you blind, which you don't find out until you get your monthly bill. Even worse, an unwatched 'smart' phone will also try to hook into a data network unless you turn this 'feature' off. When you are roaming on a data network you are going to get billed for data even if you do not use the phone, and 9 times out of ten, the effin data network does not work, which does not prevent them from billing you for it anyway. No working data network means the GPS mapping application does not work either, so no usable GPS when you need it. This all became moot when someone did me a big favor and stole my Blackberry. Add cell phone providers to the list of those who will be lined up against the wall after the revolution.

About the only times I regretted not having a GPS was leaving cities and a couple of times in the Andes . Letting myself get lost in Mexico almost always landed me in a great spot. It was difficult to get lost in Central America, where North America funnels down to a narrow strip of land. Once I reached South America I did more route planning, and spent a lot more time trying find the route I planned to take, proving my hypotheses, planning increases the likelihood for plans to come to grief.

Oh but, NEXT time, the GPS goes in my pocket and cell stays home :-)

Lost again.

Election day in Bolivia

2010-10-29T16:11:00.001-06:00

On Good Friday I crossed the border from Peru to Bolivia. By now I was familiar with the procedure. First exit Peru, get the passport exit stamp and turn over the temporary import permit for my motorcycle. Now I will be in limbo until I can get my entry stamp from Bolivian immigration and the papers for the bike. Desaguadero is a grubby border town on the shore of Lake Titicaca that reminds me of the border crossings in Central America, a collection of shacks and decaying buildings stretched along the highway, a permanent flea market and country fair midway, jammed full of cars, trucks, buses, taxis and push carts trying to get the hell out or in, and the border entrepreneurs will try get a piece of the travellers before they leave.

The immigration officer is courteous and friendly and I have my passport stamped in short order. Unfortunately the Aduana (customs) side of the operation has been waylaid by a dead computer network. It is the Aduana who issue the necessary papers required to legally operate a vehicle not registered in Bolivia. I am directed to another building to get temporary import papers for the motorcycle. I ride up and down the streets and alleys looking for the right place and eventually find my way to a building at the edge of town with a gate and a policeman. I try to explain what I need in my bad Spanish. The officer takes my drivers license and motorcycle registration, copies everything by hand into a ledger and tells me I am good to go, but I still have no papers. I figure this can't be good, and try to explain I need 'papele'. I had been stopped in most of the countries I had visited so far, mostly to ensure my 'papele' were in order. My whining and tears were having no affect, so eventually I leave in frustration, but none the less pleased to see Desaguadero dwindling in my rear view mirror.

La Paz, Bolivia's major city and administrative capital, is another 100 or so Kilometers down the road, and I am thinking I can probably straighten everything out when I get there. When I reach what I think is La Paz, I stop at the first hotel I see. At first they say I can't stay as the hotel is closing, but then they tell me I can stay one night, as the hotel is not actually closing until Saturday. I ask why the hotel is closing they tell me that Sunday, (Easter Sunday) is an election day. They tell me that everything else will be closed as well, banks, stores, restaurants, everything! My next question is why it is necessary to close the everything on an election day? The reply is something along the lines of 'Because!' as near as I can make out. Provided with this level of information, I make my own conclusions, if hotels, banks, stores, restaurants and everything else feel it is necessary to pull down the shutters, maybe this is not such a great place to be during elections. My imagination is conjuring up riots, bombs, burning buses, and angry mobs shouting "¡Viva la revolucion!'. I am not in the mood.

I find out that I am not even in La Paz, but in El Alto, a newish satellite city that butts up against La Paz. El Alto does not look like a nice place. Even on Good Friday, two days before the election, the place is completely locked down. All the storefronts are covered by corrugated steel roll down doors. No restaurants are open, the only food to be had is from sidewalk vendors. My supper consists of buns and mandarin oranges.

My options are to carry on to La Paz the next day, with no guarantee that anything would be open there either, or to return to Lake Titicaca on the Bolivian side and head for Copacabana, a popular tourist destination. I am able to determine from the hotel staff that whatever election drama there might be, would probably not affect the tourists and the industries that cater to them in Copacabana.

Lake Titicaca is the highest 'commercially navigable' lake on the planet, according to Wikipedia. I had already followed the shore of Titicaca on the Peru side on my way to the the border crossing at Desaguadero and would have stopped on the Peru side had I found anyplace I that looked attractive. Copacabana is on the Bolivian side, so I would be going back, but this time I would be on the other shore.

Finding one's way in Bolivia turned out to be more of a challenge than usual, as there are no road signs. I headed back the way I came looking for the highway on my map that would take me to Copacabana, supposedly one of Bolivia's main tourist attractions. The usual way for tourists to get to Copacabana is by bus or taxi, and presumably the bus and taxi drivers know the way. It took me about 3 hours to find the right road which ended up being practically next door to the hotel I had stayed the night before. My mistake was assuming that there would actually be an intersection of the two highways as was indicated by my map. In order to get to the Copacabana road I had to traverse a vacant lot with a creek running through the middle of it. This turned out to be pretty normal for Bolivia, but not like anything I had yet encountered in my travels. The lack of road signs continued to be frustrating even when I was on the right highway, as I was still never one hundred percent sure I was on the right road, and I usually had no idea how far I had yet to go.

By early afternoon I was following the shores of Lake Titicaca again, so now I was fairly certain that I was heading in the right direction. Along the way I passed a small hotel on the shores of the lake, the Hotel Maravilla Natural. I was tired, so I figured I would check it out. Entering, the place appeared to be abandoned, so I turned around to leave, just as a lady popped out of a doorway and ran towards me. I should have kept on going, because once had I stopped, she was not going to let me leave. I wanted a hotel with internet, and she insisted that they had internet, so I figured what the heck.

As it turned out there was no internet, nor much of anything else. The hotel was OK, no stars, and had seen better days. My room had about seven beds in it, fortunately I determined that I was to be the only occupant. The price was definitely right, 100 Bolivianos or $14 US. It appeared that a good part of the hotel's business was of the hourly variety, but even this traffic was pretty light. A large family group came in for lunch and left again. By nightfall I was the sole guest.

The next day, (election day, remember), I headed out again for Copacabana. There was no traffic whatsoever. My final hurdle was a ferry crossing. The ferries are crude wooden barges powered by 40 horse outboard motors, free floating versions of the old style cable ferries of western Canada before they built bridges. Because they are powered by a motor mounted on the transom, vehicles have to either back on or back off, no roll on - roll off. My ferry only had a few narrow planks to park on. The planks were not wide enough for me to get off the bike, and on the other side I would somehow have to paddle the fully loaded bike uphill to get off without falling off the narrow plank and probably breaking both my legs. Now I know how a cow confronted by a cattle guard feels.

When we get to the other side we are met by the Bolivian Navy. Bolivia is landlocked like Switzerland, but they have a navy, and it patrols Lake Titicaca. Presumably to keep an eye on the nasty Peruvians on the other shore.

Accompanying me on the ferry was a small SUV, that had for some reason not obvious to me, raised the ire of the Bolivian naval forces. There was a lot arm waving and angry Spanish, which I was too far away to hear, and would not have been able to understand anyway. I was somehow involved in all of this, as I had been commanded to remain where I was on the ferry. I was happy to do this, as I still had not figured out how I was going to get myself and the bike off.

As it turned out, all travel is forbidden on election day in Bolivia, which did not apply to me, as I was an extrangero turisto. In Bolivia as in many other South American countries, voting is compulsory, so Bolivia apparently enforces mandatory voting by preventing locals from traveling when an election is held.

The naval commander gave me his card and said I should give it to anyone who gave me grief .

Not much later I was in front of the entrance to Copacabana, which was blocked by a chain and a guard. The Jefe's card got me inside, and I was safely in Copacabana, a survivor of Bolivian enfranchisement. The elections themselves were anticlimactic. The incumbent MAS party claimed some advances, no riots, bombs, burning buses, or angry mobs.

I ended up staying in Bolivia a lot longer than I had planned. I met people in Copacabana and La Paz who sold me on visiting some of Bolivia's attractions, such as the Salar de Uyuni (Salt Flats) and Coroico at the edge of the Amazon, terminus of the infamous Bolivian 'death road' of Top Gear fame, and absolutely stunning vistas like these;

As I was finally making my way out of Bolivia, I ran into Randy O'Donell, a fellow Canadian and owner of many KTMs, who lives Camiri, and ended up staying another week with Randy and his family. Camiri is a short distance from the Argentinian border, and Tucuman, home to a KTM dealer I needed to visit in order to get an oil change and some repairs done.

When I left Camiri, Randy came along to accompany me to the Argentina border and help me get across without benefit of the Bolivian temporary import papers which I had never gotten around to straightening out. About 100 Kilometers out of Camiri we came to a long line of trucks stopped in the middle of the highway. Nothing was moving. As it turned out the town ahead was having municipal elections, so naturally all traffic through town had been stopped, never mind that this was a major highway leading to the border.

The police were not allowing any vehicles through, not even to enter the town. It would have been fairly easy to circumvent the road block, but Randy explained that would be a very bad idea and would likely end with a stay in the local Crowbar Hilton. I was able to find a crappy hotel-motel on the outskirts of town, and Randy headed back to Camiri, while I waited out election day in a small town with everything closed (of course), really looking forward to putting Bolivia behind me the next day.

The what I learned posts; Driving in Latin America

2010-07-14T18:00:00.001-06:00

One of my earlier blog posts was on driving in Latin America, I don't have much to add, so here is the link.

In that post, dated March 25, I made the observation that despite the apparent anarchy (strike that, there is nothing apparent about it) I saw almost no accidents.

So I did a bit web research to see if my impressions were accurate. According to W.H.O. statistics (Abbot and Costello, please! Be quiet!), the number of deaths due to car collisions is a lot lower in Latin American countries than in the USA. I was a bit surprised to see that the USA was not the most dangerous country to drive in, even though it has the largest overall number of deaths by car, the USA drops to 15th of 49 nations when the measure is adjusted for population (the US had 17.5 car deaths per million population).
See for yourself, and oh, don't drive in Hungary. The deadliest South American nation listed is Paraguay at number 18 or 13.2 deaths per million. To my surprise, Canada is much safer than the USA, which I never would have guessed. Canada comes in at number 29 (7.4 per million), just ahead of Argentina and Panama. Mexico is way back at number 40 (0.7!!! per million), riding in that Tijuana taxi is safer than you think. Also contending for last place are Chile (41), Costa Rica (42), Ecuador and Uruguay (45 & 46).
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P.S. Apropos of nothing in particular, if you check gun death mortality on that death site, you will find that you are nearly 5 times more likely to be killed in a car crash in the US, than to be shot by a hand gun. If you visit the Dominican Republic, stay in your bullet proof car, number last in car deaths is numero uno when it comes to muerte por la pistola.

The what I learned posts; You can take it with you.

2010-07-10T19:20:00.000-06:00

Well some of it anyway;
Once you have your bike it should be fitted with luggage. I am totally satisfied with the Givi three bag set up I had on the KTM. The 'de rigueur' adventure look these days are aluminum 'looks like a shop class project' cases. If you like em, more power to ya, but I don't and here's why.
Square metal edges can do a lot of damage to whatever they hit (including el piloto).
Lid style covers means the whole bag needs to be emptied to get whatever is on the bottom. This is important, because you need to pack the heavy stuff (tools) on the bottom, and they may be what you need access to most often.
They are generally not easily removed from the bike. This is important because you may need to remove the bags to get your bike unstuck, get your bike through a narrow doorway to get into the hotel lobby, or be able to take your bags into your room. All three of my Givis are off the bike using one key in less than a minute.
Givis are also very strong, nearly unbreakable, and because they are made of ABS plastic, the same material used for most car bumpers, if you do manage to crack them, they can be repaired at most body shops, or you can learn how to fix them yourself, it's easy.
Another good choice is soft luggage, but only the kind that is 100%, throw it in the river and it comes out dry waterproof. The last thing you need to find after riding hours through cold pouring rain is that you have no dry clothes to change into.
Whatever you choose, the good stuff is going to cost more and is definitely worth paying for. Beware of shoddy knock offs selling for 1/3 the price of the real thing.
This is no place to cheap out, consider buying quality secondhand luggage before wasting money on poorly made imitations.

The what I learned posts; Choose Your Weapon

2010-07-07T20:43:00.000-06:00

If you are going to ride to South America, almost any motorcycle will do, but some will do better than others. Where are you going, and what would you like to see? Central and South America have good roads and bad roads, mountains, plains and deserts. Some areas are densely populated, and in some you may travel for hundreds of miles without seeing a soul. If you are going all the way, you will be racking up many odometer digits, you will encounter every kind of road, including no road, just about every kind of weather short of a blizzard, and you will be gone for months.

We gringos lean towards bigger is better, and too much that is never enough.   Choose a bike that is light, 650 cc or less, has excellent suspension, some form of wind protection, can go a minimum of 300 km (200 miles) on a full tank, runs OK on regular gas, has simple maintenance requirements and long service intervals. Low speed handling in tight spots is going to be more important than extended high speed capability, you won't be able to go very fast most of the way.

In heavily populated areas, your average speed will be closer to 60 kmh (35 mph) than 60 mph.   The distance between towns is only a few miles, and the road goes right through the center of them all. Speed bumps are used to slow everything down, big trucks and buses will come to a complete stop at each speed bump. Roads are filled with pedestrians, buses, taxis, animals, pushcarts, wheel barrows and street vendors. In 'el centro' you may find yourself threading through an open air market at walking speeds.

Avoid heavy bikes (more than 500 pounds) unless you are an Olympic weight lifter or are traveling with many strong friends.    The mere thought of muscling an over 500 pound unladen bike through the sand in Bolivia or the Argentinian mud makes me want to take up knitting for a hobby. Another reason to stay away from heavy and or powerful bikes is tire lifespan, sub 100 horsepower bikes go a lot farther on a set of skins and use less gasoline.

You may need to fix flats or repair damage resulting from tip-overs and crashes. If you are going all the way you will rack up many thousands of kilometers, wear out tires and chains, need to change oil and filters. What service will your bike choice require over this distance? Even if you plan to do your own maintenance and repairs, you will still need access to parts, tools, and a place to work. All information is available on the internet, you can research dealer location, model availability, sources for chains and tires before you leave.

Is your bike sold in South America? If so, parts and service should be easier to obtain. There are many more bikes in Latin America then in most parts of the US and Canada, but not the same makes and models. The typical Latin American two wheeler is a small scooter, standard, dual purpose or cruiser, of 200 cc or less, made in China and sold for the equivalent of between 2,000 and 3,000 US dollars. Japanese brands are well represented, but the models they sell in South America are not the same ones they sell in the US and Canada. Check the internet to see if your bike is sold where you are going. In many South American countries cops ride Kawasaki 650 KLRs. BMW and KTM sell the same models in South America they sell in the US and Canada and have dealerships in in most of Central and South America. I saw a few Aprilias, mostly in Argentina, and the odd Harley, usually a Sportster. Having said all that, if you must ride your Gold Wing or Road King to Tierra Del Fuego, you can probably get away with it, but you will be restricted as to where you can go.

One thing to consider, if your goal is to reach some destination in South America, how important is it that you ride all the way? I spent three months in South America and two months getting there. Riding all the way was the goal for this trip, but I enjoyed South America far more than the stuff that was in between. If I was going back (and it is likely I will) I don't think I would ride all the way again. Flying the bike in sounds expensive, but it will be cheaper than riding it when you factor in that you will be on the road for weeks or months, and you still have to get across the Darien Gap. Flying the bike back from Santiago was not much more than flying it from Panama City to Bogota.

I will also be seriously looking at buying a bike down there and selling it when I leave. The hitch is to find a country that will allow you to register the bike without having resident status.

Home Again!

2010-06-14T19:37:00.001-06:00

For those who don't know about it yet, I am safe and sound and back home again. Arranging for the bike for to be shipped back to Canada was rather anticlimactic compared to getting it out of Calama. I arrived in Santiago on Friday afternoon, so did not return to the airport until the following Monday. I had just planned to find out where everything was and prepare myself for the ordeal that was sure to follow, based on my experiences to date. As it it turned out, the bike boxes were waiting for me when I arrived and it was a relatively simple matter to arrange for having them transported to Canada. LAN Cargo gave me a choice of three Canadian airports, Toronto, Vancouver or Calgary. Calgary is a mere 3 hours south of Edmonton, so that is where the bike will go.

According to the LAN cargo tracking thingy on the internet the bike left Santiago today (the 14th), so it should be in Calgary by the end of the week. The cost will be a bit over the USD 1500 and change LAN Cargo charged, as I had to pay additional fees for having it shipped as 'dangerous goods', which involved having a third party prepare paperwork and labels. I also had to pay a warehouse fee to the warehouse company LAN uses. No doubt there will be additional fees when it lands in Calgary as well. It seems like a lot but it would have cost more, (a lot more) to ride it back, and I was running out of time, as I would only have medical insurance until the end of June.

As soon as I had the bike taken care of it was a simple matter to arrange for a flight back. My flight left late Wednesday and landed me in Toronto the following morning, where my good buddy Ken was waiting for me, he dropped me off at my mom's house where I could rest up from the 10 hour flight before catching a plane to Edmonton late the next day. Saturday and Sunday were unwinding days, catching up with the kids, and watching the sun go down at nearly midnight. Yes it will be summer in the North, and with daylight savings time there is still light in the sky at midnight. Quite a switch from South America, where it was pretty much a 6 to 6 daylight no matter the season.

So what to do now? Obviously the KTM will be getting some attention when it arrives, as there is a lot of riding to be done yet. I also dusted off the old Norton Commando and fired her up (first kick!) after it had been placed in suspended animation for the last two years. It sure is a fun bike to ride around town, but it is a bit of rat, and it needs a lot of work before I dare to ride it a greater distance than I can push it home, not to mention the limitations of a 2 gallon gas tank.

I will be maintaining the blog, turning it to less about my days and more about my thoughts about bikes, in particular old bikes and old bikers. I will also be overhauling the South America blog to turn it into a beginning to end narrative instead of the blog format where the last post is first. I have well over 3000 photos to sort, some of you have said that you liked the pictures I have taken. I hope to do something with the best ones. My secret for getting a few good pictures is the machine gun strategy, take enough photos and one or two will hit the target and turn out not bad. I would certainly appreciate your suggestions and comments on the pix, especially the ones you liked the best. My two favorites are posted at the head and tail of this post.

According to the counter thingy I put on the blog in April some time there have been about 1600 page hits on this blog, so somebody is reading this stuff. Don't be shy, email me with suggestions on how to make the blog better and what will keep you coming back. I already know that frequent posts makes a huge difference, and I apologize for taking a break and leaving everybody in the dark.

Santiago

2010-06-06T18:48:00.000-06:00

Santiago is probably the most 'complete' city I have visited in South America, in that it has everything a city is expected to have, fine parks, a comprehensive public transportation system that includes modern buses, subway system, LRT to suburbia, excellent limited access roads that do not take a back seat to any in Canada and the USA, modern buildings and well kept old ones. I was expecting to see more evidence of the recent earthquake, and really have seen nothing yet. In my hotel they tell me it brought down the ceiling on the fifth floor, but apparently it is fixed now. Some of the older buildings have hoarding on them, but nothing more than you would expect to see in any city that has old buildings, which do need maintenance from time to time.

One somewhat interesting thing I have noticed about Chile, based on my staying in hotels and eating in restaurants, is that Chileans can give the Scotch lessons on tightfistedness. Restaurant portions always leave me hungry and I am not a big eater. Hot water was strictly rationed in Calama, the hot water heater pilot lights are turned off in the daytime and sometimes they forget to turn them on again at night.

