December 24th
We’re behind on our posting but it’s mostly written and just needs photos. We’re currently in San Salvador, El Salvador.
Inna & I would like to wish all of our friends, family, and readers a very Merry Christmas y Feliz Navidad. Your comments and emails have been very appreciated and we wish you all the happiest holidays.
Guatamela and El Salvador will be up soon!
Matt & Inna
Monday, December 15
With our hearts still in Chiapas, we made our way south to our border crossing with Guatemala. We had wanted to go north to visit Palenque, and then complete a loop through the Chiapas highland forests along the border with Guatemala. This area is the home of the Lacadon Mayans and reputed to have spectacular vistas. We’re feeling the fire under our feet – we’ve been in Mexico almost a month and it’s time to really get going south.
Our plan was to ride to the national park Lagos Montebellos. It is a series of multiple hued lakes that are actually limestone sinkholes set in a pristine pine forest. The descent from Chiapas offered little after the spectacular ascent. It seemed almost an indigenous version of suburban sprawl, we never seemed to be able to break into open road, simply going slowly from one small town to another.
We arrived at Lagos Montebello and while it was a very scenic forest, it seemed a nice but we are very spoiled with beautiful lakes and forests in the Pacific Northwest. We rode through the “eco tourist” village, which were charging an outrageous 300 pesos/night in a cabina to be the only tourist in town. We ate lunch overlooking the lake and learned a painful lesson in not asking the price first. The 140 peso lunch was a bitter pill to swallow but lesson learned.
We continued to down the road and it soon became clear exactly where the border lay. Rather than a river or an arbitrary line on a map, Guatemala started where the looming green mountains began. It was very striking, and it seemed to mirror our anxieties about border crossings quite well. We spent the night in Frontera Comalapa not far from the border in a surprisingly spacious but inexpensive hotel. It was an early night for a early start to the border.
Sunday, December 14
San Cristobal de Las Cases is the geographic center of the state of Chiapas, and is an enchanting colonial city surrounded by indigenous villages with the largest Maya population in Mexico.
The city holds plenty of colonial churches, colorful buildings with ornate metal and wood latticework, and a great number of cafes, restaurants and of course street markets.
After a very unpleasant night – to me it was the worst hotel room we have stayed at so far, mainly because it was cold, dirty, and the sheets were so worn out that they felt unwashed – we decided to move to a different place. Fortunately, the sister hotel around the corner where we have parked our bikes, had much nicer accommodation for the same price. We made the move, had a traditional breakfast of eggs and tortillas and decided to ride to a nearby Mayan village of Chamula to visit the church we had read about in the book, described as “one of the most moving sights in Mexico.”
We took one bike, and I have to say, it felt much more challenging to me riding on the back of the bike. It felt very limiting in terms of space, movement and “personal freedom.” I give a lot of credit to women who do these adventures as passengers. I don’t think I could have lasted a month being behind Matt’s back day after day after day.
The road took us through a mountainous scenery with basic hut houses and farming gardens spread around the hillsides. We arrived to the main plaza that consisted of The Church and a market that catered to tourists as well as the locals, selling everything from food and gifts to electronics and live turkeys.
By now we are used to little kids who swarm you at once, and will not leave until you buy one of the unnecessary trinkets they are selling. There were also very strange looking groups of men dressed in traditional clothes that looked like some kind of ceremonial outfits marching solemnly across the plaza. We were warned by the book not to take pictures of the locals, which was also the rule for visiting the church – no pictures inside.
Going into the church was an incredibly humbling and moving experience. The local population has retained much of their unique cultural identity, blending traditional animist beliefs with Catholicism.
The inside of the church was glorious – the floor was covered with pine needles exuding a balmy fresh smell; along the walls were glass boxes containing statues of the saints adorned with offerings of food, mirrors, and hundreds of candles. The locals were either gathered in small family groups quietly interacting in their native tongue, or settled in front of one of the saints by themselves praying and chanting. There was also a group of local men and boys who brought in a pine tree and were buzzing around noiselessly decorating it with garlands of small colorful fruit. A strong spiritual feeling overtook me at that moment. I felt my heart expanding and tears welling up. I looked at Matt and he seemed to be going through the same. It felt like we walked into a sacred space and were being blessed and cleansed by the divine spirit, the caretaker of these incredible mystical people. I have never in my life experienced such powerful transcendental state while being in a church.
We walked out feeling calm and peaceful, and what better way to incite your spirituality but a little bit of shopping. All women in the village were wearing these great looking silk embroidered shirts. I could not pass on one and after some bargaining was outfitted by a local woman with a pretty shirt and a traditional belt to go with it.
