I returned to Salvador Thursday morning from Morro Sao Paulo. We were supposed to take the 9 am catamaran (2 hours), but the seas were too rough so we had to take a combination of boats and busses that took about 3 ½ hours. Actually, not too bad and I’m sure a lot more comfortable than a boat trip would have been in the heavy winds.
I immediately went to the mechanic´s to see what was going on. I had gotten some reports, but it didn’t sound like things were progressing as they should. It turned out that I have a broken piston. This explains the problems, but after calling around Nen has not been able to locate a piston for my bike in Brazil.
So I spent Thursday afternoon on the internet and Skype (what DID we do before this) and found a supplier in San Diego who could get a piston off to me by Fedex the next day. With luck, I would have it by next Tuesday. All I had to do was get him payment by PayPal.
I HATE PAYPAL. Despite having three good credit cards, something in their system wouldn’t take my payment. I spent three hours on Friday morning trying to get this to go through. When I called PayPal there only comment was “we don’t know… it’s something in our system that rejects your payment. We can’t do a thing about it”. May PayPal and everyone who works for them rot in hell and may all their children grow up to be gerbils (or at the very least, may they be infested with gerbils). So there.!
Fotrunately, Rod, the supplier (Bless you Multi Surface Motorcycling), said he would get me the part anyway so I wouldn’t be stuck. My sister Tina put a check in the mail to him that day. Turns out Fedex wouldn’t take the package anyway since they didn’t have my passport number (go figure) and it was sent USPS. In theory, I should have the piston this week.
Keep all of your appendages crossed…. I’ll let you know.
Sunday, July 19, 2009
Wednesday, July 15, 2009
A Tale of Two Cities.. Salvador and Morro Sao Paulo - 7/12-15
Yes, dear readers, I'm still in Salvador. It's not a bad city, but I've had ENOUGH of it. More importantly, if I don't get out of here soon I won't get back to Panama in time to get to Korea, so the pressure is on... really on and I'm feeling it big time. I don't know what "Plan B" is.
To bring you up to date:
When last we left poor Pinguino it was Friday afternoon, July 10, and he was at Nen's (the mechanic) shop. Nen was to dismantle the motor on Monday to figure out what was wrong and so we could order parts. Ah, the best laid plans of mice and men (and penguins).
Since I couldn't do much at the time I decided to take a few days and go to Morro Sao Paulo for some fun and sun. This is an island about two hours by boat from Salvador, and supposed to be a very nice tourist resort area.
On Sunday I caught the boat for the island. The "luxury yacht" reminded me in many ways of the old fishing boats that we used to take scuba diving in Malaysia. Hard benches, and if you went out back for some fresh air the shape of the stern just sucked the diesel fumes right into your lungs. But I met a young Brazilian couple on the boat who spoke a little English and we had a decent time... and all stayed inside, which was probably better given the rain.
We arrived at the island at about 2:00. The island does look quite idyllic as you approach. It's a bit of a throwback to a gentler time, since there are no motor vehicles on the island (Except for a tractor that does some maintenance).
There are burros and horses everywhere. The "taxis" are only to carry luggage, and consist of boys with wheelbarrows. Even the construction materials are unloaded by hand off the boats and carried by horse or burro.
The hotel itself, Pousada Farol de Morro Sao Paulo, was very nice. I got a room with a nice view of the ocean and a small terrace.
I met an interesting, and varied, group to hang out with for a few days. Shelly and Kimberley are teachers from the DC area. Shelly had a local boyfriend, Diego, and Kim was waiting for a friend to arrive. Nick, an Aussie, showed up and then Joy, a local, joined us along with Daniella, one of the owners of the pousada . It was a group that liked to party, although I (Gramps) wasn't up for going out to the disco at two am and staying until dawn. I left that part up to them.
Joy, the guy on the far right, decided I should adopt him as my grandson since we looked so much alike!
On Wednesday we decided to go to the "mud baths", a Morro Sao Paulo ritual. This first entailed a hike through the jungle, during which the girls decided to enjoy a local refreshment, frozen coconut milk in a small plastic bag. However, as it melted it began to resemble a dripping condom and the comments - and images - grew progressively more "R" rated. The final images can't be displayed here on a family oriented blog.
While the hike was arduous, Daniella provided us with scenery to encourage forward progress. This is another Brazilian tradition!
Once we arrived at the clay cliffs, Diego and Joy prepared the magical mud treatment for us.
We then proceeded to slather each other from head to toe.. . to exfoliate, smooth, and just plain have a good time.
Joy looked like he had stepped out of a National Geographic magazine... on the warpath
After that, we dried until we caked up, walked further to a nice beach, and rinsed. Then we proceeded to drink far too many beers, have a good lunch, and finally return to the hotel after dark. It was certainly one of the better days.
To bring you up to date:
When last we left poor Pinguino it was Friday afternoon, July 10, and he was at Nen's (the mechanic) shop. Nen was to dismantle the motor on Monday to figure out what was wrong and so we could order parts. Ah, the best laid plans of mice and men (and penguins).
Since I couldn't do much at the time I decided to take a few days and go to Morro Sao Paulo for some fun and sun. This is an island about two hours by boat from Salvador, and supposed to be a very nice tourist resort area.
On Sunday I caught the boat for the island. The "luxury yacht" reminded me in many ways of the old fishing boats that we used to take scuba diving in Malaysia. Hard benches, and if you went out back for some fresh air the shape of the stern just sucked the diesel fumes right into your lungs. But I met a young Brazilian couple on the boat who spoke a little English and we had a decent time... and all stayed inside, which was probably better given the rain.
We arrived at the island at about 2:00. The island does look quite idyllic as you approach. It's a bit of a throwback to a gentler time, since there are no motor vehicles on the island (Except for a tractor that does some maintenance).
There are burros and horses everywhere. The "taxis" are only to carry luggage, and consist of boys with wheelbarrows. Even the construction materials are unloaded by hand off the boats and carried by horse or burro.
The hotel itself, Pousada Farol de Morro Sao Paulo, was very nice. I got a room with a nice view of the ocean and a small terrace.
I met an interesting, and varied, group to hang out with for a few days. Shelly and Kimberley are teachers from the DC area. Shelly had a local boyfriend, Diego, and Kim was waiting for a friend to arrive. Nick, an Aussie, showed up and then Joy, a local, joined us along with Daniella, one of the owners of the pousada . It was a group that liked to party, although I (Gramps) wasn't up for going out to the disco at two am and staying until dawn. I left that part up to them.Joy, the guy on the far right, decided I should adopt him as my grandson since we looked so much alike!
On Wednesday we decided to go to the "mud baths", a Morro Sao Paulo ritual. This first entailed a hike through the jungle, during which the girls decided to enjoy a local refreshment, frozen coconut milk in a small plastic bag. However, as it melted it began to resemble a dripping condom and the comments - and images - grew progressively more "R" rated. The final images can't be displayed here on a family oriented blog.
While the hike was arduous, Daniella provided us with scenery to encourage forward progress. This is another Brazilian tradition!
Once we arrived at the clay cliffs, Diego and Joy prepared the magical mud treatment for us.
We then proceeded to slather each other from head to toe.. . to exfoliate, smooth, and just plain have a good time.
Joy looked like he had stepped out of a National Geographic magazine... on the warpath
After that, we dried until we caked up, walked further to a nice beach, and rinsed. Then we proceeded to drink far too many beers, have a good lunch, and finally return to the hotel after dark. It was certainly one of the better days.
Saturday, July 11, 2009
Down for the Count (but not out) - July 9 - 11
Thursday 7/9 - Busted Flat in Baton Rouge
Somehow Janis Joplin's voice just keeps running through my mind. OK, I'm not in Baton Rouge,. And I'm not busted flat... at least not in the monetary sense (although with the prices here in Brazil that's not out of the question).
What I am is back in Salvador with a sick Pinguino. The bike, she's not feeling so good. Yes, Ladies and Gentlemen, a sad tale but true:
I left Salvador this morning amid a nice sunny day. Getting out of Salvador was problematic, as this is about the worst driving city I've ever seen. As described elsewhere, no streets go where they should, and it's impossible to turn around to go the other direction. So after about an hour of meandering, asking questions of people with wildly different ideas as to where the road north was, and screaming obscenities into my helmet I finally found myself on the Litoral Norte... the coastal road to the north.
I figured it would take me three days to get to Fortaleza, taking it easy and stopping at a couple of beach towns on the way. All seemed to be progressing satisfactorily, and aside from a slight vibration at 5000 rpm the bike seemed to be running fine. There had been a few drops of oil on the floor this morning, but I thought that was just some residual in the system.
Then as I reached Praia de Porto and accelerated to pass a truck I noticed a huge plume of white smoke emitting from El Pinguino's rear end. I had discovered in Antarctica that penguin farts are nothing to be sneezed at (now there's an image), and the smoke emanating from my trusty steed did nothing to warm the cockles of my heart, wherever they might be. I pulled over and saw even more oil dripping from the overflow tube. This was definitely NOT a good sign.
So having a choice of returning 60 km to Salvador or continuing 1500 km north to Fortaleza, I decided that hanging a U was probably the wiser choice. So back it was, to get lost and try to find Nen's shop again. Having had faith that I would not be returning, I unwisely hadn't put the location of the shop into my GPS. After repeating my inability to navigate Salvador I finally stopped to ask a taxi driver the location of the shop, showing him Nen's card. As luck would have it, he was also a biker. He told me to wait a minute while he got his motorcycle and then led me right to the shop. Turns out he is also a customer of Nen's.
I've got to say, for all the trouble I've been having the Brazilian people have been absolutely wonderful. I am inviting the entire country to come spend Christmas with us in Panama! 200 million people in our guest room might be a bit cramped, but they deserve it. Maybe we'll put the overflow up in Cerro Azul.
After looking at the problem, Nen thinks that I might have a broken piston ring. This would explain the high pressure leaking into the bottom end of the motor and could have caused the initial problem of the broken gasket. Diagnosing and fixing this will involve completely opening up the motor... not a minor job. Unfortunately, because he had spent so much time on my bike over the last few days his other work has piled up and he can't even look at my bike until Monday. Then, if any parts are needed that can't be gotten locally we might have to get them from Sao Paulo.