It is not like nobody can afford it, I see more evidence of wealth and less of poverty in Chile than in most of the other countries I have visited, to be fair I have not seen much, as I flew here from Calama, a place where there are lots of jobs and a rich mine, to the capital, where I suspect, as everywhere else, the golden apple (government revenue) tends to fall fairly close to the tree.

El Centro has plenty of interesting things to look at, museums, government buildings, and public art that goes beyond the usual hero on horseback that can be found in every Latin American City. I have added Santiago to the list of places to come back to.
Keep checking Picasa for more Santiago pix, as I will continue to add more.

The Great Escape

2010-06-05T15:21:00.000-06:00

Finally I am out of Calama, and hopefully so is the bike. I am now in Santiago, after 14 days and 14 nights in the desert, I have reached the promised land. PTL! Woohoo! Santiago is great, especially after Calama, which was nice enough, but hardly one of the world's great places to visit. In an earlier post I compared it to Fort MacMurray, it could also be Flin Flon or Thompson Manitoba. It is a mining town, full of hard working people, who probably look forward as much to putting Calama in their rear view mirrors as I did.

In order to leave Calama I had to get the bike shipped to me in Santiago. The LAN cargo people were unable to figure out how to get the bike shipped to Canada and were going to involve in DHL. I have had experience with DHL in the past, and I would not want to use them to send a post card to someone I did not like, let alone ship my bike. They have an office in Calama, I had already walked in there asked what it would cost, they quoted me $6,000 (!!!!), which is totally ridiculous. One of their tricks is to take your money when you send it and then demand more went it arrives (fake fees), holding your stuff for ransom. I have no idea why these robbers are still in business, you would have to be an idiot to use them for anything.
End of rant, I hate DHL, go ahead and use them, tell me I am wrong :-)

SOOO, as far as I know the bike in three cartons arrived at Calama Friday afternoon same as me. It is now Saturday, LAN cargo is not answering their telefono, so I am taking the weekend off to enjoy Santiago. I have already contacted a freight forwarder who quoted me a price of roughly $1000 to ship el moto to Vancouver by sea. If I use these guys I will have to repack the 3 cartons back into one, which will not be a problem as everything will fit, but it will be a problem in that I will have to move the stuff somewhere, where I can do the repack and then move the single carton to the freighters. Another option is to discover whether LAN cargo in Santiago will ship to Canada assuming the people here are more knowledgable about procedure than their country cousins in Calama.

Meanwhile enjoy Santiago here.

Still here in Calama

2010-06-02T21:09:00.000-06:00

It has been a stressful week and a half for me here in Calama, I never know what is going on, I can't communicate adequately when it comes to my now much more complicated needs. I can order food, buy stuff, get hotels, ask for directions, but when it comes to the complexities of international shipping arrangements for motos, I am perdito (lost). I am still not sure what is going on, but at least the bike is packed and at the cargo terminal at the Calama airport.

I am being helped by the 'jefe' of Hosteria Taira where I am staying. He has been great, he has taken me to the local building supply outlet for crate materials and we used his truck to take the bike to airport, twice.

I had all the stuff packed into the bike crate except the engine and we took it to LAN carga. Turned out that the bike crate was overweight by 20 kg, the limit is 170 kg, and it was 190. I took some stuff out of the crate to bring it to 170 but they said that the cardboard cover of the steel frame crate had to be covered in wood. So, back to Hosteria Taira to fix the crate and repack. Back again to the airport with three boxes. This time they accepted it, but I am still waiting for the paperwork.

If all goes well the bike and I will meet in Santiago for the journey back to Canada. It has been a stressful week and a half. Jefe is making all the arrangements and I don't really know what is going on because I can't understand him. The dialect here is very difficult, I am using babel fish and my computer to translate, but even that is not working, he is using words that may come back translated as 'breadfruit' or not translated at all. All in all it has been pretty frustrating, maybe today I will be outa here.

End of the Ride

2010-05-27T19:33:00.000-06:00

I suppose everybody is wondering what is going on. The engine is full of iron filings from the trashed cam follower, so the best option is to ship it home. I was planning to return in June anyway, and I am pretty far away.

I spent a bit of time spinning my wheels, getting nowhere. Chilean Spanish is very difficult to understand for me, and they don't understand my limited Spanish either. I was trying to find a shipping agent, but that was not working out. Finally I tried the obvious, contact the local airline. Turns out that their web site even says they ship motorcycles, duh.

They charge by the kilo, they don't care how many pieces there are, but they don't want anything to be heavier than 170 Kilos, which is why the engine is out. My manual says that the bike weighs 150 kg, so it would have been close, but with the engine out it should be no problem. It had to come out anyway, so I have a head start on that chore. The local bike shop donated the crate, which brought a Chinese 200cc cruiser style MC to Chile. It is not a bad fit, as the KTM is very light for its size and the cruiser is very long for its size. Bringing the height down is the biggest challenge. I will have to raise the crate slightly, and squash the KTM down.

Meanwhile I have seen pretty much all there is to see in Calama. This place is sort of the Fort MacMurray of Chile. Lots of transient workers, lots of activity, high prices (supposedly, I have not seen the rest of Chile to be able to say for sure, but they seem high to me). Neither is it the most photogenic place I have visited. Calama is one of the driest cities in the world, less than 5 mm (!!!) of annual rainfall. Not much work for roofers I suppose. It is surrounded by an extremely arid desert, nothing grows out there, just a giant sandbox.
More pix here

Calama

2010-05-22T19:34:00.000-06:00

Well I have determined what the problem is. You are looking at the underside of the valve cover, in the middle is one good cam roller follower on the right, on the left is one that no longer rolls. The overall effect are intake valves that do not open as far as they should, causing power loss.

I am sure it is just a coincidence, but it seems that every time I enter a new country they have a national holiday. Chile was celebrating Glorias Navales on friday, and everything was cerrado (closed).

There is a good bike shop here, but of course they were cerrado as well. Saturday morning they were open, and there was another KTM in there. A good sign. They tried to get hold of the KTM dealer in Chile, but he is cerrado till lunes (monday). So Calama will be my home for a few days while I arrange to have parts shipped.

Glorias Navales celebrates a naval battle where Chile got their butt kicked by Peru, however that loss inspired Chile to win the war. Calama belonged to Bolivia before the war and the reason Peru was involved was a treaty they had with Bolivia.

Calama is near the site of one of the worlds largest open pit copper mines, I can see the giant plume of smoke from the works in the distance. There are copper statues downtown commemerating a major source of Chile's wealth.

The Chilean Peso can be had for approximately 500 to the dollar. I find that everything here costs about the same or very slightly less than Canada, I paid 5000 pesos for a haircut today. An ordinary restaurant meal runs about 4000 pesos. Calama's population is about 143,000, but it is quite compact, I can pretty much walk anywhere in town in about 15 minutes or less.

I guess I will be sight seeing domingo (sunday) so there should be more pics later.

It just gets better and effin better;

2010-05-21T18:24:00.000-06:00

So there was no way I was going to stay in San Pedro, who's sole purpose in this universe is to separate stupid but rich tourists from their money. The bike was running, albeit at moped velocities. The next town is Calamas, 100 km of desert away. So I load up and head out of San Pedro.

Before leaving, I checked the fuel and I could see nothing wrong with it, no water, no dirt. About 20 km out I came across a big parking area beside the road, looked like a good place to do a carb overhaul, and I was getting tired of crawling along at 23 kmh, so I pulled in and pulled off the carb. I could see nothing obviously wrong, so I put it together again. No joy, everything still the same. Then I got about 100 meters farther down the road when my rear tire decided to go flat.

Good thing I was carrying a spare tube, so out with the bad and in with the good.

It took me most of the day to get to Calamas. It was definitely the right thing to do, as Calamas is a great place to stay while I sort all this out. I found the perfect hostal as it is called, for working on the KTM

The carburettor came off again, this time for a more thorough examination and cleaning. Still no joy.

I have the KTM manual (as a pdf) with me, which suggests my problem is either carburettor related or electronic ignition.

The nearest KTM dealer is 1200 km south, I have sent them an email, and I will keep plugging away.

Meanwhile I am enjoying Calamas and considering my options.

More Misadventures

2010-05-19T19:21:00.000-06:00

Well I made it to Chile, just. I am stuck in a tourist trap, San Pedro, about 170 km into Chile. This is where the Chilean customs and immigration is, 170 km from the Argentina border. To get here I had to cross over a 4,400 meter pass (14,400 feet). Snow at the top, and a bike that would not go faster than 21 kmh up hill, and it was up hill most of the way. I think I got bad gas, but I don't know for sure. I will have to find out tomorrow, as it was getting dark when I got here. (It is not the altitude, if some of you moto techies were thinking that, as the KTM has managed this altitude before.)

There was nothing but rocks and sand and snow, between the border and here, and hardly any traffic. I did not want to stop so long as the bike was running, as I was not sure it would start again. As it turned out, I found that it will start and run up to about 4000 RPM when I finally stopped at the aduana and migracion to get my documents in order to be in Chile.

Meanwhile here are some pictures from Formosa Province in Argentina where I got rained out. Stay tuned.

Out of the mud, but still no decent internet connection

2010-05-18T16:55:00.001-06:00

This will be a post without pictures. I was stuck in Lomitas till
this AM but now I am in sunny Juyjuy Argentina and if all goes well,
Chile tomorrow.

It was sunny and warm when I left Uruguay, as it turned out there was
a bridge, so no boat crossing. That night I stopped in Fontana, a
tiny town in Argentina´s Formosa province. The land is flat, marshy
and covered with low bushes and mosquitos. It looks as if it was once
farmland, but not anymore. Fontana looks like it is heading for ghost
town status, empty buildings some of them falling down. I asked where
the hotel was, and a kind person led me there. There is no sign on it
to indicate it is a hotel. This turned out to be typical for this
area. I got a nice room but very basic.

The next morning it was pissing down rain, but I figured what the
heck, I will just keep riding until I am out of it. It only took
about 20 km to realize I had made a big mistake. My Jacket and gloves
work good in light rain, but this downpour was beyond their abilities.
I stopped in a gas station to wait out the rain, but after 3 hours it
was still raining, so I carried on. About 60 km down was a restaurant
so I stopped to eat, warm up and get dry.

I pulled back on the road and rode for quite a distance, as the rain
had let up a bit and the temperature had warmed up a bit too. Another
town appeared in front of me, Ibaterra. The only problem was,
Ibattera is about 20 km from Fontana, where I had left that morning.
When I had left the restaurant I had gone the wrong way. Pretty much
most of the day was shot by this time, I had travelled over 200 km in
cold, wet, miserable weather to get 20 km from where I left. I was
not going back to Fontana, so big U turn and head back the right way.

In case anybody was wondering how I could make such a dumb mistake,
just imagine you are out on the prairie, you can´t see the sun and the
landscape looks the same in all directions. The only thing different
here is the vegetation, and it is not that different, it looks similar
to parkland where wolf willow is the dominant plant. As far as you
can see.

My gas was getting low, so I pulled off at the next gas station. I
had to go about 100 meters on a dirt access road, which had turned to
mud. All forward motion ceased as the tires loaded up with sticky
mud. I headed for the grass, but got stuck in the ditch. When the
KTM gets stuck I have to unload everything and skid the bike out on
its side, as the wheels get buried and bike sinks into the soft stuff.
After mudwresting bike, then the baggage into the gas station I
discover that there was a paved entry into the gas station further up.
I also blew the fuse that controls the speedometer, turn signals and
brake lights. Fortunately I still had headlights and ignition.

When I got to Lomitas, the place where I originally went the wrong
way, I figured enough was enough and headed into town. I had to ask
where the hotel was, I was standing in front of it. It looked as if
it was under construction and not finished yet, which turned out to be
true. Nevertheless they had a room.

The next day it was raining just as hard, but I had learned my lesson.
I decided to stay put, fix the fuse problem and wait for the rain to
stop. While taking the bike of the center stand (in the mud), it fell
over and I broke off the left side mirror, a fine end to this episode.
Fortunately Argentina has excellent cable TV (800% better than the
crap we get), including HBO in English with Espanol subtitles. So I
had a day of rest and relaxation after the fuse was replaced. The
mirror will have to wait for a KTM dealer.

The next morning looked just as grim as the last two, but the rain had
stopped. I got out of there as fast as I could. All along the way I
could see the mess, water everywhere, all the secondary roads are
dirt, every town looked like a World War I battlefield. BUT the sun
was showing on the horizon, and the farther I went the sunnier it got.
At least I could see that I made the right decision to stop when I
did, (woulda been better if I had never left Fontana). I made 600 km
today, and all of it had seen the same rain. SO did I learn my
lesson? ..... maybe :-)

Email update from Argentina

2010-05-17T07:49:00.001-06:00

In case any one was wondering, I am fine and in Las Lomitas Argentina
waiting for the rain to stop. This is a *very* small (and wet) town,
but I have a dry place to stay, more later;

Asuncion

2010-05-15T07:11:00.000-06:00

Asuncion is another post apocalyptic South American city. It is evident that at one time there was a lot more prosperity here than there seems to be now. The town is dominated by tall buildings that I am guessing were built in the 1970's that now look worse for wear. I am seeing a lot of homeless children sleeping in the streets. I also see the most expensive cars I have seen in South America, lots of new Mercedes and the latest in SUVs.

According to wikipedia, Paraguay has a developing economy, but that to me, is a very misleading statement. Asuncion, like most other large South American cities will be celebrating its 500th birthday in about 27 years. The land is more populated than either the US or Canada, and in many ways more civilized. Asuncion and the other large cities in South America are more over developed than underdeveloped. There is a lesson here, but I am not sure what it is, but I can't help but feeling that we Norte Americanos are travelling down a road that the South Americans took many years before we did.

I am here to find a way across the Paraguay River to Argentina. There is no bridge. It turns out I will have to go out of town a bit. I can find very little information on Paraguay useful to me from my usual sources.

The rivers in South America are still important to transportation. Paraguay may be landlocked but it does have ports. The boat in the next picture appears to be loading up with bottled water among other things.

The port area of Asuncion is quite busy, there are large and busy customs and immigration offices it looks a lot like a highway border crossing.

Paraguay has two official languages, Spanish and Guarani, more people speak Guarani than Spanish. The population is pretty much all mestizo (mixed Indigena and Spanish). Fortunately my bad Spanish seems to work here.

There are also a number of Mennonites, who are supposed to be fairly wealthy. Apparently the Mennonites own the big farms. The towns that I have passed through all have big agro equipment dealers, feed mills, seed plants and agro-chemical dealers. Farming is big and the farms are big, it is like the North American plains, but with a 12 month growing season.

It is Paraguayan independence day (May 15), a national holiday, fireworks have been going off all night. They are gearing up for their 200th anniversary of independence from Spain.

One Day in Paraguay

2010-05-13T18:16:00.000-06:00

As I reluctantly leave Brazil for Paraguay, according to my guidebook, the most corrupt nation this side of Africa, it is foggy, but looks to be a warm sunny day. Yesterday and today I am riding through more forest and less field. There is always something to look at and photograph. The forest is, according to my guidebook, 'sub tropical', hardwood, with the odd banana tree, there is a lumber industry here, and I see the first wooden houses since leaving the US.

Portuguese still has its challenges, which little door would you choose?

Plan Alta, where I stayed overnight in a 20 Real Hotel (~12 bux) is only about 170 km from the Paraguay border at Foz du Iguacu. I was a bit nervous about Paraguay, given its reputation. The border is a large river, Rio Paraguay natch, which flows into the Rio Plata and the ocean. I have to check out of Brazil, get my exit stamp on my passport and hand over my temporary import certificate for the moto. This is all pretty much up to me, as there are no barriers, one can drive right on through. You would be in deep trouble if you did this, as the cops will want to see your documentos once you are in. Same thing on the Paraguay side, turistos must find the proper place to get documentos in order on their own.

This is a very busy border. The motos in the picture that are carrying passengers are moto taxis ferrying pedestrians across the very long bridge. There is a special moto path that runs alongside the grid locked cars, and these moto guys move. The path is narrow, and has chicanes with cement barriers that will knock your givis off, presumably to slow down the kamikaze moto-taxi pilots. I was holding up the parade, banging my bags on the curbs, and hearing angry moto beeps behind me, but every so often I could pull over into stalled four wheeler traffic, catch my breath, and let about 100 moto taxis zip by before getting back in the moto lane.

I have to find migracion for my passport stamp and aduana for my moto tramite. A young cop is standing where I park, he admires the KTM, he tells me he will watch it for me while I complete my paperwork. It takes about 20 minutes, and sure enough the cop is standing beside my bike when I get back. He is interested in my trip and we chat a bit.

I am now officially in Paraguay and headed for Asuncion, 300 km west. I have swapped my 180 Brazilian Reals for 450,000 Guaranis(!!!) . A Guarani goes for about 5,000 to the dollar, so 450K is about 90 dollars.

Paraguay has 'check stops' cops are stationed at certain spots and randomly select people to pull over and check. My number comes up and get pulled over. The cop sees that my papers in order, asks me a few questions about the bike (I think he wanted to know how big the gas tank was, anyway that was the answer I gave), and wished me buen viaje. A little farther on I stop for a pee break and pull in to park, a sharp police whistle tells me I just went the wrong way down a one way street. The cop comes over to give me hell until he realizes that I am not from around here, right away he transforms from pissed off to friendly and wants to know where I am from, where I am going, etc. etc., he is interested, not being official. So much for corrupt cops. Everywhere I go in Paraguay I am made to feel welcome. I will only be here for a short time, but it looks to be a good time.

I am stopped for the night about 130 km from Asuncion. Asuncion is a big city, well over a million, and I do not want to arrive there at sundown, so here I am in a motel by the roadside. The highway from Foz Du Iguaca has to be the busiest road in the country, if it ain't I don't want to see the busier. It is two lane and straight, with a maximum speed limit of 80 kph, that everybody ignores. The trucks go slower, between 60 and 70, and new expensive cars zip along at 120 or better. Nobody checks in front or behind when passing, which keeps everybody on their toes, especially this gringo motorcyclist. Anyway, back to the motel, I always go for a walk if there is daylight and look for some pictures to take. Behind the motel is a whole other side of Paraguay that can't be seen from the highway. This pastoral scene was taken not 50 meters from the busy road. More pictures here

Rio Grande do Sul

2010-05-11T18:42:00.000-06:00

It rained all day today, but I was warm and dry thanks to my rain gear. It is very beautiful open country here, but the rain makes it hard to take any pictures. I got lucky with this one, I had just pulled off during a brief respite from the rain when these gauchos appeared on the hill above the road.
This cat below I saw in downtown Cruz Alta, where I am overnighting, so he might be a 'farmacia gaucho', or not, apparently to be a gaucho in South America is not as romantic as being a cowboy in AB, according to wikipedia, gauchos are considered by many South Americans to be a troublesome pain in the.., which come to think of it, could also apply to cowboys back home.

Guachos are famous for consuming mate, a collection of herbs that may consist of coca leaves among others, ground up and put in a pot with hot water, like tea, except that mate pot is filled to the top with the green stuff. The mixture is consumed through a metal straw that has a filter thingy at the bottom to sift out the leaves.

Cruz Alta has even made a statue of a mate pot.

When you go to the gas pump in Brazil you get to choose between grades of gasoline, diesel, and pure alcohol. Gas is very expensive, a Real is worth about 58 cents, so premium, which I use if it is available, is costing about 1.60 a liter.

