Worn the same two changes of clothes over and over again

Sniffed my clothes to see if I can wear them again. More often than not, I ended up with a plaque clearing, head shaking “woah.”

Eaten dinner alone. ( I wonder if it’s related to wearing the same clothes over and over again. )

Watched bad, mindless TV in my hotel room. I knew it was time to go when I came across a Fran Drescher (The Beautician and the Beast) movie, and I WATCHED IT!!

Solitaire

Peru

Chicken with french fries. Everybody eats chicken with french fries outside of Brazil and Argentina. And when you can find something else, you almost always get french fries.

Bad coffee.

Things I haven’t done enough of -

Learned enough Spanish or Portuguese

Seen enough of the world, specifically, Brazil, Argentina and Chile.

Lan Peru

Seen enough Brazilian beaches, specifically bikinis.

Started a revolution in Bolivia, becoming El Presidente. I was sick the entire time I was there, restricting my political goals.

Law and Order and CSI — Las Vegas. I’ve gotten kind of addicted to these shows, I’m hate to admit. I haven’t watched hour long TV shows since “Hill Street Blues.” Then again, the other option was well, staring at the walls.

Taken enough pictures.

Brazilian steak houses.

Argentinean steak houses.

Things I’ve learned…

Seattle is the greatest city I’ve come across. Buenos Aires was pretty nice, and I could probably have been talked into living there. But Seattle has it all — geeks, different cultures, art, music, fast and free internet access, mountains, CSI and Law and Order, pasty women (wait — strike that.) and gadgets.

America leads the world in bathroom technology. Granted the Japanese have a pretty good lock on the toilets, but they can’t compete with our whole package — shower and toilet. I start my showers now with a rousing “Star Spangled Banner”, a salute, and occasionally a tear.

I’m tired of being single. I’ve seen a lot of really cool stuff, but I want someone to share it with. I have this to refer too, but it’s not the same. The times spent with Louis were some of the best time of my trip, and a large part of it was there was someone to talk to. I don’t think I’m going to take a trip alone again.

I like my country more now than I did before. I mean I liked it before, but now, I think it’s even cooler. Especially the showers, and the soft, soft toilet paper that you flush away.

People in the US are horrible drivers. I didn’t see bad drivers anywhere in Latin America. The only wreck I saw was in Buenos Aires, where, incidentally, they are the most polite (no horns, respected pedestrians, etc.)

I’ll go back to Argentina.

I still can’t grow a beard.

I left Tikal early, hoping to make it to Belize.  I had pretty high expectations for Belize, as they speak my language, and it should be a beach paradise.  On the way out, I got a bit lost, and needed gas too.  I pulled over and asked a nice older gentleman and his young daughter about gas and directions.  They gave me good directions in english, and as I was leaving say something to the effect of “We’re glad you’re here.  Thank you and please come back.”  It was one of the more touching parts of my trip.    As I was leaving him, four Dual Sport riders passed me going the other way.  They were a mix of BMW’s and KLR’s.  For whatever reason (maybe because it was a curvy road?), they didn’t wave.  Sometimes, I’ve seen people doing cool things where I thought I was the only cool one in the world, and they’ve annoyed me.  Maybe I did that to those guys.  Oh yeah, people ask about the roads.  The roads in Guatemala were very good.  They all seemed to be new, and not very crowded.

Once I got to the Belize border, I thought my spanish speaking troubles were over.  Oh no!  For some reason, the guy behind the counter didn’t think my passport photo looked like my drivers license.  It’s the craziest thing in the world. He ended up getting a supervisor to look at it, and after some arguing, agreed to let me in.  I don’t have any idea what the problem was — no one else ever said anything about my photos.   In the times I’ve had trouble at border crossing (into Guatemala, out of Guatemala), usually, just playing dumb works very well.  I’m going to keep that up.

Once I was allowed in, I was informed I had to get insurance to be in Belize.  There was an office outside the immigration office — only one.  I went in and bought insurance, and paid what I thought was too much money for too little time.   Fully insured and certified to be Greg Cain, I headed towards Belize City.  I found the waterfront, and rode my motorcycle through the narrow streets.  It was a different world than any I’d been in for some time.  Everyone was black, in a Caribbean environment, speaking english.   The roads were pretty narrow, and not that fun to drive on (rough, and some stone.)  As I was leaving the one part of the city, and headed towards the suburbs, I pulled over to read my map.  A nice guy doing yard work walked up and started talking to me.  He was pretty insistent that it wasn’t safe for me to stay near Belize City.  I was headed away from Belize City, didn’t have the greatest Belize experiences, and it was somewhat early, so I decided to head for Mexico.

Once out of Belize, and into the warm embrace of Mexico, I headed to Chetumal. It wasn’t far from the border to the downtown area.  I don’t remember too much about the area, other than getting a non-descript room (Holiday Inn was very expensive), walking around the non-descript city, and doing laundry by wearing my clothes in the shower.

I watched the scene in (the two towers?) where Frodo is going to Mordor via the black gate, Smeagol tells him about another way – a better way. I took that to heart.  I decided to go no further.  This was too stressful, and not fun at all.   I’ve decided to return to the States, and make my way back to Seattle.