So here I am... "Busted Flat in Baton Rouge", or at least stuck for a week in Salvador. I've run into three other bikers (an Australian couple and a Swiss woman) who are also awaiting parts, so I have some people to commiserate (and drink) with. I'll probably take a boat to Morrow Sao Paulo for a few days of beach relaxation, but otherwise here I am.
In "Jupiter's Travels", his telling of his round-the-world motorcycle trip in the seventies, Simon says something along the lines of "don't think of the obstacles as getting in the way of the journey... they are the journey". It's something that I've reminded myself of many times during this trip, and keeping that philosophy in mind has really helped. Guess I'll just enjoy the journey in Salvador for a while.
Stay tuned to this channel for more breaking news as it happens.
Somehow Janis Joplin's voice just keeps running through my mind. OK, I'm not in Baton Rouge,. And I'm not busted flat... at least not in the monetary sense (although with the prices here in Brazil that's not out of the question).
What I am is back in Salvador with a sick Pinguino. The bike, she's not feeling so good. Yes, Ladies and Gentlemen, a sad tale but true:
I left Salvador this morning amid a nice sunny day. Getting out of Salvador was problematic, as this is about the worst driving city I've ever seen. As described elsewhere, no streets go where they should, and it's impossible to turn around to go the other direction. So after about an hour of meandering, asking questions of people with wildly different ideas as to where the road north was, and screaming obscenities into my helmet I finally found myself on the Litoral Norte... the coastal road to the north.
I figured it would take me three days to get to Fortaleza, taking it easy and stopping at a couple of beach towns on the way. All seemed to be progressing satisfactorily, and aside from a slight vibration at 5000 rpm the bike seemed to be running fine. There had been a few drops of oil on the floor this morning, but I thought that was just some residual in the system.
Then as I reached Praia de Porto and accelerated to pass a truck I noticed a huge plume of white smoke emitting from El Pinguino's rear end. I had discovered in Antarctica that penguin farts are nothing to be sneezed at (now there's an image), and the smoke emanating from my trusty steed did nothing to warm the cockles of my heart, wherever they might be. I pulled over and saw even more oil dripping from the overflow tube. This was definitely NOT a good sign.
So having a choice of returning 60 km to Salvador or continuing 1500 km north to Fortaleza, I decided that hanging a U was probably the wiser choice. So back it was, to get lost and try to find Nen's shop again. Having had faith that I would not be returning, I unwisely hadn't put the location of the shop into my GPS. After repeating my inability to navigate Salvador I finally stopped to ask a taxi driver the location of the shop, showing him Nen's card. As luck would have it, he was also a biker. He told me to wait a minute while he got his motorcycle and then led me right to the shop. Turns out he is also a customer of Nen's.
I've got to say, for all the trouble I've been having the Brazilian people have been absolutely wonderful. I am inviting the entire country to come spend Christmas with us in Panama! 200 million people in our guest room might be a bit cramped, but they deserve it. Maybe we'll put the overflow up in Cerro Azul.
After looking at the problem, Nen thinks that I might have a broken piston ring. This would explain the high pressure leaking into the bottom end of the motor and could have caused the initial problem of the broken gasket. Diagnosing and fixing this will involve completely opening up the motor... not a minor job. Unfortunately, because he had spent so much time on my bike over the last few days his other work has piled up and he can't even look at my bike until Monday. Then, if any parts are needed that can't be gotten locally we might have to get them from Sao Paulo.
So here I am... "Busted Flat in Baton Rouge", or at least stuck for a week in Salvador. I've run into three other bikers (an Australian couple and a Swiss woman) who are also awaiting parts, so I have some people to commiserate (and drink) with. I'll probably take a boat to Morrow Sao Paulo for a few days of beach relaxation, but otherwise here I am.
In "Jupiter's Travels", his telling of his round-the-world motorcycle trip in the seventies, Simon says something along the lines of "don't think of the obstacles as getting in the way of the journey... they are the journey". It's something that I've reminded myself of many times during this trip, and keeping that philosophy in mind has really helped. Guess I'll just enjoy the journey in Salvador for a while.
Stay tuned to this channel for more breaking news as it happens.
Wednesday, July 8, 2009
Monday 7/6 to Wednesday 7/8 - El Pinguino sees the `Vet `
El Pinguino (my trusty Kawasaki) was sorely in need of medical (mechanical) care, and Alberto came to the rescue. He came and picked me up on his trusty Yamaha and took me to see Ven, the moto mechanic. Ven arranged for a pickup taxi to take me back to my hotel and get my motorcycle. So once again, a truck trip back to the mechanic. Fortunately this one only cost me twenty bucks.
Ven immediately started pulling the bike apart and confirmed what the Suzuki dealer in Sao Mateus had diagnosed? yes indeed a gasket had blown. The difference was that Ven actually knew what to do about it. For the next three days he worked on the bike, getting a new gasket made, and other maintenance like replacing the chain and sprockets. These guys get very clever here when necessity is the mother of invention. While I had a semi-used front sprocket in my parts kit, a rear sprocket for my bike was not available in Salvador. So we bought a sprocket with the right number of teeth and took it to a machine shop to have the right size center hole machined and the correct bolt holes drilled. Quite clever.
Wednesday morning I decided I had to actually see some of Salvador, so I arranged a tour of the historical area. Salvador was the first capital of Brazil, before Rio and then Brazilia. My guide, Armando, spoke Spanish and was very informative. In fact, just a little TOO informative. I finally had to tell him that while I found the history interesting I was getting just a little bit too much information. If I asked him about the government in the colonial times he would proceed to tell me where the term government came from, why there were colonies, and the color of the third Vicount de Fulano?s second daughter?s petticoats. Anyway, you get the idea.
El Pinguino (my trusty Kawasaki) was sorely in need of medical (mechanical) care, and Alberto came to the rescue. He came and picked me up on his trusty Yamaha and took me to see Ven, the moto mechanic. Ven arranged for a pickup taxi to take me back to my hotel and get my motorcycle. So once again, a truck trip back to the mechanic. Fortunately this one only cost me twenty bucks.
Ven immediately started pulling the bike apart and confirmed what the Suzuki dealer in Sao Mateus had diagnosed? yes indeed a gasket had blown. The difference was that Ven actually knew what to do about it. For the next three days he worked on the bike, getting a new gasket made, and other maintenance like replacing the chain and sprockets. These guys get very clever here when necessity is the mother of invention. While I had a semi-used front sprocket in my parts kit, a rear sprocket for my bike was not available in Salvador. So we bought a sprocket with the right number of teeth and took it to a machine shop to have the right size center hole machined and the correct bolt holes drilled. Quite clever.
Wednesday morning I decided I had to actually see some of Salvador, so I arranged a tour of the historical area. Salvador was the first capital of Brazil, before Rio and then Brazilia. My guide, Armando, spoke Spanish and was very informative. In fact, just a little TOO informative. I finally had to tell him that while I found the history interesting I was getting just a little bit too much information. If I asked him about the government in the colonial times he would proceed to tell me where the term government came from, why there were colonies, and the color of the third Vicount de Fulano?s second daughter?s petticoats. Anyway, you get the idea.
There are, like in most colonial towns, some very impressive churches. This is how the Church used its money instead of helping the local populace. Also probably why the impressive churches have survived while the local populace died off. But interesting from a tourism perspective
The local population in Salvador is heavily Afro-Brazilian and there are a lot of reminders of the slavery of the past. The traditional dress of the Baianos (people from the state of Bahia) iis heavily influenced by the Carribean roots. Many of the women are simply heavily influenced.
That afternoon it was back to the mechanic`s. The bike was put back together and after a final wash to get the rest of the oil and grunge off, on Wednesday night I was out of the mechanic shop.
I went with Alberto to meet up with the group that gathers by the Farol de Barra (lighthouse). The lighthouse itself is quite impressive at night.
After a half hour of normal BS with the guys, we were off for a few beers. Other than a few drops of oil dripping from the air box, the bike seems to be running fine.
Then it was back to the hotel with my trusty steed, and tomorrow I am off to Fortaleza.
Saturday, July 4, 2009
Sao Mateus, and the Shit Hits the Fan - July 3 - 4
Friday 7/3 - On the Road to Salvador
Today was a LONG drive. The road was good, but it is a major truck route and there are not many passing lanes. It was one of those days when you are just trying to put as many miles under your [very sore and tired] butt as you can. After about 8 hours on the road I arrived at Sao Mateus. I found a great hotel, with garage, cable tv, and wifi in the room (first time). I even thought I might stay an extra day.
Just as I was getting into the shower at about 4:30 the bellboy knocked on my door to tell me that my bike was leaking oil in the garage. Yep, a nice black puddle right there on the floor. So off I go driving around town to find a mechanic to take a look. First I tried the Honda dealer, who was very nice but said his mechanics don't know anything but Hondas. However, he led me in his car to the Suzuki dealer. This place was also very nice, and told me they would fix it in the morning, as well as putting on a new rear tire that I needed.
So off I went to a nice dinner, a couple of beers, and a cigar at an outdoor restaurant. Things were looking OK.
Saturday 7/4 - The PooPoo Hits the Ventilator
I slept late, still feeling a little queasy from my earlier stomach problems, and thought that I might stay in Sao Mateu for the day. Maybe sit around the pool or go to the beach. At 10:30 I went to the Suzuki dealer to get the bike.
Well, they had changed the tire, but said they couldn't fix the oil leak. It looked like a blown gasket and they didn't have the "special tool" to get the water pump off to get to it. Feelings of "oh, crap" were starting to pop up in my head. Kawasaki doesn't generally require any special tools (which is one reason why I chose this bike... it's simple to fix), so maybe they didn't know what they were talking about. I checked the manual that I carry, and indeed the water pump can be taken apart with regular tools. So somebody didn't know quite whereof they friggin` spoke. Then they told me that even if they could get the motor apart, they didn't have the gasket and would have to get it from Kawasaki in Sao Paulo. I asked about using liquid gasket sealer and they had never heard of it. And anyway, it was noon on Saturday and they were closing (as was everyone else). So as far as a fast fix in Sao Mateus I was in the crapper.