What I need for Brazil is a bike that will run on beer, figuring in the deposit refund.....

Brazil is turning out to be a great visit. The no Portuguese thing is turning out to be less of a problem than I thought it would be. I say something in Spanish and about half the time it is understood, which is about the same performance my Spanish has where they speak Spanish. I get a totally incomprehensible response, which is also par for the course so far, as there are so many regional Spanish dialects, I can never really understand anybody anywhere anyway.

The food is good too, for lunch just about every restaurant serves 'buffet livre', which in Alberta would be called a smorg. You load up your plate with whatever you want, they weigh it (if they have a scale) and you pay for what you have chosen, or just a flat rate if there is no scale. The typical choices are rice, beef, pork, chicken, various vegetables, salad items, and beans, very nice, and no problems with interpreting menus.

The countryside is consists of wide open vistas, meaning that there is plenty to see, the roads are excellent and traffic is light, couldn't be better, I don't even mind the cool weather and the rain, as sooner or later I will be in the hot desert again, thinking that a bit of cold weather would be very nice indeed.
More pix.

No speekee portugee

2010-05-10T16:31:00.000-06:00

This is my view heading north in the morning, the sun will be in my eyes until I cross the equator again. Surprisingly, it is not at all disorienting to have the sun on the wrong side of the sky. It heads up that way every summer in Edmonton, that must be why I don't find it strange.

The border crossing at Acegua was great. here I am getting my oficial welcome from the Brazilian Police, so far the only Brazilians I met who speak English. They were pretty chuffed about me being from Canada, the head guy on (on the left) wanted to take my picture with his camera, "Make sure to get the license plate,", I was worried it was going to end up in all the Brazilian Post Offices, but no, he wanted it for himself. So I handed over my camera to the oficial police photographer designate and got a pic of me as well.

There are no barriers or anything looking like a border in Acegua, so I actually drove into Brazil had breakfast and coffee before I found out I was in Brazil. I had to go back (across the street) to Uruguay to get my exit stamp and hand over my temporary permit for the moto, but everybody was super relaxed about it all. At least part of the reason must be that Acegua is a very small crossing with few people coming across, always better.

Now that I am in Brazil, the fun begins, not speaking a word of the local lingo has its challenges. So far so good, Brazil seems to have some customs I have not yet encountered in South America, such as a hotel advertising its presence with billboards long before you arrive, I wonder where they learned that trick?

It was a welcome relief for me, one less problem to deal with. If only they had restaurants that are open at 6 PM. Signing off in Rosario Do Sul, the coolest spot in Brazil (that title refers to the town's climate, but the town is pretty cool as well if you are into agriculture).

Election night in Melo

2010-05-09T18:14:00.001-06:00

Another Sunday election, this time in Melo, Uruguay, about 70 km from the Brazilian 'frontera'. There were other elections as well, Maldonado was having one too. They don't shut down the road through town here, but judging by the excitement, elections are an important sport, the level of excitement and activity outside my window is about the same as an Oilers playoff game in Edmonton, flags on vehicles, horn honking, everybody doing loops down the main drag on their unmuffled motos. I think they are local elections (intendente, whatever that is).

This part of Uruguay is cow country, and Melo is a typical cow town. Here cowboys are gauchos, they look the same, drive pick up trucks and drink Mate.

A young guy stops to admire El KTM in Maldonado tells me his girlfriend is from Calgary, bet she's a cowgirl too. Uruguay is also 'big sky country' south.

Rolling hills, cows, high clouds, and dusty little towns, hard to believe that just a few hours away I was on the South American Riviera.

Uruguay is full of very cool very old cars and trucks in running condition, apparently due to a historical difficulty of getting cars into the country, they have become very adept at keeping these old bangers running. The best ones come out at night when it is impossible to take good pictures of them.

I looked at the map when I left Punta Del Este and figured that Melo would be a good place to stop before crossing into Brazil. I was calculating that my many thousands of Pesos would get me a full tank of gas and hotel on the Uruguay side and I would not have to Cambio any into Reales.

I may have mentioned from time to time how difficult it is to find a hotel in a strange town in South America. I was just warming up to the job in Melo, when I guy on a moto with a big flag stuck on, pulled up and asked me if I wanted a hotel. That was a first! He indicated that I should follow him and off we went. It turned out he was the owner, and the hotel is pretty much the worst dive I have been in so far. But it was cheap, 200 Pesos, or about 10 dollars, and either the roof does not leak or it is not raining, cause it is dry. My room has five beds in it, but my host assures me that I will have em all to myself. Baño down the hall. Looks as if I will be cambio-ing mi dinero after all

More Pics!

Uruguay blows me away

2010-05-08T17:22:00.002-06:00

If you are 'a man (or woman) of wealth and taste' do not go to Uruguay, because if you do you will never want to leave. If I had to describe the Uruguay I have seen so far with only one word, it would be 'manicured'. The cities and towns look like what would be wealthy suburbs in North America, and the countryside looks like a well groomed park.

I am on the east coast, which is a major resort area for the rest of Latin America and Europe. Apparently the only Canadians who frequent Uruguay are Quebecois. "Non, je ne parle mucho Francais either, gracias very much." As it is the beginning of what passes for winter in a place where palm trees grow outside, the resorts are pretty quiet, which is nice for me, as I pretty much have the place to myself.

Atlantida looks like it fell out of a "Leave it to Beaver" episode, the architecture appears to have involved actual Architects, who seem to nearly outnumber Lawyers and Doctors. The house style is kind of 60's Frank Lloyd Wright-ish.

This style is familiar to my North American eyes, houses with exterior 'features' set back on mowed lawns without walls for a fence. They even burn their autumn leaves in front of the house, a flashback to my youth for this 60 year old man.

Further 'Este' is Punta Del Este and it's famous Bikini Beach. It is a bit chilly for bikinis at the moment. This is my first view of Oceano Atlantico. Here, I am in time zone GMT -3, or three time zones from Europe, and four from Edmonton. The tourists are mostly Euros. Here is a euro traveller's site you may want to check out, an amazing 'RV'. I wanna see this one pull up in the local KOA, and watch all the 'class A's' be demoted.

Plenty of fancy yachts, big hotels, stores selling Rolexes and Mercedes her in Punta Del Este. I am going to enjoy this sybaritic scene, because I am pretty sure I won't see the like again on my return trip.

I went to this store, but all they had was ladies dresses.

Tomorrow I head inland and see what there is to see in the rest of Uruguay. Uruguay is very small, I could have blown through it in half a day and been in Brazil, where they speak Portuguese and I don't. Maybe I will stay here a bit longer, I don't speak Spanish much either, but at least I know how to ask where the bathrooms are.

More pictures posted here.

Go North Old Man

2010-05-06T19:21:00.000-06:00

This morning I woke up to rain and about 10 degrees C. It really is fall in every sense here. My bags were packed, all I had to do was swing by the Embajada de Paraguay, pick up my visa and passport and find the ferry to Uruguay.

The previous night Marcello from Informoto interviewed me for his revista, an Argentine moto mag.

I had sent them an email after I picked up the magazine at a newstand. Marcello's English is better than my Spanish which was good for both of us. I asked him to send me a copy when if the interview is printed. Fun.

No problems with the ferry, other than finding it. Did I mention that Buenos Aires is huge? Trying to find anything is a chore despite well marked streets laid out in a grid pattern, it's the diagonals that get me. Fortunately for lost Gringos, a much larger proportion of people in BA speak English than most other places I have been except maybe Colombia.

The ferry ride is about one hour and takes me to Colonia. This was the best border of all, even better than Canada and the US. The ferry is the upper crust way to travel, nothing but fancy cars and well dressed, well behaved people, so the customs and immigration people are polite and laid back as well, even the droga perros were relaxed.

The weather continued to stay cool in Uruguay. Colonia, where the ferry landed me is 176 klicks of cold and windy riding from Montevideo, the capital. My chain and sprockets need replacing and there is a dealer in Montevideo. It was a ride I would expect from Alberta in the fall, (or the Demptser Highway in July).

This is not what I came to 'South' America for, time to re-cross the equator where it is coming up summer. The next border will be Brazil. (In case anyone was still wondering, Tierra Del Fuego is not on my 'go to' list.)

First impressions; Uruguayans could give French waiters lesson on how to abuse turistos. Monopoly money is worth more than the Uruguay peso. I had 3,000 Pesos before dinner, which took care of 250.00 of them. A thousand pesos are worth about 50 US bux, which seems to be the preferred currency in El Rip Off Hotel where I am staying tonight. El Rip Off is located right on the water (the final picture was taken from my window) and is very modern and fancy, but the price is high, and they surcharge for everything, wifi, parking, all extra, which was always included if it was available at the less pretentious hotels I prefer to stay in. I ate in the hotel restaurant, the meal was nicely prepared, but if I hadda sneezed, it woulda ended up on the other side of the room. Maybe I am just grouchy cause it is cold and damp, tomorrow is another day, and definitely another hotel!!

More BA

2010-05-05T11:47:00.000-06:00

My stay in Buenos Aires has been longer than I planned. I am getting visas for Brazil and Paraguay, and for each country I have to leave my passport at the embassy so they can paste the visa with my photo inside, which means I can only do one country a day instead of both on the same day. I will be picking up my Paraguay visa tomorrow on my way out of town.

I have been enjoying my extended stay here, especially the restaurants.
I can't remember what this was called, but it consists of thinly sliced beef, like a schnitzel, covered with a Holandaise sauce along with pan fried potatoes. If you have small kids bring em to Argentina, they will love it, you will notice that there are no green vegetables on this dish, and that goes for about everything else I have tried here.

Everywhere I have been south of Estados Unidos, dogs roam freely and get into all the different kinds of trouble that roaming dogs get into. In Buenos Aires there are very few strays, dogs are leashed and appear to be well cared for. The poop scooping trend has not hit here yet, so one must watch one's step at all times. This park has a special doggy playground, a fenced off area where dogs can get into trouble under supervision.

I have been using the 'Subte' to shuttle back and forth between the 'embajadas' of Brazil and Paraguay. The station nearest me is also where the commuter trains and buses link up with the Subte. I have never seen anything like the chaos of trying to get onto an already crowded subway car with the addition of a few hundred more commuters. If sardines were packed into a can like the Subte users pack themselves in, the humane society would be all over it. I learn quickly, the stop before the train station bus station stop is only a few blocks farther up, I still get crushed but at least I am in the car, the less agressive commuters will probably be waiting for at least half an hour and many trains going by before they can climb on board.

Buenos Aires is one of the great cities. Fine attractive buildings, many parks, lots of trees, I have never seen anything that quite compares, although I think that people who have been to Paris or Rome will probably find similarities. Most cities I am familiar with do not pay much attention to esthetics, or the inhabitants (other than treating them as inconvenient annoyances that get in the way of cars and commerce). Buenos Aires is clearly a city that believes it must look good and the people who live there should enjoy living there.

BA is not immune from the usual big city problems, there is graffiti, some homeless, annoying drunks etc., but it is also safe and is one of the most interesting places I have been to.

Buenos Aires

2010-05-02T19:35:00.000-06:00

Buenos Aires is definitely one of the coolest cities I have visited. Buenos Aires reminds me of Montreal, a blend of old world and new, taking the best of each. This is my second day here, and I will be staying till Tuesday at least. I need to get visas for Uruguay and Paraguay, and there is a lot to see here, not the least are the fall colors in May. It even feels like fall even though the temperature is just about perfect for comfort.

Today I mostly walked around downtown. Buenos Aires is huge, 13 million people, it has everything you would expect in a city this size, subways (Subte) and above ground light rail transit, commuter trains, the usual buses and taxis, excellent freeways and wide downtown roads to accomodate traffic. BA is the best city for riding the bike this side of the Mexican border. The local moto pilots ride their motorcycles like Edmonton's bicycle couriers ride their leg-motors, apparently traffic laws do not apply to motos. I try to set a good example, but it is too hard to not to join in the fun. The French influence extends beyond the plumbing, Citroens, Renaults and Peugeots are everywhere, a lot of Fiats as well.

My funky hotel is close to the Subte, 'Linea A' will be celebrating its 100th birthday in 3 years. I am sure these subway cars are the originals, manual doors!. Check out the wood paneling inside.

The other lines are newer and so is the equipment, it is cool that they preserved the original, but it wouldn't have hurt to have washed it coupla time in the last 97 years.

The Palacio del Congresso is one of the most imposing capital buildings I have seen, I don't know if this picture gets that across, but standing in front of it certainly does. It is supposedly modeled after the capitol building in Washington DC, but somehow it comes across as much grander.

There are lots of museums and memorials here, all convenient to the subway, so I plan to visit as many as I can.

Great restaurants too, if you have been to Montreal, the Buenos Aires restaurants are managed the same way, even in ordinary neighborhood cafes the wait staff is mostly mature males wearing a white shirt with black pants and they do not introduce themselves as being 'your server tonight'. The food is good as well, Argentina has its own ideas on how food should be prepared, and for the most part it is excellent, but also unlike other cuisine I have tried. If you have high cholesterol you may want to cross Argentina off your list of places to visit, everything has beef, eggs and cheese in it or on it. Beer is normally served in one liter bottles as well, so no wonder the drivers are erratic.

Click here for a few more photos.

Ruta 34

2010-04-30T19:21:00.000-06:00

If one were to place an unguided missile on the center line of highway 34 outside of Tucuman and light the fuse, it would take out these bulk tankers 1300 km down at the other end of ruta 34 in Rosario on the Rio Paraña, at least that's the way it seemed to me. If there were any curves, I missed them trying to avoid getting run off the road by crazy Argentinian drivers.

Ruta 34 may be the straightest road I have ever been on, the only one that comes close is the Trans Canada from Calgary to Winnipeg, and that one falls short by about 400 klicks.

Ruta 34 is two lane all the way, what makes it 'interesting' is that it is used by big trucks with a speed limit of 80 kmh ordinary traffic with a speed limit of 120 (!!!) along with motos of the 125 cc variety and everything else in between. It confirms my prejudice that the straighter a road the more dangerous it is. For Edmonton area folks, imagine the stretch of 2A highway between Wetaskiwin and Ponoka being 1300 km long and you will get the idea of what the last two days have been like. At least three times I have been hard on the brakes and aiming for the ditch because some nitwit decided he needed to pass 4 or 5 long trucks at once. I need to know whether driving an SUV makes you stupid, or do you need to prove you are stupid before they will sell you one?

I suspect there are more than a few drunks on the road as well. 'No maneje con bebia' signs are all over the place. There are frequent police 'check stops' or something as well. They randomly choose who they are going to pull over, and want to know where you are from and where you are going. At one, the policeman asks me if I have been drinking, he is in a really jovial mood, when I say no, he asks me if I think he has been drinking, I smile and indicate I don't speak Español, but he seemed in a really good mood for a cop ta me.

Oh, for those who have been wondering, thanks to Tucuman KTM's Ing. Raul A. Becker and his technicians, the KTM has new oil, filters and a non leaking fork and is ready for more new adventures.

I stop for lunch in a small town, it is definitely fall in Argentina. They seem to have the same green ash trees we have all over Edmonton, but these ones go yellow in Mayo instead of Octubre. (its the day length ya know).

It is siesta naturally, so everything is closed except the restaurant at the bus terminal. It turns out to be an excellent choice. I sit down and the young man running it tells me his rode his 50 cc bike to Ushaia, and hauls out the pictures to prove it. We have as good a converstation as my poor Spanish permits and soon are joined by a crowd of regulars. It seems that everybody really likes motos in Argentina, so I had a lot of questions to answer.

I order something that turns out to be a steak, which is your basic staple food item in Argentina. Steak is served on a plate by itself, bread and your choice of fritas or ensalada is served separately. Let me just say that you have not had a steak until you have had it here in Argentina, Alberta beef notwithstanding.

Ruta 34 is straight for the same reason the Trans Canada in the prairies is straight. This part of Argentina is billiard table flat. It is also an area of large farms and tractors bigger than houses, making it look just like the prairies or more like the midwestern US, as the crops are corn and soybeans that I can recognize. The towns look like midwestern towns as well with large leafy trees lining wide downtown streets of substantial stone buildings that look to be about 1920's vintage. The bus stop cafe where I had lunch could also be the 'cafe' or chinese restaurant where everybody who is everybody in town hangs out.

I am holed up for the night in San Nicolas, a large city about 200 klicks from Buenos Aires. I find an excellent hotel for 110 pesos, which is about 30 bucks, so to celebrate I go to El Centro and find a good restaurant and let the waiter order for me. Naturally I end up with a steak, but what a steak, the waiter asks if I want wine, but of course! Red wine, Argentinian, excellent, the whole bottle is a bit much so my fellow diners get some too. Check it out, that is not a birthday cake under those two eggs, that is the steak. To die for, it all came to less than 20 cdn. bucks.

¡regla motos!

2010-04-28T14:55:00.000-06:00

Being in Argentina is almost like being back in Canada. Gas stations that have coffee and premium gas (and premium prices, about a canuck buck for a liter of regular). So far the roads here are great, I was able to make about 600 km without effort yesterday. I am in a new eco-zone, what would be called parkland in Alberta, grass, trees and bushes, here it is called savanna.

At first I was driving through sugar cane country. It appears that the Cañeros have a beef with someone, which, of course, means they must set up road blocks to prevent cars and trucks from using the road. I was trying to find out what was going on from the guy ahead of me (in a car) and he told me to ride on through the roadblock, as whatever grievance they had did not involve motos. Sure enough, they let me pass with a nod and a wave. I came across at least four more of these demonstrations and each time I just rode past on the shoulder with no problems. The protests, if that is what they were, were peaceful and ended when a cop showed up.

My destination was Tucuman and the KTM dealer there. I needed some fixing done and my aceite has to be cambio-ed. I found a nice hotel in Tucuman's centro which by good luck triumphing over no planning, happened to be only a few blocks from the KTM dealer. I was able to lust over the showroom's 990 Adventure, Randy had let me ride his 990 from Camiri to Villa Montes, and I liked it very much. Mucho dolares though, we will see, after this trip it may be a while before I have any discretionary funds. On my way to the taller de motos the following AM, there was another street protest blocking morning commuter traffic in el centro (I think this one had something to do with Jesus and singing). Taking my lead from the other moto pilots, we just pushed our bikes up onto the sidewalk and walked them around the parade. Motos rule!

The deja vue thing about Argentina grew even stronger as I went for a walk after lunch. Tell me this isn't Calgary's 8th Avenue Mall on a late Sunday afternoon instead of Tucuman during siesta?

There are a few differences, for example I have never seen two men greet each other by kissing each other on the cheek in broad daylight in Calgary, and I expect I never shall.

Argentinians like good food and good cooking, and their french bread is as good or better as can be found anywhere, I have missed good bread since entering Latin America, welcome back! Argentinians apparently like French plumbing as well, which is, eh, not like ours, but bidets make excellent urinals. A drinking glass in the WC probably means the water is OK for tomar as well.

If all goes well at the dealership I should be in Buenos Aires in a few days, and then I will have to start vuelva al norte otra vez.

Last word on Bolivia

2010-04-28T07:17:00.001-06:00

Bolivia, love it or leave it. I did both.   Bolivia was the most fascinating and the most frustrating of all the countries I have visited so far.

Imagine a world with no stores, no Safeway, Sears, Walmart, Kmart, Canadian Tire, Home hardware, not so much as a 7-11 not even a 3 aisle IGA.   No real restaurants either, no fast food franchises, no upscale steak houses, no Earls no Appleby's and no Starbucks. Their long vacant premises have been turned into flea markets where you can buy all the ladies shoes, cell phone accessories, belts, dollar store items and pirated DVDs you might want. You buy all your food in bulk from the same place, rows and rows of dead chickens and pieces of cow and pig that have never seen a refrigerator, potatoes, corn and rice from independent vendors. Bring exact change, because the seller won't have any.

