There's only been one time on this trip where I actually wished I was back in cozy cubicle with a hot coffee and full day ahead. I was in a bank in Rurrenabaque. It all kind of hit me at once. I was totally alone, waiting in line to get money so I could go back into the pouring rain and try to fix my bike. I was finally ready to leave and drive the legit death road back to La Paz. Of course the day I'm ready to leave, it's pouring rain in the morning. It hadn't rained all week. Whatever, I was over the town and just wanted to keep on south, so I took off anyway. Only to find I can't shift gears, and as soon as I let out the clutch the bike dies. Damn it. I was not in the mood, but I've got no other options. I push my bike to some cover and address and fix the problems. Sixty bucks and a new battery along with some tinkering with my shift lever and I'm back on the road. It's been absolutely brutal with my bike lately. Every time I ride I encounter a new problem that fucks with me. I've got a good streak of eight straight days of crap. Here's a quick list of shit I've had to fix in the last week or so: battery, starter, chain, gear lever, clutch cable (twice), radiator, speedometer, hand guard, and chain guard. It's so fucking annoying when you finally get all geared up and as soon as you get on the road something like your clutch cable snaps again in the middle of the city. Thus is my life with a bike that's almost ten years old. Next bike I own is going to be a bit newer, but for now I can only dream.
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| I´m pretty sure this isn´t supposed to happen. |
Anywho, bike problems haven't been the only problems I've had over the last week or so. It's been a pretty deep valley here around the holidays. I guess it's not always sunshine and puppy dog tails. I didn't want to be alone for Christmas, but I was kind of forced to. Baby Gay attacked and fought me, hence no gift exchange there. Then my sweet Danish travel buddy, Teresa, had to go home as well. I couldn't help but laugh as the irony was oh too sweet and calculated. I, unfortunately, had to watch her ride away on a motorcycle taxi to the airport. What a fucking trip. I first have to leave my poor ex girlfriend, Nicole, on a bike. I still can't imagine what she felt like. Then a quick five months later I've got to watch a new friend leave on a motorcycle. Trust me, the cruel irony is not lost on me. It was all too much. The inevitable loneliness of life on the road finally caught up to me. And I hate to admit this, but I was definitely bummed out. It was a combination of everything. Losing a great buddy of mine, wishing a fond farewell to a new friend, missing my family and friends from home, and not even being able to lose my troubles on the road since my bike has been fucked. As always though, I suck it up and point my bike south. It's a long damn road.
Inevitably, I do make it back to La Paz in time for Christmas. I check into a really nice party hostel for the next few days. I happened to meet some super fun and cool people in my dorm room, so since it's Christmas eve and we're in a party hostel we've got to have a couple of drinks. It all starts pretty tame as a group of us are chatting away over some beers. Then since we're a little too far away from the bar for comfort, we all make our way closer. Only to find we need to perk our selves up. Easy solution: Jäger Bombs! So after what seems like three or four, I'm not tanked, but damn close. The night continues with me being a chatty Cathy with everyone at the bar. It's going well, people are all in a good mood and happy to make small talk or dance with me. Inevitably our hostel bar has to close, and throw a bunch of perfectly drunk people back on the streets or worse their beds. My group would have none of this sleeping business, so out on the streets of La Paz we went. We all end up at a club then continue to dance and drink the night away. Later, I end up talking with some super cool dudes about everything from girls to religion and traveling. But before I know it they're heading back to their comfy hostel beds. Well that wasn't for me, not tonight. I've had too much shit go down, and I miss too many people to call it what I thought was an early night. Too bad I was so far gone I didn't realize it was eight in the morning. Time to talk to the last few people left at the bar. I make my way over to the last table of people, and find a giant group of Aussies. They're amazingly welcoming, and we all bullshit and drink for another four hours until we're all kicked out into the harsh Christmas daylight. I've just about had enough, so I leave my new buddies as they're staying at another hostel. I stumble back to my dorm and find my roommates almost dead. They're talking and still alive. So we all laugh as we recap the previous night. Then at about two in the afternoon I say goodnight and finally head off to sleep. Christmas bender complete.
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