From Coban, I decide to head back via Tikal, in Guatemala.  I don’t remember too much about this leg of the trip, but Tikal was somewhat interesting.  The first night I was there I got a hotel near the ruins that let you get into the park early (Photographers Curse.)  It was pretty interesting in that it was pretty isolated.  We had a somewhat early dinner, and retired shortly after sunset.  There was only one generator for the entire place, and it shut down about 30 minutes after dark.  Once the generator shut down, it was somewhat noisy.  It was insects, monkeys, birds and god knows what else.    There was also a young-ish (honeymoon?) couple.  This first night they were fighting quite a bit.   Very unpleasant to say the least.

The next morning we get up early to be first at the ruins.  It was pretty cool, which was unexpected since you’re in the foggy (steamy?) jungle.  We were in a group of about seven people (including the newlyweds.)  The complete ruins are huge, and there were many really cool things to see.  On the tour, they just took us to the biggest, most impressive ruins (the tallest temples), but then let us run loose.   After wandering around for a while, I found myself chasing some monkeys in a tree with my camera.  There was a chubby British girl doing the same thing.  We spent some time looking at the monkeys, and spend the next few hours together.  I was  a nice respite from the solitude.   After going our separate ways, it was time for dinner at the hotel again, and then an early night.  The honeymoon couple had made up, and were making love just as loudly as they were arguing last night.  Eeeww…

I’ve just barely gotten into the city of Copan, and have pulled over reading my map, when this guy jumps out of a truck offering to help me find a place to stay. He’s got a hotel in mind, and I’ve got a different one in my mind. After going back and forth — him doing the hard sale, me saying I’m fine, he eventually says “if you’re going to waste my time, why did you ask for my help?” At least he left. Years ago, I had an Amway guy come onto to me the same way, and get annoyed when I wasn’t interested. Annoying bastards.

Eventually I find a hotel with parking (estacionamiento) without having to say estacionamiento. That’s worth an extra 20 whatever the hell currency they use. The room is cheap and otherwise wonderful — beautiful path leading to the rooms, with plants everywhere, and hot water, enough for a shower and a shave. When I’m at these ruins, I like to get up early to take pictures at least until past checkout time, so I generally stay two days. I do the same here.

Since I got settled in so early, and didn’t have anything to do, I headed to lunch. One thing I REALLY liked about Honduras is you could get meat. Everywhere else I’ve been, when you want meat, it’s either a taco, or carne asada, which is a piece of the cow about 1/16th of an inch beaten as thin as you could go. Honduras, they had grilled meat — bit juicy, meaty chunks of grilled meat. Something you could eat by itself. The restaurant I head to is somewhat full, and next to me are two sisters speaking English. Normally I’m not forward. Ever. But I eventually said my hello and started a conversation with them. They recommend some places to go, and some things to do in Copan. It was a nice conversation — the first I’d had in a while, and I was glad to have it.

One of the things they recommended I do is go to a butterfly garden, which was pretty nice. This garden had a cool display of the life cycle of butterflies, from egg to larva to butterfly. You might not know it, but butterflies are pretty spasmodic creatures. I spent 30 minutes trying to get a picture of these beautiful things, and got but one picture. It changed my view of them.

Later that night, I go to one of the restaurants in my rough guide. I got there early, and I’m the only one there. After a few hours though, the place livens up and the twins sisters come in. One of the sisters asked me to join them, and me, in my always awkward phase, decline. After a little while though, I hear the boyfriend of one of these girls talking to some guy about cell towers, and I invite myself over. Eventually it becomes a party as we end up with something like 10 people at the table. Most of the night I spend talking to a really interesting woman from New York. She’s Indian, born in Guyana (or was it French Guyana), then moved to New York at a young age. She worked for one of the financial firms on Wall Street and acted, and now she just acts. Pretty interesting woman, as actors usually are. I left the get together pretty early, since I wasn’t feeling great, and wanted to be at the ruins when they opened.

The ruins are Copan are pretty nice. However they can’t compare to the grandeur of Palenque. Every site seems to have a different focus, and here it seems to be sculptures. These sculptures are amazing and awe inspiring, but they didn’t speak to me the way other ruins did. However, I was glad to have seen them.

After the ruins, I went to a bird sanctuary, which was recommended by the actress. It was nice to see all these crazy birds, and to see the place had an eye on conservation. The girl showing me around was pretty cool, and she knew here stuff, and my language, so it was kind of fun. One guy that shows the birds off took a picture of me with a Toucan. He lived in L.A. for a while, so we talked about Honduras and Los Angeles and birds. It was fun. I gave the girl a tip after the tour — I wasn’t sure if I was supposed to, especially after she seemed flustered by my offer, but I think she deserved it. Maybe I should have kept my pants on.

After dinner that night I went back to my room and tried to figure out what to do next. I spent some time getting my pictures in order, and some time going through my plans. As luck would have it, two great movies were one. First was Lord Of The Rings — The Two Towers, and The Highlander. These, of course, kept me up until 2 something in the morning. But I got a valuable lesson from Frodo, Sam and Smeagol. The scene where Frodo is going to Mordor via the black gate, Smeagol tells him about another way — a better way. I took that to heart. But, more on that latter.