That is a typical small town in Bolivia. Things are only marginally better in the large cities I visited, La Paz, Oruro, Potosi or Sucre. Don't forget your roll of toilet paper when you go out.

Bolivia is also where you can drive on the worlds largest and highest salt flats, find near Everest height mountain peaks, see toucans and parrots in the wild, scare yourself silly on single lane roads that are the highest anywhere, visit rain forests, alpine tundra, high dry plains, see incredible vistas, encounter snow in the altiplano just a few hundred kilometers from the steaming amazon jungle, Bolivia has it all.

Most will never experience it, not even Bolivianos. Travel is difficult, and it will wear you and your vehicle out. I got very bad advice when asking about roads and directions. I later realize that the people who are telling me where to go and what to do, have never been there. Oh yes that is a good paved road (no, it isn't, it would break your car in half).

Bolivia and Bolivianos are unique, they do things their own way, without much thought about how things might be done elsewhere. People who think taxes are nothing but a ripoff need to spend a month or two in Bolivia. I am told that nobody pays taxes, which may or not be true. What is definitely true is that Bolivianos enjoys very few of the benefits that we Norte Americanos expect from our tax dollars, and the ineffective government neither know or cares which of its laws and regulations are being broken or followed.

Unpaved major highways (with tolls!), no road signs, no street name signs or numbers, water that is not safe to drink, a police force that does little more than look natty in their sharply creased uniforms, zero public transportation, no zoning, no building codes or inspectors, kids running around in the streets when they should be in school, beggars with no legs peeing on the sidewalks, pigs, chickens, goats, cows, goats, horses running loose everywhere, horrible bus accidents on unpatrolled unsafe roads, life in Bolivia is never boring.

What is really ironic, the people who cry the loudest about taxation and regulation in North America, entrepreneurs, small business operators and the middle middle classes, are not reaping any of the benefits from zero taxation and zero government regulation in Bolivia. Because they, as a class, don't exist.   In Canada and the US, this economic class provides most of the jobs and wealth for ordinary people. In Bolivia, there are very few jobs because there are few businesses.

What employers there are, are mostly large business and government, and a handful of people in the hospitality industry catering to the tourist trade.   What supports most people is hand to mouth one person 'micro business', stall vendors, small (one person) construction contracting, one person mechanical repair and service shops, taxis and independently owned buses, family run one menu item restaurants and the tiendas, little stores that sell liquor, cigarrettes, pop, cookies and a few food items through a barred door in their homes. Drugstores (Farmacias) are about the only type of business that thrives. Miners, (minerals are a major source of Bolivia's wealth) are self employed members of cooperativos, choose to work under appalling conditions that recall the worst of the 19th Century mining industry. Farmers still farm the way farmers farmed before machinery, all muscle power, theirs and animals, oxen teams, horses and burros. About the only machine power in agriculture is transportation to market by truck and bus. Textiles are spun and woven by hand. Ladies walk down the street making yarn on a spindle as they go.

I saw a bit of the same in Peru and some of the Central American countries. What became clear to me after Bolivia, is that the part of the population that is responsible for the most growth in an economy is very dependent on the infrastructure provided by competent government, particularly at the local level. In Bolivia a brand new multimilion dollar drilling rig sits beside the only 2 km stretch of paved road for 100 or so km each way on highway six, there are also signs telling the crew where everything is. It is clear that the drilling rig contractor either provided paving and signs on the roads they used, or insisted that somebody else provided it. A small business does not have that kind of ability or clout. Small and medium businesses need a dependable, stable infrastructure that will enable their goods and services to reach the it and its markets, in other words, reliable transportation with minimal delays, security, communication networks, a stable finance industry, fair and enabling regulation of commerce, plus the education and training that provides a labor pool that will provides businesses with competent employees.

Large business will create its own infrastructure if it is profitable to do so, and depart when profitability does. Micro-business makes do with what is available but is unable to grow to the next stage if conditions are poor. Large businesses make their owners and shareholders wealthy, wherever they might be, usually nowhere near the grubby source of wealth creation, micro businesses feed only their operators. Small and medium businesses feed the community and the nation as well as keep their owners in luxury well beyond the average, despite bearing the brunt of the tax burden. To grow prosperous, small and medium businesses need a stable environment with the infrastructure and long term stability for supporting small and medium enterprise, because this egg must come before this chicken.

Bolivians would not have it any other way than how it is, supposedly. Landlocked, isolated by their geography, few seem to care how the rest of the world does stuff. I don't want to judge, if they are happy, I am happy they are happy, but I will say that the way things are in Bolivia would not be my choice, and I would be miserable if I had to live here permanently under present conditions.

Some (many) blame President Evo and his MAS (socialist) party. The Honorable Evo does not impress. MAS have been in power since 2005, but the decay in Bolivia is more than 5 years old. The previous government went down the Thatcher - Reagan, less government private sector is best path. But what troubles Bolivia is not which hue of the political spectrum is pulling the strings, it is that no one is pulling the strings, because there are no strings to pull.

So, anarchists, tea partyers, libertarians, Fraser Institute think tankers, buy yourselves a one way ticket to Bolivia and experience the regulation free, tax free utopia of your dreams. Lemme know how it works out.

re the lead picture, what you are looking at are sidewalk vendors selling hardware items. What you can't see is that behind them is a hardware store whose owner presumably has invested in a store, shelving, inventory, probably pays some form or business tax as well as rent or invested capital in a building in order to sell his or her goods. How long do you suppose this situation would last in the community you live in?

So Long Bolivia

2010-04-26T17:12:00.000-06:00

Well I am finally out of Bolivia and in a real country again (Argentina), although it was touch and go. Randy wanted to accompany me to the border to help me out with the no transit papers for el moto. We left on Sunday and got as far as Villa Montes (160 km) when we came to a long line of trucks stopped beside the road.

Investigating, we found that Villa Montes was having an election so naturally all passage through town was blocked. Of course! What were we thinking! An election! Nothing moves until 6 PM and I won't ride after dark, so it was find a hotel for me and Randy headed home to nurse an uncoming fever.

Villa Montes was actually a pretty town, they had this really great church building or maybe a monastery that looks kinda art nouveau-ish to me.

When I got back to mi hotel I found that I had a toilet frog. It looks like a tree frog but lives in the toilet. You should see it shoot around when you flush. Fortunately el frog is a strong swimmer, last time I saw him he was under the sink.

The border was fun, first they sent me from piller to post, back to piller, and finally to post. This border has Bolivia and Argentina in the same building so they can tag team. When they found out I had no papella for the moto they wanted to send me back to La Paz where I could straighten everything out and come back, (La Paz is only a few miles from the Peru border where I entered nearly a month ago), but with the help of a kind lady translator I managed to persuade Bolivia to issue me the transit document 23 days late, without which Argentina was not going to let me in.

I went to Argentina instead of Paraguay because it is time to visit a KTM dealer, and there are none in Paraguay.

I saw these all over the fields. Wikipedia tells me they are Rheas. From a distance they look as big as an ostrich but behave like an Alberta mule deer, foraging in fields, travelling in groups, in sight of the highway, but not very close and very alert. So far I have seen very little wildlife other than birds, and I suppose these are birds too, but they can't fly.

Partytime

2010-04-24T10:56:00.000-06:00

Great party, lotsa beer, lotsa food, lotsa people. It was also a club meeting, the host of the track is the military base, so even El Coronel showed up. Everybody had a fine time and I even acquired some new relatives (nephews) yo soy 'tio' (uncle). That would be a dutch uncle of course.

We had a Bolivian style barbecue, not all that different from the Canadian version,
The kids had a fine time as well.

There may have been a few headaches in the AM.

Camiri

2010-04-23T15:21:00.001-06:00

Camiri must be the Leduc of Bolivia. The oil industry is commemorized in most of the parks.

Randy's house, where I have been staying, was originally built for the people who came here to work in the Bolivian 'patch'. There is not much sign of oil related activity now, other than the statues, apparently all that is left to find is natural gas. Speaking of gas(oline), it is very cheap, about 50 cents a liter, but it is not very good.

I have been relaxing at Randy's all week, along with Randy, Valentino, and Christina enjoying Yvonne and Christina's cooking.

Tonight (Friday) Randy has scheduled a huge party for the local bike club (motocross competition), which should make for an interesting post tomorrow, if I survive.

2010-04-22T16:00:00.000-06:00

One thing I may have mentoned before is 'siesta', in many of the countries I have visited, and particularly in South America, some businesses, all schools and most work will shut down at one O'clock and not start again until three.

When Randy and I arrived in Carmiri after our perilous adventures on carreterra 6, Randy asked me if I wanted to go for a beer, '¡sure!' I said. We drove all around in Randy{s truck looking for a place, but of course it was siesta time and just about all the bars restaurants are closed. We finally found a place by the river just outside of town.

Mas Perdito

2010-04-21T07:32:00.000-06:00

After some pretty rough country I hit Padilla about 3, saw that it had a hotel and that the next town of similar size, Monteaguido, was another 125 k or so away. It had taken me all day to make about 200 km so Padilla it was. This was my most basic hotel yet, no bathroom, no tv. The local cibercafe said internet only on mardi (tuesday) if I understood right.

Padilla is very nice little town, with a well kept central square, around which everybody parades at night. The food looked a bit scary after my food poisoning bout, but I had a sort of hamburger made with egg, lettuce tomato and french fries. The restaurants were all closed when I wanted to eat, the usual story, but they were booming around 8 pm.

I made an early start the next day, the next town of any consequence was 125 km down the atrocious road, aka Bolivia highway 6, my average speed would be about 35 kmh, so 4 hours give or take. The next picture shows a typical river crossing on the highway. They are actually pretty fun if you hit them hard, a shower and a bike wash all in one.

All this time I have been descending from the Altiplano, and it is getting warmer, the vegetation is becoming more tropical, the Heli Hansons and the Joe Rocket jacket liner have been packed away, clothes are coming off every few miles. I reach Monteaguido around noon, my map tells me that after another 130 km or so I will reach pavement. I took a quick peak at the hotel and it looks like last night's, so I push on.

I ask one of the locals if I am on the right road, and he says yes. It looks just as bad as the road that took me into town, so it must be right. Two hours and 70 km later I realize that I have seen no buses, one or two taxis and not much else. My map shows all these towns I should have passed. A guy is walking down the road, so I check with him, and sure enough, I am on the wrong road again. I can either continue on for another ocho (8) or so horas, and reach Tarjifa, or go back. I choose the cowardly way out and retreat. Other than being supremely pissed at myself and all of Bolivia in general it was not a total loss, as I had seen all kinds of parrots and three toucans, which I learned later was very unusual (to see a toucan).

The hotel in Monteguido turned out to be much nicer than the one in Padilla, so I got a good nights rest and a decent shower. In the morning I got an early start, this time on the right road. Not too far ahead I see a KTM 530 partially disassembled by the side of the road and a guy in full MX gear working on it. Naturally I stop to see if I can participate.

The bike had a flat tire, without introducing himself the rider says, you are not going to believe this, but I am a Canadian too, and I heard about you getting lost last night. So I am curious about how word about me got around, Randy (the guy on the KTM) tells me he got lost on the same road and talked to the same guy I did. Only Randy ran out of gas and slept in the ditch that night. He had been returning to his home in Carmiri, a town on the ´right´road we both needed to be on. Randy invited me to stay with him and his wife Yvonne and three year old Valentino for a few days, so that is what I will do.

Perdito en Los Andes

2010-04-20T16:48:00.001-06:00

Did I ever mention how easy it is to get lost in Bolivia? No damn street signs, no speaka da Spanish, nobody knows nothing anyway? Getting out of Sucre I knew I had to go south and up. Navigating cities in Bolivia is a three dimensional problem. Your directions are the points of the compass or left and right, plus up and down. This is actually easier than finding your way in a flat city, as the heights give you an overview on where you are supposed to be but ain't, but not much help on how to get there. Part of the problem is that a route is not always obvious, it could look like a bad logging road. Anyway, with much frustration I managed to put myself on the road that would take me from Sucre to the border where I could exitar Bolivia. I took the picture of mama piggy just on the outskirts of Sucre. For the next few days porkers and every other kind of domesticated creature would be a common road hazard whenever I was near farms or towns.

While taking the pig picture, Roger and Jose came up and asked me if they could take MY picture! That was a first for me, so we traded, they got me, and I got them. Jose is the little guy.

After about 60 or so kilometers the Pan American Highway turns into a narrow dirt road clinging to the side of the Andes. Much of it was single lane as well. This is the type of road I imagined I would encounter in South America, just like that top gear episode, but I did not think that it would be the Pan American Highway to Paraguay.

Check out the oncoming traffic in the picture above! Also along the way I encountered a couple from Washington in a full size motor home(!) heading for Paraguay. Their map said this road was paved (mine actually indicated it as dirt, but this was way beyond just an unpaved road). All in all it was a good day as now I was descending into a different eco-zone complete with heat and tropical forest, streams and interesting stuff to look at. When you are averaging 30 kph you see quite a bit.

Potosi

2010-04-16T17:11:00.000-06:00

Potosi was the major source of Spanish wealth during the colonial era. The mountain in the picture "Cerro Rico" held tons of silver, which was removed by slave labor, and made the city, and Spain extremely rich. Silver was mined, refined, and minted as 8 Reale coins, (pieces of eight) the original dollar, which became the basis of today's US dollar.

The mines are still open, and can be toured, I passed, the conditions are nearly as primitive, but the mines are operated by 'coopertivo' a cooperative that essentially that allows each miner to mine his own claim and sell the proceeds. Safety is non-existent, miners still suffer from the usual mining maladies and much reduced lifespan.

Potosi also claims to be the highest city in the world at just over 4,000 meters. The height does not bother me much unless I have to pack all my stuff up four flights of stairs to get to my hotel room. The hotel was very nice, but did not have an elevator, very few hotels do in Bolivia and the rooms are always a few floors up. The local solution for everything that ails you is mate, tea made from coca leaves. It looks and tastes like green tea a bit, and is not addictive. When I was struggling for breath at the top of the stairs the reception lady immediately brought me a cup of mate.

Potosi and Sucre do not resemble any place I have visited to date. The old part of town is distinctly medieval, narrow streets overhung with balconies, cobblestones, it all looks like it came out of an Anton Pieck illustration (look him up if ya never heard of him), with the exception of the light, which is so very hard this close to the equator. You would not know that by the temperature, though as Potosi is literally very cool, and requires a sweater and a jacket.

Somewhere in Potosi I ate something that disagreed me and I had a miserable next day to Sucre. Sucre is considerably lower than Potosi and warmer. It has the same medieval character as Potosi, and an even greater evidence of past wealth. Apparently the management preferred Sucre as a place to live over chilly Potosi.

The statue below is of Antonio Jose de Sucre, the revolutionary leader the city has been named after.

The Road to Potosi

2010-04-15T17:48:00.001-06:00

http://picasaweb.google.com/everiman/RoadToPotosi#

Before I left Uyuni for Potosi, (these names just don't roll off the tongue, like say, Saskatoon or Tuktoyatuk), I was trying to find a railroad locomotive graveyard that was supposed to be somewhere in Uyuni. What I did find was the 'works', and they looked enough like the CPR Ogden Shops in Calgary, where I started my sheet metal apprenticeship. Right across the street was this building (above) no points for translation, it even resembled the old apprentice classroom at Ogden. I never did find the dead locos, but I found the road to Potosi, always a challenge in Bolivia. They should start a road sign technician apprenticeship.

The road to Potosi was unpaved except for the last 40 kilometers, but that was being changed as I was riding. More road construction, but this time not so bad, as the route is a major bus route, so the desvios were not impassable. I did have to ford some shallow creeks, fun, but my feet got soaked and it was cold.

An unpaved road in Bolivia is like riding between the rails on railroad tracks. My speedometer rarely saw 50 kmh, mostly around 30. But this time it was OK, because I would not have wanted to go any faster, the views were simply fantastic. Bolivia has badlands too, just like Drumheller, only not like Drumheller, Bolivia's are simply incredible. I have posted pictures on Picasa, click here

Here is a taste.

The Bolivian Salt Flats

2010-04-14T20:15:00.000-06:00

Fernando of Madness Adventures and the lady who runs the Cafe Bistro Boliviano in Copacabana both said that I must see the Salar Uyuni Salt Flats. OK, from Coroico go to Oruro, then Oruro to Challapata, Challapata to Salinas Garcia Mendoza, and ride the salt 125 km give or take to Uyuni, ¡No problemo!

The ride to Oruro was long but straightforward. This is the first thing I saw entering the City. Any guesses what Oruro's claim to fame is? a hint, it ain't oil.

Somebody should send this to Fort Mac, very cool. The next picture was taken in the central square in Oruro, look carefully at the trees, yup, the leaves are turning.

It is fall south of the Equator, and it definitely feels like early September in Alberta here in the Alto Plano. Oruro was a nice place to spend the night. My next destination would be Salinas de Garcia Mendoza, via Challapata and Huari. And that is where the fun began.

Unbeknownst to me Bolivia has embarked on a massive road upgrading program. Challapata to Salinas was supposed to be unpaved, but it was even worse than that. Desvios (detours) veer me off in the desert in loose sand, the road is torn up by trucks and equipment, the 'dirt' roads are paved with sharp rocks. Up till now the only time the KTM had been on its side was when the sidestand broke in Vegas. Between Challapata and Salinas I must have dumped it about 5 times, and I got stuck in sand, which required me to unload the bike, pull it out and put everything back on again.

Needless to say I was not in a cheery mood when I pulled into Salinas at sundown, having travelled a whole 250 kilometers in about 9 hours. Fortunately there was a nice hotel when I got there, all made out of mud bricks, a whole cabin with two bedrooms and six beds and a bathroom all to myself for 45 Bolivianos (about 7 dollars), continental breakfast included.

The next day I was looking at another 38 kilometers of atrocious road to the salt flats and about 125 km on the flats to Uyuni. I checked the bike, patched up some damage to the luggage and left about 11 AM. The road in is on the short list of most horrible roads I have encountered in my Northern Canada trips, mostly first and second gear, 16 to 30 kph. I took a wrong turn and ended up looking at a huge salt lago (lake), S**T, it's all flooded, now I gotta go back all the way to Challapata! Fortunately a local Jawa owner pointed me to the right road and about 10 klicks later I was looking at what could have been Slave Lake in February.

Now my job was to navigate the world's largest salt flats and somehow find Uyuni. No vehicles, no sign of life. Sur! were my instructions. Fortunately I am wearing a watch for the first time in 30 years, as I was losing track of time, days of the week, months, everything. My watch has a calendar and a compass (old school GPS), so I could keep track of where Sur was, but I did get side tracked a few times following old tire tracks to nowhere. At least the salt flats were billiard table smooth, allowing me to go any speed I cared to go. Don't think I set any records though, I was too worried about not being able to find Uyuni to enjoy the ride.

Bolivians and tourists from hot countries may be impressed with the salt flats, but for this Canadian it was an all too familiar sight he had taken this trip to get away from.

Keeping the 'coast' to my left and heading 'Sur' I eventually came across the tourist SUVs out of Uyuni to where I exited the flats, to another 20 klicks of primitive track to Uyuni. By now the KTM was encrusted in salt, so job one was find a car wash. It turned out to be truck wash.

