12/12/2010 - Rurrenabaque, Bolivia: Quality Time With The Griswalds

What's known as the touristy "Bolivian Death Road" is for pussies and grandmas. It's a beautiful road that has some ridiculous shear drops, and was once known as the most dangerous road in the world. But really it's not the case anymore because tourists are plucked from La Paz and driven to the top so they can mountain bike down. Now I'm not saying it's not extreme, it's definitely worthy of Bui's extremicle, but it's not even close to as extreme and dangerous as the road to Rurrenabaque. It was the most absurdly dangerous riding I've ever done. Period.

First off everybody drives on the wrong side of the road. Why? I have no clue, but after a few close calls and plenty of fist shakings I just accepted it. Next were all the crazy effing people. They're hauling ass all the time and just dodging obstacles while barely sticking to the road. Theyre all driving station wagons, so its like the latino Griswalds are coming to kill me. What made it worse was the actual condition of the road. It was a dusty, twisty, rut filled, one lane nightmare. Visibility was close to nothing when near anybody as the dust clouds were immense. My uncle died riding a motorcycle in too dusty of conditions. Needless to say I take that shit seriously. Lastly, I'm going down hill, so I'm on the big drop side of this one lane mess. So when cars come flying by, I've got to jump to the edge of what was usually another shear drop off. Scary shit, because randomly the road would crumble down the hillside, so if you were in a dust cloud hugging the edge of the road, you've got to hope that the road hasn't crumbled away in front of you. I was totally out of it. It was so fucking stressful, because during all of this I'm driving my Danish passenger, Teresa. There was simply no room for even the slightest error.

The touristy death road was fun, but after four hours of that crazy highway, I'm over it. We find a city midway to Rurrenabaque, and call it a night. I didn't think it was possible for the ride to get any worse, boy was I wrong. The next morning, it's just pissing down rain. Fuck. Teresa doesn't have rain pants, luckily I've got two rain jackets so at least a piece of us will be dry. I feel awful because I talked poor Teresa into coming, telling her about fun sunny rides on paved roads. While I take her on the two most ridiculous days of riding I've ever done. She's a trooper though, and even though she was obviously uncomfortable she didn't complain and was a stellar passenger.

The one positive about the rain, is that there's no blinding dust. But really that's the only plus about the days ride. Out of the frying pan and into they fire; if it wasn't rain, it was blinding fog. If it wasn't the Griswalds trying to kill us, it was the thick blood red mud that would pop up out of no where. I personally dropped my bike twice in the mud. Once doing a full 180 spitting up a huge rooster tail. Another time I hit a good strip of mud going about forty five and fishtailed all over the road for what seemed like two hundred yards. I thought for sure we were going down hard, but somehow I kept the bike upright. That was probably the worst of it, but after nine hours in the pouring rain we finally arrived in Rurrenabaque. Soaked to the bone, we couldn't have been more thankful for a hot shower. What a day!

The next day I'm ecstatic knowing I don't have to ride anytime soon. The whole point of coming to Rurre is to take an Amazon jungle tour, so with that booked for a grand total of forty bucks for three days. It might just be worth the drive. Then early the next morning we all stuff ourselves full of street food and head out. It's an awful three hour van ride on similar road conditions then a three hour ride up river to the jungle campsite.

Liam and I finally getting to ride a llama in La Paz.

The tour was awesome, food was good which was seriously unexpected since we paid next to nothing for the entire tour. Almost immediately on our boat ride the guide spots us a alligator. Then for the next three hours we're pointed out every living thing near the river. Tons of alligators, crocs, and caimans, as well as a couple different types of monkeys, pink river dolphins, turtles, capybaras ( giant rat / guinea pigs), and tons of different types of interesting birds. I was even stoked to see my first real wild toucan.

A nice capybara family.

The second day of the tour we went into the swamps to find an anaconda. We wern´t disappointed because not only did we find a ten foot snake to poke and annoy. We found a huge black caiman to fuck with. This gator was effing huge, it was at least fifteen feet head to tail. I walk up and take a picture coming pretty close. I thought that was it, but this other tour guide wasn't satisfied letting the gator sun bathe un molested, so this drunk ass grabs a stick and pokes the fucker. Eventually it gets annoyed and charges the guide, only for him to run away giggling. I'm totally dumbfounded. This guy is literally still drunk from the night before and he's fucking with a gator that could take his hand off without a second thought. Oh well, only going to be here once, so I get an escape route planned, and encourage this guy to poke him again. I'm standing right behind the guide telling him to poke it again and again. Same result. The croc lunges forward, faster and for a longer distance this time. I was the fucking flash, I was so out of there, if anybody's getting eaten, I'm throwing the drunk dude in first. Luckily everyone is fine, if not a little hyped on adrenaline. What a blast! Got to fuck with a giant gator and live to tell about it. Got some great pics, and BJ even got a pretty good video. Score!

This was one scary animal.

The rest of the day was spent lounging in the boat looking at pink river dolphins. They're fucking awesome. Dolphins in a muddy river. Are you kidding me? I didn't even know they existed. So cool. Even got to do some pirana fishing. What a cool tour, at a ridiculously awesome price. Too bad what happens in the jungle doesn't stay there. Some really serious shit went down, but that's for another entry. Stay tuned...

12/7/2010 - La Paz, Bolivia: The Mercedes Benz

There's a big lie in the travel community that's all too wide spread. It's that there's a difference between a tourist and a traveller. Others claim that the traveller is down to earth, ready to accept culture, and is open to see the world. While a tourist is somehow the opposite. Tourists are only there to stay in fancy hotels, see the major attractions and never attempt to speak the local language or enjoy the culture. I think these heady travel writer are full of shit. They're trying to act like they're so much better because they only need a backpack and they feel they have a better respect for the community. Give me a break, do you think Japanese tourists at Disneyland don't try and speak English or throw their trash in the bins. Not true. Why do you think the Eiffel Tower is one of the biggest tourists attractions worldwide? It's because it's fucking awesome. If you're near Paris, you're going to see it whether you're a penniless traveler or Bill Gates. There are just some can't miss things on this planet. And just because the traveler isn't wearing a full brimmed hat with sunscreen smeared on their faces while simultaneously reading a map with a camera around their neck, doesn't mean they're so much different than other backpackers. Crack open some travel books or articles describing some far off destination you've never heard of, and you might find the author a little too cheeky about how they themselves travel. Unlike other travelers, I don't define myself by where I've been. You shouldn't either because there's too damn much to see on this planet. Travel rant complete, fuck off snooty travelers.

Next up, leaving Perú. The ride out of Cusco was long, straight, and cold but I was rewarded with stunning sunset views of Lake Titicaca. It was easy to find the hotel where BJ and Liam were staying and after my arrival, it was straight to dinner. They found this place where you get three delicious well portioned courses and an alcoholic drink for five bucks. What a deal. If only Aguas Callientes was like Puno I would have been happy paying five six bucks for dinner, but no, they sucker you in and throw whatever they have in front of you. Then add a five dollar tip, just to say "it's not that much." Ugh. I digress though. Puno is a pretty cool little city, it's a bit different then the rest of Perú. I don't know if it's just poorer or neighboring Bolivia is spilling over. Things are cheaper, so we all book a tour of the indigenous people of the floating islands for the next morning.

