Melissa wrote: Well, we have been getting feedback from friends for not updating the blog in awhile…so just to go back a little in time, here is what happened:
After getting caught in the Martial Law/political situation in Honduras, my little travel memoir was beginning to feel more like a Steven King novel. After 2 days of being trapped in the Hotel Telamar in Tela, a small beach town about a hour from San Pedro Sula (Tela is the former HQ town of Chiquita Banana)due to the curfew and going a bit stir crazy (the pool was under renovation) we were still waiting, hoping that I would be able to fly out of San Pedro Sula when the airport opened. We had gone to the hotel reception area, the only place with internet, to go online and register our passports with the U.S. State Department as advised. Suffering from cabin fever, we went down to the beach in front of the hotel, the ‘safe’ beach, and went for a walk. I never carry my passport, but I didn’t feel like going back to the room, so had it with me. We both had our small day-packs with books, our cameras, some cash, and Chris had the bike keys as there is an alarm which goes off on his keychain if anyone tries to mess with the motorcycle. We walked along the beach, and as we turned to head back to the hotel, 3 guys who had been sitting on the sand at the water’s edge jumped up right in front of us, yelling in Spanish. One grabbed Chris and one grabbed me, waving broken bottles in front of our faces. I realized that they were saying “Give us the backpacks!” We took off our backpacks they yelled at us to get away. We ran back to the hotel, to a restaurant right on the beach, asking for help. The security guard, Fernando, got on his dune buggy and went screaming up the beach in pursuit. There was an old graveyard back behind the beach directly across from where they had robbed us, and they had run through there. Fernando found 2 of them and had them held with his gun. He radioed the hotel manager, who was now at the restaurant, that he had apprehended them with our things. At that moment, the 3rd one came back with his gun and fired 4 shots at Fernando. They then ran away, leaving Fernando unharmed save for an injured knee. At that point the police came. Chris went in the car with the police and Fernando and unbelievably, they spotted the thief with the gun wearing Chris’ backpack. They chased him through some bad neighborhoods, and he escaped by jumping over a wall, with the police unable to get to him.
The police came back and asked us to go to the police station (I use that term loosely) to file a report. I rode in the police car with Chris following with Fernando. The small shack housed 3 cubicles where the police did their work. I filed the report with a young woman wearing a big gun who pecked away at an ancient Smith Corona typewriter while I recounted what happened. The cubicle next to me was lively with a shouting man and woman arguing over her filing a restraining order. God, I love Honduras.
We returned to the hotel pretty shaken and upset. At that point, with no money, no credit cards, and no way to leave the hotel there wasn’t much else to do but retreat to the bar. Multiple tequilas and cervezas later, we met with Captain Victor, who is Fernando’s boss and the head of Security for the hotel. He is a former Army captain, a real Rambo-type of guy who inspired confidence in us. He told us that we could go out and try to get our things back. So, the next morning, at 8am, all of us were walking through an overgrown, bombed-out, really eerie cemetery, hoping that they had discarded our possessions there. We searched for 2 hours in the heat, and found our books, some papers from my bag, and some small things of mine. We actually found the broken bottles that they had threatened us with, but Victor told us that the police there have no way to process fingerprints. We had hoped that they tossed my passport and the keys aside but no luck. Let me tell you, being in that cemetery with the fear of those guys coming back was not a nice experience.
It gets better. After that, Captain Victor took us driving through some very bad neighborhoods, where he asked locals if they knew anything about the muggers (Tela is a small town.) No luck. We then went into the center of town and started visiting Pawn Shops looking for our things. That was an experience. Funny how in a town like this there are 6 Pawn Shops…the front of the store is bars, and you do business with the guy behind the counter through the bars. Still no luck. The next day, Chris and I visited the pawn shops again and even bought some announcements on the local TV station, Canal 24—we saw the announcements later while watching the soccer game…a small thrill in all of the chaos…but no results. So, we had spare keys sent via DHL from the office, and they arrived 2 days later.