Email Update

2010-04-13T17:33:00.000-06:00

As of April 13, 7:30 Bolivia time (same as eastern) all is well. I am
in Uyuni, having spent two days struggling with the Bolivian ´roads´
and navigating the salt flats. No wifi (weefee en español) and an
ancient computer that does not recognize my USB, so no pictures. I am
heading for Potosi and Paraguay hopefully in Potosi I will be able to
post some pix.

Coroico to Oruro

2010-04-11T19:06:00.001-06:00

Oroico, a popular vacation spot for Paceñas (La Paz-ians), is reached by the Yungas road, also known as el Camino de la Muerte or Death Road. Death road has been tamed, this is the road that was featured on Top Gear, but since 2006, it is an excellent safe, road. Portions of the old road are still used by mountain bikers. I was going to try it, but there are no signs in Bolivia, and I ended up on the new section. Very spectacular nevertheless, but not scary.

Coroico was out of my way, my next destination was to be Oruro, on my way to the Paraguayan border but it was worth the side trip. It is definitely a tourist town, but tourism has not wrecked it's character. From what I could tell, the tourists were Bolivians and Brazilians, and there were some French Backpackers as well.

I arrived around noon which gave me plenty of time to look around and be able to make an early start the next day. I had to backtrack down Death Road, ever notice how roads always look completely different going the other way? Double bonus. Back through La Paz and on to Oruro. Along the way I ran into a group of Argentinian Bikers going the other way, lotsa pictures later they went north and I carred on south.

I have a list of sights and destinations to visit in Bolivia provided by Fernando Jordan,
who is the Bolivian KTM dealer as well as El Presidente of Madness Adventures in Bolivia, who among other things, run mountain bike tours on El Camion de la Muerta. It was also Fernando who persuaded me to take in Coroico. I have posted a link to his site on top of this page, as well as a link to KTM of Ecuador, who re-tired my KTM.

Corioco and it's surroundings are all about what is to be seen, so make sure you click here. Oh, and add Bolivia, La Paz and Coroico to the list of places you must visit.

La Paz

2010-04-08T13:41:00.000-06:00

El Alto

La Paz is only 'tres hora' (3 hours) from Copacabana. When you ask somebody in Bolivia how far away somewhere is, you always get an answer in time, few can tell you the distancia. Tres hora works out to about 150 km. The area around Copacabana is very beautiful but as you approach La Paz it gets flatter and bleaker. Soon you are in the middle of El Alto, a chaotic zone of ugly buildings, unbelievably heavy traffic, people everywhere, and no signs or directions. Then like coming upon the Drumheller valley in the middle of the bald prairie, La Paz appears far below.

La Paz

La Paz is as modern appearing a city as can be found anywhere. There are some differences from what I am used to, there does not appear to be any form of public transit, but, just about all the traffic you will see is privately owned buses and taxis. Todo Privado as my taxi driver told me.

Interspersed with the typical modern urbanite are the Indigeno ladies in their bowler hats and traditional dress. Many Indigenos still speak their own language, Espanol is a second language for them. They dominate the street vendor stalls which are everywhere, but not as concentrated as they are in the other places I have been in Bolivia, in El Alto they crowd just about everything else out.

The 'Traditionals' do not seem overly friendly and do not respond to a smile or a buenas dias, they are everywhere, but not really there, it is almost as if they are waiting for everybody to go away, so they can get back to living their lives undisturbed. Most everyone in Bolivia is Indigeno or mixed, but most are moderns, I guess it is similar to other areas where a group have decided to remove themselves from mainstream culture, like the Amish in the US or the Hutterites in Alberta. At least part of the answer is that it seems many speak little Spanish.

The day before I had taken a tour boat to the Islas Del Sol, and visited an Inca ruin. There I saw the ground littered with small pieces of ceramic pottery that could be thousands of years old. The island has no cars, motos, trucks, or even bicycles. They do have electricity and telephone, and are visited by motorized tour boats, but their own water craft is powered by paddle and sail.

My guide informed that there are no doctors, and that the inhabitants use only traditional medicine obtained from the plants that grow on the island. He also claimed that people on the island live to be over a hundred years. That certainly fits in with my prejudices concerning modern medicine. Most people die in hospitals under medical care :-) No hospitals no doctors, nobody dies. I like it. Isla del Sol looks a bit like paradise, great weather, self sufficient, no health problems, rustic and beautiful, I just know that if I had to live there I would go right out of my mind :-)

More La Paz
More Ilsa Del Sol

The Sunday School Post

2010-04-06T18:41:00.000-06:00

You may have noticed that Copacabana is dominated by a large hill or small mountain, with stuff on top of it. When I first saw it, I said naw,,, I am on holidays.

The next day I walked around the whole thing in the morning and got most of the pictures posted on Picasa previously. I had lunch, did some blogging, and had nothing to do so.... nothing for it but to climb that mountain.

It turned out to be an easy climb considering how steep the slope was and that I was at about 13,000 feet above sea level. The walking club will no doubt be disappointed that I did not do it all in one go, I did stop to rest a few times.

What it turned out to be, was the stations of the cross. If you don't know how many stations of the cross there are, you will just have to go here to find out.

When you get to the top, this is what you will see. What is really interesting is that the final station, the cross of Jesus does not occupy the highest point. To find out what does, make sure you click on the link.

re the waldo competition, Gord beats Rob by 8 minutes. Both will get the photo prize.

The 'Where's Waldo?' post.

2010-04-06T05:45:00.000-06:00

This post is especially for Ron Y and his many admirers, but all are free to take the challenge.

Hidden in the photo above is the KTM, now named Waldo.

This is what you are looking for, photographed in situ. (may not be the full view)

The first one that emails me back an attachment with with Waldo circled or otherwise identified will get a full size, really excellent photo, that has not been posted on the blog or Picasa.

Decompressing in Copacabana

2010-04-05T18:31:00.000-06:00

No destination today, just hanging out in Copacabana, by the shores of Titicaca (thanks Henry). I am in what is most likely the best hotel in town, good internet, lotsa international tourists (mostly Europeans), a great view (the above photo was taken from my window), all for 300 Bolivianos, or $43 or thereabouts.

If you have been following this blog, I am sure you will be relieved to hear that President Morales' MAS party probably elected 6 Gobiernos, an increase of 2, which will consolidate the power of the MAS. No riots or other excitement, but there was lightning last night.

President Morales, who was re-elected last December (yesterday's were regional or municipal elections), is Bolivia's first indigenous president. I believe that besides Bolivia, only Peru has elected an Indigeno president (the proper term, indian or indio is considered pejorative). Most Bolivians are Indigeno, and have maintained a traditional culture that is very distinctive. The women especially as you can see.

I don't have the whole picture yet, but it is clear that women have an important role in the culture and the society.

So far in Bolivia I have seen very little enterprise other than the micro variety, except the tourist and travel-transportation industries, which is dominated by the small enterprise. Stuff is sold from stalls or very small stores. It is a crap shoot to find what you want or need. There is no shortage of handicrafts for sale wherever I go. The stalls are mostly run by Indigeno women. I am not sure what the men do, other than drive buses, trucks, taxis, pedicabs and mopeds. Actually I have seen them work the fields, but usually outnumbered by women. The non Indigeno (e.g. 'western' style) culture is pretty old school, with the men being the managers and women their subordinates.

Note the distinctive triangular profile of the Indigeno ladies clothing. This style is very ancient. It can be seen in locally produced paintings and statues, especially those of the Virgen (Virgin Mary). A guide in a museum in Lima explained that before the Conquistadors arrived there was a female earth mother goddess that was very important to the Indigenos. An image of the Virgen was carved by a local Indigeno and placed in Copacabana. Soon after miracles started occurring. The Virgen of Copacabana is the patron saint of Bolivia, and is housed here in Copacabana's basilica.

I spent the morning wandering around to see what I could see. I got some great photos, and feel better about carrying on. I am only a few days from Chile, and I will head there next, as they have plenty of KTM dealers. It seems I may have blown a fork seal while conducting an experiment on how fast I could traverse a speed bump.

Enjoy the pix, more on Picasa.

Bolivia

2010-04-04T12:43:00.001-06:00

Bolivia is turning out to be quite an adventure. After a border crossing reminiscent of Centro America's most chaotic, I could not even get documentos for mi moto, on accounta the Aduana's PC was down. Hopefully this will not bite me in the ass when I try to leave.

As I reached the outer part of La Paz, which showed every sign of being the typical South American city I have 'groan' to love (not), I checked into the first hotel I saw that looked like it might be a cut above the usual Hostal/jail cell. They informed me the hotel would be closed tomorrow (Saturday) as there were going to be elections on Sunday. I arrived there about 3, and everything was already locked up, and I mean everything, stores, banks, cyber cafe's, todo cerrado. Fortunately, the Cajero Automatico (ABM) was willing to give me 1400 Bolivarianos, so at least I could pay for stuff, if only I could find someone willing to sell it.

I could not get a good explanation on why this should be, (e.g. were they expecting massive riots?) but I figured the last place I wanted to be was in locked down La Paz. I had passed Lake Titicaca on the way in, and it looked worth checking into. My La Paz hotel was nice, and had a great view, but the restaurant, internet, everything was already closed. I bought some buns and mandarins from a street vendor (who never close) and bunkered in for the night.

The next day I set out for Copacabana, which was a challenge, as the department of highways apparently does not believe in directional signage (or any other kind). I headed back the way I came towards Lake Titicaca before I found out that I had to back to El Alto (the upper outskirts of La Paz) and take a different road that would take me to the north road.

Along the way I encountered Hotel Maravilla right on the shore of the lake, I asked if they had internet and they said yes, but after I paid, it turned out they did not. They claimed they thought I was asking about fish (right, I hate fish), but their their flyers all said they had internet. They had gotten my 100 Bolivianos, ($14) so I figured what the heck, and stayed over. It was a nice secluded location, and the people were nice, I think they were really desperate. I also think they were amateurs, and knew zip about how to run a hotel, there was evidence that the place had been better managed at some earlier time. Their main customers were of the hourly variety and some people stopped to eat the one meal menu. (The flyers also listed a wide variety of menu items, none of which were available.

The next day was Sunday, election day, I left as soon as I could and carried on to Copacabana. The views are great here, reminiscent of my trip up the Dempster Highway last June (see post archive 2009 and picasa pix http://picasaweb.google.com/everiman/Dempster_highway_trip)

I had to take a ferry at one point, which turned out to be an adventure in itself;

The ferry is actually this barge powered be a very small outboard motor and a guy with a pole. I got on behind another car, not realizing that this ferry was not roll on roll off, but I would have back out uphill, which is a chore with the bike loaded down, and a challenge, considering the consequences of a mistep;

On arrival at the other side, we were greeted by the Bolivian Navy, who told us to stay on board. After much angry arm waving we were allowed to leave. (Bolivia, is landlocked, but Bolivia does have a navy that keeps Lake Titicaca safe from those Peruvians on the opposing shore.)

Apparently election lock down included (locals) from driving as well. I was OK as I am an extrangero, the Jefe gave me his card to show anyone who would make trouble for me. It worked too, as there was a chain across the road when I got to Copacabana, but the card got me through.

Peru and Bolivia have been very frustrating for me. I said that I would keep going till it stopped being fun. I will stay another day in Copacabana and figure things out. Being on the bike and seeing stuff like this (picasa link) is fantastic, it is the having to stop part and find shelter, and navigating the cities that is wearing me down.

ps, don't be too concerned if there are a few days between posts, as the internet availability has been pretty dismal lately.

Into the Peruvian Andes

2010-04-01T19:51:00.000-06:00

This is Peru, the outskirts of Arequipo;

This is Peru about 20 kms from Arequipo, while I was getting lost trying to find the way to Bolivia. Peruvian cities are indescribable, indescribably bad. The towns are not much better, but a lot safer.

I eventually got back on the right road to get out of this crazy country. It started to climb and did not stop till I reached 4500 meters, I guess that is about 15,000 feet give or take. I did not notice any effects from the altitude whatsoever. (yet :-).

The road goes through a national park, one of the last refuges of the vicuna, a type of wild Lama. They are easy to spot as there is no vegetation higher than 6 inches up here, and it is cold! I was wearing all my cold weather gear.

The scenery here is just incredible, I would still be taking pictures but the sun was going down and I needed to find a place to stay in a strange city, always an adventure in Peru, but I did get a shot of this this lawn ornament made from 100% natural materials

Hopefully tomorrow I will do better, as I don´t have so far to go. Peru is the first country I have visited in South America that is almost as empty as Canada, in the desert and up here in altiplano.

There were lots of ruins to be seen in the distance, I don´t know how old they are, as the people still build the same way using stones. There are plenty to be had.

The Road to Arequipo

2010-03-30T20:11:00.000-06:00

The kitty litter gets more interesting when it is juxtaposed with El Mar Pacifico. I have been following the coast for about 2,000 kilometers, but the ocean is always out of sight, except for the odd glimpse in the distance. Today I chose to head for Arequipo and the world's deepest canyon instead of Machu Pichu. A few kilometers out and I was right beside the ocean for most of the way. I stopped here in Aticlo, about 300 km from Arequipo.

This may be why the road stays away from the ocean :-) Actually for most of the way there was very little sand, mostly kitty litter. The next picture was taken by setting the camera on the ground on a typical spot, thousands of kilometers of this, it looks like those mars pictures.

I have been trying to be polite about the food in Central and South America, but the truth is I don't really like it that much, overcooked and bland. Peru will change all that. Along with the pretty girls, Peru also knows how to cook tasty meals, the ingredients are the same, it just tastes better.

Aticla has a great beach, but it is probably not safe for swimming, huge waves rolling in all day, that I imagine would have surfers drooling. However this is a working beach, the local people collect seaweed from the rocks which is laid out to dry, then bundled and shipped off in trucks. Seaweed (brown algae) is an important ingredient for many food products, including ice cream.

Strolling along the beach I came across the skull of a dolphin.

More pix here; http://picasaweb.google.com/everiman/PeruSCoast#

To Machu or Not

2010-03-29T18:57:00.000-06:00

Check out the license plate on the bus.

Today or early tomorrow I will have to make up my mind which road to take, the road that will take me to Cuzco and Machu Pichu, or the other road which will take me to another archeological site and Chile. Machu Pichu has been closed becuase of rain, it is supposed to open April 1, but there will be a long line of people waiting to get in. Decisions, decisions.

Today I landed in Nazca, the place with the lines in the sand, where the ancient indians left secret messages for the flying saucer folks.

I am staying in resort type hotel right across from the aeropuerto that takes el turistos to see the lines. I saw one set of lines more economically (1 Sole) from this tower. I don't know why it looks so crooked in the photo, it looked pretty straight when I climbed it.

I had expected that each figure was like a half a mile long or something. Maybe some are, but this one was the size of a small playing field (hockey rink?). Anyway it can be seen fairly clearly from the top of the tower, four flights of stairs, ~10 feet each?

I bought a DVD, I am sure that will have some aerial views.

So I guess you want to know what's up with the van. Dominic and Belinda have been on the road for about a year and half in the VW. Dominic was living in BC, and Belinda is from New Zealand. You can read all about their adventures on their blog, http://vwworldtrip.co.cc Nice people.

I spent yesterday on the beach, and most of today riding through more kitty litter. About half way here, the road descends into the oasis valley of the Rio Grande and the city of Ica. Great view driving in.

The place I am staying, the Hotel Maison Suisse in Nasca (peruvian spelling) is an oasis as well, or was, two tour buses full of various Euros just unloaded, one set in this super cool adventure tour truck-bus, they will be camping in the yard. Hope they don't stay up all night roasting weenies and telling ghost stories.

The many faces of Peru

2010-03-28T16:31:00.000-06:00

This is Lima

So is this

This was my hotel in Lima. Looks not too bad right? Inside though, there are jails with less security. You get in by knocking on a door, which is unlocked electronically if you are allowed in. You can`t get in or out unless the invisible man with the button lets you. Nevertheless, with all this security, somebody got into my room and pilfered my cell phone, and all my USB and SD cards with photos on them. Fortunately I have already mailed my backups to Alberta, so I only lost a few hundred Peru pictures, and my cell phone which did not work woth a tinkers damn anyway. Did I mention that Bell Canada sucks? It does, just like all the other cell phone companies. If ever there is an industry crying out for regulation, this is it. Anyway no biggee, life goes on. If this is the worst thing that happens than I will have been lucky.

Southward Ho. This part of Peru, the coast, looksmostly like a giant kitty litter spill 100s and 100s of kilometers.

The west coast is extremely dry, this is a Sahara style desert, the only thing that grows are sand dunes. There is agriculture only where there are rivers coming down from the mountains, otherwise it all looks just like the picture on the right. In places dunes that may drift across the road like snow drifts.

I could not resist leaving a bit of Canada behind.

If you like sandy beaches, you will love Peru, the beach must be about 50 kilometers wide. Today I am in Paracas, a resort town with luxury hotels where they only take dollars and gringos for guests. I am not a guest here, my hotel landlady promised me internet, but hers did not work, so she got me into this place to use their PC, the best internet connection I have had since starting this trip. :-)

Life's a Beach

2010-03-26T07:05:00.000-06:00

This part of Peru is not a pretty place. It is a desert and everything is monotone brown. But people have been living here for thousands of years, and developed products and technologies that are still in daily use all over the world. Hands up who knew that potatoes, tomatoes, and the cotton variety most grown, originated here? I did not. What is really cool is that the people here, who are thoroughly modern by the way, still use the stuff developed by their ancestors many thousands of years ago. Fisherman put their nets out in reed boats (buttressed with a styrofoam core) A lady I spoke to lives in an adobe house made of sun dried mud bricks that was built by her father about 14 years ago. The next day I visited an archeological excavation of a 1300 year old (huge) temple made of adobe bricks. The people who lived here 3000 years ago developed irrigation systems to take the water flowing from the mountains and make the desert fertile. Irrigation is still used today. They had highly advanced pottery and ceramics, check out the replica vase and compare it with the features of the Moche man next to it.

The Driving Post

2010-03-25T07:07:00.000-06:00

People have been asking me about driving in Latin America, and how dangerous it is. If you are reading this in Canada or the United States, I'll bet you saw more accidents in your morning commute than I have seen since I entered Mexico on February 5. But, if like me, your driving experience has been limited to Canada and the US, riding a moto here can be terrifying.

If you want to ride here you have to unlearn everything you thought you knew about how riding in traffic. If you have ever raced, the unwritten rules are sort of the same as on the race track, pass the slower guys anyway you can, but never recklessly, if you are slow, expect the fast guys to pass you anyway they can, you ride your bike, they ride theirs.

Most of the highways are two lanes or 4 lanes with a divider. You share the road with cars, trucks, other motos, mostly of the small variety, buses, dogs, donkeys, horses, pigs, goats, chickens, pedestrians, bicycles, moto taxis, just about everything that moves. You are not allowed to hit anything, and neither are they.

First off, speed limits, in most Latin American countries the posted speed limit is a suggestion to be taken as seriously as advice from your mother. The police have better things to do than chasing speeders, (unless you are in Costa Rica, Honduras or Panama).

The maximum posted speed everywhere I have been so far is 80 kmh, with the exception of a very few limited access toll roads where the speed limit was 110 kmh. You won't have many opportunities to go faster than about 120 for brief periods, you will be doing good to average 60 kmh overall. Speed is controlled by the conditions of the road, the other vehicles, roaming domesticated animals, speed bumps, tight curves, and the towns, which are only about 10 or 20 kilometers apart.

An octoganal red sign that says PARE (stop) is treated the same as a yield sign, drivers stop only if someone is coming.