They suggested that I ride to Salvador, 1000 km away. This was my next destination anyway, and I figured that with more than 2 million people I could probably find a mechanic who knew something. The Suzuki mechanic said the problem didn't look that bad (the great mechanic that he was), and so long as I carried extra oil to keep replenishing the motor I should be OK. Then I could get it fixed in Salvador on Monday when things were open. So... back to the hotel, pack, and get out of town.
This is the ShitHitsTheFan part: I got a few miles out of Sao Mateu and the motor is smoking, and running rough. Oil is spewing all over. Then a there is big pop and it really sounds like shit. I am in what might be called Deep DooDoo.
I show my badge to Geraldo Marciano, the cop on duty, and ask for suggestions. Who knew that my eight years as a reserve cop would come in so handy 20 years later in South America!
Geraldo is an incredibly nice guy and has been helping me all afternoon. First we try to get a truck going to Salvador that can take me, but there is very little traffic on Saturday and we have no luck. Then he calls someone he knows with a pickup truck who offers to take me for US$700. This is a LOT of money, but it is1000 kilometers each way. Eventually I agree (not having a lot of choice) and we try to get the bike into his truck. Unfortunately (actually, it turns out to be fortunately), the truck is too short and El Pinguino is too big. Another idea shot to hell.
Gerarlo keeps calling around and finally finds someone who is hauling a pickup truck to Salvador and will take my bike for US$400. I'm all for it, but he is picking up the car in another city and will be a few hours.
So here I am. It's 6:40 pm on Saturday night and I'm sitting in the police post (as I have been since 2:00) hoping that this guy with the truck will show. Then we have at least a 12 hour ride to Salvador on Sunday. With any luck, I'll find someone who can fix the bike and it will run again. I'll keep you posted.
Oh yeah... this is why they call it an adventure. If you want secure go to Disneyland!
Continuation...
Today was a LONG drive. The road was good, but it is a major truck route and there are not many passing lanes. It was one of those days when you are just trying to put as many miles under your [very sore and tired] butt as you can. After about 8 hours on the road I arrived at Sao Mateus. I found a great hotel, with garage, cable tv, and wifi in the room (first time). I even thought I might stay an extra day.
Just as I was getting into the shower at about 4:30 the bellboy knocked on my door to tell me that my bike was leaking oil in the garage. Yep, a nice black puddle right there on the floor. So off I go driving around town to find a mechanic to take a look. First I tried the Honda dealer, who was very nice but said his mechanics don't know anything but Hondas. However, he led me in his car to the Suzuki dealer. This place was also very nice, and told me they would fix it in the morning, as well as putting on a new rear tire that I needed.
So off I went to a nice dinner, a couple of beers, and a cigar at an outdoor restaurant. Things were looking OK.
Saturday 7/4 - The PooPoo Hits the Ventilator
I slept late, still feeling a little queasy from my earlier stomach problems, and thought that I might stay in Sao Mateu for the day. Maybe sit around the pool or go to the beach. At 10:30 I went to the Suzuki dealer to get the bike.
Well, they had changed the tire, but said they couldn't fix the oil leak. It looked like a blown gasket and they didn't have the "special tool" to get the water pump off to get to it. Feelings of "oh, crap" were starting to pop up in my head. Kawasaki doesn't generally require any special tools (which is one reason why I chose this bike... it's simple to fix), so maybe they didn't know what they were talking about. I checked the manual that I carry, and indeed the water pump can be taken apart with regular tools. So somebody didn't know quite whereof they friggin` spoke. Then they told me that even if they could get the motor apart, they didn't have the gasket and would have to get it from Kawasaki in Sao Paulo. I asked about using liquid gasket sealer and they had never heard of it. And anyway, it was noon on Saturday and they were closing (as was everyone else). So as far as a fast fix in Sao Mateus I was in the crapper.
They suggested that I ride to Salvador, 1000 km away. This was my next destination anyway, and I figured that with more than 2 million people I could probably find a mechanic who knew something. The Suzuki mechanic said the problem didn't look that bad (the great mechanic that he was), and so long as I carried extra oil to keep replenishing the motor I should be OK. Then I could get it fixed in Salvador on Monday when things were open. So... back to the hotel, pack, and get out of town.
This is the ShitHitsTheFan part: I got a few miles out of Sao Mateu and the motor is smoking, and running rough. Oil is spewing all over. Then a there is big pop and it really sounds like shit. I am in what might be called Deep DooDoo.
Fortunately I am just about to a federal police roadblock, so I stop there.
I show my badge to Geraldo Marciano, the cop on duty, and ask for suggestions. Who knew that my eight years as a reserve cop would come in so handy 20 years later in South America!
Geraldo is an incredibly nice guy and has been helping me all afternoon. First we try to get a truck going to Salvador that can take me, but there is very little traffic on Saturday and we have no luck. Then he calls someone he knows with a pickup truck who offers to take me for US$700. This is a LOT of money, but it is1000 kilometers each way. Eventually I agree (not having a lot of choice) and we try to get the bike into his truck. Unfortunately (actually, it turns out to be fortunately), the truck is too short and El Pinguino is too big. Another idea shot to hell.
Gerarlo keeps calling around and finally finds someone who is hauling a pickup truck to Salvador and will take my bike for US$400. I'm all for it, but he is picking up the car in another city and will be a few hours.
So here I am. It's 6:40 pm on Saturday night and I'm sitting in the police post (as I have been since 2:00) hoping that this guy with the truck will show. Then we have at least a 12 hour ride to Salvador on Sunday. With any luck, I'll find someone who can fix the bike and it will run again. I'll keep you posted.
Oh yeah... this is why they call it an adventure. If you want secure go to Disneyland!
Continuation...
After a couple of hours I'm picked up by a flatbed truck, who takes me about an hour north to another town. There we find the pickup that has to go to Salvador. Unfortunately, there's not enough room on the flatbed for the bike, so up it goes into the bed of the pikup truck, on the back of the flatbed. I figure I might as well ride the bike to Salvador on the truck, just to keep in practice!
OK, so I didn't ride. What I did do was spend 23 hours in a tow truck getting to Salvador. Aside from a two hour stop at 6 am so that the driver could sleep and a few fuel and food stops we drove straight through. This actually worked better, since there was less traffic in the middle of the night. During the day the scenery in this part of Brazil was beautiful... lush and green.
Unfortunately, most of the time we were looking at this
Finally we came to a sign indicating a turnoff to Salvador. As we got further along I had to keep wondering how a city of more than two million people could have as a main access a two-lane rural road. The answer became clear when we got to the ferry terminal. This was the alternate (and faster) road. Unfortunately, Winsdan (the driver) didn't know this and was not prepared to pay the ferry charge of $42. Given what I was already paying for this trip I wasn't about to chip in anything else. And to go back the other way would have been an additional four hours. Either this kid was going to decide to take the ferry or I was going to kill him!
Winsdan spent just enough time trying to call his boss and pondering the situation that we missed the ferry. He finally decided that we would take the next ferry in an hour, which we did. His boss called him while we were on the ferry and said that Winsdan had screwed up and would have to pay for the ferry. Whether that was true or not, I wasn't about to pony up any more money. Sorry kid... no points for ignorance!
We finally -- after 23 hours on the road -- arrived in Salvador. At the ferry terminal I had called a hotel listed in the Lonely Planet guide (Pousada Hilmar) and confirmed that they had a room and a place for my leaking (I didn't tell them that part) bike, so I was set on that front.
Now the Horizons site kicked in to save my butt again. Artur, in Rio, had contacted some friends of friends in Salvador and Alberto would come pick me up in the morning and take me to a good mechanic. A shower, a couple of beers, and I was off to bed.
Winsdan spent just enough time trying to call his boss and pondering the situation that we missed the ferry. He finally decided that we would take the next ferry in an hour, which we did. His boss called him while we were on the ferry and said that Winsdan had screwed up and would have to pay for the ferry. Whether that was true or not, I wasn't about to pony up any more money. Sorry kid... no points for ignorance!
We finally -- after 23 hours on the road -- arrived in Salvador. At the ferry terminal I had called a hotel listed in the Lonely Planet guide (Pousada Hilmar) and confirmed that they had a room and a place for my leaking (I didn't tell them that part) bike, so I was set on that front.
Now the Horizons site kicked in to save my butt again. Artur, in Rio, had contacted some friends of friends in Salvador and Alberto would come pick me up in the morning and take me to a good mechanic. A shower, a couple of beers, and I was off to bed.
Things have to get better tomorrow.
Thursday, July 2, 2009
Rio Days 2-3: From Harlistas to Favelas - July 1 - 2
Wednesday 7/1 - Harlistas Everywhere
One of the great resources for crazy-ass motorcycle riders is a web site called Horizons Unlimited. Aside from sharing information, a lot of us meet other bike travelers on this site. Information I've gotten here has saved my butt a number of times, and I've met some very cool (and a few not-so-cool) people through HU. That's how I had come in contact with Artur, a 56 year old retired Brazilian air force colonel living in Rio. Artur is a Harlista... a pseudo-Spanish word for those of us who are endowed with Harley Davidson`s. I`m riding my Kawasaki at the moment, but that doesn`t kick me out of the club.
On Wednesday Artur invited me to go for a ride and lunch. We were a bit delayed because his Harley (no comments... I have one too!) had a dead battery that we had to deal with. But eventually we got to a beautiful beach where his friend Walter joined us for nice lunch and a ride back through the crappy Rio rush-hour traffic.
Although they suggested I meet another group of their friends at a bar that night, I was still fighting the feijoada-ala-Montezuma's Revenge, so I called it an early night.
Thursday, 7/2 - To The Slums
Although I couldn't spend nearly the amount of time I would have liked in Rio, there was one other area that I wanted to see. This was the famous "favelas" of Rio. These are the slums, or shantytowns that have grown up on the hillsides around the city. One of them was made famous in the book and movie "City of God".