The minute they arrived we headed for the border of Guatemala. I managed somehow sweet-talk the man in the border office at Puerto Barrios and he actually let me into the country without a passport……that was a first!
We spent the night in Puerto Barrios and then headed for Guatemala City the next day. Then the gods smiled on us. We found a ‘motorcycle guest-house’ run by Beto and Lizzie Lau in Guatemala City. Their business is called Adventure Planet, and includes a store which sells accessories and equipment, a guest house, and some rental dirt-bikes on which they take people on adventure rides up the volcanoes, across rivers…true adventure riding. Aside from the thrill factor, Beto and Lizzie are the nicest, kindest, most down-to-earth people that you could possibly meet. A few nights with them as I went to the U.S. Embassy in Guatemala City, arranged a flight home, etc. really took the edge off…coupled with some big glasses of Beto’s sangria. We would highly recommend a stop, or even a detour, to spend some time with these great people in their home…you won’t be sorry!
I have been home for a few weeks, and Chris for a little over a week, replacing our cameras, my passport, visiting with friends, and just getting my mojo back….this Thursday I head for Panama to re-join Chris, who has ridden through El Salvador and Nicaragua with various biker friends he met along the way. We will do some riding and exploring in Panama and Costa Rica, and then on Nov. 11 we will load the bike onto a dugout canoe, and board the Stahlratte, a German-run sailboat which will take us to Cartagena by way of the San Blas Islands (the bike will be lifted by a winch onto the sailboat…should be interesting…) The adventure continues and we are on our way!
I guess that all experiences teach you something…but this is one lesson I could have lived without!
Tuesday, October 27, 2009
Monday, September 7, 2009
Sept. 7: San Cristobal de las Casas to Guatemala
We crossed the border from Mexico to Guatemala in the northern part of the country, at a checkpoint called Ceibo. We had to exit Mexican customs, drive a few feet and then enter a small hut which was the border/customs for Guatemala. We parked the motorcycle and entered the hut, feeling the usual bit of nervousness at driving into a new country. What an experience! The 2 guys from customs were super-friendly, and when we entered, a Mexican was playing his guitar and singing inside the customs hut. There were men milling about asking us if we wanted to change money, flashing large wads of quetzals, the local currency. The mood was festive and it was infectious. Turns out the guy singing didn’t have the 16 quetzales to cross the border into Guatemala, so he was entertaining the border officials in exchange for entry. What a great welcome. We passed many small villages on our way to Tikal, home of the amazing ruins. The poverty we saw was striking, so different than Mexico. We arrived at Tikal, and drove into the actual park, where we checked into some small ‘jungle cabins’. There is no electricity here after 9pm…the generator shuts off there is no power until morning at 9am.
We spent the last 2 nights at Palenque, Mayan ruins in the State of Chiapas, Mexico. We found (thanks to some friends) a place called El Jaguar, cabins in the jungle with block walls and mosquito net windows. Chris was happy as we could park the motorcycle right outside of our cabin. About 4am we discovered that our cabin was adjacent to the local chicken coop, with a rambunctious rooster who wouldn’t stop until we finally got up. He also had his apprentice with him, a baby rooster who would try to crow but who had a Backstreet Boys break in his voice every time. We couldn’t help but laugh. Across the street from El Jaguar was a place called Don Mucho, a large palapa which serves as the local restaurant and nightclub. The place was full of backpackers, archaeologist-types, hippies, and a mix of tourists and locals. What a blast. At night, lit by candles, with groups playing guitars, bongos, beat boxes, everyone tired from climbing up the
ruins but ready to mix and socialize…we loved it. 