Traffic circles are common in many Latin American countries.

Passing is permitted any way you can manage it without actually hitting anything, including but not limited to left, right, or up the middle. Be prepared to move over when facing an oncoming line of traffic backed up behind a slow moving vehicle.

The unwritten rules of the road are, slower yields to faster, smaller yields to bigger. If you are going slower than the guy behind you, move over, he is not going to hit you, there is room enough on a two line highway for three full size tractor trailers side by side.

Traffic is usually heavy close to towns, and gridlocked in the cities. Motos can and do thread through stopped traffic, between cars, in front of stopped cars, up the sidewalk, whatever works. Just don't hit anything.

Traffic lights are usually respected, but if it stays red too long, and it is safe to proceed, drivers will run the light. Sometimes the lights are not working. They generally place a convenient PARE sign in the intersection for those eventualities.

The cities and towns mostly pre date automobile traffic, and the streets are very narrow, so usually what happens when you enter a town is that the highway is split into opposing streets, each one way in opposite directions. Whenever this happens watch carefully for signs that lead you back out of town. If there are no signs, follow the big trucks, and hope they are going through.

Latin American drivers are accustomed to sharing the road with a wide variety of vehicles, and other moving objects. They see you, and they are not going to run you over unless you do something unexpected. Think of a squirrel or a deer on the road, nobody wants to hit them, the reason they become road kill is because they are unpredictable. If you panic and do something unpredictable from the local driver's standpoint, you are making it difficult for the other drivers to avoid hitting you.

The biggest adjustment I had to make was to my comfortable distance zone. Keep your one car length for every 10 kph or whatever from the guy in front of you, and the guy behind you will be in there before you can blink. If the big truck behind the other big truck wants to pass and you are going the other way, you better move over, it's OK, there is lots of room. If someone puts their bumper 6 inches off your license plate, either pick up your speed or move over. If a Latin American driver is going to pull something that would trigger a full blown road rage incident in Gringoland, he will toot his horn as a courtesy to let you know he is about to have your ass. If an oncoming driver flashes his lights or high beams he is warning you that you are approaching a hazard, be alert for anything from a donkey road kill to a sand dune in your lane.

You can go as fast or as slow as you prefer and road conditions allow. If you want to go slow, move over to the right, everybody will pass you, but they won't hit you, it's OK nobody gets upset, you are probably going faster than the man riding the horse. If you think you are ready for the big time go ahead and pass everybody. As far as solid yellow lines go, refer to the earlier paragraph on speed limits and stop signs. Don't hit anybody either.

Road hazards to watch for,

Trucks, the big highway hauler drivers are the most courteous and also the slowest vehicles on the road if you are in towns, near curves or in the mountains. They will do what they can to let you pass, and wave you on if the road is clear.

Buses, and there are lots of buses, are the worst. They will stop anywhere, including the middle of the road to unload or load passengers. They will also dart from one side to the other, or pull a big passing move on you and then throw on the brakes to let somebody off or on. If someone is standing beside the road, chances are they are waiting for a bus, in any case the bus will slow for them whether they want one or not.

Intercity taxis are also very good, if you follow one (not too close) you can learn how to drive in Latin America from an expert who drives all day every day. The taxis in the cities are like buses everywhere, stay clear.

(El Yellow Peril)

Farm trucks are the same as farm trucks everywhere, slow and oblivious. If you see a tiny pickup truck with stock racks and people sitting or standing on the truck bed you are actually seeing a rural bus. They are usually slow, and keep to the side. Moto taxis, three wheel cars, etc. are very slow.

The man in the shiny new luxury car truck or SUV is king of the road. He is not used to motos that can travel at high velocity, and will do whatever he needs to pass you. Best to let him go. He can be very persistent.

Other motos, scooters and mopeds are typically of the 200 cc or less variety, they will dart all around you in the cities, but on the highway a twist of the wrist leaves em behind.

You will also need to keep your eye out for cows, pigs, and other creatures. Dogs are the same as dogs everywhere, most of want to chase you, and quite a few do. Dogs are also the most common road kill I saw, probably a 10 to one ratio of dogs to all other species, so I guess it is OK to hit a dog.

36 Horas en Peru (mas o minus)

2010-03-23T21:11:00.000-06:00

Whenever I cross a border it is like entering an entirely different country, this would be because I am entering an entirely different country. The effect is often a shock to the senses, but rarely so much as entering Peru from Ecuador. I have posted 138 pictures on Picasa taken in the last 36 hours. I think the pictures speak better than my words so here goes, off to Picasa. (I promise I won't it again)

Someone was asking if I was taking lots of pictures, a friend wanted to know what the women were like in South America. The answer to the first is, yes, when I am not riding I am snapping. The answer to the last, all's I can say is that the ladies of Peru are easy on the eyes.

I have also been accused of not taking 'people pictures'. People react in various ways (mostly bad) when they know their picture is being taken, so I have started to hang the camera around my neck and and just push the button while I am strolling through a place. This is why so many are cockeyed.

Adios Ecuador, Hola Peru

2010-03-22T22:19:00.000-06:00

Before I left Ecuador I made a side trip to Zamora to see Podocarpus National Park.
Ecuador is green in more ways than one, they are at the forefront when it comes to protecting their environment, no basura here, you can't even fumar in the park.
The park starts high in the mountains just outside of Loja and descends into the Amazon watershed at Zamora. I visited the amazon part as I had yet to see the rain forest. It met all expectations, including the rain part!

I left cool Loja wearing all my cold weather gear (10 C in the morning) , and was down to a T shirt when I got to Zamora two hour later. Follow the link to more pics http://picasaweb.google.com/everiman/Podocarpus#

Peru was an easy border crossing, everybody was super helpful on both sides. No Tramitadors needed or wanted.

Oddities

2010-03-21T04:30:00.000-06:00

This was a roadside food stand, one of about a half a dozen all roasting pigs like this in La Paz Ecuador, (3085 meters elevation!). They were also doing interesting things with all the stuff that used to be inside the pig. I had a coffee and a cheese sandwich. Yes, the lady is roasting the pig with a tiger torch. I may try this at home instead of one of those fancy ceramic barbecues. Seems to work pretty good.

The Indian ladies in Ecuador wear fedora hats. Sometimes they wear one on top of the other, or maybe top off their fedora with a ball cap. These ladies are from Tiobamba, where they favor dark colored felt hats.

This lady is from is from Cuenca
where the white panama is the only hat to have.

The police in Columbia and Ecuador use mostly motorcycles, and mostly Kawasaki KLR 650s. In Columbia they might also ride a Suzuki Freewind which is a DR650 with a large tank and windscreen similar to the KLR or my KTM (and not available in Canada). They often ride two to a bike.

When I was in Quito two cops on one bike rolled up to a kid about 20 feet in front of me, jumped off and made him hand over his jacket which he was holding in his hand. It was hiding a knife. I am pretty sure it was a gang thing, the kid looked OK to me, about 16. The cops must have been looking for him, because they went straight to him and it was all over in seconds.

In all the cities in Ecuador I have stayed and looked around, there are hardly any stores as we know them. What they have is large buildings called Centro Comercials. They are divided into small stalls, each with their own proprietor. The stalls are grouped by whatever they are selling, all ropa (clothes) together, all food stuff together, all cel phone accesories together etc.. It is like a city wide farmers market and flea market.
There are also lots of small tiendas, like the old mom and pop corner stores we used to have before 7-11 and Macs took that market over. Tiendas are everywhere, at least one or two per block. Many do not let the customers inside, you have ask for what you want from the sidewalk.

One of my personal gripes is that hotels everywhere seem to always have bizzare plumbing fixtures in their showers that I can never figure out how to use first thing in the morning, when all's I want to do is to take a damn shower, not to take some damn IQ test on how to make it work. On your left is the grand champion of evil showers, located in the Aqua Hotel and Spa 'Bet (sic) and Breakfast' in Cuenca. This thing will hose you four ways from Sunday, it is a drive through car wash for people. I hosed down the entire bathroom trying to figure how it works. Woulda been great if they had hot water.

I was having a hamburguesa with a yogurt strawberry drink (very popular all over, very good), when this kid and a smaller one walked in with a plastic grocery bag and proceeded to empty the leftover contents of the plates that diners had left behind. He also finished off a left over half empty coke bottle, and returned the empty to the counter man, gave his brother (I assume it was) some chicken bones, and took the bag out to his mother (I assume) who was selling lottery tickets on the sidewalk in front. About ten minutes later he was standing in front of me, staring at me and my yogurt drink. The pic tells what happened next :-)

I have only had a few kids come up to me ask for money. I gave the first one a peso in Mexico. A guy I was talking to said I should not do that, as the kids can make good money begging from tourists and then they drop out of school. That made sense to me, so when a kid asks for money, I ask them why they want the money, usually they say 'por comida' (food). I then say OK, I will buy you some food, they usually go away at that point, with me shouting "¡Va escuala!" at their disappearing backsides. I don't what this kid was asking for, he did not say anything, but he got my yogurt.

Speaking of escuela (school) in most of Latin America kids wear school uniforms, or uniform clothing, usually a navy skirt for girls, navy pants for boys with a plain white shirt or top. In Ecuador it seems that school does not get out till 6 PM, which is about when this picture was taken. They do get out around noon, and I believe they do not go back until 3. From what I can see, kids are very well behaved here.

In all the parts of Ecuador I have visited so far, everybody wears a sweater in the morning and evening. When I ride my bike I wear practically all of my cold weather gear. The weather is the same as Calgary in the summer all year round.

This was another roadside food stand, looks yummy don't it? I wasn't real hungry, so I just had a coffee.

¡You can´t get lost if you don´t know where you are going!

2010-03-19T07:53:00.000-06:00

Make sure you click on the picture above and make it full size. Then look up, look way up.

Ecuador improves markedly once past Tulcan and having quit Quito. Riobamba and Cuenca are way nicer. I stopped over in Riobamba on my way to Cuenca where there is a KTM dealer. The bike is way overdue for an oil change and assorted maintenance tasks.

Leaving Riobamba I just headed south instead of seeking out the Pan American Highway, and ended up in some amazing places, and as a bonus I got to Cuenca as well. I also got full use of the off road capabilities of the KTM :-) All in all it has been a great ride, every day I can´t imagine that it can get any better, but somehow everyday it does.
More on picasa, http://picasaweb.google.com/everiman/Ecuador#

Comida Post

2010-03-18T04:42:00.000-06:00

Comida means food and also lunch or dinner. One of my fans (thanks Dave) was asking about food, and how I am making out. First off in Latin America they don't eat when we eat. Most restaurants do not open until 9 AM for desayuno (breakfast). Desayuno is best eaten just before noon, and here is why.

This was today's desayuna, sopa (soup) with large chunks of potato, a beef rib, very tiny noodles, and unidentifiable yellow blobs floating on top, a glass of orange juice, a banana, a plate with arroz (rice), carne (meat), and frijoles (beans). In Ecuador this set me back a whole $1.75, I thought I was robbing the lady, she even wanted to give me back the 25 cent tip I left. Another desayuna came with the above, a chicken leg instead of carne, and two very well done sunny side up eggs, and a pan (bun). I think that one was 2,700 Columbian pesos or about the same as Ecuador, but it sounded better. These meals are not what I want to be eating first thing in the AM, but I usually skip breakfast so this is not a problem.

Comida (dinner) is supposed to be in the afternoon and cena (supper) about 7 to 9 PM. My problem is that the type of restaurant where locals eat do not have menus, and if they do it is all wishful thinking anyway, as most items are named so that I can't tell what it is and often not available. People just ask for stuff and they get it, they have tbeen there before so they know what to order.

At one restaurant I explained that I had not a clue and asked the lady who waited on me to give me something typical. This is what I got. Beef sliced very thin and very well done, like a schnitzel, papas (potatoes) arroz, and an excellent cucumber salad with onions and tomatoes and other stuff. Meals are light on meat, with lots of arroz and frijoles. Meat even pollo (chicken) is usually sliced very thin like a schnitzel. Oh, and the beer is excellent everywhere, I always make sure to try the local brew. The cooking I find a bit on the bland side, spices are not used flavors are very subtle. There is usually a salsa that is supplied on the side, and it is usually spicy hot.

There is a wide variety of vegetables and fruits most of which I do not recognize, all grown locally, probably on the side of a hill.

It is brought to town, probably in a bus, or a small truck or a small truck that is also a bus, and carried to market or a store.

The market in Riobamba was fascinating, so I am going to do a seque.

And for those of us (like me) who must have a morning coffee, and are up early, will need to find a panaderia (bake shop), or a roadside stall, usually the first businesses to open (7 AM). (Licore stores are usually open 24 horas.) More often than not you are given a cup of hot water and jar of instant. The pastries are not very good, they taste like the day old stuff from Safeway, which they probably are, (or the equivalent). They don't seem to make their own in the panaderias I have been in. The bread (pan) is very different from Norte Americano pan, it is more like cake than bread, I don't like it much.

The reason comida has remained a mystery so far is that after desayuna I can't even think about food until cena. But if looking for a snack, an empenada, a deep fried dumpling filled with carne (meat) or queso (cheese) will do the trick, they come in all sizes, the one pictured is huge, they can also be much smaller, like a wonton.

Street venders also sell all kinds of interesting snack food, a shish-ke-bob meat sliced very thin on a stick is my favorite. Leche con jugo is milk mixed with fruit juice, and is delicious. In Panama and Costa Rica vendors sell cold coconut milk with chunks of coconut in it. This can also come in a can alongside your regular pop and energy drinks in convenience stores.

Stranger in a Strange Land

2010-03-16T21:25:00.000-06:00

South America is a totally different continent, by that I mean everything, and I do mean everything, is different. Plants, landscapes, animals, cities, everything. Just one example, there are no dandelions, at least I have not seen any, and I have been looking. I can't find what I need (eg hotels) in the cities. It is very disorienting. Mexico and Central America were similar enough to what I was used to for me to figure things out, but here I really am a stranger in a strange land.

Colombia is the only country (so far) since leaving the USA where I felt, 'I could live here'. Unimaginably beautiful, pleasant climate (Think Calgary in the summer), everything works, friendly people. I am reserving judgment on Ecuador until I have seen more, but the verdict so far is equally beautiful, unimaginably cheap (gas $1.40 a gallon), but seriously effed up.

I have posted a selection of pictures from Columbia on Picasa, they are pretty poor compared to the real thing http://picasaweb.google.com/everiman/Colombia# More on Ecuador later.

In Ecuador, Email Update

2010-03-15T17:47:00.001-06:00

Just crossed the border a few hours ago. This border crossing was no
sillier than the US Canada border. Still had to do the passport and
entry for the moto, but at least the frontera was normal looking, not
totally insane like Centro America. South America is a very different
continent from North America. I am totally blown away with what
little I have seen so far. The mountains, the vegetation, the
spectacular views. More later.

--
Erik S

Cajamarca

2010-03-14T19:38:00.001-06:00

Cajamarca is a small town on a truck route between Ibague and Sevilla. The route goes over a mountain or several mountains, it is hard to tell. Cajamarque is situated in a cleft between two mountains, some of it's houses are about 100 feet above the street. There are many farms on the near vertical hills. They grow comida (food) such as frijoles (beans) and papas (potatoes). (Make sure to click on the following picture to make it full size, it is amazing)

Cajamarca is the kind of place where people work hard at jobs people can understand. Churches outnumber bars by about two to one. It is Saturday night, and the entire town is hanging out in the central square. As is typical for small towns, the local youth have to find creative ways to stave of the boredom of living in a place that lacks big city amusements. One of the things the boys do for excitement is to have the trucks that roar through town nose to tail, tow them up the hill on their bicycles. I am sure that anyone who ever lived in say, Brighton ON, could relate.

So far Colombia is turning out to be pretty normal, and way more advanced than most of the countries I have visited so far. The infrastructure (roads, water, electricity, basura collection etc.) are as good as any, better than most. Based on the (mis)information that is repeated about Colombia, I was not sure what to expect. Obviously there were problems here once, but it seems they are now in the past. The military police are everywhere, they are well equipped and look very professional. They are not a threatening presence, they are just there. People do seem to be more careful though, but nobody is waving guns around like the rent-a-cops in Centro America.

Email update from Colombia

2010-03-13T16:51:00.002-07:00

Everything is cool over here. Colombia does not appear to be living
up to its dangerous reputation with the exception of the taxi drivers.
I got out of Bogota OK.

I have to say a few more words about Bogota, it is probably the
ugliest city in the universe, but in many other ways it is head and
shoulders above the cities I have visited since leaving the Estados
Unidas. I may have mentioned the basura (garbage) problem that
plagues every city to a greater or lesser degree. Garbage is
everywhere, people throw it in the street, the highways, everywhere,
sometimes they put it in a great pile in the middle of the street and
burn it. Not Bogota. Garbage is picked up, people don´t litter, it
may be ugly but it is clean and safe. Also in just about every city
you have to watch out for potholes, holes, deep holes in the sidewalk,
open manholes all kinds of hazards. Not here.

Tonight in I am in Cajamarca, a small town on the highway between
Bogota and Cali. Everybody is gearing up for Saturday night. There
are plenty of military police here as well, so things should be quiet.
No wireless, so I am using a cyber cafe computer.
Heading for the equator, gotta see that southern sky!

Finally Here

2010-03-12T19:16:00.000-07:00

After all these years of thinking about making this trip I am in South America. All went well, but it all went well very stressfully. Did I ever say I hate flying? It's not the flying part, its all the nonsense at the airport, the stupid way you have to get tickets, the body searches, be there two hours before the flight leaves etc. etc.. Avianco is a Colombian airline, they still have a lot to learn about the airline business. The attendants were young and friendly, and they served food even though it was only a 1 hour flight. I am sure they will catch on eventually.

Spanish is giving me a lot of problems too. When I entered Mexico I could not understand a word. After nearly a month I was starting to hear what people were saying. When I got to Nicaragua, it was back to square one. I thought I was losing it, but it is all the different dialects. Costa Rica was OK, Panama not too bad, but Colombia not so good. More people speak English here in Colombia, almost everybody knows a few words, which is the first time that happened.

Bogota is not a beautiful city. It is very large and confusing, even more so than Mexico City. It was also replay of MC total traffic anarchy. Motos are everywhere. They have to wear reflective road worker type vests with their license plate numbers displayed front and back in glow in the dark letters.

I got stopped by the cops but they let me go when I did not even try to speak Spanish. I was following a guy on bike who was leading me to some hotels. I don't know if I was doing anything wrong, or that I did not have one of those silly vests.

Speaking of cops, practically all of the ride bikes, and watching them snake through traffic at high speed is something to witness. All the riders here are very good. I don't like lane splitting with the side bags on because they are wider than the handlebars, and I have knocked them on things the odd time (not this trip), but I pretty much have to, especially when trying to keep up with the guy who will show me where the hotels are.

I did get to a hotel, 20 bux. It is basic but OK wih secure parking and slow internet. All the Colombians I have met are nice and very friendly. My hotel is in the moto zone. Moto shops are everywhere. I get myself a moto vest (Moto Pyama) with my Alberta plate numbers on it. Even if I don't need it will make a great souvenir. They had to sew the letters on and it took forever. It cost 25,000 Pesos (about 15 bucks). I have 300,000 Pesos for walking around money. If I have not mentioned it before, from Mexico on everything is cash. There is no debit, and only the real big chain type stores accept credit cards. Cash machines are everywhere, so it is not a problem. I had reverted to doing the same thing in Edmonton the last few years anyway. When you have to reach for 'real' money it somehow helps to keep track of your spending.