These floating islands are ridiculous. First off they really are man made islands that people actually live on. I arrive and it's pretty cool that they still speak the native language, Quecha. We all received a hearty welcome from the dozen or so residents on our particular island. Then the president went on to explain their way of life. How they built the island, how they eat, sleep, and survive. It's all too much, it appears they survive just on tourism. They guilt you into buying they're handicrafts and knick knacks. Then the big seller is a ride on the 'Mercedes Benz' boat. (Seriously what it's called by all the islanders.) It really is a marvel of straw work and commitment. It's a beautiful native paddle boat that has two dragon heads, a roof, and room for about fifteen people. It's a great piece of heritage kept alive by these wild people. Originally these people built their straw floating islands to escape the Inca. Now, who knows what they're up to. Maybe those little pencil holders and mini woven table cloths provide enough essentials to keep them happy. I'm unsure, but I can tell you that they were stoked to see us. Each of the forty of so islands receives tourist maybe twice a month. So when the president was giving us the low down, he was absolutely beaming. It was adorable to see this guy run back and forth to his house to grab and show us the gun he hunts with. It was an experience. I guess with my western American eyes I just really don't understand these amazing people. I still can't figure out if the people living there are doing it for heritage, tourism, or because they're just dumb and don't realize what opportunities they have on the mainland. I'll probably never know, but at least I got to visit them.

Another day, another border crossing. This time Bolivia. I'm excited, this is supposed to one of the most gorgeous countries in South America. I received some hassle at the border, but nothing I can't handle. So when I got to Copacabana I was eager to keep moving to La Paz so I could meet up with Teresa, Liam, and hang with Danish Christina one last time before she flew out. It's really too bad the border took so long because it was too late to get to La Paz in the daylight. So regrettably I stayed the night in Copacabana. It turned out to be a super fun night because as soon as I got settled down. BJ and I went for a walk on the town, and met our friend from our shipping fiasco, Ian. We had been emailing trying to get together, so it was nice to see him. We all got a beer, and while sitting there, our chick twinsies Ariel and Christina show up. It's going to be a good night, since rum is two bucks a bottle. Everything was tame as our Cartagena reunion went swimmingly. It was definitely a fun night.

I wake up as early as I can with an awful two dollar rum hangover. It really did sound like a good idea at the time. As I'm about to leave I grab a quick coffee at the hotel, and watch the rain start coming down. Ugh. Not really what I was hoping for. Then the hail starts. It was crazy hard hail and coated the ground lightly. Looks like I'm going to wait for this to pass before I head out. So BJ and I watch an episode of How I Met Your Mother and afterwards I shoot out the door because the rain has let up. Little did I know, I would be following that storm all the way to La Paz. It was by far the worst weather I've ridden in. I can handle rain; you get wet, not really the end of the world. But hail, man I just can't ride in that. The hail was just dumping down. It hurt my knees too much to continue riding. I found the best cover I could, a big tree, and decided to wait it out. It's a no go. I waited about fifteen minutes and it only got worse. The ground in every direction was coated in an inch or so of white hail. Time suck it up and carry on. I went maybe fifteen miles an hour getting absolutely pelted by hail the size of rabbit poop. It was not only painful, it was cold as well. The hail would pile up on the seat under my crotch, and despite my best efforts to remove the ice, my balls were frozen. Not fun, but you can only laugh it off and continue on. Eventually it let up enough so that I could mostly dry out before I got into La Paz. Somehow I get lucky again, and even though it's a huge city, I find my hotel almost immediately. Nice, and as soon as I get in my friends Teresa and Liam are napping and hungry. Awesome, time to get warm and recover from a that crazy ass ride.

I spent a few days in La Paz and it was fabulous. It was cheap, had things to do, and since I stayed next door to the party hostel. I got to party as well as sleep. Definitely scored on that one. We walked around the city during the day, and got drunk with other tourists at night, it was splendid.

My time with traveling with Teresa is running short, so we had to decide where we wanted to go to with her last bit of vacation. Some of the big draws in Bolivia are the jungle tours, the death road, and the salt flats. With out really planning our timing, we chose the jungle and the death road. Unbeknownst to us we were making a huge mistake on a bunch of different levels.

12/4/2010 - Machu Picchu, Perú: Stop. Llama Time.

Traveling by motorcycle is a lot different than normal backpacking. First off what might take a backpacker twenty hours on an overnight bus, will likely take a motorcyclist a good three days. I like it because you get to see a lot more of the countryside. Enjoy a little more of the ride, not just the destination. Stupid shit happens all the time on the road too. Like roadside food is probably the most fun example. It can be an amazing success. Good local grub served up by humble hosts. While most of the time, it's just a crap shoot. Such is the life BJ, Liam, and I went through getting to Cusco. For some reason all the food has some ridiculous name that has almost nothing to do with the meal. Like Lomo Saltando, it translates to jumping loin, but it's really delicious beef fajitas mixed with french fries served over rice. It's really been my Peruvian staple because everything else you order here is a fucking mystery. The entire journey up the Andes, we all had to choose the mystery meal a few times too many. You know what hits the spot after a long days ride in the desert heat? Yep, soup. Accidentally ordered soup three times, fuck me. Then there are the endless options in little far off towns along the way. Like one day after visiting several lunch restaurants we were stuck with trout or more soup. Mmmm...remote.

Eventually, we did find our way to Cusco. And I'm happy as a clam to get off the bike, and chill out again. It's a nice rather large city, that really is the cultural capital of Perú. There are alpaca sweaters, goofy beanies, and colorful (apparently native) M.C. Hammer pants everywhere. I swear I've never seen so many foreign tourists grossly misinterpret cultural heritage. At our party hostel, there are tons of gringos mismatched in the best way. Literally endless amounts of llama print clothing. I wish I could show you what some of these people were getting away and getting laid with. It's like they're purposely trying to wear as many llamas on their clothes as possible. Now I admit I know nothing about fashion, but only in Cusco could tourists on a weeks holiday get away with that kind of stuff. If I wasn't so damn lazy I would have taken great photos of those douche bags. Next time in Cusco, fo sho.

Right now I've got a great little travel group. About seven of us off and on. Some cute blonde Danes, tall Canadians, an Englishman, and some goofy Americans on Kawasaki's. It was pretty nice running around together, hitting up all the touristy spots in Perú. One thing I'm glad I didn't miss out on was Machu Picchu. The price to get there is outrageous. There aren't any roads, and it's going cost a minimum of about a hundred and forty dollars. So since I'm traveling with the Danes who did not want to hike, I took the lazy way out and rode on a train and stayed in a hotel. Whatever, it turned out to be about sixty bucks more. The train ride was awesome, since the terrain itself is unlike anything I've ever seen. The mountains are shear, rocky, and jagged, but topped with green. It was really bizarre when you actually reach Machu Picchu. It really makes you wonder why on earth there's a five hundred year old city plopped on top.