After coming back into town, we headed to Casa Na-Bolom, a museum and center for the study of indigenous cultures, particularly the Lacadon Maya. From the 1940 to 1990’s this was the home of Danish explorer and anthropologist Frans Blom and his Swiss wife Gertrude, an anthropologist and photographer. The couple spent their life studying, documenting, photographing and lobbying for the protection of indigenous cultures. They were the only white people who became close friends with the last Mayan king and Gertrude was called the Queen of the Jungle by the Mayans for her efforts on their behalf. Her photography collection consists of over 55,000 photographs of the indigenous people – the largest collection of its kind in the world. Today, Na-Bolom is a non-profit organization that brings together anthropologists, scientists, doctors and volunteers from all over the world to study and work to help save the forests and the disappearing Mayan populations.
Learning about the enormous ecological, cultural and political impact these two individuals had during the course of their lives and their legacy for generations to come made me think about the purpose of our own lives. Is it possible to live in comfort, and have the materials things we all desire for ourselves, but also make an impact on the lives of others, better their lives not just by doing administrative work in an office but out there in the field? Or do I need to give up one in order to pursue the other? Is there a way to accomplish both? How best to live a meaningful life? These questions kept lingering in my head for the rest of the evening.
I think this is the significance of this trip for us as individuals and as a couple. Through experiencing so many different cultures and meeting people with different backgrounds and views on life, locals and other travelers, we will get closer to grasping the purpose of our own lives, find out what our dream life looks like and hopefully in the process inspire and help people around us.
Saturday, December 13
We made an effort to get an early start in order to maximize our time in Chiapas. As we had our morning coffee and pastries, the wind gusted strongly through town. We had hoped the wind would have died down by the morning, and the ride through the wind farm was on our minds.
The wind was still strong, but it had indeed lessened from the previous evening. I’d guess it was about a third weaker. It was more manageable, with the added bonus of adding some miles to our tire life as we rode straight down the desert highway with the bike leaned over its left side. After 30 miles or so, we escaped the main areas of the wind and the riding was back to normal.
After reaching San Pedro Tepanatapec, we began our climb back up from the coast. We could see the Pacific past the lagoons, and said our temporary goodbyes. The roads were similar to the day prior, filled with pleasing mountain curves. We had arrived in Chiapas.
We crossed the mountain pass and descended into a high valley. Judging from the number of cultivated fields, this appeared to be fertile farmland. We stopped on a gentle rise to take pictures, have some water and a light lunch of crackers, apples, and bananas. The landscape felt very different from the dry valleys of Chiapas, and the air had a rich smell.
We continued on to Tuxtla Gutierrez, which we did our best to avoid. It’s the capital of Chiapas, and it’s a large, sprawling city. I don’t feel like we missed much. What I did almost miss was the free road to Chiapas, and Inna caught me at the last minute and we avoided getting onto the expensive toll road.
I feel sorry for anyone who paid for the toll road. The free road climbed steeply out of the Tuxtla city valley. We were soon over a thousand feet above the city, and as usual, were prevented by the nature of the road from stopping for pictures. Someone needs to tell Mexican highway engineers to put in vista points.
As we crossed into the back side of the mountain, it felt as if we had entered another world. The tops of the mountain were round, green hills and the road twisted in endless esses along the side of the hills. We were soon riding through the small indigenous villages in Chiapas and the bright clothes of the people were mesmerizing. We were entering a country within a country.
We began our descent into San Cristobal, and it was a larger town than either of us expected. However, the historic center was wonderfully laid out in typical Spanish grid style, with narrow stone streets spreading out from the central zócalo. We found a hotel that was able to safely harbor our bikes in the courtyard of a sister hotel.
We strolled down the main plaza, and like the other towns we have visited, it was lively. San Cristobal had no shortage of tourists who mostly seemed to be European. I don’t recall hearing english spoken on the street. We found our way to a recommended dinner place. We were eager for a proper salad, and with all of the euros and backpacker types in town, this restaurant specialized in organic, vegetarian cuisine. It was a much needed break from the heavily carnivorous Mexican cuisine. We walked off our dinner by visiting the church, markets and shops near the main plaza, and retired early – the days of the best riding seem to be the most exhausting. Unfortunately it was a terrible night. The temperature drops quickly at this altitude, and the room had meager blankets. The freezing room was topped off with a in hotel staff party that went to 6 am.
