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.

10/12/2010 - Panama City, Panama: Cinnamon Coffee

Waking up this morning was a pretty great experience. I'm staying with a wonderful host family in Panama and working on getting out of North America. I've luckily made some progress. I've actually got a ship lined up to take the bikes safely in a container. I've got a sail boat ready to take me Columbia. In other words, I'm pretty much set. I even got my paper work from the States! No more showing forged papers to officials for me. Also, it appears shipping a motorcycle is far from an easy process. If I mess it up, and leave without a proper stamp or paper. I'm fucked if I ever want to come back through Panama. Game over, they'll never let me back. So, I guess things are pretty serious around here. It's about two full days of running around to this place and that. Have some dude check this, sign that. Find crazy immigration locations, that don't have signs or people to help you. It's pretty typical of Central America, so I'm more used to it than most, buts it's still all pretty ridiculous. Anyhow, even though my current job is to run through Panamanian bureaucracy, I'm still giddy about the thought of getting some more road ahead of me. Almost there!

Captains log: my host family has taught me how to make patacones. They're delicious little breakfast patties that are made from frying green plantains. I've never had these until I've spent some legitimate time in Panama. I've been here for two weeks, and I'm finally getting some legitimate Panamanian culture. I cannot believe how wonderful my host family has been. It's literally insane how nice they are. As soon as I arrived, I received a hearty welcome the mother Gladys. She told us I can stay as long as I want. It was totally unreal, as I'm settling down, Gladys and our couchsurfing friend Mayra tell us dinner is ready. What? A free meal? I'm all over this. It was homemade chicken, with a side of rice, and a salad. I'm offered wine, water, and coke to drink. It's all just way too welcoming. It comes to a point where I'm joke fighting with Gladys to clean my own dishes! What a family! It's becoming so surreal that we felt bad for all the wonderful meals and hospitality we've received. At one point I felt so bad that I was just taking and taking, so I thought I should go back to a hostel for another night. But then I realized: I'm retarded. This is the best host family anyone could ask for. I should stay forever. 

I'm always interested in cooking, and of course eating, so I keep asking questions about Panamanian cultural food and staples. And since I've just been conversing about it, Gladys keeps making all of it for us. It's effing awesome. What are bollos? I found out at breakfast yesterday. What about empanadas? Well that would be this morning, and bravo tango whiskey, they're flakey, buttery, and delicious. Along with empanadas, we had tasajo, apple juice, and cinnamon coffee. It's awesomely comical when we're chatting with our buddy Ian, whose driving down in a truck / camper. He camped out in the mall last night and had never heard of couchsurfing, so while explaining it over lunch. We all had a good laugh when I was bragging about the kick ass cinnamon coffee. Sometimes I've got all the luck in the world. 

10/7/2010 - El Valle, Panama: The Last Bit of North America

Things have been quite unproductive here in Panama City. I'm looking for a boat to Columbia, while also trying to gear up to prepare my bike for the long road ahead. I've been super annoyed since I'm out of road. Being an engineer and knowing that I can build you a road through anything with enough money; it really frustrates me that the road just ends. I know Panama has it's reasons, but come on this is 2010, this is supposed to be the future. If there's a high demand for a road, which there is, then pony up and build the fucker. But all bitching aside, looking for a sailboat across has been more than difficult. I was lucky enough to hear about a guy at Hostel Mamallena. He couldn't have been more helpful in emailing captains and giving us information about our sea fairing adventure. Now I've got to wait. There are a couple of potential boats lined up, and hopefully I'll get my original titles soon, so I can get to my dream like destination of South America. Where the beer is free, the women are naked, and the streets are paved with gold.

I'll give you a quick synopsis of what I did in Panama City: changed a rear tire, bought a new front tire, bought a bolt, looked for some rain gear, and happened to see this pissed off alligator in a flood channel. This took a team of two gringos two full days. They weren't difficult tasks, but in the city scape, driving around and talking to people takes forever. Though there are hundreds of hardware stores nobody sells metric bolts. Same thing with the tire shops, nobody can change a motorcycle tire. Alas, fifteen hours later, I still can't find cold weather gloves and BJ can't find Scotch Guard for his jacket. Such is the life here in a foreign country. Sometimes I would kill for a Super Target or Chaparral Motorsports. 

Right now I'm feeling pretty grand. I'm staying with a wonderful couchsurfing host, David, in El Valle. It's a pretty kick ass little mountain town.  I can definitely see why David chose to buy a house here and retire. The weather is perfect, since it's tropical having a little elevation really cools things down. The city is in a collapsed dormant volcano crater, so even though it's mountainous it's basically flat all around town. Perfect for scooting around town on a bike. I'm pretty impressed being here, since our host has been all over the world, maybe forty different countries, and he calls this place home. I went on a motorcycle ride around town, saw the big waterfall and did some off roading in the mountains. It was super fun hauling ass through some pretty large dips and valleys on the bike. It made me remember growing up and having little fear when riding a bike. It was definitely good to be back on the road, since earlier I had some mechanical difficulties with my bike. 

Basically it died on me then wouldn't start up again. Luckily we were at Dave's, so we had the time and tools to fix it. Turns out it was an air hose that I had sliced when tightening a bolt down. The air hose creates a vacuum and brings gas into the engine. So I ran to the local store and picked up a new one and replaced it. Problem solved. Two hours later, my bike fired back up, and I was glad to be on top once again. 