I love llamas!

Extreme close up!  Whoaaooaa!

The lost city.

In order to get a pass to hike the adjacent mountain, you've got to arrive at six in the morning. At this time there's nothing but fog and grassy trails. On a small hike before our tour we found a llama waking up on one of the graded terraces. I'm stoked, so I take a ton of pictures and give it a big hug. Later, Teresa and Christina have to pry me away from all the other grazing llamas to take our tour. They're just so damn cute! I could have played with them all day. Anyhow, I guess the real story isn't the sweet llamas on Machu Picchu, it's the city itself. Which, by the way, is an expensive tourist trap, but is totally worth all the hype. Engineering wise it's great. I love the grading, there are old terraces that after fifteen or so flat landings drop off into shear nothingness. It's crazy to think how dangerous that construction job was. The city itself was once just a normal Incan city, it had all the necessary features, farming, water, people, llamas, but now it's remains are on display for forty bucks a pop.

The view from Huynu Picchu. Walked up in the rain, and was able to get this shot in a brief momment without clouds.

Don't get me wrong, the city is in a remote location and has some really cool features. I think the country takes too much advantage of this sight. Prices are outrageous for a fairly poor country. It's something you should want to see every time you're Perú, but since it's such a hassle to get there. I probably won't ever go back. It's too bad because tourists are really being taken advantage of. Seven bucks for a twenty minute bus ride, twenty dollar sunscreen at the top, and a even the forty bucks to get in is ridiculous. It isn't Disneyland for crying out loud, it's one of the seven natural wonders of the modern world. My favorite stories I've heard were about the Queen of Spain and a mudslide.

What a deal!

During heavy rains the road and path down from Machu Picchu were washed out. Hundreds of tourists were stuck up there, luckily for them the good hearted people of the nearby town of Aguas Calientes came to the rescue. It's too bad the locals gouged every tourist, already overpriced rudimentary supplies were sold for double the price. Tourism dropped like a rock the next month when word got out about it. I hope they were hurting for screwing with people like that. But alas, it's much too popular an attraction to be left alone for too long. I'm sure by now they've made a full recovery.


The last anecdote is about the Queen of Spain coming to Perú for a visit. The most luxurious way to get there from Cusco would be an hour by car, then another hour by train. She would have none of it, so Perú made special arrangements to partly destroy a piece of Machu Picchu so a helicopter can fly her in. Totally hilarious. I love how Perú still has to kiss Spain's ass. You'll notice that half of South America speaks spanish. It's because the Spaniards conquered everyone they could find. The Inca civilization was the biggest and most prominent empire on the planet around the 1500's. Not for long because the Spanish conquered the whole empire with a force of something like a hundred and eighty dudes. Having the advantage of a cavalry, canons, steel, and surprise they stormed and took the capital. Completely amazing how it happened. I mean could you imagine two hundred guys taking down Washington and controlling the United States? Shyeeah right. Anyhow the spaniards took or burned most of the original culture. While all the natives are now speak Spanish, love gold, and drink coffee. Even today, it cracks me up that their former territory still bends over backwards to make them comfortable. What a world.

11/27/2010 - Huacahina, Peru: Sandy Outcomes

The drive to Huacachina was about four or so hours straight down the the Pan American highway. What made it more interesting, is I didn´t have a GPS, map, compass, or even at one point gasoline. Since BJ took off to do some volunteering in Pisco, I went alone to meet up with some buddies in the desert. I´m glad to report that, once I used my expensive engineering degree to fix my gas intake problem, (the gas tank was empty, complex solution: buy more gas and place it into the tank), I was able to make it to my destination by asking only four people. Good thing I don´t have any manly qualms about asking for directions or else I´d be fucked. And lucky enough, right as I pulled into town my friends had just arrived via bus. Perfect timing, within minutes we found a great cheap hostel and were having a beer poolside. Love it!

The next day, the Danes, Englishman, and I booked our sandboarding and dune buggy tour. So as the afternoon grew late, we piled into this absurdly large twelve man dune buggy, and headed for the dunes. It was fantastic, I just wish I was driving or had an able motorcycle or quad. Nonetheless, it was a blast flying up razorbacks, and going up and down bowl and giant bowl. First stop was a small hill to test our sandboarding skills. Not too bad, it´s definetly harder than the snow version. Since the boards aren´t really the highest quality, as soon as you run out of wax, the board pretty much comes to a grinding hualt. Still super fun though.

Me, Teresa, Christina, and a Britt abroad: Liam

It all started going down hill (ha) when we were taken to some huge hills. Now after three beers, I´ve got all the confidence in the world, so when I see people flying down head first. I´m all for it. I don´t even bother waiting in line, I get a running start and jump on down. What a blast, bring on the next hill. More good ideas keep coming as Liam and I decide that a race is in order. Of course, we both ate shit pretty far down the hill. It´s news to me, but yes, sand actually does hurt when going top speed. Whatever, last hill is next. Now to say it is a hill is a little judgemental. It was more like a a smooth sandy mountain. From the top you can see people heading down on their bellies and diminishing into tiny little dots seconds later. I could have sworn this one chick was going so fast that she was going to fly of the next hill. No time to think, just hold on, don´t use your feet as brakes, and hope for the best. Everything was going great until I was about three quarters of the way down, some idiot chick not paying attention walks right where I´m headed. I yell at her dumbass while hitting the footprints of previous riders, and then proceed to lose my grip, and the board comes out from underneath me. I was going pretty damn fast, so when it came out there was no chance for a non sandy outcome. It was fucking everywhere. Up my nose, in my eyelids, a good wad to chew on, and all in my ears. It didn´t hurt too bad, but what was worse was attempting to clean myself up for the next ten minutes. Eventually I decide I´ve got enough out of my mouth and eyes to continue. And as the sun was setting, we went out one last time in the buggy for some last photo opportunities and one last chance for Liam and I to be idiots and roll down some unsuspecting hill. Hey, when and where else can two mid twenties men act like jackasses while having too much fun? I can´t think of a better place.

After all of our sand dune adventures, we were stuck in a hot gringo´s paradise. Good food, good people, and a pool. How nice. Next was a tour that Liam wanted to see. Aptly named the poor mans Galapagos. It was a great little boat ride. Albeit overpriced, but hey when am I going to be that close to a Galapagos knock off ever again? So I ponied up the twenty bucks, and woke up extremely early the next morning. (6:30!) After a bus ride we arrived to the docks. All the camera wielding tourists were herded into boats armed with thirty seats and a bilingual guide. Withing twenty minutes, we were bird watching in the Islas de Ballestas. I was giddy to see my first wild penguin. They really are akward yet styling on land. Superstars. Other than penguins there are tones of different types of birds. Swimming, flying, and pooping all over the island. there are over seven million birds that call the islands home along with a big pride of lazy sealions. It was amazing to see a giant rocky hill barely visible because of the vast avain population. It wasn´t jumping off of waterfalls in El Salvador, but still worth my twenty bucks. Next up is the three days ride to the South American tourist capital of Cusco.