So my next mission is to get the hell out of this crazy city. I feel better about being here now that I have a hotel and have walked my neighborhood, which is seriously ugly, but full of nice friendly people and feels safe.

Separation

2010-03-12T05:25:00.000-07:00

The bike is on its way to to Bogota and so will I be, on Friday the 12th (dodged THAT bullet). It all went relatively smoothly, the only glitch was that the shipper (Girag) wanted cash (and only cash) up front (901.36 bux), which I was unable to manage due to bank machine limitations on cash withdrawals and me not knowing. They relented, and I can now pay in Columbia when I pick it up. Meantime I have to walk around with 45 Andy Jacksons in my jeans.

The bus ride was somewhat anticlimactic. A custom painted school bus is still a school bus, a cool school bus, but a school bus. It seems that everybody rides free. The driver tried to tell this but I did not understand, so he took a quarter. Some other people paid a quarter as well. The really colourful buses also have moneytakers, so the bus I was on must of been public transit, and the others private.

It was fun watching the driver maneuver his way through traffic like a battleship sailing through a fleet of row boats.

More buses on Picasa; http://picasaweb.google.ca/everiman/TheBusCollection#

A final note on Panama City, while shopping is not my sport, I am thinking that any visitor who arrives here with empty suitcases will get some excellent deals on stuff from everywhere.

2010-03-11T06:42:00.000-07:00

I have been to a lot of cities, but few are as visually exciting as Panama City. Words fail me, my photography skills fail me. But that never stopped me before, so I have posted photos on Picasahttp://picasaweb.google.ca/everiman/PanamaCity#. Most of the buildings in the photo above are still under construction. When they are finished PC will be magnificent. It already is. You heard it here first :-)

The bike will be shipped to Bogota on Viernes (Friday), provided I get it to Girag shipping at Tocumen Air Carga by 4 PM today (that would be Jueves , Marzo 11).

On the way back from seeing Girag at Tocumen I rode through through the city. Taking my lead from the pizza bikes (actually they led I followed), I had a blast splitting lanes, passing on the right, left, and at right angles, threading my way through the traffic jams. On the other side of the city is El Canal. A Holland America ship, Maasdam was making it's way through the last set of locks as I got there. Besides me and a whole lot of other gawkers, there was about an 8 foot crocodile supervising the procedure. The croc only surfaced briefly from time time so I was not able to get a picture. Don't swim in the Panama canal.

Panama has been hot every day I have been there, 35 every day. I love it. From minus 35 in December to plus 35 in March.

I have to mention the buses. Every one is customized, some are absolutely wild. Some (many) run open pipes. They can make custom bikes hang their headlights in shame. Tomorrow I will try to sum up the courage to ride one back from Tocumen after dropping of El Moto. It may be the most exciting part of the trip.

Impressions;

2010-03-09T17:49:00.000-07:00

While talking to the Morgans in San Jose, Costa Rica, Gary asked me what was the weirdest thing I saw on my trip; All I could think of at the time were the sex motels, which were everywhere I had been. The fact that the Centro Americans and Mexicans were so furtive about flings with their floozies (yeehaw) actually demonstrates how strait laced the Latins are. But I saw plenty of other weird things as well, so Morgans if you are paying attention, here is some more.

The meat market in Chilpancigo was a shock. This was all taking place in a temporary stall open air farmers market type set up. It all looked pretty sanitary, notwithstanding it was all out in the open. The weird thing about this was that Norte Americanos are used to getting their carne (meat) in sterile little packages that essentially cover up the fact that we are eating dismembered animals. No longer any doubt about that if you visit Chilpancigo!

Moto taxis are all over the southern part of Mexico, Guatemala and Nicaragua. If you have ever seen an movie about India you will have seen these little buggies, which come to Mexico from India. The company that makes these ones is Bajaj, (apparently Vespa in Italy was the first to come up with them).

Bajaj is the 4th largest motorcycle-scooter manufacturer in the world. (They also own about 20% of KTM). The motorcycle moto taxis are your everyday pizza delivery bikes of about 200 cc, made in china. Obviously tough little suckers. Keep your eye out for these, they can already be found in Walmart and Canadian Tire disguised as Off Highway vehicles.

Then there was the Pelota court in the ancient Indian town of Teohuacan which has been excavated and reconstructed. This town had a population of 3,000 people, and just like a Canadian town of 3,000 will have their hockey rink, this ball court was where they played their national sport against rival towns. Now according to my guide and various web sites, the winning team or members of the winning team were sacrificed to the gods by having their hearts ripped out after the game, as opposed to say, getting a big old stone vase filled with tequila.
This would definitely be in contrast to the Maple Leafs or the Oilers, who rip the hearts out of their fans.

I have to put on my skeptic hat when I hear these legends, who would be dumb enough to wake up early, go to practice, take the kids to practice, play this game to the best of your ability, knowing what the reward is for winning? If true, the games would have been way more pathetic than ever a Leaf's game as each team tries to throw the game. These stories get better for the telling I am sure, I wonder what the effect would be on our national sport if we added a little human sacrifice into the rules? And no, I am not talking about the draft picks either, lets offer some of those millions of dollars a year boys, I am sure that Don Cherry would be happy to officiate as high priest.

I have already mentioned how impressed I was by the way the Mexicans steal power to use for the street vendor stalls.

This guy is taking power from where the power meter, if there was one, sits between the house and the unprotected 220 volt incoming power line.

I encountered this combination electric water heater shower head in one of my hotels in Guatemala.
It actually worked! there is only one water line (cold) you can set the switch in one of three positions. Note the carefully taped up wires. I am thinking this is not likely to be CSA approved, but a cool idea, sure saves on plumbing pipe and fixtures.

Then there is the stuff I was not able to capture in photos, a two ox-power bennet buggy (wagon made from car parts), the guys riding horses down the middle of main streets all over Central America, the central american ladies carrying their shopping on their heads, the wild manuevering of the bus drivers as they swerve all over the highway to load and unload passengers; this can be very entertaining unless they are doing it beside or in front of your moto.

Finally I come to the Latin American nights. Night falls quickly, and as soon as it does the noise begins. Somehow everything seems louder when it is black as pitch outside, which it invariably is. My problem is, coming from Canada, I associate the warmth I feel here with daylight that lasts till midnight. Here it is dark by 6 or 7 depending on which side of the time zone you are on. When night falls, the boom boxes are turned up, the buses and taxis blow their horns more, what sounds like a million car alarm sirens are actually the sound the trucks use for their reversing warning in contrast to Canadian trucks inoccuous little 'wheep, wheep, wheep'. Street vendors whistle at everybody constantly, as do the taxis, and the 'conductors' or ticket takers on the buses. It is quite cacaphonius. It may look like Toronto, Miami, or Chicago, but when the sun goes down you know you are in Latin America.

My final picture is less weird and more synchrononous (as in icity), this is a store front sheet metal shop, with all the right stuff, right on main street Tuxtepec.

The End of the Beginning

2010-03-09T12:07:00.000-07:00

Well I am in Panama City. Now I have to figure out how to get to South America. For those who did not know, a review, there is no road from North to South America. Between Panama and Colombia is a 100 km stretch known as the Darien Gap. If you want to know more about it, enter Darien Gap in wikipedia. The only part I needed to see was the bit about how an attempt to cross it with a vehicle took 136 days. The purpose of my trip is not to climb some metaphorical Mount Everest, but to see South America, so I will do what everybody else does, find a boat or a plane that will take me there. Apparently there is no regular ferry service. If anybody reading this has any information lemme know, cause I know nothing yet.

A few words on Panama, hot, beautiful, US dollar is the currency, very modern and apparently very rich. One slightly odd thing, I have yet to see a Norte Americano built vehicle in Panama, unless Bluebird buses count. Even the 'Chevies' (the only NA brand I see) are really Daihatsus or something.

Other than that, Panama appears way more NA than CA, hardly any security guards, and they don't carry guns. The Policia have radar and use it lots. Everybody drives within 10 k of the posted limit. Panama city is a traffic nightmare (to me anyway) The small towns are more
Latin, but a lot quieter. In another post to come I will describe the evenings in Central America and Mexico, just another indication, Toto, that we are no longer in Kansas.

Panama Manana

2010-03-07T17:45:00.001-07:00

I just reached the Panama border after a marathon sprint from San Jose. This border looks like all the others, or maybe even sillier, so I will reserve that experience for tomorrow. Tonight I will be stuck in a 36 dollar per night hotel, (displayed above). I am tough, I can stay anywhere.

I am sure you all have heard about how Costa Rica is this tropical paradise with magnificent scenery, awesome beaches, etc. etc.. I can now report that this is absolutely true.

Last night I stayed in the Best Western in San Jose. I am going to give a plug to Best Western because I really like the way they do things. They are always nice, and good value too, and you never wake up wondering what city you are in because today's room looks like yesterday's and the one from the week before. The Best Western in Managua was really great as well, despite the fact that if look carefully at the layout and buildings, it is identical to an ATCO work camp in the Northen Alberta bush. An ATCO work camp in the middle of a tropical garden where the temperature is always warm is actually very cool. One more gratuitous plug as long as I am at it, Hotel Higuerone (where I am) is really fine as well, an oasis of calm just a few yards from the chaos and anarchy of the Costa Rica Panama border. The only way to describe it is Niagara Falls on amphetamines run by lunatics.

I met some really great people these last few days. Buddy whatsisname and the other fella, cousins, just got off the plane from Cleveland to holiday in somebody's house or condo somewhere in Costa Rica. We had a few free beers at happy hour (free drinks!), One (buddy) was a boilermaker and the other fella worked in the Ford plant. Apparently they live nearby a huge KTM distribution center. It was like meeting long lost relatives :-)

Then I met the Morgans, Gary, brother Jeff and his daughter, Anny, who run an adventure-eco lodge on the Osa peninsula. http://www.morgansjunglelodge.com/ Gary had seen me arrive on the KTM and wanted to know my story. They shared how they are taking a group of med and premed students to their lodge so that the med students can learn about practicing medicine in Costa Rica. Very nice people. It was my first opportunity to have a real conversation since I left Jaime's hotel in Chilpancigo, and I discovered that I had missed it, or at least was pleased to be able to talk to someone face to face without having to struggle with language issues.

It seems that whenever I leave a very large city (million plus) I get lost looking for the way out, very ecomical with the signs these Latin Americans.

San Jose, a very modern city with no discernal slums and good roads was a bit easier. I was using a nearby town named Cartaga as the destination to ask for directions, as it seems nobody knows where Panama is, or maybe it is the way I say it.

I ended up in Cartaga OK, lost there in thick fog. The San Jose area is mountainous and I was stuck in a cloud again. Eventually I found my way back to the Pan American Highway, and discovered why no one knows where Panama is. The Pan American Highway, or CA 2 as it is called in Costa Rica is very long (350km), very narrow, very winding with a very low maximum speed limit of 50 kmh. It is difficult to go much faster. The road is pretty rough, rippled and pounded by heavy trucks besides being an endless series of hairpin turns, very tiring.

At one point I ride through the clouds and into sunshine, and then back in to the cloud (fog). There are places where the road has literally fallen off the montain (!!), so it narrows down to a single lane at these points, and there are several. First come first served, don't drive over the edge in the fog.

While I was stopped at a McDonalds in San Ysidro, getting a Gringo food Big Mac fix, a nice young mother with kids who had parked beside me suggested I take an alternate route. She was also going to Panama, and said I could follow her, which I did. Pretty soon I was on the coast road, a much smoother and faster way to get to Panama. I had not planned on getting this far today, but here I am, she even showed me where this hotel was.

Goodbye Nicaragua

2010-03-06T06:44:00.000-07:00

I am not sure why, but so far Nicaragua has been my favorite country visited on this trip.

Nicaragua knows what it is to sleep with the elephant. Nicaragua was occupied by the US between 1912 and 1933, 'assisting' the Nicaraguan government in maintaining order and protecting US citizens and interests. In 1984, the White House provided illegal funding to Contra death squads to (unsuccessfully) attempt to overthrow the legitimately elected socialist government.   Despite all this, Nicaragua remains a loyal friend to the US.

Nicaragua is where I really saw the grinding poverty identified with the so called third world. There are people living in board shacks with dirt floors living right beside people in homes that wouldn't look out of place in, say, Edmonton's Highlands, an older but nice district where the houses are around 1,000 square feet.

Managua is a dusty dirty city that reminds me a bit of what Toronto used to be like before Torontonians convinced themselves that 'Muddy York' was actually a world class city. Endless, confusing, broken streets lead one from one drab industrial zone to the next. It is so easy to get lost because it all looks the same.

But there is something here, a spirit that I have noticed before in places where most people don't have much, but are content with what they have.

Something I never knew, but the Sandinistas, the socialist party, have taken their name from Augusto Sandino, a revolutionary and guerrilla general of the 1930's who looks as if he walked out of a Tom Mix Western.   Sandino bears a remarkable resemblance to Canada's Louis Riel. Both were part native, and made their cause the establishment and preservation of a uniquely American Metis/Mestizo culture. One was assasinated by the government (Sandino), one was executed by the government (Riel), resulting in both having martyr status in their respective countries.

Sandino, the guerilla general was able to pester US occupation out of Nicaragua in 1933.

Riel, the politician and messianic leader initiated a defeated rebellion that did succeed in the recognition of the Metis people, culture and status in what became the Province of Manitoba in 1871.

Sandino lives on as a powerful symbol associated with the socialist FSLN despite the fact that he rejected communism and bolshevism.

Riel became a symbol of English Canadian oppression of the French Canadian people despite the fact that he saw himself as Metis, a race of people descended from the native Indians and a few fur traders.

So here's a question; How long do you suppose this guy, above,

will live right beside this guy, below,

before he starts to ask himself why his neighbor got the the chicken and he got the feathers?

Guess who won the last election?

Gresham's Law; Econ 101 review

2010-03-05T18:57:00.000-07:00

I am now in Costa Rica. I have just left el cajiero at El Scotia Banco with 60,000 Colons(!!!), worth about 110 Gringo Dolares. Lempiras, Cordobas, Dolares, Colons my wallet is stuffed with paper and my head hurts. Gresham's Law states that 'bad money will drive out good'.

So! if Gresham's law applies here, and the Estados Unidas Dolare is perceived to be good money and local not so good, (I am tryng to be kind, but 1,500.00 Colons fer a cuppa coffee?). The Dolares will disappear and Lempiras, Colons, Pesos etc., will be returned to you whenever you do a transaction requiring change. Gresham was right in Costa Rica, wrong in Nicaragua, and right in Mexico, El Salvador does not count because it has given up on trying to maintain it's own currency.

Nicaragua, interestingly, has its own currency, the Cordoba, but everybody, including the government prefers to deal in Dollars (dolares). When I cross the borders in Nicaragua the Aduana (customs) and Migracion fees must be paid in dolares, payment in dollars usually results in dollars returned, if you pay in Cordobas you get Cordobas back along with that same sense of loser-ness that you get when you use your Canadian Tire money to buy merchandise at CTC.

If you pay in Dollars in Mexico, or Costa Rica you will get Pesos, or Colons in return. You will also get screwed on the exchange rate, in Mexico your purchase power is 10 Pesos per dollar instead of 12.5, in Nicaragua 5 dollars is the equivalent of 100 Cordobas instead of the $5.20 you would get at the bank. In Costa Rica my $20.00 buys the value of 10,000 Colons instead of 10,886.00. I don't know how badly you will get screwed in Guatemala because I only used Lempiras when I was there.

I don't know if I will be in Costa Rica long enough to make full use of my 60,000 Colons, I guess I will just have to eat lots and burn plenty of gas. Oh well, I am now worth millions of Colons. ¡Soy rico!
-----------------------------------------
p.s., all this worrying about getting fair exchange may be moot, when I check my online bank statements I think El Alberta Treasury Branch, my bankers, are sticking me with exorbitant transaction fees por el exchanges.

The Dark Side

2010-03-05T05:53:00.000-07:00

I have seen this image twice now, once by the side of the road, and again in a park in Esteli. It appears to be an updated version of a neolithic fertility goddess statue. The fertility goddess appears in human cultures all over the world, and typically represents the generosity of the earth. The Americas provided the world with many important crops such as corn, tomatoes, chocolate and rubber. Central America, with its year round growing season and rich soil can also grow imported crops such as rice, coffee, cotton, bananas and sugar cane.

For some the gift of fertility becomes a curse. Bananas are the cheapest fruit anyone can buy in Canada and probably anywhere else. A combination of agricultural technology, cheap labour, reliable mechanized transportation, and modern chemistry have made all this possible, but there is a price, and it is being paid here.

This is Ciudadela Nemagon, a tent city beside the presidential palace in Managua. Nemagon is a pesticide that was known to be hazardous to health, but was applied anyway to banana plantations. A group of former banana plantation workers have set up this tent city, a misnomer, there are no tents, the shelters are made entirely of discarded material and sheets of plastic, they are seeking some form of justice from government, what, was not exactly clear. If you google Nemagon and Nicaragua you will know as much as I do about it, but the picture I have posted will not portray the shock of seeing this place and walking through it.

Post Card From Nicaragua

2010-03-04T08:14:00.000-07:00

As far as I can tell, there are no laundromats south of the US. So far I have managed by prevailing on the kindness of the hotels I stay in, most of which do not fall into the providing laundry service category. While waiting for my laundry in Esteli, I took some pictures just as the town was beginning a new day and posted them on picasa. Follow the link
http://picasaweb.google.ca/everiman/AMNicaragua030410

Bring The Vaseline When Visiting Honduras!

2010-03-03T16:45:00.000-07:00

This border stuff is getting silly. The Salvador, Honduras border does not look as crazy as the last two, but appearances can be deceiving. As soon as I approach, I am mobbed by tramitadors, free enterprise border consultants offering to help me cross. One of them spoke English, so naturally I chose him. He had a partner, and between the two of them managed to empty my pockets with all kinds of phony fees, but they did get me across. Sadder (and broker) but wiser I pull into the first nice hotels I see to reflect on my stupidity. Fortunately the amount of money I was carrying was not large, because these con artists were skilled, or maybe I was an idiot, nuff said no real harm done. (On reflection, I will say tramitadors are more lawyers than consultants.)

Honduras looks a little less intense than Guatemala and Salvador, the window and door bars are more decorative than fuctional, houses are surrounded by fences you can see through, rather than cinder block walls. The houses look different as well, lower and roofed with hand made clay tiles, some are actually wattle and daub (sticks and mud), and the donkeys here still have jobs.

My hotel is obviously a tourist hotel, it is full of English speakers, but their cars have Honduras license plates. Judging by their age they are retired, possibly full time residents. They keep to themselves, so I do not try to talk to them. A 200 dollar plus suite in Canada is costing me about 40 dollars. Local currency is worth approximately the same as the paper it is printed on, 100 Lempiras is about $5.20. It's a real hoot getting cash from the cajero (bank machine) as it reports my balance in the local currency. It was quite a shock to discover that my savings account is well into 6 figures.

The next day I get my first introduction to police corruption. I don't know if this is normal for Honduras, but the police had road blocks all along CA 1 (the Pan American Highway). I hit the first one just a few miles from my hotel. An older cop asks for my drivers license, looks at it, and waves me on. Twenty feet further a young cop pulls me over again and tells me he is going to write me a ticket because I do not have a slow moving vehicle triangle thingy on the back of my bike (that's a laugh). By now it is fairly obvious what is going on. Fortunately I had not been able to find a cajero yet, so their cousins back at the border had all my cash except for a few Lempiras that I got from a money changer at the border. I handed over my Lempiras, (about 2 dollars worth), and the old cop intervened and told the young guy to let me go. I must have gone through a half dozen or so more roadblocks, each time expecting the worst, most pulled me in, one even wanted to see my passport, at that one they were taking a car apart with a cold chisel (really!), so it must be drugs they were after. No more phony tickets though.