We went to Palenque from San Cristobal de las Casas, one of my new favorite cities in Mexico. San Cristobal is a colonial city with a heavy influence and feel of the indigenous people. What is so great about it is that you can feel the history and the tradition, yet there is a very happening, current vibe that goes through the city….which in turn all relates back to the past. The indigenous people subsist on a mostly vegetarian diet, so there are great natural food and vegetarian restaurants there. They believe in natural healing, plants, energy, and the like, and there are many yoga, mayan massage, natural healing and holistic places to go. Near our small ‘posada’ I found a place called Alterna Dance Studio, where I went to do an exercise class…thought it was Zumba but it was hip-hop…in Spanish…very interesting!
We visited the village of San Juan Chomula, which belongs to the Tzotzil people. We wanted to go with a guide, so connected with Raul and Cesar—you just meet them at 9:30 in the morning in front of the big cross at the city square. Raul takes you in his 1980 VW Bus to the village, which is governed by the people of this group, in a very protected and insular way. Tradition is sacred, from local dress to government to religion. The women wear rough wool skirts, satin blouses, braided hair and shawls folded on their heads. The men, depending on their rank, wear rough woolen tunics, pants, and the guys with real rank wear Mayan sandals. We visited the church, Templo de San Juan, and that is where it all became clear. The Spaniards built the church, but the Tzotzil people have made the church and Catholicism their own (the church is no longer recognized by the Vatican.) When you walk into the church you are overwhelmed by the amount of candles burning. The Tzotzils took out all of the pews, put mirrors on all of the chests of the saints (they reflect the soul) and they worship in small groups, lighting groups of candles on the floor, performing rituals with chickens, plants, eggs, and beverages of different color. It was an incredible, surreal, experience. Too bad no photography was allowed, as I would have loved to share this. A few more interesting things there: if you break the law, you have to do community service, which is to become a police officer for one year with no pay. Police have no weapons save for a big wooden bat. Jails (second offense) are open on to the street so all of the townspeople can look in through the bars at your disgrace. 3rd offense you get thrown out of the village, never to return.
When we got back from the village, there was a concert going on in the central square. It turns out that there is a problem with graffiti in the village, with young people defacing the beautiful colonial houses and buildings with graffiti. When the town tried to fine them, there was a hue and cry that their rights of free expression were being violated. There was a conundrum as to what to do, how to address this without conflict. The city of San Cristobal did a very smart thing….when one of the kids is caught, he/she is responsible for re-painting the entire house. They also gave voice to the group that represents them, JULE (Jovenes Unidos por la Libre Expresion) and allowed them to have a concert. They also installed white boards in the square where the youth could do their so-called ‘art’. When we arrived at the concert, it was funny to see the mix of people….young indigenous teens in their traditi
onal dress rocking out to a heavy-metal alternative band. The world is really 
getting smaller. 
We spent the last 2 nights at Palenque, Mayan ruins in the State of Chiapas, Mexico. We found (thanks to some friends) a place called El Jaguar, cabins in the jungle with block walls and mosquito net windows. Chris was happy as we could park the motorcycle right outside of our cabin. About 4am we discovered that our cabin was adjacent to the local chicken coop, with a rambunctious rooster who wouldn’t stop until we finally got up. He also had his apprentice with him, a baby rooster who would try to crow but who had a Backstreet Boys break in his voice every time. We couldn’t help but laugh. Across the street from El Jaguar was a place called Don Mucho, a large palapa which serves as the local restaurant and nightclub. The place was full of backpackers, archaeologist-types, hippies, and a mix of tourists and locals. What a blast. At night, lit by candles, with groups playing guitars, bongos, beat boxes, everyone tired from climbing up the
ruins but ready to mix and socialize…we loved it. 
We went to Palenque from San Cristobal de las Casas, one of my new favorite cities in Mexico. San Cristobal is a colonial city with a heavy influence and feel of the indigenous people. What is so great about it is that you can feel the history and the tradition, yet there is a very happening, current vibe that goes through the city….which in turn all relates back to the past. The indigenous people subsist on a mostly vegetarian diet, so there are great natural food and vegetarian restaurants there. They believe in natural healing, plants, energy, and the like, and there are many yoga, mayan massage, natural healing and holistic places to go. Near our small ‘posada’ I found a place called Alterna Dance Studio, where I went to do an exercise class…thought it was Zumba but it was hip-hop…in Spanish…very interesting!