Lazy mofos

Birds!

11/23/2010 - Lima, Peru: Want Some Weed?

Peruvians are funny people. First off they have no fucking clue how to drive. For example, a taxi sped by almost clipping BJ and the curb, only to stop second later at a red light. What a jackass. They really have no idea about common courtesy or a sense of ´we´re all in it together´. No. Every car, van, tuc tuc, or bus for themselves.  They´ve been the worst drivers I´ve encountered on this trip by far. It was stressful to say the least. Once I reached safe ground in the city, I got an even better idea how funny these people can be. everyone is super friendly.  They´ll ask where you´re from, or point you in the right direction, but as soon as your polite conversation is at an end.  They´ll try and sell you weed. Seriously unexpected. Eventually I learned to make a joke about it. It´s all pretty comical when you sit down at a restaurant for dinner and the waiter immediately offers you weed. Oh, no thanks, but dinner would be super.

Now, you might think that getting stuck in Lima might be a bad thing. Really, it was pretty great. There´s a giant circle of shit getting in, but once you make it to Miras Flores you´re golden. It felt a lot like a little slice of Los Angeles. Too many people spoke English, and it was cleaner than any other city I´ve seen on this trip. I spent nearly a week there waiting for the remains of my motorcycle to be brought back to life by a real mechanic. The days were long and lazy, filled with random strolls about the city and drinks in our quiet hostel at night. I could have stayed there another week easy. BJ on the other hand coudn´t wait to get out.

Like I said, it was pretty much uneventful. I met a crazy local chick. Literally crazy. We invited her out with us, and she totally dominated the conversation. She was a strange kid, but definitely made it interesting. The best part was when she thought that airplanes controlled the weather on a day to day basis. Correcting her gently was way out of the question. As it was too much damn fun making fun of her right to her face without her knowing. We didn´t really intend to be so mean, but she had been annoying us all day long, so it was time we had our fun. Other than a fun barbecue for a non profit, it was otherwise extremely lazy time, but hey after traveling for such a long time.  It was just what I needed.

Last few things about Lima, BJ saw a naked fat lady walking the streets like nothing was going on. We both became adults and got yellow fever vaccinations, and for the first time on this trip, BJ and I split up to meet later at a location to be determined. Duhn duhn duhn....

11/19/2010 - Chasquitambo, Perú: Slingshot Engaged

There are really two kinds of motorcyclists: people that are going down, and people that are going down again. I'm going to have to be lumped into the second group, because yesterday BJ and I had a pretty good wreck. In hindsight I can tell there were some crucial errors in judgment, but hey, you live and learn. With this lesson I got extremely lucky, but still had to learn it the very hard way.

It all began during the ascent to Huaraz. My bike was running pretty bad, so I fixed what I thought was the problem during our stay. But even after a clean air filter, I was experiencing the same trouble. My bike was struggling, and couldn't go above 45 miles per hour. It was damn frustrating when you're used to hitting 70 with no problem. After a little discussion, BJ and I decide to make it to the next big city in hopes that they would have parts for my bike. (Mistake number one.)

I head out of town and it's really slow going, the thin air is making my bike and I go miserably slow. So after about twenty miles, we decide to just tow my bike. I bust out my nice, unused tow strap, and we fix it to the bikes. Now we know how to attach it properly, so that in case of emergency the rider in back can easily let go of the rope, thus separating the two bikes. But my tow strap is made for cars, so it's not really possible to tie it up that way. So I just wrap it around the handle bars a few times and call it good. (Mistake number two.)

Things are going great, fifty miles later we awkwardly come to a stop for lunch. Afterwards, we head out again and find this is where the road is going to be steep and windy. After all, we are going to head down the damn Andes. So instead of stopping and having a quick chat, to discuss our plan of attack, we avoid the hassle of stopping both bikes together and just carry on down the road. (Mistake number three.)

When towing anything with a strap or chain, the goal for the least amount of damage, is to keep the strap taunt. To do this the person in the back does all the breaking. Can you see where this is going? It's so damn stupid and reckless to look back on it, but I was heading down the Andes riding the brakes for two bikes. (Final mistake number four.)

I've never had a more terrifying feeling then mashing the brakes with zero results. I'm speeding way out if control and it's looking pretty devastating. My only saving grace is that when I actually race past BJ, I know we're attached and not in a place where I can fly off the side of a hill. The moment when I'm in front of BJ, we both are thinking the same thing. This is going to hurt. Slingshot enganged. Of course the strap pulls taunt and rips the handle bars straight for the ground. All I could do is hold on, as I was going about 50 miles per hour. I'm thrown pretty quickly to the ground, and before I knew it, I was dragged to a stop, and though my heart was racing, I knew I was ok. BJ too was ok, even though I pretty much just launched the bike out from under him.

It's funny looking back at it, but the first thing I do is ask if BJ is ok. He said he's fine, and as I try to get up and survey the damage, I can't because my motorcycle is on top of my leg. You'd think I'd be more concerned about that. Ha. Anyhow, my bike is fucked, I ripped the left pannier off, broke a foot peg, broke the mirror off, bent the handle bars, but surprisingly my clutch lever is still intact. There's a silver lining to everything. And my motor is still broken. A little situation has arisen, screw the original plans for the day.

As with all situations like this, the goodness of people usually comes out. We happened to crash in a small village in front of what seemed like the entire damn town, so rapidly people were there to help and laugh at the stupid gringos. After they found out we were in fact fine, one truck driver offers to take us into town. What a guy, he patiently waited while BJ and finally calmed down, and got our heads around the situation. Next up, load the carcass of my bike into the back of a five foot high flatbed. With the help of about eight guys it was a breeze, and before I knew it I was chatting in the cab of a semi with Julio the truck driver.

I'll say it again, we got fucking lucky. As BJ and I were joking about it later; had we gone over one the steep mountain sides, whoever would have found us would have been like: oh no, that's so sad. Wait their bikes were strapped together? What the fuck were they thinking? They probably deserved to go off the side of a mountain for being such idiots. Luckily for us, that wasn't the case as it seriously could have been so much worse. After all, the only insurance policy I actually have worked out great. My boots, jacket, and helmet protected me pretty well. Thank goodness I'm at least smart enough to always gear up. I got off with some gnarly bruises and scrapes, but no broken bones or serious injuries.

This kind of shit happens when you're on the road constantly. The only thing to do is chalk it up to the whole scheme of the adventure, and get back to it. Whatever.

