9/12/2010 - Tacuba, El Salvador: A Bad Idea

Wow.  This is the first time this has ever happened to me.  I’ve just forgotten the name of the country I’m in. I guess I can lose touch with my surroundings pretty easily sometimes, not so great, but whatever.  When you’re south of the border everything looks somewhat like a monoculture.  It’s pretty surreal sometimes, because it’s so very different than what I’ve known my whole life.  Growing up in the States, I was blessed with exposure to many different cultures.  My favorite example is Pomona.  There’s just about all the mix of American culture you’d ever need.  Modern technology meshed within a sprawled cityscape that even borders the green cow country of Chino.  But down here in Central America, cultural diversity is not nearly as prominent.  Not to say there isn’t a difference from one country to the next, but in comparison with places like the States and Europe, there is a real lack of diversity.  This obviously makes a tall gringo stand out pretty well, but is definitely one of the many reasons why I love this place so much.  The people are genuine and helpful of one another. Except for a bad reputation as drug funnel to America, this is a wonderful place with great natural resources and people. 

Luckily I haven’t fried all my brain cells away, and I’ve remembered which Country I am in: El Salvador.  Supposedly the most dangerous of the Central American countries; it’s a fascinating place with a small land mass, but with a lot of beautiful terrain.  The first day I entered the country I knew I liked it.  There weren’t a ton of idiots trying to “help” me cross the border, and the exchange rate is really easy to figure out since they use American Dollars.  After a pretty painless border crossing, I headed for the “Impossible National Park.”  Bring it on, the hostel is seven bucks a night and instantly we befriend some American Peace Corps volunteers.  After a few rounds of dominoes and Pupusas, (El Salvador’s national dish) we all decide that taking a tour where we can jump off waterfalls is the best course of action for the next day.  I wake up bright and early the next morning to a marching band of all things; apparently El Salvadorians love their marching bands.  Anyway, I’m ready to jump off some kick ass waterfalls; I mean come on, could I really have any more fun?  So, everybody piles into an El Salvadorian limo (AKA the back of a pickup), and we head out. After an hour drive, and an hour or so hike, I see the river and I’m anxiously awaiting the first jump.   It’s a scenic river with big boulders stirring up water into fast rapids and little lagoons.  Finally there’s a loud roar, and we’ve made it.  Time to jump in!  The first fall is a small jump only about 20 feet, but man was it exciting.  A few more similar jumps later, and we arrive at the big one.  It’s about a 35 feet from the small lagoon below, and you’ve got to jump off some pretty slippery rocks.  But what the hell, I’m not going to be lowered down in a harness like the one girl brave enough to join us.  So I jump.  Fuck yeah, this is definitely a good time.  A few hours later, we reach the final waterfall a gorgeous 150 footer that we’ve got to climb down the side of on some pretty shady rocks.  Some high fives were exchanged between the group and me after we reached some solid ground.  A long hike and ride back to the hostel, and every one of us is still amped on the adventure we’d all had.  It’s too bad my riding buddy BJ missed out with a motorcycle mishap. 

After staying in Antigua for nearly two weeks BJ and I are ready to leave.  It was a lot of fun, and a great time, but the necessity to leave all compounded on our last night in the city.  By this time we’ve been couchsurfing with our friend Blake.  He’s got a great place in the city, so at about 6:00 pm I’ve got the making for an awesome pregame: bottle of vodka, macaroni and cheese, hot dogs, orange juice, and the movie Dumb and Dumber.  (BTW funniest line from any movie ever: “We’ve got no food, we’ve got no jobs, our pets’ heads are falling off!!” I’m cracking up just typing that line.)  Anywho, there’s a proper party at a nearby bar, so not making the smartest decision ever: we take the bikes.  (I know, I know, like I told you it was a bad idea.)  We all sip on some two dollar margaritas, and as we grow tired of the increasingly bigger crowd, we make the call to finish up and head out to a new bar. Everything is dandy, until BJ offers to let our friend Chrissie ride his motorcycle.  Knowing this was a severely bad idea, I let them know, but to no avail.  Now Chrissie said she had riding experience, but we’re riding monster enduro bikes with knobby tires weighed down with all of our gear.  Not really a tiny dirt bike you might have jumped on as a teenager.  She tries to take off a couple of times, but stops very suddenly as she lets the clutch out.  This happens two or three times, and BJ becomes more confident and impatient, so he jumps on the back to help guide her.  The good ideas just keep compounding don’t they? Ha. Anyhow as you might have guessed, she dumps the bike on the cobblestone road.  I rush over to check to see if they’re okay, because even at a low speeds without a helmet you can still get severely injured.  They’re hurt, but talking and rolling around.  As they slowly get up, it’s apparent the bike landed on BJ’s foot, and they’re both scraped up, bumped and bruised.  The night has successfully been turned in to a downer, but after a few hours they’re able to laugh at themselves and realize what they had done.  Like any good sitcom, there’s a big lesson to be learned: don’t let chicks ride your huge motorcycle after a trip to the bar on a sloped cobblestone road with other cars parked around while riding bitch on the back.  I’m going to say outright: that will never happen again.  Sometimes you have to learn the hard way.  At least I’m now in second place for worst idea of the trip.  All that happened to me was looking like an idiot, getting soaked, and messing up my phone. 

On another note, I had my first legitimate breakdown yesterday.  It all started two days ago leaving Antigua.  There was traffic going down a steep windy mountain road, so there’s no way I’m sitting in traffic with the mobility of my bike.  I start cutting traffic on the little two lane highway, and everything’s going great until I pass this one truck on the right.  There is some fresh asphalt placed right as I’m leaning the bike over to turn in front of the truck.  The front tire slips out from under me, and I’m graceful enough to put my foot down and run off the bike as it falls.  Sweet, I’m good, had a styling wreck, and since traffic is stopped I have time to pick up my bike and move on.  But as a drive on I notice a vibrating sound that’s definitely out of place. I figure my chain needs to be tightened, or it’s the chain guard that’s rubbing.  Making it to the next destination, I forget all about the vibrating and have a good couple days in El Salvador.  A quick ride to the gas station on the edge of town provides a fill up and some time to give the bike a much needed inspection.  BJ notices that the subframe bolt is missing, and that it’s been completely sheered off and bent out of shape.  Shit, this isn’t going to be a quick fix.  This particular subframe bolts let the rear swing arm move and absorb shock.  The only way to get it back into place is to lift the rear wheel off the ground and pound the parallel plates back into shape so the pivot rod can be placed back in between.  No problem.  About two hours later: mission complete.  Good thing we both came prepared with spare parts and Bachelor’s degrees in engineering.  Nice.  The vibrating is gone, and the bike is good as new. The trip is back on.