We visited the village of San Juan Chomula, which belongs to the Tzotzil people. We wanted to go with a guide, so connected with Raul and Cesar—you just meet them at 9:30 in the morning in front of the big cross at the city square. Raul takes you in his 1980 VW Bus to the village, which is governed by the people of this group, in a very protected and insular way. Tradition is sacred, from local dress to government to religion. The women wear rough wool skirts, satin blouses, braided hair and shawls folded on their heads. The men, depending on their rank, wear rough woolen tunics, pants, and the guys with real rank wear Mayan sandals. We visited the church, Templo de San Juan, and that is where it all became clear. The Spaniards built the church, but the Tzotzil people have made the church and Catholicism their own (the church is no longer recognized by the Vatican.) When you walk into the church you are overwhelmed by the amount of candles burning. The Tzotzils took out all of the pews, put mirrors on all of the chests of the saints (they reflect the soul) and they worship in small groups, lighting groups of candles on the floor, performing rituals with chickens, plants, eggs, and beverages of different color. It was an incredible, surreal, experience. Too bad no photography was allowed, as I would have loved to share this. A few more interesting things there: if you break the law, you have to do community service, which is to become a police officer for one year with no pay. Police have no weapons save for a big wooden bat. Jails (second offense) are open on to the street so all of the townspeople can look in through the bars at your disgrace. 3rd offense you get thrown out of the village, never to return.
When we got back from the village, there was a concert going on in the central square. It turns out that there is a problem with graffiti in the village, with young people defacing the beautiful colonial houses and buildings with graffiti. When the town tried to fine them, there was a hue and cry that their rights of free expression were being violated. There was a conundrum as to what to do, how to address this without conflict. The city of San Cristobal did a very smart thing….when one of the kids is caught, he/she is responsible for re-painting the entire house. They also gave voice to the group that represents them, JULE (Jovenes Unidos por la Libre Expresion) and allowed them to have a concert. They also installed white boards in the square where the youth could do their so-called ‘art’. When we arrived at the concert, it was funny to see the mix of people….young indigenous teens in their traditi
onal dress rocking out to a heavy-metal alternative band. The world is really 
getting smaller. 
A final word: We have been traveling
by motorcycle in Mexico for almost 8 weeks now. The experience has been phenomenal. The colors, the people, the flavors, the topography and the warmth of Mexico has been exceptional. There is a lot of bad press in the U.S. and in other places regarding this wonderful country. My advice…travel with caution, like anywhere, but travel to Mexico. You will be missing out if you don’t.