11/17/2010 - Huaraz, Perú: Churro Situation

I'm pretty melancholy about my current churro situation. I'm sad that tomorrow I know I have to leave them behind. While on the other hand I'm so happy I had the chance to get to know them. I just had three after dinner, and I'm extremely full, but I still want to eat more of those little gems. For a grand total of a fifteen cents you get a fresh doughy, sugary crust, with deliciously sweet apple cinnamon filling. I would have discovered them earlier, but the night before I was all stoked to try one and the little sweet old lady that was selling them was asleep at her cart. I just didn't have the heart to wake her up. Had I known, I would have shouted at her, but since I didn't, I let her be. Definitely going to miss them, but as with all my recent travels I eventually have to leave them behind.

Having to leave Northern Peru was not as difficult, because one, I needed a shower, and two, I was happy to get out of the desolation of the desert. The camping was great, but I was eating up too many miles a day since there was nothing really to do or see. It was tiring to do two 300 plus miles day in a row, and see nothing change. It was totally surreal. Finally on the third day I got to see some mountains. I was certiantly happy for a slight change of scenery. Even though it was going to be a long drive on dirt roads it was still different and exciting.

Hills! So exciting.

Sunset from the top of a mountain where I camped for the night.

The road up the mountain was unlike anything else I've ever driven on. It followed a river at the bottom of the canyon for most of the way, but was dirty, rocky, and windy. A bit later I realized I was in the heart of Peruvian mining country. The hills were tall and sharp with plenty of ore crumbling away towards the valley floor. It seriously looked like I was driving into fucking Mordor. It's was spookier still, because often enough, these little one way tunnels would pop up around a corner or something. It was tough because before your eyes could adjust to the darkness, you were slipping on mud or heading straight for a wall or troll. It was such a bizarre and memorable ride. Really unlike anything I've ever driven on before.

Half expecting Shelob the giant spider upon entry.

Once I arrived at Huaraz, it was a pretty nice little mountain city. The next few day were lazy and otherwise uneventful. It was a nice change, to chill out and be a lazy bum for a bit. After all, it's my vacation.

11/13/2010 - Máncora, Perú: Where Am I?

Fact: northern Peru is massive, and is pretty much one huge ass desert. It's so wild when you cross a border and the landscape changes dramatically. The first stop is a long haul from our last stop in Cuenca, Ecuador to Máncora, Perú. It was quite a drive, with a long border crossing. It was all kind of exhausting, since the border guy was an idiot, and I had to fill in my paperwork about five times for him. But when we finally ended up in Máncora, it was fabulous and I was instantly brought back to life. I was at a great hostel, and while playing a game of pool, BJ notices some friends that we met in Cartagena, Colombia. Stoked, that they're there, I get some beers and my teammate Christina and I start kicking some ass at fooseball.

Typical northern Peru.  Whole lot of nada.

Hostels are funny places. I've travelled a bit, and I wouldn't do it any other way. The people are just friendlier, and not always secluded in thier room. Hostels kind of force people to meet and talk to each other. Which for me is great, since I didn't come here to know everything about BJ. I've met some incredible people at hostels, but what I love the most is random coincidence. All along the gringo trail, like minded people somehow end up in the same cities at the same places. Not always because of Lonely Planet, but there's a certain crowd. There were the Germans girls I saw all over Nicaragua and Costa Rica, or this Canadian dude I saw in Panama and a few places in Colombia. So you can imagine, when BJ and I saw some super fun girls we'd met previously in northern Colombia. We were happy to hang again. It was easy to have fun, of course, since our hostel is what's known as a party hostel. Tell tale sign: it has a bar. It's far too easy to get roped into these bars because they're always filled with like minded travelers. Why go out and see the city, when there's a great group of people already here? Who knows, sometimes life is filled with so many damn difficult decisions. Oh well, that night was easy and fun. It got weird the next day with the girls though.


We had planned the night before to go on a motorcycle ride the next day. All of us were kind of hungover, so after a long directionless ride, we decided to picnic in the wilderness under some shady trees. It soon become apparent that Christina and Aeriel are the exact female equivalent of BJ and I. It was really uncanny to talk about. Christina like me, does about zero planning and can go with the flow really easily. Where am I? Oh, Máncora? Cool. While BJ and Aeriel are a bit more calculated in their traveling. Also, they're a little less reserved, BJ makes clear whatever is on his mind. An example while talking with females: "it's so crazy, chicks just get fat while they travel, and guys just continue to lose weight." All hilarious, but it was also funny seeing another set of same sex travel partners interact after such a long time together. BJ and I travel together, but were still pretty independent. You hungry buddy? Nope? Ok, see you after lunch. All pretty easy. They seem to have a similar groove. It was like looking into a travel mirror and seeing our chick twinsies. Weird, but great since of course we got along wonderfully.

After we said our fond farewells, BJ and I took off the next day heading south. The girls were heading on a twenty hour bus ride directly to Lima. BJ refused to believe that there was nothing worthwhile to see in Northern Perú, but after scouring on the Internet and guidebook, he found squat. Looks like camping in the desert is the best option. Too bad we're stuck in sand dunes, and just locating a spot far enough away and secluded enough from the highway is a hassle. Deep sand isn't a motorcyclists best friend. You've pretty much can't stop, or you'll sink and spin the tires until you're too frustrated that you stop, tip the bike over, and fill in the massive hole your tire just created. It's a bit of work since my bike weighs over five hundred pound loaded, so you can imagine dropping it and picking it up really isn't the easiest thing to do. But I'll have to say that I love desert camping. It's what I grew up with. There's wood to burn, the stars are fabulous, the solitude is a nice change, and it's usually hot and dry. Perfect for writing a shitty song in Spanish, reading a good book, or catching up on some needed sleep. It's simple, relaxing, and I suppose something that I was looking forward to on this trip.

Standard procedure when driving on deep sand. Fun!

11/9/2010 - Chimborazo, Ecuador: Goofy Peter Pan Hats

I'm totally stoked, I saw my first wild llama here in Ecuador. Soon enough, I'm going to try and ride one. I've got to do all I can to enrich my South American experience. Keep your eyes peeled for a retarded YouTube video. Anyhow, right about now I'm feeling pretty well immersed in the continent. There are short natives wearing their goofy Peter Pan hats, llamas all over, and ponchos have finally made it back into style. How nice, it's pretty much how I pictured it all in my head.

Spooky llamas in the mist

Ecuador is the about the size of Nevada, but what it lacks in area it makes up for in height. It has some of the grandest mountains I've ever seen. Right now I'm camping at the base of Volcán Chimborazo. It was a little adventure getting up here because my poor motorcycle was gasping and wheezing on the thin mountain air. Eventually, I pushed La Chupacabra about as high as I could then set up an early camp for the night. Doing some simple chores I found my self winded, and not realizing it was the elevation I was beginning to think I'd gone soft. Definitely not the case, because when BJ checked his GPS we were at a whopping 15,600 feet. (4770m) I've definitely never been that high, well if you don't count college. In fact, taking into account the equatorial bulge in the planet, the peak of Volcán Chikborazo is the farthest point away from the center of the earth. It was simply gorgeous to be above the trees, clouds, and vast empty valleys below. Playing guitar and watching the clouds whip by the snow capped volcano was a pretty nice way to spend a cold afternoon. Hands down, one of the best campsites I've ever been too.