Some of the favelas are huge. We visited Rocinha, with an estimated population of 200,000.
Fortunately - because it would not be safe to just wander around here - there are a few organized tours. We had 11 people on ours, all from various hostels.
The first challenge after arriving in the van was to get to the top of the hill. Somehow it doesn't make sense to walk up and ride down. So one gets to the top is by "taxi", a motorcycle where the passenger rides on the back. Now realize, I've now ridden 30 thousand miles on a bike through South America, but this was the scariest part so far. I haven't had this much of a thrill since the moto-taxis in Cambodia, but those were on fairly level ground, not 89 degree grades!. At least the girls could grab the driver around the waste... the guy were told this is a no-no!
Arriving at the top we were told not to take any pictures in this part of the favela because there are too many guys with walkie-talkies and machine guns who are drug dealers and they are not kindly disposed to pictures. I can't imagine why! Actually, we didn't see anyone with either a machine gun or a walkie-talkie, but maybe it was some kind of drug-dealer holiday that we weren't aware of.
We went wandering off through the small streets that comprise the favela (staying close with our guide), until we were finally told that we had left "Drugolandia" and were allowed to take photos.
One interesting, but not surprising, phenomenon in the favela (as I've found in many poor neighborhoods) is the bootlegging of electricity and other services. Having just wired my new bathroom in Cerro Azul for electricity, I have some appreciation for a neat wiring job. It was interesting to see the many, many connections that people had made to the electrical, phone, and tv cables, and it would be interesting to know what percentage of services are actually paid for. Talk about your "octopus" connection!
Surprisingly, the people did not seem hostile towards a group of gringos doing a "slum tour". Not that anyone invited us in for tea, but neither did they wave machetes or small arms at us. People were generally polite, and there wasn't an undue amount of begging.
Rodrigo, our guide, has been doing this tour for years and has tried to keep the children from asking for too much. Also, he made sure to take us to several local businesses so that we could support the favela economy.
At one point we stopped at a day care center run by a charity. Cute kids, whose parents either have jobs or are trying to find work.
Out of Rio -
After the tour it was time to pack up the bike and head out of Rio. I left at 1:30, and spent the night in Campos de Goytacazes. Nothing special, but a place to sleep.
One of the great resources for crazy-ass motorcycle riders is a web site called Horizons Unlimited. Aside from sharing information, a lot of us meet other bike travelers on this site. Information I've gotten here has saved my butt a number of times, and I've met some very cool (and a few not-so-cool) people through HU. That's how I had come in contact with Artur, a 56 year old retired Brazilian air force colonel living in Rio. Artur is a Harlista... a pseudo-Spanish word for those of us who are endowed with Harley Davidson`s. I`m riding my Kawasaki at the moment, but that doesn`t kick me out of the club.
On Wednesday Artur invited me to go for a ride and lunch. We were a bit delayed because his Harley (no comments... I have one too!) had a dead battery that we had to deal with. But eventually we got to a beautiful beach where his friend Walter joined us for nice lunch and a ride back through the crappy Rio rush-hour traffic.
Although they suggested I meet another group of their friends at a bar that night, I was still fighting the feijoada-ala-Montezuma's Revenge, so I called it an early night.
Thursday, 7/2 - To The Slums
Although I couldn't spend nearly the amount of time I would have liked in Rio, there was one other area that I wanted to see. This was the famous "favelas" of Rio. These are the slums, or shantytowns that have grown up on the hillsides around the city. One of them was made famous in the book and movie "City of God".
Some of the favelas are huge. We visited Rocinha, with an estimated population of 200,000.
Fortunately - because it would not be safe to just wander around here - there are a few organized tours. We had 11 people on ours, all from various hostels.
The first challenge after arriving in the van was to get to the top of the hill. Somehow it doesn't make sense to walk up and ride down. So one gets to the top is by "taxi", a motorcycle where the passenger rides on the back. Now realize, I've now ridden 30 thousand miles on a bike through South America, but this was the scariest part so far. I haven't had this much of a thrill since the moto-taxis in Cambodia, but those were on fairly level ground, not 89 degree grades!. At least the girls could grab the driver around the waste... the guy were told this is a no-no!
Arriving at the top we were told not to take any pictures in this part of the favela because there are too many guys with walkie-talkies and machine guns who are drug dealers and they are not kindly disposed to pictures. I can't imagine why! Actually, we didn't see anyone with either a machine gun or a walkie-talkie, but maybe it was some kind of drug-dealer holiday that we weren't aware of.
We went wandering off through the small streets that comprise the favela (staying close with our guide), until we were finally told that we had left "Drugolandia" and were allowed to take photos.
One interesting, but not surprising, phenomenon in the favela (as I've found in many poor neighborhoods) is the bootlegging of electricity and other services. Having just wired my new bathroom in Cerro Azul for electricity, I have some appreciation for a neat wiring job. It was interesting to see the many, many connections that people had made to the electrical, phone, and tv cables, and it would be interesting to know what percentage of services are actually paid for. Talk about your "octopus" connection!
Surprisingly, the people did not seem hostile towards a group of gringos doing a "slum tour". Not that anyone invited us in for tea, but neither did they wave machetes or small arms at us. People were generally polite, and there wasn't an undue amount of begging.Rodrigo, our guide, has been doing this tour for years and has tried to keep the children from asking for too much. Also, he made sure to take us to several local businesses so that we could support the favela economy.
At one point we stopped at a day care center run by a charity. Cute kids, whose parents either have jobs or are trying to find work.
Out of Rio -
After the tour it was time to pack up the bike and head out of Rio. I left at 1:30, and spent the night in Campos de Goytacazes. Nothing special, but a place to sleep.
Tuesday, June 30, 2009
It`s RIO ! The Highlights - June 30
Tuesday 6/30 - A tour of Rio`s top spots
Today I did the "Top Tour" of Rio with a couple of the "kids" from the hostel. It turned out to be a great way to see the top sights, and we had a great group.
Today I did the "Top Tour" of Rio with a couple of the "kids" from the hostel. It turned out to be a great way to see the top sights, and we had a great group.
Of course, I had to take the obligatory picture with a bevy (how many IS a bevy, anyway?) of beautiful women. In this case, it was Natalie (French) and Emily (French Canadian). Why do they always seem to look at me like a grandfather figure? Oh well, given no choice I can live with that.
Just so you won't think I'm JUST a dirty old man (not that I'm denying it), I also had Ronin (Irish) and Ignace (Belgian) for company. A truly international tour.
First it was up to the top of the hill to see the Christo Redemtor (Christ the Redeemer). This is an impressive statue, and the view is spectacular (you'll hear that phrase a lot in Rio).
Then we drove through Santa Teresa to Lapa. Lapa is at night a very hip area, but during the day it is just very interesting.
Then we drove through Santa Teresa to Lapa. Lapa is at night a very hip area, but during the day it is just very interesting.
I was particularly impressed by the quality of some of the graffiti artwork. These artists have some real talent, and have documented some of the more famous (and infamous) residents of the neighborhood.
We also stumbled across a charcoal processing factory in a small shop. Even our guide didn't know that it was there. Imagine working in this dark, hot, dirty place for a living.
There is also a set of famous steps in Lapa. Evidently this was an ugly, dangerous neighborhood until a local artist decided that he wanted to improve it. He built a series of planters and steps up the hill, and then began putting in tiles.Visitors began to contribute tiles from all over the world, and the "sculpture" grew. Two tiles of particular significance to me were from Panama and the Pacific Northwest Indians.
I also could particularly identify with one tile that I call "Words to Live By".
Translation: He who drinks gets drunk. He who gets drunk sleeps. He who sleeps cannot sin. He who doesn't sin will go to heaven. So... to get to heaven, drink!
I`m not sure that this is the official Church position, but given the lack of inventory control in the local sacristy I wouldn`t be surprised.
Then it was to a traditional Portuguese restaurant for lunch. Several of us had feijoada, a traditional Brazilian. Very heavy, and very good.
I later found out that feijoada is a Brazilian word that means `all the left over crap that we threw in with some old beans and rice`, but that didn`t change the tast.
Unfortunately, after that we were to visit the Pao de Azucar (Sugar Loaf) Mountain. I say unfortunately because we were to hike up the first half... a seriously steep and difficult hike. A full stomach was definitely not an asset on this portion of the tour. Rodrigo, our guide, is a botanist and gave us full description of all the plants and animals that could inflict permanent harm on us if we should touch, approach, or just think about them.
We then took the cable car to the top. Remember, yours truly has a "wee bit" of a problem with heights, but fortunately the anticipation was the worst part. The cable car itself was fine, although I made Natalie (the French blonde) hold my hand the whole time so that I wouldn't cry. Hey... it worked! I hardly cried at all :)
We arrived at the top just at sunset, and it was (here we go again) SPECTACULAR. It really is the best word to describe Rio.
As it got darker, the lights of Rio came on below us, and I won't even tell you the word to describe the view.
Arriving back at the hostel at about 8, I discovered that the feijoada didn't like me as much as I had liked it. So I split the night between my lower bunk and the porcelain throne, hoping for better in the morning. Oh well, that's the price of adventure!
Monday, June 29, 2009
The Road to Rio - June 28 - 29
Sunday 6/28 - The road to Rio
This is it... I'm officially in the same league with Bob Hope, Bing Crosby, and Dorothy Lamour!
This is it... I'm officially in the same league with Bob Hope, Bing Crosby, and Dorothy Lamour!
That is: I'm on the Road to Rio. (for you young`uns out there this might not make sense. Go study history!)
OK, maybe I can't sing, dance, or act, but I never saw any of them on a motorcycle either.
OK, maybe I can't sing, dance, or act, but I never saw any of them on a motorcycle either.
It was more rain and drizzle today. I'm getting sick of this weather! I tried to get all the way to Rio today, but it had been recommended that I take the scenic route. It would have been more scenic had I been able to see it through the weather, but at least there were less trucks. However, there were many more beach towns, and each one seems to try to outdo the others in the number of speed bumps it can put down. So it was very slow going.