Here are the pictures. Enjoy

So it’s early when I’m on the road. I am heading for the border crossing at something Jaguar crossing. I’d read that there was a river you had to cross, so in my minds eye I had a ferry across the river, in a somewhat busy town.

When I got there, it was in the middle of freaking nowhere, and the road from the pavement to the river was steep, with ruts and rocks. I talked to the first guy to get to me about a boat, and we settled on a price (35/us) and after looking at his boat from a distance, I agreed.

Now, one thing that weighed in my mind the whole time was my alternative crossing into Guatemala. It would have taken the rest of the day to get to the border at La Mesilla, which is the next “non-primitive” crossing. Then I’d have to backtrack to get to where I wanted to be in the first place. So we are looking at another day and a half worth of driving.

So after grabbing a soda, I take my bike down to the river, thinking I’d drop it at some point, but that was OK, since there were a ton of people around. When I get down to the boat, and think — I don’t have any idea how we are going to do this. This boat is long, skinny and has a high bow. The saving grace of the whole operation was the fact we had 10 guys standing around watching, and helping. The guy that owns the boat pulls some planks out of his boat, and we use those as a ramp to get on the boat. My bike is about as wide as the boat, which helps keep it stable — yeah for a horizontally opposed twin engine. So the driver, myself and his son get in the boat, and we take off 30 minutes down the river. After an interesting ride down the river, we get to Guatemala.

If getting on the boat was interesting, I was pretty damned worried about getting off. The departure had a bunch of people to help, and a gentle slope once you’re in the river. The Guatemala side had a lot of potential for tragedy. First, no one was around, except for a woman doing her laundry and her three very young children. Second, there was a steep road to the river, and a steep drop off in the river. If my bike was to go over, it was going in three feet of water. So there is me, a small but sturdy Mexican guy and his 8 or 9 y.o. son, and steep bank and deep water. Shit.

We’d backed my bike on, which was good. We started pushing it up the first plank to get it out of the boat, and onto the plank to the shore. These planks were at an angle to each other. About this time, a 50 y.o. guy shows up to get a ride to Mexico. I’m pushing from behind, and everybody else is pushing from the shore. BUT, since everybody is pushing from the same direction, they are starting to push the bike from an upright position, and it starts heading towards the water. I stopped people from doing that, but had vision of my waterlogged bike not starting for a couple of days. But, we get it off, which I view as the miracle of this trip.

Once we are on the bank, I still have to get my bike up from the river bank. It took three tries, with my rear tires unable to grip once and my killing it once (damned tall first gear.) It took a couple of guys pushing behind to get enough momentum, but eventually I made it. I found immigration, which was about a three minute ordeal — fill out a form and get a stamp, and I’m done. It was as easy as pie. I’m not sure it’s done correctly, since I never brought my bike officially into the country (nor have I offically exited Mexico), but if it’s OK with the guy behind the counter, it’s OK with me. I changed the remainder of my pesos into whatever the hell the money is called here. The guy that did it for me had a big stack of money, probably three inches worth of a little bit of everything. He had a look like he’s killed a man — a hard bitten, chiseled look that said a lot about him. Given the history of this place, he probably has. He scared me, even though he was only about 5’5”.

After leaving this tiny little town, I start heading towards Coban, where I hope to spend the night. The road outside of Bethel is horrible. It’s a dirt road for about 60 miles. It was one of the worse roads I’ve been on in a long time. A ton of potholes, to the point where I stopped trying to avoid them and just went through them. Much time today was spent standing up on my foot pegs. 60 miles of this crap was pretty tiring, and I was cursing myself, the road, and most anybody else I could think of. Eventually I hit pavement, and it was glorious. That is until I got to the next town, where there was a river. There wasn’t a bridge across the river. Nope, it was back on a boat — this time a ferry. Once I figured out what was going on, it wasn’t a big deal. Except for the guy in a delivery truck behind me who tried to cut me off by pushing me out of the way. I have no idea why he was trying to do it — in a hurry I guess? Once you cross the river, there are no signs. Luckily I got on the right road, and was told I had about three hours to Coban. The roads were pretty good, with banked curves, and not much traffic. Once again the rain came in the afternoon and my rear tire started doing some funky stuff.

Made it to Coban about 6:30 P.M. I had to drive around for 30 minutes before I could find the hotel I wanted. The Rough Guide map to the city had the one way streets wrong — fun, once I figured that out. The hotel had parking, and I was beat. The room was 65 whatever the hell kind of money they use. My understanding is that it’s about $6.50. I spent the extra $.50 for a private bathroom and a TV. The TV has allowed me to see that German is having lovely weather — mid 80’s, no rain. Blade II is on too, but it’s in Spanish. I’ve heard enough Spanish for today. Luckily violence is a universal language.

I’m not sure of what time it is, but I think I’ve gained an hour from Mexico. Regardless, I’m beat – it’s been a very long day. Still haven’t decided if I’ll stay here another day or not. Depends on what Honduras has to offer, and how I feel in the morning.