Typical American

Some kick ass camping

Looking over the wold at the base of Volcan Chimborazo, Ecuador

The country of Ecuador gets it's name from being on the equator. That said, you'd think they'd put up a goddamn sign when you pass through it on the Panamerican Highway. Of course I drive right by the mofo, only to realize my mistake twenty miles south in Quito. Fuck. I'm sure it's no big deal for locals who pass it all the time, but when I drove 8,000 miles to reach the southern hemisphere and get a stupid picture with a sign. It's kind of upsetting. Oh well, I guess on the way home I'll watch water spin different ways or my compass act goofy. Just an imaginary line with sentimental novelty. Next time.

One of the first stops in Ecuador was Quito. Usually, I avoid country capitals like the plague. Because they're usually filled with a ton of traffic, bad drivers, too much business and too little culture. Quito is a bit different, even though it's a massive and populous city, it's not even the largest city in the country. Very anti Central American, and very welcoming. Our hostel has about everything, short of a good crowd, you might ever need. It's got cheap beer, ping pong, a pool table, comfy beds and a stunning rooftop lounge. Needless to say, I made myself comfortable the first day and wasted much of it relaxing, reading, and enjoying the view. So for dinner, BJ and I decide to hunt the town for some local cheap food. You can get a good meal with soup and drink for about a buck fifty. So after searching for about twenty minutes, we find the only thing around. The golden arches of McDonalds beckons us to have a meal. I give in and let the thought of delicious fries take over. And even though they didn't have the mystical McGriddles that are made out of magic and pixie dust, I was still happy to have stopped in. It was quite an experience eating there, for me it's usually just survival food, but down here there were young couples on dates, or families on their big night out. Totally different than what I'm used to at home. It's kind of like that Pizza Hut I saw in Paris; where people were eating their pizza with cloth napkins and forks. Well ok, I guess it wasn't that dramatic, but still.

Beautiful outlook over Quito, Ecuador

Randomly walking home BJ and I start taking with some Americans living in Quito. So after a beer and dinner, we all head out to down town to sample the local spiked cider, Canelazo. It's hot and goes well with the chilly night. Next stop was one of the many local bars with live music. More Canelazo and a few dances later everybody seems pooped, so we call it a night. The next day is filled with more hopeless tourism, and a motorcycle ride with our new found friends. All in all, it was a pretty low key, but still a fun visit to Quito. It's always nice to get something out of somewhere you would have never expected. Such is the life in Ecuador.

I'm going to miss this little country, first off I'll miss the prices. Everything is ridiculously inexpensive here, gas runs about dollar fifty a gallon and huge beers in bars are a buck. Sweet Jesus, there was this market in Otavalo, that if I had a hundred bucks and enough space on the bike, I would have been able to buy so much cool stuff. Goofy hats, ponchos, hammocks, arts and crafts galore. Looks like everyone is getting souvenirs from the last country I visit. Ha! Sorry team.

Market in Otavalo, Ecuador

11/5/2010 - Pasto, Colombia: Suck It, Lonely Planet

It's new country day! I'm super excited to be in Ecuador, I've heard nothing but good things about the country. Crossing the border was a total breeze, which after driving through Central America, I definitely don't take for granted. Almost instantly the scenery changed to an almost a California valley feel. Goodbye green green Colombia. There are a few stories to tell from that magical country, so I'll get to it.

Leaving San Agustín was a blast. I had some trouble the previous day fixing a broken clutch cable, but as always a solution usually arises. This time I fixed it with fire. Thank you high school chemistry for teaching me that the inside and outside of a metal ring will expand with heat. So after I busted out the camp stove and lit the metal cable tubing ablaze, I was able to easily slide my new cable through. Lesson learned: fire fixes everything. Anyhow, after my battle ended in the morning, BJ and I took off to see the biggest waterfall in Colombia. I can tell you we were not disappointed.

Relic statues near San Agustin

After about an hour ride on an old dusty horse trail, I finally get to the little hidden town of Salto. Now I'm kind of lost because it doesn't look like there's really a place for a giant waterfall. So I ask around and head in the wrong direction only to be stopped by a bunch of kids. Luckily for us they're happy to show us. It's a gorgeous two step waterfall, that has a good amount of water flowing down. Already impressed by the view and the politeness of the kids, I was even more taken aghast when a little nine year old girl went on a five minute well rehearsed explanation of the waterfall. Including heights, altitudes, flow, and history. Totally crazy, you can tell her parents are going to put her on the tourism bandwagon. It was very cool to see the future of the country. It was also cool playing with a dozen fun little kids. They loved taking pictures, putting on my enormous gloves and helmet, and asking questions about everything. It was quite fun, but of course I had to go, so I waved, beeped the horn, and revved the engine for them and took off towards Mocoa.

Highest waterfall in Colombia.

Somebody looks creepy...

The next day was some of the most intense motorcycling I've ever done. In order to get to the border from where I was, I had to ride about a hundred miles on twisty, unpaved, well used, mountainous roads. The first half was quite tough, as I was constantly trying to avoid large trucks on one lane dirt roads. It really made things interesting because my starter had also died. So when I stalled going uphill, trying to pass a truck coming the other way. I was pissed, so after a flurry of curse words. I had to roll back and squeeze to the outer edge of a very steep and very high drop, so the truck could pass and I could turn my bike around and jumpstart it back to life. It was nerve wracking to say the least. But that wasn't even the worst of it, later while riding I had probably the scariest moment I've ever had on a bike. I was cruising along an in order to miss a rut, I accidentally hit a large rock which then threw me left. No problem because usually, you just let the bike drop down a bit, then slightly guide it in the right direction. This time was different. I way over corrected and hit another good bump, which set me dead on course for a rather large cliff. The only thing I could do was hit the gas and make a hard left, hoping the front tire would catch again so I could get back on course. And as you probably guessed, it worked, but fuck was I relieved. At one point I pictured the last ditch effort of bailing, and hopefully landing on my feet maybe thirty feet below. Oh well, nothing to do but carry on like it never happened. Just like anything obstacle, sometimes you've just got to man the fuck up and deal with it. Later when I hit the asphalt I was about as high on life as a crack head with a fistful of rocks. Next stop Pasto.

Columbian death road.

More beautiful Colombian countryside.