By now I was having mixed feelings about Honduras. Actually they weren't mixed at all, I was pissed. Thinking that if this trip is going to be like this from now on, it will be considerably shorter than I had planned. To add to my misery it was extremely hot, 36 C, so I was riding in my tee shirt, which I don't like to do. After a while the road climbed up and I was high in cool mountain air. A stop at a small store for a coke and chat with the locals made things right again. We had some conversations, I took pictures, they took pictures of me with my camera, and I figured Honduras wasn't so bad after all.

Pretty quick I was at the next frontera, crossing into Nicaragua. This was the best crossing yet. This time the tramidor was helpful (you can't get rid of them) and I kept a tight eye on the money and the process. To repeat, it is all about the vehicle, every country I have entered so far except the US issues a temporary vehicle permit limited to a number of days, which has to be issued when I enter and cancelled when I leave. There are fees, and copias (photocopies) must be made, but the real fees are reasonable and so are the copia fees. My tramidor tried to sell me insurance, but I did not have enough Lempiras to pay for it (I would have bought it, he was OK, even though I was sure the insurance was bogus, but it was only $12.00). I gave him my remaining Lempiras as a tip, and this other dude tried to pretend he was a government guy and that I had to pay some tax or other, ($3.00), I showed him my empty wallet, and promised I would pay at the next police station as I found a banco with a trajero :-)

Salvador

2010-03-02T08:18:00.000-07:00

I always wake up early, 6:30 or so, after being an 8:15 to 4:30er for so many years, I can't sleep in any more. Sixish would also be sunrise around here. The problem with that is, on the road the sun is directly in my eyes until about 10, so I have to delay my departure, because it is very difficult to see between the very bright sun and very dark shadows hiding all manner of road hazards

This AM I am in San Salvador, el Capital of El Salvador. San Salvador is for all intents and purposes a US city located in the tropics, where everybody speaks Spanish, if that makes any sense. It is a city dominated by cars and buses. There are few pedestrians, on my evening stroll the only other walkers are people walking their dogs. Rush hours are as bad as any large city, another good reason for a late start.

It is also very American in that everything seems to work properly, (plumbing, electrical, my cell phone).

This time I score big playing hotel roulette, and have a very nice room for 70 US bux. No worries about the bike either! If you look closely you will see the security guard is carrying some form of sawed shot gun.

These shotgun guards are everywhere in Guatemala and El Salvador, they are security for private businesses, and they are in every franchise type establishment, drugstores, grocery stores, etc.. They also guard gated residential complexes. They definitely get more respect than our mall cops, or is it just the natural politeness of Centro Americans? (Also true.)

I am sure it is just for show, as I see no evidence of any danger that would warrant this kind of response, but what do I know? I do know that I can go for a walk after dark anywhere I have been in Mexico, Guatemala, or Salvador and return safely without having any bad experiences. I see fewer bums, panhandlers, gangbangers, drug dealers, streetwalkers, or homeless than any city I have been in Canada or the US. And way fewer than my own neighborhood in Edmonton, Santa Rosa.

I Used to Like Mexico, But I'm in Centro America Now!

2010-03-01T18:15:00.001-07:00

The Mexico Guatemala border was indescribable, sort of like one of those scenes from Star Wars when Luke and Han Solo land on a strange planet. Now I know where Spielberg gets his inspiration.

The crossing was fairly painless, first you have to get your tires hosed with disinfectant, this costs a few Quetzales, which of course I don't have, but there is an entrepreneur right there with a bucketful of Quetzales, for which I trade my 900 Pesos and obtain 450 Quetzales. I can now do bizness in Guatemala. First Migracion stamps my passport, and passes me along to Aduana (customs). Before I left Mexico I had to cancel my temporary import papers for the KTM, this had happened about tres kilometers before the actual border. I also got my passport stamped by the Mexican Migracion. All this stuff has to be shown at the Guatemalan border, but thanks to the ever helpful internet, I knew what to do.

With all papers in order and a careful examination of the VIN number of the KTM, I receive my permit to enter Guatemala.

The border scene continues for a kilometer or two, and begins to thin out. My first impression of Guatemala is that it is all vertical. The highway runs in a very deep valley with very steep sides. Shacks, buildings and tarp roofed vendor stalls line the road like beads on a string. It continues that way with few breaks, but after a bit the valley slopes become a little less steep and begins to flatten out. There are all these people selling gas out of containers, often a few meters from a gas station, of which there are plenty. They seem to be underselling the gas stations, which mystifies me, black market gas? It is all very much out in the open. I prefer to get my gas from a pump, no telling what crazy stuff is in those cans.

I stop at the first real hotel I see. Guatemala has sex motels too. My hotel is the Pinos, and it is in many ways the nicest one I have stayed in this trip. There is even another KTM parked there, a 65 cc minibike.

There are kids running around, apparently belonging to the hotel owners or managers. We make friends right away.

First impressions of Guatemala, compared to Mexico, Guatemala is waaaay more laaaiiiid baaaack, and fun. Mexico is a very busy place, the people are friendly, but they are always rushing from here to there doing important things. In Guatemala, people seem to be more content, move a bit more slowly, and have to time to smile at strangers. Either my Spanish ear is improving, or Guatemalans speak a dialect that is easier to understand.

They have way cooler buses than anywhere I have been.

Oh, and one more thing, there are motorcycles and scooters everywhere. It seems that everybody is riding a bike.

Day 2, head for Guatemala city. About 100 km in the highway CA 1 changes to newly paved four lane that is the equal if not superior of any road anywhere. The road is great and so is the scenery. CA 1 follows a valley that opens up a bit at Guatemala city, which looks very much like a Canadian or US city from the main road. The trees are mostly pine, and the new buildings look like standard issue North American steel and glass. A diversion into the heart of the city also reveals the Barrios common to Latin American cities.

Whenever CA 1 passes beside a city, the four lane highway becomes a latin american shopping mall, with tiendas, tortillerias, fruta stands, all kind of ad hoc micro-business. It is never boring driving here.

I fail to spot a hotel that suits me in Guatemala City, and am happy to keep on going, stopping for the night in Barberena, where my hotel that costs me the equivalent of $12.50. I may have overpaid :-). Actually it was not so bad, some hotels I stay in are like camping out in a tent that you don't need to set up, but all the comforts (of the tent). It did have a washroom, cold water, and a TV.

The next day I am already out of Guatemala and in San Salvador. The border scene was even more chaotic than Guatemala - Mexico. I had to use a helper who knew what all had to be done, first get passport stamped, then get this document signed, over to copia place, make copy, go back, get next document, copia, repeat, repeat, repeat. Took about 2 hours. This was all about the moto, basically I had to prove that I was taking the same KTM out that I came with, this requires very careful scrutiny of my Alberta registration, drivers license, passport, exit documents from Mexico mucho two finger data entry on a computer terminal and mas copias of everything. When done I had an exit permit for the bike and I could leave.

The cagy Salvadorans just place a stamp on the Guatemalan document, which now became the Salvadoran permit for the KTM, this took all of 30 seconds. They also save money by not printing any, the US dollar is the oficial currency of San Salvador. At least it makes knowing how much I pay for stuff easier.

In Guatemala

2010-02-28T15:59:00.001-07:00

I am in Guatemala, and having trouble finding wireless, so this is an
email update, more later. I expect to be in San Salvador tomorrow, I
am about 60 km away from there.

--
Erik S

Oaxaca Tabasco and Chiapas

2010-02-26T20:10:00.000-07:00

I nearly froze to death in Mexico! The road from Oaxaca to Tuxtepec was even better than the road to Oaxaca. The road climbs up into cool pine forests and every so often I pass one of the seven dwarves in Mexican clothes packing a load of firewood on his or her back. (In Oaxaca anyone over five feet in height is a tall person.) Finally I reach the top of a ridge and on the other side the road descends into a gloomy mist. Fine, I have my outer jacket, sans liner, over a Tee shirt and jeans, as it was about 30 C when I left the City of Oaxaca (Oaxaca is also the state name). After great weather all day I figure this is temporary, so I just keep on riding. Pretty soon it is raining, a very cold rain that feels like ice. I am going downhill, I can 't see very well and the road is as straight as a corkscrew, with no place to pull off and change into warm clothing.

By the time I do stop I am well on my way to hypothermia in a tropical rain forest with wild banana trees growing beside the road. A sweater, long sleeved shirt, rain pants puts everything right again, and just as I make it to Tuxtepec the rain stops.

The night before I had spent in El Ciudad Oaxaca, the old part is one of the nicest cities in Mexico, so it is full of tourists. The following day would be Dia De La Bandera, Flag Day, there was a ceremony in square with speeches and saluting soldiers.

My bike was in protective custody, locked away in a parking lot near my hotel, release time was 9 AM, so I wandered the city in the evening and early morning, letting myself get lost.

When I get lost in a Mexican City I go in a circle, the theory being that I will end up where I started. It mostly works, but there were a few times when I almost had to call a cab to rescue me.

I found this most amazing fresco on the ceiling of a church, the lead photo of this post.

From Tuxtepec I head towards Villahermosa in Tabasco, making a detour to visit El Golfo de Mexico in Coatzacoalcos. It was muddy and brown, just like it was in Mississippi and Texas. Maybe El Mar Caribe will be better. There is a KTM dealer in Villahermoso, which is a good thing because the mountain roads have done for my front brake pads. Fortunately El Sport Cycle Center had a brand new pair of pads, which was a good thing because I was headed back into the mountains, where I had my moto ass handed to me by a VW beetle. The local hot shots know these roads. I did pass all the dump trucks and buses.

Tomorrow (Feb 27), if all goes well, I will be in Guatemala. This mouuntainous southern part of Mexico is my favorite so far. If you like getting dizzy on a motorcycle this is the place to go. More pix on Picasa, http://picasaweb.google.ca/everiman/SouthernMexico#

Follow the Yellow Road

2010-02-23T21:21:00.000-07:00

My Mexican road map shows main roads in red, secondary roads in yellow. So far I have stayed on the red roads. Today I want to get to Oaxaca from Puerto Escondido, which means I will have to take the yellow road. My friends; I have seen moto heaven. And I also spent time in moto purgatory.

To get to Oaxaca from the coast two mountain ranges or ridges have to be crossed. This translates to about 200 km of switch backs with no straight longer than maybe 3 or 400 meters. My average speed is about 50 kmh and nobody is passing me. For a prairie boy coming from where the only tool needed to design a highway is a framing square, this is like sitting down to a 20 course meal after 30 years of bread and water. Up, up we climb until you can actually see heaven. The road is mostly great, well paved, but narrow and twisty. Traffic is light, but there are always the buses.

It is still a KTM road though, as each town has its topes (speed bumps) and potholes. The road leading into and out of a own is potholed as well. I can tell when a town is near by the appearance of potholes.
After maybe 6 hours of nonstop twisties (Deal's Gap eat your heart out) I am exhausted, and wonder if the road will ever straighten out. As if by magic, it does, only now the road is going up and down over rolling hills. Now I am flying like a bird.

After a few miles of this, there is a tree and some junk laid across the road. A little farther is a village and a roadblock. The locals have barricaded the road with a banner and some chunks of concrete. A guy stopped in an SUV tells me he has been sitting there for three hours. "Cool!" I thinks to my self, citizen activism lives in Mexico, I guess I will have to revise my opinion on Mexicans. I pull out my camera and start taking pictures.

This turns out to be a very bad idea. Instantly I am surrounded by very short very angry men waving what appear to be fence posts. ¡No picta! ¡No Picta! I put the camera away, but they are extremely pissed. The guy in the SUV is Mexican, but not a local. No one knows why they are protesting, and why the road is blocked. It turns out there is a detour a few klicks back so the SUV and I get out of Dodge. Quickly.

The detour turns out to be a dusty dirt road that wound through the back hills and took us back to the road to Oaxaca. It would have been fun on the KTM, but for all the other traffic, all sizes of buses and trucks, and dust, dust, dust. No matter how many trucks we passed there were more up ahead. We did make it out of there OK and I made it to Oaxaca.

All in all a day I will never forget.

Understanding Mexico

2010-02-22T16:30:00.001-07:00

Chilpancigo, at first glance, could only be improved by the detonation of a nuclear bomb. The carreterra libre runs beside the town, which from the road looks like a kid dumped a box of toy houses on a hillside, and then went away to watch TV. Nevertheless Chilpancigo will be my home for the next two days. I pull into the first hotel I see, and there I meet Jaime, one of those rare kindred spirits we meet from time to time. Jaime speaks good English, has a motorcycle and a scooter, and a wide range of interests that complement mine. Jaime is obviously very intelligent, as we agree on most things. We talk and drink beer till Jaime's Rooster announces it is morning.

I ask Jaime about Mexico, why it is the way it is. Jaime tells me when Cortez arrived in 1519 with his 500 soldiers, Mexico was populated by a large number of Indian tribes, all of whom were under the thumb of the Aztecs, who the other tribes hated more than they hated and each other (which they also did). So Cortez was able to conquer Mexico because he delivered the non Aztec tribes from a hated oppressor, but the enmity that existed between the other tribes ensured there would not be a united resistance to the new strong men that replaced the old.

All countries are prisoners of their history. My brother once told me that when he visited Mexico, he found the people very friendly, hospitable and helpful, but they would always him warn him about the bad people in the next town. I hear the same thing. Even if you do not speak to a single Mexican, the sight of the bars over the doors and windows, the high walls with broken glass embedded in the top, home entries that look like bank vaults, razorwire everywhere, you cannot escape that Mexicans do not trust other Mexicans. (So far, I have had no evidence that Mexican security is actually needed, everywhere I go the people are very law abiding, well behaved and scrupulously honest.)

Lack of trust must translate to the lack of cooperation, a community spirit at a local and higher levels, and the citizen activism to ensure each community gets a fair share of basic services from municipal, state and federal government. No one complains, as Jaime explained, as that might cause problems for the complainer.

Anarchists and libertarians, anyone who believes there is too much government interference in their lives need to spend some time in Mexico away from the tourist resorts. There is plenty of government here, but not much of interference. Mexicans are pretty free to do as they please, and the effect is chaotic to one who lives in orderly Canada. But as soon as I am ready to write the place off I encounter something truly remarkable created by the people here, like old Morelia, Taxco, and the Museo in Chilpancigo.

With Jaime's explanation occupying my brain, I enter the museo, and am confronted with a most amazing mural depicting the story of Mexico. (The museo is a former government palace, and the layout is typical of a Mexican villa and many of the hotels I have stayed. A high wall surrounds the property or building with a single entry with 2 very large doors big enough to drive a truck through. The rooms of the casa, or whatever, are built against the outside wall leaving an open courtyard with a fountain, garden or other point of interest in the center. The mural is painted on the walls facing in to the center and was apparently painted by a group of artists from the state of Geurrera of which Chilpancigo is the capital.)

I am going to let the mural speak for itself. Click on the pictures to see them full size.

more later :-)

Central Mexico

2010-02-19T14:41:00.000-07:00

Guadalajara and Mexico City are very modern cities, but also very Mexican. One moment you are surrounded by modern buildings, sidewalks full of well dressed commuters, and the next you are overlooking smog and urban blight.

The central part of Mexico is very crowded and confusing for me. I give up on the free roads and take to the toll roads. The Mexican toll roads are the best roads you could find anywhere. They avoid the towns and villages, are well paved, have helpful signs for navigation and are pretty much empty. After burning through hundreds of pesos in a few hours the reason they are virtually unused becomes clear.

In Morelia my hotel is a building that is probably 300 years old or more. I found out later that it may have been technical training school. (really!) The bike is parked on a polished marble floor in the middle of the lobby. When Sheraton Four Seasons offers this kind of accommodation, maybe I will stay there.

Coming from a place that barely existed 100 years ago, it is a unique experience to see all the 'Centros Historicos' with buildings dating to the 17th and 18th centuries. Am I still on the same continent?

After leaving Mexico City I went to Cuernavaca, which was only 61 km away. I take a day for sightseeing, Cuernavaca is a large city, around 200,000 people, but it is possible to walk most of the city. The cities and towns are very dense.

The next day I brave the free roads once again, the farther I get from Mexico City, the better the traffic. I am now in mountainous country with spectacular views.

I miss a turning to bypass Taxco, and end up going through el centro. Taxco is a place everyone should see. It is literally built on the side of a mountain, the pre automobile narrow streets are cobblestones and very steep. I am totally intimidated as I follow a line of VW beetle taxis up. It seems we are going to see god soon, but still we climb. The KTM handles it better than I do, and we survive a remarkable detour.

Cities are Evil! Email update

2010-02-16T15:47:00.001-07:00

Just a short note from Mexico City. I am locked up in a sex motel.
The bike is in a garage below me, the only way in or out is through
the garage door, using the garage door switch. No key! They ain't
gonna give me one. Very nice inside though, I could leave and
probably will, but I can't lock up.

No internet, but I am connected to some poor fool's wireless.

How did I end up in this fix you ask? I just spent about 4 hours in
Mexico City traffic (I probably could have walked faster) looking for
a hotel. This is the first one I saw. and I ain't going any farther.
Tomorrow first thing I will leave MC and head for Cuernavaca. Mexico
City is very beautiful, very modern and very congested. Don't even
think of driving here unless you know your way around. The layout is
radial, so every place you go takes you away. Somehow I stumbled
onto the road to Cuernavaca, which was my next destination anyway, so
here I will stay.

More later.

--
Erik S

Mazatlan

2010-02-14T22:19:00.000-07:00

The ferry for Mazatlan leaves at 8:00 PM, but passengers are told to be there 3 hours ahead of time. I get there early, 1:00 PM, having seen all there is to see in La Paz (or all I wanted to see). La Paz Centro was a little nicer than the outer parts, but it is still a long way from being as attractive as the other towns I have passed through.

I get checked in at the ferry, leave the bike in the care of a line of tractor trailers also waiting for 'Chihuahua Star' and look for the waiting room I have assumed would be somewhere. All there is are some metal chairs under an open roof. Oh well, it wasn't like it was very cold. Here I meet Robin a retired Air Canada Pilot from Tisdale SK. We hang out waiting for the ferry and swap life stories. We finally discover that there are at least a half a dozen food vendors outside the 'controlled zone' where we are waiting for the ferry. It turns out is OK to leave the terminal so we feast on some excellent tortillas.

We kept each other company through the 12 hour ferry ride to Mazatlan. We arrived at about 10:30, Robin was going on to Vera Cruz, and I was off to find a hotel in Mazatlan.

Villa Del Mar is a charming old basic hotel right in the centro historia. I am a few blocks from the cathedral and the downtown playa where Caranaval will be celebrated later today.

Carnaval starts friday and ends on tuesday (Shrove Tuesday) aka 'fat tuesday' (in French, that would be Mardi Gras, never knew that...). Mazatlan is just great, what I was hoping to find on this trip. Farther down is a strip with modern hotels catering to tourists, Zona Dorada (golden zone), but I stay away, I prefer the old part, which has unique character that can't be found at a modern resort . I could come back here.

More Pictures! http://picasaweb.google.com/everiman/Mazatlan#
Video! http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dYhlJGO0gv8
More Video! http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GDtcuYCQDSA

I stay in Mazatlan an extra day, and reluctantly I leave on Sunday for Guadalajara and Mexico City (Ciudad Mexico).