After checking the Lonely Planet (an occasionally good resource, and sometimes even accurate... except for the prices which stem from the early 50s) I decided to stop in Parati for the night. This was described as an old colonial town with quaint cobblestone streets.For the most part that is accurate. The buildings in the central district have been restored, and no motor vehicles are allowed. It is pretty much a tourist town, with tourist prices. I found a nice "pousada" ($30) just outside the historic center and went exploring.
Every once in a while you hit Kismet. In this case, it was a rehearsal for a street play that was to be put on the following week during an important literary festival. There were singers, dancers, musicians, and anyone else who wanted to join in. The play was about a famous Brazilian writer, Euclides, and his experiences during the war for Bahia earlier in the 20th century.
It was a real happening, and a lot of fun. I'm sorry that I won't be here for the actual performance.
Monday 6/29 - Into Rio de Janeiro
I left Parati with 29,875 miles showing on the odometer and continued up the coast. The weather was (Wait... you won't believe this) BEAUTIFUL. Sunny, warm, white puffy clouds. The kind of day that was made for riding. Aside from the overabundance of speed bumps, the drive was along a beautiful coastline.
Then I hit Rio de Janeiro, and the normal big city traffic. I finally found a hostel in Ipanema, a block from the beach. The hostel itself was nice, with a good common area, bar, and swimming pool. However, the prices here are unbelievable! US$23 for a bed in a nine bed dorm!
A double room (there are no singles) was $70... a definite budget killer. And this was for a plain room with no bathroom. I decided I could sleep with eight of my closest friends for a few nights, but was not too thrilled. Actually, everything was very high priced in Rio. It's a beautiful city, but next time I want to be on someone else's expense account.
I left Parati with 29,875 miles showing on the odometer and continued up the coast. The weather was (Wait... you won't believe this) BEAUTIFUL. Sunny, warm, white puffy clouds. The kind of day that was made for riding. Aside from the overabundance of speed bumps, the drive was along a beautiful coastline.
Then I hit Rio de Janeiro, and the normal big city traffic. I finally found a hostel in Ipanema, a block from the beach. The hostel itself was nice, with a good common area, bar, and swimming pool. However, the prices here are unbelievable! US$23 for a bed in a nine bed dorm!
A double room (there are no singles) was $70... a definite budget killer. And this was for a plain room with no bathroom. I decided I could sleep with eight of my closest friends for a few nights, but was not too thrilled. Actually, everything was very high priced in Rio. It's a beautiful city, but next time I want to be on someone else's expense account.
Saturday, June 27, 2009
Iguape and Jureia - June 26 - 27
Friday 6/26 - A day in Iguape
It has been raining all day, non-stop. Aside from taking my laundry to be washed (you can't imagine the excitement little things can cause), I spent most of the day at Christina's downloading pictures and catching up on correspondence. That night I took Christina out for a pizza. Ah, the joy of the little things!
Sat 6/27 - Iguape, Jureia, and a baby birthday party
It's overcast and drizzling... AGAIN. But I refused to spend a day in the house and decided to take a little ride to Jureia, which is supposed to be a little fishing village with miles of sandy beaches.
It has been raining all day, non-stop. Aside from taking my laundry to be washed (you can't imagine the excitement little things can cause), I spent most of the day at Christina's downloading pictures and catching up on correspondence. That night I took Christina out for a pizza. Ah, the joy of the little things!
Sat 6/27 - Iguape, Jureia, and a baby birthday party
It's overcast and drizzling... AGAIN. But I refused to spend a day in the house and decided to take a little ride to Jureia, which is supposed to be a little fishing village with miles of sandy beaches.
It's about a 20 km ride to Jureia, through mostly rural land and a few small villages. Then a short ferry ride to the village itself. The village is built along the bank of an inlet... brackish water and supposedly good fishing
I started to ride along the beaches, but ran into a lot of wet, deep sand. After my experiences in Chile, I now avoid sand whenever possible.
I started to ride along the beaches, but ran into a lot of wet, deep sand. After my experiences in Chile, I now avoid sand whenever possible.
However, I happened to run into two guys who had been on the ferry with me at a bar/restaurant along the river. Discretion being the better part of valor, and temptation being the only thing that I am physically unable to resist, I just HAD to join them for a couple of beers. The setting was nice, the company was friendly, and the grilled robalo was just the thing to hit the spot.
There was also some interesting bird life. I happened to like this kingfisher perched next to the restaurant
That night Christina was having a birthday party... for her one-year-old niece. You can only imagine my excitement at the thought of dozens of rug rats nipping at my ankles. But it was interesting, as a cultural event. I have never seen such decorations for a one-year-old birthday. No wonder Disney stays in business.
Tomorrow I'll take off for Rio de Janeiro. Hasta la Samba!
Tomorrow I'll take off for Rio de Janeiro. Hasta la Samba!
Friday, June 26, 2009
Iguasu (Brazil) to Iguape - June 22 to 26
Monday, 3/22
I spent the morning trying to get the bike running right. I'm not sure if it was just crappy gas fouling up the carburetor, but I took off the tank and cleaned it, took out the carb and cleaned it as best as I could, replaced a throttle cable that was about to break, put it all together, and prayed. Miracle... the damned thing started! So I was off to Brasil.
It's only a few miles from the Argentina side of the falls to the Brazil side, but when you throw in immigration and customs for the bike it's still a 2 hour process. The day was compensating for yesterday's sun by being miserable and raining. I found a dingy hotel to camp in for the night, didn't want to watch one of the two Portuguese stations on the TV, so had a few glasses of wine and watched a movie on my computer. I love this little Acer netbook that I bought just before the trip3
Tuesday 3/23
I spent the morning at the Itaipu dam. This is on the border between Brazil and Paraguay and is a joint project between the two countries. It is the largest hydroelectric project in the world. It even puts out more juice than the Three Gorges dam in China will. The total output is a maximum of 14 megawatts per hour, which provides 20% of the electricity for Brazil and more than 90% of the electricity for Paraguay.
To put that in identifiable terms, that is the equivalent of 187 gazillion, 712 trillion, and sixteen double A batteries... or enough electricity to run 242 quintillion personal vibrators for 151 light years.
Eat your heart out, EverReady Bunny!
There are 20 separate generators in the plant. The actual production area stretches more than a kilometer, and the workers travel around inside the dam on bicycles or electric carts. As you can see, the shafts of each generator are huge.
One advantage of going on the "special tour" (which included all the areas inside the dam and power generating station instead of just the overlooks) was that we were actually on both sides of the river... Brazil and Paraguay. I had decided not to go to Paraguay since the only reason I wanted to go was that it's the only major South American country that I haven't visited (not counting those little French things in the upper right corner). But Paraguay doesn't like the US's visa requirements, so they charge us a hefty $130 visa fee (I can't blame them... it's the same as we charge them). It wasn't worth it to me to pay, but this got me around it. One more country down, but not in my passport!
Here I am straddling the border between Brazil and Paraguay.
In the afternoon I visited the Brazil side of Iguasu Falls. It is great view, but not as interesting as the Argentina side where you get up close and personal. Also, there are not nearly as many hiking trails. But still, the falls are spectacular.
Wednesday, 3/24
I'm off again, and having more bike problems. It kept dying on me every time I slowed down or stopped. Where the hell is that great mechanic that was supposed to come along with me? After trying to get it started again at a police check point (for half an hour), one of the many bystanders -- everyone has an opinion -- told me that there was a good mechanic in Cascavel, about 50km down the road. I got the bike started and kept hoping I would make it that far. It did, and fortunately the problem showed itself when the mechanic looked at it (it usually acts fine when a mechanic is looking, just like at the doctor's office). He immediately told me that it wasn't a carb problem, but was electrical. Turns out it was a short in the connector to the spark plug, and the wet weather made it worse. A $17 repair and I was on my way.
I raced the sun to get somewhere before dark, fortunately had no more bike problems, and arrive in Guarapuave just as night fell. Another day down!
Thursday, 3/25
A LONG travel day. Actually, I did longer days during the first part of the trip, but it's now winter and this has cut my potential travel time down by about 4 hours a day. Before I could travel from about 6:30 am until almost 9 pm. Now it's from 8 am to 5:30 pm. At least this will get better as I get further north.
Today's trip was an "all day in the saddle and my sore but is even sorer" type of day. I left Guarapuava at 9:30 and hit rain and fog all morning. This is also a very heavy truck route, so there was no fun there! They have double trailer trucks in Brazil, which seem to stretch for about 300 feet. Passing has to be very carefully planned.
After only two stops for gas, at 4:30 I finally got onto a secondary road and FINALLY felt like I was enjoying my riding. Although I was still racing the sun, it was a nice rural road... narrow and curvy just the way I like it. I was heading towards Iguape, on the coast of Brazil about 200 km south of Sao Paulo, and arrived (again) just as I was losing the light.
Iguape is an old colonial town that was founded by the Spanish, then given to the Portuguese by some pope in the 16th century. It sounded interesting and I was ready for some small town culture.
I pulled into the main square and found the tourist office. Ah... information! Well not quite.
First, nobody at the tourist office spoke English or Spanish. Why on earth would you expect that at a tourist office? Second, they thought that my inquiry about an economical hotel was quite amusing.. they had no idea! Finally someone suggested "the red building across the plaza" which was supposed to be a commercial hotel. Well, it used to be but it now a private house. As I was told as I was wandering around in someone's living room! But the people were very friendly and eventually Elizabeth (the owner) told me about a friend of hers who had some apartments for rent.
So here I am in Iguape, ensconced in a cute little bungalow (with an outdoor kitchen) for about 3 days for the princely sum of $15 a night. The owner, Cristina, also includes breakfast at her house a block away in the morning. A nice place to camp for a few days. It's raining, but hopefully the weather will improve and I'll get to explore some of the area. If not, I'll catch up on the blog!
I spent the morning trying to get the bike running right. I'm not sure if it was just crappy gas fouling up the carburetor, but I took off the tank and cleaned it, took out the carb and cleaned it as best as I could, replaced a throttle cable that was about to break, put it all together, and prayed. Miracle... the damned thing started! So I was off to Brasil.