Friday, July 17, 2009
Reality Check
From Melissa: We began this leg of the journey with a lot of excitement and a healthy amount of fear. Countless bikers that we have met have regaled us with stories of their friends and friends-of-friends who have ridden through Mexico, Central and South America and encountered a myriad of mishaps…robberies, bikers left bloodied by the side of the road, victims of drunk drivers (for which they have been hauled off to jail, asked for insurance, forced to hand over vast amounts of dollars) etc. If one more person tells us about the book “Two Wheels of Terror”, by the guy who was motorcycling though Colombia and was kidnapped for 4 months, I’ll run. I really would like to read this book, only AFTER I get home from this journey. With all of this input, we have tried to stay positive and not get hysterical about the amount of danger ranging from swine flu to drug lords. However, today when we crossed into Mexico, I have to say that our anxiety was at an all-time high. We crossed from San Diego to Tecate with much anticipation………however, the border guards just waved us through, didn’t even leave the shady area where they were hanging out to stamp our passports (which we hope won’t be a problem later.) We came into Tecate and headed down the Baja coast road to Ensenada, stopping for lunch at a small town called San Vicente.We passed through the MexicanWine Route but did not stop as we were concerned about timing and where to stay the night. There is quite a distance between stops with hotels in this part of Mexico and no signs…very little is also visible on a map, and the GPS has been off-track, not lining up with the actual roads (even though we purchased the Garmin Mexico map system.) Having lived in Mexico, I have a real love for the country, but today...traffic was a nightmare, and a good amount of the road was under construction, where we were diverted off onto a dirt road, stuck behind buses spewing fumes into our faces. We had stopped at the tourist office in Ensenada and were told that there was a hotel a few hours south in a town called Colonet, just off of a road near San Telmo, near the beach. We arrived at Colonet at about 4pm, and the town was basically a few buildings along the side of the road. We asked some police officers where the hotel was and they directed us to a dirt road which supposedly went to the beach. We went down this road and it got worse, worse, and turned into a maze of dirt and sand roads which went alongside farms and led nowhere. By this time the sun was going down and we were getting nervous. We hit some soft sand and the bike went over. With all of the bags, etc. the motorcycle is very heavy; even with the new tires that Chris had put on in San Diego it was very unstable. Chris and I had to pick the bike up and try to get it out of the sand, which was interesting….picture this..the two of us, hot and sweating, mosquitoes beginning to swarm, trying to pick up 500 plus pounds of motorcycle from the soft sand, with the bike sliding all over the place. Back on the bike, onto the road, still looking for the hotel. MORE soft sand and we went over again. Only this time we could not get the bike out of the trees, and the back wheel was WAY buried. Chris put sticks under the back tire and we tried to create traction and get it out but no way. He finally said “Babe, take off your jacket, this is going to get ugly.” We then proceeded to drag the bike along the sand and get it out of the hole and turned it around. The sun was getting lower and lower and I could picture us stuck in this maze in the dark being shot by ticked-off cattle ranchers. We found a new, dirt road with the now useless GPS which can’t recognize any of these Mexican roads and went uphill on a road filled with big rocks and dirt. We almost went over the cliff. When we were on our last nerve we came upon a farm and asked a guy where to go and he pointed us to a road towards town. By then it was almost dark. We stopped at a gas station and ended up going south to the next town called Camalu and were directed up a hill (another dirt road!! Thank god for the GSA) where a hotel called “La Cueva del Pirata” appeared like a mirage in the distance. We immediately had a Don Julio Tequila and just got our bearings.
I must say that we have done some planning in this regard: we have gotten a satellite phone and a personal tracker, which is the size of an Ipod or a little larger, called a Spot Tracker. This allows you to send emails to a specific set of friends and family to let them know that you are OK. It also (for about $90 per year) has a service that is 911—this is a button you press and anywhere you are in the world, they can locate you on Google Earth and send help in the form of truck, helicopter, etc to rescue you. The Spot Tracker can be purchased at any REI store. Alex, a biker that we met in Ferndale, California told us about this and it was a great tip. We also got Mexico Motorcycle Insurance through a company called Mexpro which can be purchased online. They provide quotes from a variety of Mexican Insurance companies.
Our first day in Mexico……..now on to the next adventure!!
I must say that we have done some planning in this regard: we have gotten a satellite phone and a personal tracker, which is the size of an Ipod or a little larger, called a Spot Tracker. This allows you to send emails to a specific set of friends and family to let them know that you are OK. It also (for about $90 per year) has a service that is 911—this is a button you press and anywhere you are in the world, they can locate you on Google Earth and send help in the form of truck, helicopter, etc to rescue you. The Spot Tracker can be purchased at any REI store. Alex, a biker that we met in Ferndale, California told us about this and it was a great tip. We also got Mexico Motorcycle Insurance through a company called Mexpro which can be purchased online. They provide quotes from a variety of Mexican Insurance companies.
Our first day in Mexico……..now on to the next adventure!!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)