Now according to the worlds leading travel guide, Lonely Planet, there's not much to do in Pasto. This is very peculiar because as I've found out with Lonely Planet, almost everything is a must see, spectacular, magnificent, or whatever other fantastic adjective you can imagine for wherever you happen to be. So when I got to Pasto, I didn't expect a whole lot, but how was I impressed. It was perfect for a day or two. BJ and I had a shit ton of work to do on our bikes, and in Pasto there is a long street with anything you'd ever need to fix a motorcycle. It was by far the most productive day of the trip. I was able to fix my starter, have one of my panniers welded shut, jimmy rig some new passenger foot pegs, get a haircut, change my oil, buy new inter tubes, and get my rear tire changed. Phew! What a day. Then randomly that evening while I was getting some street food, I started chatting with a local girl who wants to go out with BJ and I for a beer. Sounds good, so we all head to a bar / club and start enjoying some beers. A friend or hers shows up and after a nice time of dancing and drinking, BJ and I are beat. Dude, having to actually work is tiring. Sorry for you work force suckas! Anyhow, of course since BJ has had something to drink he's hungry, so the girls take us to the most magical street on the planet for drunks. There is about twenty food carts with everything from hamburgers and hot dogs, to pig intestine, to french fries, to sausage and even some kick ass shih kabob. Suck it, Lonely Planet! Put that in your overpriced book. So as any good overwhelmed Americans would do, BJ and chose hamburgers and we were not dissatisfied. It was greasy, messy, saucy and I think had a piece of ham on it. Perfect end to an unexpected night. Much better than the original plan of eating sausage (no pun) and watching a movie back in the hotel room. Nice couple of days in a totally untravelled and untouched location.

Hamburgers!

I'm going to miss Colombia. It's been so wonderful, that right now it and Mexico are the countries I desperately want to return to. I've written enough nice things about Colombia, and hope I can say the same about the rest of the countries on the way down. I'll just have to wait and see.

11/1/2010 - Calí, Colombia: Chilean Miner Fight!

Colombia is just fantastic. It's really been a motorcyclists paradise. Tourism is relatively new here since the drug wars ended. Medellín was once considered the most dangerous city on the planet, but as soon as they capped Pablo Escobar on a rooftop, the country has really turned around. It's all well deserved since Colombia is filled with some amazing natural terrain. The riding here is the most spectacular driving I've ever done. At one point I was riding along a ridge line with a vast green mountainous valley to my right, and on my left there was another one. Just plain gorgeous. It's strange, this is the first country I've been to where I really feel like I've missed too many things. Sometimes all the time in the world isn't enough. I'm just going to have to come back.

Probably the best part about Colombia, aside from the wonderful coffee everywhere, are the cutesy little cities and their people. The big cities are also nice, Medellin was nestled in a valley with a great energetic vibe. But the heart comes from crazy little towns that sometimes have never even seen a tourist. It's a totally virgin landscape where I can drop kids jaws with my giant (it's a 650cc, gasp!) motorcycle. The culture here is so very different than at home. I'll give you an idea. I was lost and couldn't find the hostel I was looking for. I knew it was close, but couldn't pin point it. So, I ask a guy passing by on a motorcycle where it is. He doesn't know, but his ten year old on the back does. So what now? Yep, you guessed it, the kid jumped on the back of my bike and showed me the way. Then when BJ and I got there I told him I'd give him a ride home, but before I could offer again he just took off smiling. What an amazing kid! I mean that would just never happen in California. From the parents perspective: Oh you're lost? And even though I just met you thirty seconds ago, why don't you take my only son on the back of your motorcycle, and don't worry about him getting home, he knows the way even though it's almost dark. What the fuck? This is something I'm definitely not used to, but it's damn refreshing.

My guide for the night: John

 Colombia is a country in transition, and I'm sure this amazing travel experience won't last forever. Because as long as there are tourists, there are always some shady people figuring out new ways to take advantage of them. It's a shame, but it just brings out a different attitude towards foreigners. Costa Rica runs almost purely on tourism, and depending on what you're looking for it is a wonderful place to visit. As for me, Colombia is heaven for now, it has some of the most beautiful landscape, amazing people, the food is great and dirt cheap. I'll be sad to leave, but I've heard some great things about Ecuador too.

I'll admit I'm a pretty lucky guy, knowing that I've had and taken advantage of the many opportunities in my life. Yes, I wasn't born a peasant in China, but there's something to say about grabbing whatever you've got and taking what you want out of it. For me, it was allowing myself to give up my career for a bit and take a vacation, albeit, on crack, but hey, like my dad always told me, "life's not a dress rehearsal". Take your chances when you can, get out of your comfort zone, and allow yourself to have a good time. Life's too fucking short.

That said, I want to tell you about my Halloween experience. I was feeling kind of blue. I've been away for a long time, and there are a lot of friends and family that I desperately miss. Halloween has always been one of my favorite holidays, so it struck up some great memories of old friends. Like just last year with Nicole in her sexy maid costume, or yelling at Sofia "Snow White fight!" so the other Snow White would know who's the boss, or Josh coming in third at a competition as Dr. House, or Jacob telling everyone to shut the fuck up. Even years past in Hollywood have been more fun than ever. So anywho, I was supposed to meet a friend in Calí, and when he didn't show, BJ and I were kind of deflated. Maybe no Halloween this year. Then all of a sudden our hostel actually livened up, and people were actually dressing up. I then decide that looking like an idiot with a mustache is the best costume I could come up with. Whatever. After some drinking at the hostel, we all pile into a taxi and head for the best club in Calí. Once we're there, I'm totally stoked to get some kind of Halloween. Even though the beer is an outrageous five bucks a pop, I suck it up and have a fun time. It's crowded, and dancing in clubs here is very different than at home. Instead of asking to dance, you just go grind on some chick, and hope she doesn't run away. It's very entertaining to watch these ugly dudes give their best shot with hotties. Too bad for them, but hey that's life. Anyhow I continue dancing with some girls dressed as crayons, then I get pushed. I turn around to find it's a massive fight breaking out. Kind of stunned, people start breaking it up, then as people are breaking it somebody else gets pushed, gets angry, then throws a punch. This just keeps happening, and gets totally wild in there for about five minutes, but eventually some people get kicked out, and people just kind of relax. Then normalcy finally resumes. I've never seen anything like that before. It's was totally crazy! It's just too bad, that it wasn't superman fighting a vampire, or a pirate fighting a zombie. I should have probably lied, but I think the only legitimate fighter in costume was a Chilean Miner. Oh well, maybe next year I'll see a wizard and soccer player duke it out. Here's to hoping. The rest of the night was pretty normal, except some absurdly loud pyrotechnics. Then once everyone was tapped out or danced out, we all crammed back into the taxi and called it a night. Halloween accomplished.

I'm the dude in the middle.

10/25/2010 - Medellín, Colombia: Strange Days

The small things are what make a happy difference when traveling for such a long time. Like a hot shower, an ice cream, a simple human connection, or a extra comfy bed. I've come to enjoy these little perks when I can because usually they're only temporary. Oh, the glamorous life of the dusty traveler.