It's only a few miles from the Argentina side of the falls to the Brazil side, but when you throw in immigration and customs for the bike it's still a 2 hour process. The day was compensating for yesterday's sun by being miserable and raining. I found a dingy hotel to camp in for the night, didn't want to watch one of the two Portuguese stations on the TV, so had a few glasses of wine and watched a movie on my computer. I love this little Acer netbook that I bought just before the trip3
Tuesday 3/23
I spent the morning at the Itaipu dam. This is on the border between Brazil and Paraguay and is a joint project between the two countries. It is the largest hydroelectric project in the world. It even puts out more juice than the Three Gorges dam in China will. The total output is a maximum of 14 megawatts per hour, which provides 20% of the electricity for Brazil and more than 90% of the electricity for Paraguay.To put that in identifiable terms, that is the equivalent of 187 gazillion, 712 trillion, and sixteen double A batteries... or enough electricity to run 242 quintillion personal vibrators for 151 light years.
Eat your heart out, EverReady Bunny!
There are 20 separate generators in the plant. The actual production area stretches more than a kilometer, and the workers travel around inside the dam on bicycles or electric carts. As you can see, the shafts of each generator are huge.
One advantage of going on the "special tour" (which included all the areas inside the dam and power generating station instead of just the overlooks) was that we were actually on both sides of the river... Brazil and Paraguay. I had decided not to go to Paraguay since the only reason I wanted to go was that it's the only major South American country that I haven't visited (not counting those little French things in the upper right corner). But Paraguay doesn't like the US's visa requirements, so they charge us a hefty $130 visa fee (I can't blame them... it's the same as we charge them). It wasn't worth it to me to pay, but this got me around it. One more country down, but not in my passport!Here I am straddling the border between Brazil and Paraguay.
In the afternoon I visited the Brazil side of Iguasu Falls. It is great view, but not as interesting as the Argentina side where you get up close and personal. Also, there are not nearly as many hiking trails. But still, the falls are spectacular.
Wednesday, 3/24
I'm off again, and having more bike problems. It kept dying on me every time I slowed down or stopped. Where the hell is that great mechanic that was supposed to come along with me? After trying to get it started again at a police check point (for half an hour), one of the many bystanders -- everyone has an opinion -- told me that there was a good mechanic in Cascavel, about 50km down the road. I got the bike started and kept hoping I would make it that far. It did, and fortunately the problem showed itself when the mechanic looked at it (it usually acts fine when a mechanic is looking, just like at the doctor's office). He immediately told me that it wasn't a carb problem, but was electrical. Turns out it was a short in the connector to the spark plug, and the wet weather made it worse. A $17 repair and I was on my way.
I raced the sun to get somewhere before dark, fortunately had no more bike problems, and arrive in Guarapuave just as night fell. Another day down!
Thursday, 3/25
A LONG travel day. Actually, I did longer days during the first part of the trip, but it's now winter and this has cut my potential travel time down by about 4 hours a day. Before I could travel from about 6:30 am until almost 9 pm. Now it's from 8 am to 5:30 pm. At least this will get better as I get further north.
Today's trip was an "all day in the saddle and my sore but is even sorer" type of day. I left Guarapuava at 9:30 and hit rain and fog all morning. This is also a very heavy truck route, so there was no fun there! They have double trailer trucks in Brazil, which seem to stretch for about 300 feet. Passing has to be very carefully planned.
After only two stops for gas, at 4:30 I finally got onto a secondary road and FINALLY felt like I was enjoying my riding. Although I was still racing the sun, it was a nice rural road... narrow and curvy just the way I like it. I was heading towards Iguape, on the coast of Brazil about 200 km south of Sao Paulo, and arrived (again) just as I was losing the light.
Iguape is an old colonial town that was founded by the Spanish, then given to the Portuguese by some pope in the 16th century. It sounded interesting and I was ready for some small town culture.
I pulled into the main square and found the tourist office. Ah... information! Well not quite.First, nobody at the tourist office spoke English or Spanish. Why on earth would you expect that at a tourist office? Second, they thought that my inquiry about an economical hotel was quite amusing.. they had no idea! Finally someone suggested "the red building across the plaza" which was supposed to be a commercial hotel. Well, it used to be but it now a private house. As I was told as I was wandering around in someone's living room! But the people were very friendly and eventually Elizabeth (the owner) told me about a friend of hers who had some apartments for rent.
So here I am in Iguape, ensconced in a cute little bungalow (with an outdoor kitchen) for about 3 days for the princely sum of $15 a night. The owner, Cristina, also includes breakfast at her house a block away in the morning. A nice place to camp for a few days. It's raining, but hopefully the weather will improve and I'll get to explore some of the area. If not, I'll catch up on the blog!
Monday, June 22, 2009
Iguasu Falls - Making Niagara Look Like a Leaky Faucet ! - June 22
Sunday 6/21 – Puerto Iguasu, Argentina
The weather today was spectacular: Sunny and 70 degrees. A good day for Iguasu falls. It's about a 15 km ride from Puerto Iguasu to the national park, and a $15 admission fee for foreigners, but worth it. I met a young Finnish woman while at the information booth, which gave me someone to hike with.
The falls themselves are spectacular. They are right on the border between Argentina, Paraguay, and Brazil. While I hear that you get a better overall view from the Brazil side, on the Argentina side you get right up close and personal with the falls. Unlike Niagara falls, there is not a whole city of tacky shops surrounding the falls, just a national park and very nice hiking trails.
One of the most spectacular areas is called Garganta del Diablo, or Devil's throat. It has been calculated that to create this much water force artificially you would have to flush all the toilets in China, Russia, and Kazakstan twenty-seven times per minute. That, of course isn't counting the squat toilets, which don't use as much water.
During the morning the wasp that had flown up my sleeve yesterday decided that he wasn't done with me yet (his death not withstanding). As the morning progressed my arm was turning increasingly red, hot, and swollen. By noon I looked like Popeye, at least on the right side. So, discretion being the better part of health, I decided that a visit to the local emergency room was in order. Fortunately it was right across the street from my hotel.
After a five minute wait the doctor saw me and prescribed an anti-inflamatory injection. The nurse prepared a needle that had to be 8 inches long, attached to a syringe with about 2 liters of medicine in it, and told me to drop my pants and bend over. At this point I decided that maybe my arm really wasn't that bad and I didn't need any damn medicine! Oh well, I figured better to bare my cheeks and take it. By the next morning the arm was considerably better, although my butt was still in a world of hurt.
The weather today was spectacular: Sunny and 70 degrees. A good day for Iguasu falls. It's about a 15 km ride from Puerto Iguasu to the national park, and a $15 admission fee for foreigners, but worth it. I met a young Finnish woman while at the information booth, which gave me someone to hike with.
The falls themselves are spectacular. They are right on the border between Argentina, Paraguay, and Brazil. While I hear that you get a better overall view from the Brazil side, on the Argentina side you get right up close and personal with the falls. Unlike Niagara falls, there is not a whole city of tacky shops surrounding the falls, just a national park and very nice hiking trails.
One of the most spectacular areas is called Garganta del Diablo, or Devil's throat. It has been calculated that to create this much water force artificially you would have to flush all the toilets in China, Russia, and Kazakstan twenty-seven times per minute. That, of course isn't counting the squat toilets, which don't use as much water.
During the morning the wasp that had flown up my sleeve yesterday decided that he wasn't done with me yet (his death not withstanding). As the morning progressed my arm was turning increasingly red, hot, and swollen. By noon I looked like Popeye, at least on the right side. So, discretion being the better part of health, I decided that a visit to the local emergency room was in order. Fortunately it was right across the street from my hotel.
After a five minute wait the doctor saw me and prescribed an anti-inflamatory injection. The nurse prepared a needle that had to be 8 inches long, attached to a syringe with about 2 liters of medicine in it, and told me to drop my pants and bend over. At this point I decided that maybe my arm really wasn't that bad and I didn't need any damn medicine! Oh well, I figured better to bare my cheeks and take it. By the next morning the arm was considerably better, although my butt was still in a world of hurt.
Saturday, June 20, 2009
On the Road Again: The Adventure Resumes! - June 17, 2009
Thornton Wilder once said:
"The test of adventure is that when you're in the middle of it, you say to yourself, 'Oh, now I've got myself into an awful mess; I wish I were sitting quietly at home. And the sign that something is wrong with you is when you sit quietly at home wishing you were out having lots of adventures."
After three months of "sitting quietly at home" in Panama, I'm back on the road again. I left Panama on June 17th and flew to Buenos Aires, where I had left my bike. El Pinguino (remember: I had to name the bike after our adventure to Antarctica, and El Pinguino just seemed appropriate) was waiting for me patiently. I wasn't planning on leaving until the second half of July, but another adventure stuck its head out of the sand and I had to move the trip up. I've been offered a visiting professorship at Konkuk University in Seoul, South Korea, and have to be there to begin teaching (international business strategy) on September 1.
So this trip will be a little more rushed (maximum of two months), but that should give me a pretty good feel for the Atlantic side of South America. I came down the Pacific, now I'll return via Brazil, Venezuela, and Colombia. The plan is to fly the bike back from Bogota about the 10th of August, spend a few weeks in Panama, and then off to Seoul. It's been 10 years since we last returned from Asia, so I'm looking forward to it. Initially I wasn't too excited about the idea of spending 7 or 8 months in Korea, but it turns out that their first semester runs from September 1 to the middle of December, then the next semester doesn't start until March 1, 2010. Plenty of time to return to Panama and remind Karen, Maggie, Josh, and Josie (the last three forming part of the Barnett Menagerie) who I am.
So, after my 5:30 am arrival in Buenos Aires I went to Dakar Motos where I had left the bike and waited for someone to wake up and let me in. A few minor repairs, and at 1:30 I was on the road again heading north. My first major stop would be Iguasu falls on the border between Argentina, Brazil, and Paraguay. My major worry about this part of the trip was corrupt police. Ruta 14 through northern Argentina is famous for cops looking for a little "coffee money", and I'm not always the most lawful driver on the road. What's a few more km per hour, anyway? The first night I arrived in Colon and had a nice room at the Hotel Rio de Pajaros. More importantly, after two hours sleep on the plane the night before I had a decent steak dinner, a comfortable bed and a good night's sleep.