Friday, December 12
It took until Friday to finally tear ourselves out of our comfortable nest in Oaxaca. One of the reasons for our lingering in Oaxaca was our attempt to receive a DHL package from the states. Inna’s Starcom headset had died one speaker at a time prior to our arrival in Oaxaca and my parents were sending a replacement and a spare. Unfortunately we asked them to put some extra Benadryl in the package, which caused the package to be held in customs. If we had wanted to spend a week doing special paperwork we might have had a chance to receive the package, but we were both itching to be moving again so we told them to reject the package and return it to the US. Maybe we can get it in Panama City.
After riding them sans luggage to the nearby cities, the bikes felt heavy and sluggish fully loaded. It didn’t diminish my happiness to be back on the road. We made it 15 miles before our first stop. We wanted to see the giant tree at Tula. The trunk circumference is 58m and it’s 2-3000 years old. It was quite a site, a tree with the opposite growth strategy of a redwood. Instead of growing up, it grew sideways. It was impossible to fit into a photo frame. We were both grateful the Spanish didn’t turn it into a church, although they did build one right next to it.
We were properly in the riding mindset after Tula and headed southwest through the mountains towards the coast. The road descended from the Oaxacan plateau (~6500 ft) through arid, semi desert valleys. It has become clear that Mexico is full of great motorcycle roads. Unlike the very tight twisty road we took up to Oaxaca, this section of 190 was perfectly linked sweeping corner after another. The sun was shining, the air was warm, and everything felt right as the bike transitioned gracefully from arc to arc.
We descended into a valley that had a small pueblo – I think it was San Pedro Totolapan. It was at the bottom of a valley surrounded on all sides by mountains. To the north the blue mountains looked like a cloud nursery or Mordor. A huge bank of clouds rested on the mountain peaks, but they were held at bay, in place, by some interest act of climatology. Perhaps these were the cloud forests I had heard mentioned. The vista was beautifully compelling.
We climbed out the valley and were again thwarted by the lack of safe places to stop and take pictures. The view of the pueblo, the mountains, and the clouds were stunning but will remain only in our memories. Once we rode through the pass at the top, we began to descend towards the coastal plain. This side of the mountains were the dry side, and the cactus of Mexico were back in force.
I had noticed on the map and on the GPS that we were riding by a large lake, Presa B. Juarez, and it was driving me nuts that we had nearly rode the length of it without so much as a glimpse of it. Over one small rise we caught a glimpse of it, and I took a detour down the only paved road I saw to try and get closer. The road soon turned to dirt and we made it to a high point. The detour was worth the effort. Once in full view, the lake was a marvelous site. To the north, the blue mountains and their looming clouds watched guardian over the lake. The lake glistened with whitecaps from the winds, a sign of things to come for us. A plain of palm trees bordered the south shore of the lake. A man was building a new house right where we stopped to take pictures. I was jealous as he will get to wake up to that view every day. Well chosen, amigo.
We didn’t have a set destination in mind for today’s ride, we were only trying to get as close to San Cristobal as possible. We quickly passed through Tehuantepec and the as we approached Juchitán. The wind was reminiscent of our ordeal near Los Angeles, but I would guess about 25% less. However, instead of being in rush hour on a 6 lane superhighway, we were in light traffic on a two lane road. We just slowed down and took our time. It was not fun, but without the threat of being blown into 5 lanes of traffic, it was more irritating than terrifying.
As we rode past Juchitán the intensity of the wind really increased, and it became progressively more stressful. We had entered a massive windfarm. It was a puzzling juxtaposition that we were really struggling in the wind and none of the turbines were spinning. They were either not in service yet or the wind was too strong, which I didn’t think was possible. We rounded the corner into another valley and not only was the wind even worse, the horizon was littered with windmills. We took that as a negative omen and turned tail to Juchitán. It was getting late and the wind was just too much to deal without knowing how far we had to go to a resting place.
The city of Juchitán was another pleasant Mexican town. We found a cheap hotel and headed for the zócalo for dinner. The plaza was filled with flower vendors nestled under low trees harboring a squawking symphony of birds. Each pillar in the plaza was occupied by a woman chef grilling dinner for patrons on the plaza. We bought a bottle of wine at a convenient store and ordered the specialty at the plaza, a jumbo quesadilla consisting of beef, cheese, chicken, and pickled onions and carrots. It was surprisingly good and we enjoyed our bottle of wine to the accompaniment of local boys serenading the plaza with guitars and drums.
December 7 – 12
We both were looking forward to visiting Oaxaca, our first real colonial city in Mexico. In fact, we had such a great time living the city life, that we ended up staying for five days, much longer than anticipated.