I definitely have a different life out here. I encounter different problems and solve them in different ways. Instead of my old problems like should I get my friends over to play beer pong on Friday or Saturday night? Or locating and drawing eighty year old sewer lines at work; my daily life is oh so much simpler. My only legitimate concern is potholes, not coordinating friends, meeting deadlines, or being on time. Sometimes the ease of life without such conveniences as the Internet and cell phones, is actually more fulfilling and seems far more genuine. But really, who am I kidding. After I post this I'm going to go check on my fantasy football team. 

10/1/2010 - Bocas Del Toro, Panama: Gecko Ice Cream

It's nice change when you're traveling to encounter a place you've been before. Such is the case here in Bocas Del Toro. It's a cute little island town, speckled with nearby islands, gorgeous beaches, and snorkeling. Arriving at the island I find myself filled with memories from the last time I was here. So many great stories. Like Bui getting stung by a jelly fish, Allison getting nearly butt raped by a hooker in the ocean, Geoff slapping the shit out of Bui at a bar (the true beginning of slap bet), getting partially molested by a girl and her thrusting pelvis, becoming the sweat monster, and of course the infamous gecko-ice cream incident. All of which make me truly miss all of my friends. As I was taking a water taxi to the beach, I sat in a boat with just BJ, and definitely longed for a boat full of my good buddies again. But such is the life when in you're in a committed travel relationship with another dude. Ha. Gay.

Last night was absurd to say the least. First off, there's fifty cent beers at happy hour. A very ominous start to the evening, since BJ and I arrive at the empty bar precisely when it opens. As I'm there for a bit, I find out about a party where you've got to dress up to get in. Too bad I brought precisely two shirts and my shorts. Only sane white shirts for me. Of course BJ is all psyched up to look and dress like an idiot. So I play along and we find a nice Norwegian girl that lends us dresses for the night.  We find a German friend that we met in Nicaragua, and we are really pleased to find a decent sized group to head to this 'crazy party'. Turns out pretty much the only people there that look like jackasses are me, the group I'm with, and the bartenders. Oh, and there are like a grand total of twelve people there. Fuck it, what else are we going to do? So I make some friends with new Germans. (They're everywhere!) While BJ takes it upon himself to get completely smashed. I continue to have a normal night, a few drinks, a lot of dancing, and some broken conversations over the loud dance music that's playing. I'd say it was a good night for me, except looking like a fucking idiot in a dress.

What happens when you arrive too early at the bar.

Now BJ has a different story I'm sure. I know for sure that he fell down on the dance floor with our Norwegian friend and got kicked out of the bar. So being the super amazing friend I am, I give him a dollar for a water taxi and the keys to the room and help him on the boat. Then I return to dance with my friends. There was this moment that kind of defined the night: as I put BJ in the taxi and it's about to pull away some random bar dude says "you're friend is not going to make it home, you should help him". A split second decision needs to be made, do I help my buddy home and end my night early, or let him be responsible for his own actions and pick him out of the gutter in the morning? Tough choice, but I decide he's a big boy and he'll find a way home. I continue to have a ball until my night comes to a close. I leave with my new friends, and a head back to our hostel. We chat for a while, and I hope that BJ is soundly passed out in the room, but once I get there I realize he's not there, and I'll seriously have to pick him out of the gutter or jail in the morning.  Oh well, I went to sleep and saved my problems for later.

Eventually BJ made it back to the room somehow because he was home in the morning. The next day he looked like death, which serves him right. Now, I'll be the first to admit that I like to drink, but at least I can moderately control my intake of tequila shots.  BJ not so much.  So, after only one night in Bocas, I'm ready to leave. It was fun reliving some old memories, but I'm glad to be back on the road south. I'm giddy to find the end of North America and head into the unknown of the South.

9/29/2010 - Boquete, Panama: Bring It On

A long cold soggy ride and I finally make my the destination for the night Boquete, Panama. It's a touristy mountain town where it seems to rain all day long. Apparently it's supposed to be beautiful, but I'd never know since it's covered in a blanket of fog. But I've got some time to kill, so it seems like a nice place to spend two nights.

Now I really wish I would have read this in some of the hours of Internet research I did before making this trip: bring your original title to your vehicle. That would have been so damn convenient. I'm here in Panama figuring out how to get my title to me. It's been problematic  at almost every border except Mexico. I guess my doctored up color copy doesn't really cut it. The dude at the Costa Rican border totally called me out, and asked where the original was, but luckily honesty worked, and he let me in. I'm not taking any chances in South America, so I'm getting that title somehow. Once I finish up some business, I'm headed for the first country on the South American list: Columbia. 

Now the Pan American highway is the longest highway on the planet, but there's a very inconvenient break in the road called the Darien Gap. It's a forty mile stretch of swampy forest controlled by guerrillas and drug runners, so for the sake of safety I've got to put my bike on a boat and ship it to Columbia. This is going to hurt. I don't trust people handling my bike with cranes, then putting it on an old salty boat in hopes of encountering calm sees. Definitely makes me nervous, especially since it's going to cost me seven hundred dollars. Yikes. I hope my Spanish skills are up to par, so the shipping adventure goes smoothly. If all goes well my bike will be undamaged, I'll have snorkeled in the San Blas islands, and eaten my weight in lobster. Definely not looking forward to the voyage, since my house is my Kawasaki. I hate when things like that are out of my control, at least on the bike if I crash or leave my bike somewhere dangerous, it's my fault if something happens. Whatever, It's all for the sake of adventure. Bring it on.