Friday, 3/19
The constant repairs of the bike have started again. Last night´s problem was that nothing electric worked. That was an easy fix. It turned out that in fixing the turn signal Javier (at Dakar Motos) had loosened the wiring harness. it took me about an hour to find and fix. However, now the right turn signal isn´t working again, so I guess I can only turn left until I fix it. This afternoon I ran out of gas and the speedometer only said I had gone 68 miles. Since I normally go about 200 miles before I need to get gas something was definitely wrong! I don't have a gas guage, so the odometer is my proxy. Actually, I don´t even look at the speedometer itself when I have the GPS on since I have the GPS in kilometers and the speedo is in miles. It turned out the speedometer had stopped working, and I hadn´t noticed (dumb). Anyway, I made it to a gas station on reserve, and fixed (I think) the speedo at the hotel. But I think I got crappy gas and the motor keeps sputtering and died a few times. I´ll drain the carb in the morning. In other words... when you travel by motorcycle you damn well better have a mechanic with you! Damn good thing I learned a few things, but I wish I had learned more.
My paranoia about the corrupt cops on Ruta 14 finally came to fruition today. I hadn´t been stopped yet, but this afternoon I came to the infamous roadblock at km 341. I new it was coming up and so VERY carefully followed the rules. I slowed to 80 at the 80 sign and 60 at the 60 sign. They pulled me over anyway. First the cop told me I was speeding and they had me on radar. I said (politely) BULLSHIT! I told the cop that I knew that they were there, that I knew that this section was very ¨vigilantly¨ patrolled, and that I wasn´t speeding. I also showed my badge. Then the cop asked me for my insurance papers. I had the copy of my Panama insurance, appropriately doctored to include an ¨international coverage endorsement¨, and an appropriate Panama document stamp, so he accepted that. Then he told me he could fine me because I wouldn´t have stopped if he hadn´t pulled me over. So I guess now they are mind readers! I told him that wasn´t true, that I had every intention of stopping, and I did stop. There wasn´t much more he could say so he let me go, and didn´t look very happy doing it.
Night time found me in Santo Tome, Argentina, in a POS hotel in a POS town. Oh well, tomorrow I should get to the falls and some more interesting opportunities.
Saturday, 6/20
More bike problems today. The bad gas I got yesterday is still plagueing me. The motor sputters and dies when I idle. I probably need to take apart the carb and the gas tank and clean them out. Then, just to make sure that I knew that the bike gods were out there, the starter wouldn´t work. It died at a gas station.
Fortunately Johnny, a very nice Argentinian guy (and a musician) came along to help. He actually then towed me with a rope with his 70cc minibike to a shop about 2 km away. It was quite a site to see! On the inclines we actually had to both run along with the bikes since his didn't have enough power to pull the "fat Penguino". Eventually we got to a mechanic who fixed the starter, but not the gas problem.
I also got stopped by the cops again today. This time it was totally my fault. While I hadn´t seen anybody passing over a double yellow line further south, up here they do it all the time. Of course when I did it there was a cop in back of me. It took a LOT of talking to get out of this one. They told me I would have to follow them to the station where they would lock up my bike until I paid the fine on Monday. I know that is complete bullshit, but they were hoping I would ask what I could do to avoid it. I finally talked my way out of it by a combination of ¨fellow cop¨ routine and telling them that the slow truck that I passed had kept motioning for me to pass and I thought he had a problem. When they finally told me they would have to fine me or their chief would get mad I said ¨I understand. Take me to your chief and I´ll talk to him too¨. They didn´t like that idea too much and let me go. Phew!
The next trauma occured when a wasp flew up the sleeve of my jacket. Ouch! Sore and red. So, it´s been quite a day here in Argentina. I arrived at Puerto Iguasu at about 4, but you can only see the falls from the park (about 10 km away) and when I went there they would charge me the entrance even tho it closed in an hour. So tomorrow it's Iguasu Falls, one of the Seven Wonders of the World!
"The test of adventure is that when you're in the middle of it, you say to yourself, 'Oh, now I've got myself into an awful mess; I wish I were sitting quietly at home. And the sign that something is wrong with you is when you sit quietly at home wishing you were out having lots of adventures."
After three months of "sitting quietly at home" in Panama, I'm back on the road again. I left Panama on June 17th and flew to Buenos Aires, where I had left my bike. El Pinguino (remember: I had to name the bike after our adventure to Antarctica, and El Pinguino just seemed appropriate) was waiting for me patiently. I wasn't planning on leaving until the second half of July, but another adventure stuck its head out of the sand and I had to move the trip up. I've been offered a visiting professorship at Konkuk University in Seoul, South Korea, and have to be there to begin teaching (international business strategy) on September 1.
So this trip will be a little more rushed (maximum of two months), but that should give me a pretty good feel for the Atlantic side of South America. I came down the Pacific, now I'll return via Brazil, Venezuela, and Colombia. The plan is to fly the bike back from Bogota about the 10th of August, spend a few weeks in Panama, and then off to Seoul. It's been 10 years since we last returned from Asia, so I'm looking forward to it. Initially I wasn't too excited about the idea of spending 7 or 8 months in Korea, but it turns out that their first semester runs from September 1 to the middle of December, then the next semester doesn't start until March 1, 2010. Plenty of time to return to Panama and remind Karen, Maggie, Josh, and Josie (the last three forming part of the Barnett Menagerie) who I am.
So, after my 5:30 am arrival in Buenos Aires I went to Dakar Motos where I had left the bike and waited for someone to wake up and let me in. A few minor repairs, and at 1:30 I was on the road again heading north. My first major stop would be Iguasu falls on the border between Argentina, Brazil, and Paraguay. My major worry about this part of the trip was corrupt police. Ruta 14 through northern Argentina is famous for cops looking for a little "coffee money", and I'm not always the most lawful driver on the road. What's a few more km per hour, anyway? The first night I arrived in Colon and had a nice room at the Hotel Rio de Pajaros. More importantly, after two hours sleep on the plane the night before I had a decent steak dinner, a comfortable bed and a good night's sleep.
Friday, 3/19
The constant repairs of the bike have started again. Last night´s problem was that nothing electric worked. That was an easy fix. It turned out that in fixing the turn signal Javier (at Dakar Motos) had loosened the wiring harness. it took me about an hour to find and fix. However, now the right turn signal isn´t working again, so I guess I can only turn left until I fix it. This afternoon I ran out of gas and the speedometer only said I had gone 68 miles. Since I normally go about 200 miles before I need to get gas something was definitely wrong! I don't have a gas guage, so the odometer is my proxy. Actually, I don´t even look at the speedometer itself when I have the GPS on since I have the GPS in kilometers and the speedo is in miles. It turned out the speedometer had stopped working, and I hadn´t noticed (dumb). Anyway, I made it to a gas station on reserve, and fixed (I think) the speedo at the hotel. But I think I got crappy gas and the motor keeps sputtering and died a few times. I´ll drain the carb in the morning. In other words... when you travel by motorcycle you damn well better have a mechanic with you! Damn good thing I learned a few things, but I wish I had learned more.
My paranoia about the corrupt cops on Ruta 14 finally came to fruition today. I hadn´t been stopped yet, but this afternoon I came to the infamous roadblock at km 341. I new it was coming up and so VERY carefully followed the rules. I slowed to 80 at the 80 sign and 60 at the 60 sign. They pulled me over anyway. First the cop told me I was speeding and they had me on radar. I said (politely) BULLSHIT! I told the cop that I knew that they were there, that I knew that this section was very ¨vigilantly¨ patrolled, and that I wasn´t speeding. I also showed my badge. Then the cop asked me for my insurance papers. I had the copy of my Panama insurance, appropriately doctored to include an ¨international coverage endorsement¨, and an appropriate Panama document stamp, so he accepted that. Then he told me he could fine me because I wouldn´t have stopped if he hadn´t pulled me over. So I guess now they are mind readers! I told him that wasn´t true, that I had every intention of stopping, and I did stop. There wasn´t much more he could say so he let me go, and didn´t look very happy doing it.
Night time found me in Santo Tome, Argentina, in a POS hotel in a POS town. Oh well, tomorrow I should get to the falls and some more interesting opportunities.
Saturday, 6/20
More bike problems today. The bad gas I got yesterday is still plagueing me. The motor sputters and dies when I idle. I probably need to take apart the carb and the gas tank and clean them out. Then, just to make sure that I knew that the bike gods were out there, the starter wouldn´t work. It died at a gas station.
Fortunately Johnny, a very nice Argentinian guy (and a musician) came along to help. He actually then towed me with a rope with his 70cc minibike to a shop about 2 km away. It was quite a site to see! On the inclines we actually had to both run along with the bikes since his didn't have enough power to pull the "fat Penguino". Eventually we got to a mechanic who fixed the starter, but not the gas problem.
I also got stopped by the cops again today. This time it was totally my fault. While I hadn´t seen anybody passing over a double yellow line further south, up here they do it all the time. Of course when I did it there was a cop in back of me. It took a LOT of talking to get out of this one. They told me I would have to follow them to the station where they would lock up my bike until I paid the fine on Monday. I know that is complete bullshit, but they were hoping I would ask what I could do to avoid it. I finally talked my way out of it by a combination of ¨fellow cop¨ routine and telling them that the slow truck that I passed had kept motioning for me to pass and I thought he had a problem. When they finally told me they would have to fine me or their chief would get mad I said ¨I understand. Take me to your chief and I´ll talk to him too¨. They didn´t like that idea too much and let me go. Phew!
The next trauma occured when a wasp flew up the sleeve of my jacket. Ouch! Sore and red. So, it´s been quite a day here in Argentina. I arrived at Puerto Iguasu at about 4, but you can only see the falls from the park (about 10 km away) and when I went there they would charge me the entrance even tho it closed in an hour. So tomorrow it's Iguasu Falls, one of the Seven Wonders of the World!