Here in Colombia, it's quite easy to make these simple random connections. The people here are absurdly friendly. For example you can just be walking down the street, and some skeezy looking bum dude will just ask you where you're from or how you like the county. Then he'll just say 'welcome to Colombia' or 'have a nice trip' and let you be on your way. Totally different then, say, Nicaragua where everyone is after your tourist dollars. Quite a refreshing change. My favorite meeting was on the way out of Cartagena. I forced BJ into stopping for some more of those deep fried cheese sticks because: one, they're fucking tasty, and two, I don't know if I'll ever see them again. So, I'm parked in a motorcycle only parking area eating my cheesy things, and about fifteen guys all start asking me questions about the bike, where I'm from, where I'm headed, and other random things. It was great to joke around and chat with these other fellow motorcyclist about their country. I definitely enjoyed gathering a small crowd around our massive bikes. Then after a delicious breakfast, all my newfound friends said their pleasant goodbyes and I was on my way.

Fellow bikers in Cartagena, Colombia

Even though I didn't do a lot of preparation for this trip, (no insurance, no bike upgrades, no vaccines, no legitimate planning) I can at least speak enough Spanish to truly enjoy something different. A friend, Rodrigo, whom I met in northern Mexico put seeing a country into my favorite analogy. You can talk to a woman, enjoy her beauty and company. Find out a lot about her, but you'll only really know her and cherish her if you're lucky enough to have sex with her. The same is true for traveling. You can travel all over a country, see the sights, and eat the food, but there's still a lot of things you can miss. The only way to be fully emerged is to converse with locals and find what they're all about. It makes the adventure of traveling all the more enriching. Truly a genuine reason of why I travel.

Awesome fattie cat in Medellin, Colombia

A pretty sweet campsite in Guatape, Colombia

BJ and I conquered the giant rock in Guatape, Colombia

Ok, so insight into the mind of a traveler. Check. Strange story, well let's do that next. After a long day of riding, I'm ready to get off the bike and have a beer. So I stop at what appears to be a truckers town. It's right off the highway, and everything is absurdly Colombian. After a bit of rest, BJ and I decide to hit the town. Play some pool, chat with some locals, and have a beer. It's Sunday night so everyone is out and about. I soon find out that we're the only non Colombians in the city. It's apparent that the people here are not slightest bit familiar with happy gringos. A crowd of teenagers develops around our pool table, and while in between gambling on slot machines, some begin to chat with us. Now in some parts of Colombia there is a thick accent. Being new in town and not used to the heavy accent. I politely tell them that I'm learning the language and that you need to speak slowly so I can understand. But as soon as I'm done telling them this, they keep rattling on as fast as ever. It's quite obvious they've never really met anyone where Spanish is their second language. It's all quite entertaining, if not a bit stressful. It's really the first time I've truly felt out of place in a foreign land. It wasn't really in a bad way, but it was definitely strange getting to the real rough and gritty Colombia. It's all in fun, so after I put BJ out of his pool playing misery. I head back to the safety of the cheap hotel. I wonder what I missed out on when I chose safety and sleep, over a unique experience mingling with the locals at the popular local dance club. I'll never know, but hopefully I'll get another chance in this strange and captivating continent.

10/21/2010 - Cartegena, Colombia: Liberation

I've finally arrived at my home for the next few months: South America. It was quite an adventure just to get here with my motorcycle, but really, it's worth all the trouble. There are some amazing things I plan on doing here, like: scale Machu Pichu, drive the death road through Bolivia, star gaze in the Atacama desert, tango in Argentina, drive across the largest jungle on the planet, and of course give that big fucking Jesus a hug in Rio De Janeiro.

Getting to this continent was half the adventure. There's the massive stack of paper that I had to work through just to get my bike out of Panama. There was finding my container, loading my bike, and finally catching a slew of taxis and buses just to get to the sailboat. It was a pretty crazy couple of days right before catching that boat, but hey, I signed up for all that when I pointed my bike towards Mexico and never looked back. There were some times when I wasn't a very happy camper, but ultimately things have worked out, as I've spent the last week snorkeling in the carribean, and being a hopeless tourist around Cartagena, Colombia.

Once I was settled on the sailboat, it was a fantastic experience. The rain clouds lifted and revealed a beautiful island landscape. The San Blas islands consist of 357 separate islands that are owned and governed by only the indigenous people called the Kuna. It's a completely different part of Panama. Though it's considered part of Panama, they don't get to vote or have a say in government. But they do have pretty much total control of their islands. Therefore the environment is kept peaceful by Kuna law, and the results are some of the most gorgeous group of islands I've ever seen. Turquoise blue water with coral reefs for miles is pretty grand when all you have to do for four days is eat and sleep. I fell into a pretty vigorous routine of snorkeling, napping, snorkeling, lobster fishing, eating, napping, drinking, card games, snorkeling, or some other extremely difficult variation. It was all pretty relaxing, and it also doesn't hurt when the captain of you boat is a retired Austrian chef. Meals were hefty, and the people were wonderful. I really couldn't have asked for anything more.

Finally arriving in South America.  Booyah!!

Life is tough.

It's always nice to be in a new place, but Colombia is effing awesome. It reminds me a lot of Mexico. There are friendly strangers at every street corner, delicious street food, and amazing colonial history all around. Cartagena was once the entrance point for the entire Spanish Empire to all of South America. So, as you can imagine it was well protected. Around the old town, there's a twenty foot high wall for protection. And on the highest hill there's a massive fort (or castle if you're European.) Today the fort serves as a tourist attraction, but it's still pretty damn fun to walk around. There are not only amazing views of the city, but also dark ominous halls to explore on the inside. Also known as Disneyland for the cheap and mildly retarded American traveler. Walking hunchbacked down some pitch black historical maze can be a lot more fun than you'd think. Afterwards, I drank some beers on the relic walls with my newfound friends from the sailing trip. It really was a perfect travel day. Sometimes I love being a tourist.

Looks like I've got a boner...

Fortress of San Felipe de Barajas

Today was kind of a different story. After a full day of running around, I finally have La Chupacabra back to me. Unloading her today was pretty fun, since of course neither BJ, Ian, or I know how to listen. We were told to wear long pants and shoes when running around town, but it's pretty hot and were told the same thing in Panama and it didn't matter. So, when it came time for inspection, we had only a pair of pants and shoes between all of us. I had the shoes, so BJ traded me his pants and only I was allowed into the unloading dock. After a good walk, it was a nice sight to see the container. After it was opened I remembered the original problem: you can't get inside the container since the truck is so damn big. So after crawling under the truck and hopping in through the window, I finally freed Bertha. Next were the bikes. It was awesome to be back in the saddle, even if it was only for a minute to move it out of the way. A long while later, all the vehicles had been liberated, and I couldn't have happier to drive on some pretty fucked up one way streets with some other fellow motorcyclists and nutty taxis. Now that I've got my freedom back, I'm eager to hit the highway.

Oh! And I could dedicate a whole blog to this cheesy and bready street food.  Delicious and about 0.30 Cents.