Thursday, March 5, 2009
Final Thoughts... The End of the Journey - March 5, 2009
This will probably be my last post on this blog. Tomorrow morning I fly to Santiago, Chile, for a few days of business and to visit some friends, then on Monday I return to Panama. As you can imagine, this final piece is being written with a great deal of emotion.
This has been an incredible journey. Four years ago this trip was just an idea of something that I would ¨kind of like to do someday¨. I remember sitting around a table at about 2am at my 40th high school reunion and telling some friends what I was planning. I got some looks that made me feel like I had probably forgotten to take my medications, or maybe just had most of my spinach salad stuck in my teeth.
Then the idea started to become a plan: A new bike, and some real research into how one actually goes about doing this kind of adventure. I had never taken on anything so extensive. My ¨practice trip¨ for six weeks through Central America last year was a good beginning, but the difference between six weeks and six months is not linear... it´s a difference of geometric magnitude.
The bike I selected for the trip, the Kawasaki KLR650, has proven to be an excellent choice. In case I didn´t mention it before, it now has a name: El Pinguino, in honor of the fact that a piece of her went to Antarctica with me.
The Kawi is not the best bike in the world, but everything is a compromise and this was a good one. Powerful enough, not TOO heavy, and simple enough that I could find parts and fix pretty much anything. I would select it again in a minute.
It´s currently in Buenos Aires waiting for the next phase of the trip. In some ways I don´t want to see it again for a while... I´m tired and I think we need some time apart. But I know that in 3 or 4 months when I return it will be waiting for me like a faithful friend, and I will be ready once again to climb back into the saddle to see where we end up together.
This has been six months of riding by myself through six countries plus Antarctica, 24,000 kilometers, mountains, deserts, cities, icebergs, and virtually everything else. I´ve gone from 9 degrees north of the equator to more than 67 degrees south (south of the Antarctic Circle). At times I didn´t know if I would make it. There were certainly times when I just wanted to throw the bike down and shout ¨It´s enough already. I want to stop¨. And then I would come upon a scene, a road, or a mountain pass and say to myself ¨Yes, this is what it´s all about. Life just doesn´t get any better than this¨.
I´ve often said that this was the ¨bipolar trip¨, periods of intense lonliness as well as great joy over the people that I have met. Balancing these emotions hasn´t always been easy, but that´s what makes it an adventure and a learning experience.
I have met some incredible people along the way, and want to express my gratitude to so many that supported in ways large and small. It could have been through advice on a road to take (or not take), or just being available for a beer. Also, I want to thank many of you who have been following this blog and wrote words of encouragement. It´s the people in our lives that make the difference.
In particular, I want to thank Karen. There are not too many people in this world who will tell their significant other ¨Sure, take off on a motorbike around South America for the next six months¨. I know that leaving her to deal with houses, pets, bank accounts, and the other minutia of daily life that I usually handle (in Spanish) wasn´t easy, and I appreciate it. This is also the woman who said to me a few weeks ago, as I was still debating what to do when I reached Buenos Aires (sell the bike?, ship it?, continue later?, etc.) ¨You haven´t finished the trip yet. Of course you have to keep going¨. What an attitude!
I really have no idea how to sum this up, and how to end this blog. It has taught me so much about people, places, and myself that I think it will take years of reflection to make sense of it. I´ll be returning to Buenos Aires in 3 or 4 months to ¨complete¨ the journey: Brazil, Venezuela, and probably back to Bogota and Panama.
In the meantime, I´ll leave you with my last view of El Pinguino, sitting at the Dakar Motos shop in Buenos Aires. I know it will be there waiting for me to continue the next adventure.
To Be Continued ...
This has been an incredible journey. Four years ago this trip was just an idea of something that I would ¨kind of like to do someday¨. I remember sitting around a table at about 2am at my 40th high school reunion and telling some friends what I was planning. I got some looks that made me feel like I had probably forgotten to take my medications, or maybe just had most of my spinach salad stuck in my teeth.
Then the idea started to become a plan: A new bike, and some real research into how one actually goes about doing this kind of adventure. I had never taken on anything so extensive. My ¨practice trip¨ for six weeks through Central America last year was a good beginning, but the difference between six weeks and six months is not linear... it´s a difference of geometric magnitude.
The bike I selected for the trip, the Kawasaki KLR650, has proven to be an excellent choice. In case I didn´t mention it before, it now has a name: El Pinguino, in honor of the fact that a piece of her went to Antarctica with me.
The Kawi is not the best bike in the world, but everything is a compromise and this was a good one. Powerful enough, not TOO heavy, and simple enough that I could find parts and fix pretty much anything. I would select it again in a minute.
It´s currently in Buenos Aires waiting for the next phase of the trip. In some ways I don´t want to see it again for a while... I´m tired and I think we need some time apart. But I know that in 3 or 4 months when I return it will be waiting for me like a faithful friend, and I will be ready once again to climb back into the saddle to see where we end up together.
This has been six months of riding by myself through six countries plus Antarctica, 24,000 kilometers, mountains, deserts, cities, icebergs, and virtually everything else. I´ve gone from 9 degrees north of the equator to more than 67 degrees south (south of the Antarctic Circle). At times I didn´t know if I would make it. There were certainly times when I just wanted to throw the bike down and shout ¨It´s enough already. I want to stop¨. And then I would come upon a scene, a road, or a mountain pass and say to myself ¨Yes, this is what it´s all about. Life just doesn´t get any better than this¨.
I´ve often said that this was the ¨bipolar trip¨, periods of intense lonliness as well as great joy over the people that I have met. Balancing these emotions hasn´t always been easy, but that´s what makes it an adventure and a learning experience.
I have met some incredible people along the way, and want to express my gratitude to so many that supported in ways large and small. It could have been through advice on a road to take (or not take), or just being available for a beer. Also, I want to thank many of you who have been following this blog and wrote words of encouragement. It´s the people in our lives that make the difference.
In particular, I want to thank Karen. There are not too many people in this world who will tell their significant other ¨Sure, take off on a motorbike around South America for the next six months¨. I know that leaving her to deal with houses, pets, bank accounts, and the other minutia of daily life that I usually handle (in Spanish) wasn´t easy, and I appreciate it. This is also the woman who said to me a few weeks ago, as I was still debating what to do when I reached Buenos Aires (sell the bike?, ship it?, continue later?, etc.) ¨You haven´t finished the trip yet. Of course you have to keep going¨. What an attitude!
I really have no idea how to sum this up, and how to end this blog. It has taught me so much about people, places, and myself that I think it will take years of reflection to make sense of it. I´ll be returning to Buenos Aires in 3 or 4 months to ¨complete¨ the journey: Brazil, Venezuela, and probably back to Bogota and Panama.
In the meantime, I´ll leave you with my last view of El Pinguino, sitting at the Dakar Motos shop in Buenos Aires. I know it will be there waiting for me to continue the next adventure.
To Be Continued ...
Finally... Buenos Aires: March 2 to 6
The ride from Mar del Plata to Buenos Aires was uneventful... 500 km of tarmac. Getting into BA was another matter. This is a huge city, and the place I was looking for is in a far suburb.
I had arranged to store my bike at Dakar Motos, a shop used by many intrepid bikers like myself. After two hours of searching -- unsuccessfully -- I finally called and Javier, the owner, sent someone to find me.
I spent the next two days sleeping in the back room of the shop (pure luxury) and doing general maintenance on the bike. There´s a little more repair to be done before I continue (the wobble in the front end turned out to be bad wheel bearings that need to be replaced), but Javier will take care of that before I return.
Yesterday (March 4), I moved to a hostel in San Telmo, one of the more active and interesting areas of Buenos Aires. I left the bike in the attentive hands of Javier, to be ready for my return. I´ll miss the old girl!
On Friday (March 6) I fly to Santiago for some business with a university there and to visit some friends. Monday, March 9, it´s back to Panama and the end -- at least for now -- of the journey.
It´s been a hell of a ride !
Sunday, March 1, 2009
Mar del Plata.. On the Beach: Feb 25 - March 1
It had been about two months since I had been in a major city, and entering Mar del Plata was a bit of a shock. Normally I leave my bike parked in a place like this, but first I have to get someplace to leave it. Fortunately for GPS, I was able to find the apartment that my friend Alicia (from Ushuaia) had offered to loan me.
Mar del Plata is a huge beach resort. Think Miami Beach on steroids. Also, like Miami, the average age appeared to be in the low 100s. This is high season, so things are crowded. It was nice to just walk around and along the beach for a few days, get laundry done, and catch up on the blog.
Alicia eventually showed up and we did a little sight seeing. One was to the beach (about all I could deal with). More fun was riding my bike to Sierra de los Padres... a village about 20 km from Mar del Plata.
First we went to visit Alicia´s friend Joyce, her daughter Jackie, her boyfriend Ali, their two dogs, and eight horses. It was this last that was the most fun: We saddled up the mounts and all went for a nice ride in the country.
Mar del Plata is a huge beach resort. Think Miami Beach on steroids. Also, like Miami, the average age appeared to be in the low 100s. This is high season, so things are crowded. It was nice to just walk around and along the beach for a few days, get laundry done, and catch up on the blog.
Alicia eventually showed up and we did a little sight seeing. One was to the beach (about all I could deal with). More fun was riding my bike to Sierra de los Padres... a village about 20 km from Mar del Plata.
First we went to visit Alicia´s friend Joyce, her daughter Jackie, her boyfriend Ali, their two dogs, and eight horses. It was this last that was the most fun: We saddled up the mounts and all went for a nice ride in the country.
Gauchos we were not, but we still had a lot of fun.
We then went to visit Cristian Villouz and his family, also in Sierra de los Padres. Cristian is a friend of Angel Costa, who had helped me with a project in Uruguay last year. He kindly offered to let me store my bike at his place while I returned to Panama, but in the end I decided to leave it in Buenos Aires. However, it was nice to visit him and see his business operation (fruit preserves)
After a few days it was ¨hasta luego¨ to Mar del Plata, and off for the final run to the Big Apple, Buenos Aires.
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