We settled in a charming Casa Gigi, a good value bed and breakfast 15 minutes walk from the colonial center. While the city is quite spread out across a grand expanse of a deep set valley (1600 m above sea level), it is easy to navigate on foot and bustles with life that fuses indigenous traditions and colonial grandeur.
We spent most of our days just walking the city streets, taking breaks at the numerous coffee shops (the coffee is superb in Oaxaca!) and chocolaterias (chocolate is the drink of the Gods), shopping at the local markets, checking out the museums and galleries, enjoying our evenings at the zócalo – the main square, treating ourselves to ice cream and the best tamales we have ever had from a popular street vendor.
I have to mention how fond we are of the festive and communal ways Mexicans like to spend their evenings and weekends. We noticed it not only in Oaxaca, but in about every town that has a zócalo.
Every night, families from young to old, amorous young couples, adorable elder couples, and people of all walks of life pour into the streets to socialize, listen to the music performed by local bands and roaming troubadours, dance, eat, drink and have a genuine good time.
Every night in Oaxaca’s zócalo there was something going on, whether it was a concert, a circus show, a fashion show, a clown show, a dance for all ages, the city was booming with life and light.
Christmas decorations were up, the carnival moved in and the festivities, fiestas and religious festival processions filled the city with color and fun.
We felt almost sucked into the city life and kept prolonging our stay for one more day and another day and another day, always finding something cool to do. Below are some of the highlights of our stay in Oaxaca.
Visit to the Ruins at Monte Alban and Mitla —
The only ancient civilization ruins I have seen in my life were at Stonehendge, England about six years ago. I was very much looking forward to visiting these two sites of the ancient Zapotec civilization.
The Oaxaca valley is the cradle of some of the earliest civilizations in Mexico, beginning with the Zapotecs who founded their first city sometime before 1000 BC. By 600 BC their population has largely expanded, and a clear social hierarchy was formed with priests as the ruling class.
The Monte Alban site, which sits high on top of the mountain, was leveled forming a massive plateau without the aid of the wheel or animals. Millions tons of earth were shifted to build a vast flat terrace on which the Zapotecs constructed colossal pyramids, astronomical observations and pyramids.
For 1600 years Monte Alban served as potent symbol of Zapotec power, but had been abandoned by 1000 AD for reasons still speculated at by the archeologists. The site was only discovered by modern archeologists in 1930 and some structures are still being excavated.
We spent about two hours wondering around the plateau absolutely in awe of its monumental size and the ingenuity of people who have not even seen a wheel when they were constructing these enormous structures.
The site of Mitla was not as grandiose as Monte Alban, but impressed with its superlative bas-reliefts, geometric designs and greca stonework that is considered to be without peer in Mexico.
The site was founded after the implosion of Monte Alban, but was considerably destroyed by the Spaniards in 1500’s – 1600’s who used the stones from the palaces to build the Catholic church that is located next to the ruins. In general, throughout Mexico’s (and Latin America’s) history, it is inconceivable how much cultural and historical destruction the Spanish conquest brought to the region.
In as much as all the colonial churches and cathedrals look beautiful, elegant and impressive, the fact that they were built through wreckage and extermination of indigenous populations and their traditions makes them that much less attractive and interesting to me.
Cooking class in Oaxacan Cuisine —
Oaxaca is known for its inventive contemporary cuisine and great street food, with such local specialties as tamales (corn masa with a variety of flavors wrapped in either corn husks or banana leaves), Oaxaqueño mole (a sauce made mainly with chile peppers and chocolate, though there are great number of varieties, and families pride themselves on their special secret recipes that are passed on from generation to generation), chapulines (crunchy seasoned grasshoppers), quesillo (Oaxacan string cheese), and of course mescal known to some as the drink that has a dead worm in bottom of the bottle (made with cactus plants, tequila is a specialty type made only from agave). One evening we walked by a tourist office and I picked up a flyer for a cooking class, which seemed like a great idea, as a lot of people come to Oaxaca specifically to learn about the local cooking methods.
There were two more people in my class a couple from Oslo. We started at 10 am and agreed of the menu. I was eager to learn to cook mole from scratch, we also settled on chile rellenos, squash flower soup, two salsas, an almond syrup cake and passion fruit drink. First, we visited the local market to purchase the produce, and were educated about the varieties of local foods, some of which looked very strange and unusual. We also visited the tortilleria, a shop where they make fresh tortilla dough that locals purchase to make fresh torillas at home. The cooking process for our feast took about two hours. We first pressed and fried our own tortillas, which was quite amusing. The mole recipe we selected had only 8 ingredients, while some moles have up to 25. The recipe was quite simple to my surprise. We also roasted the chillies and tomatoes for the other dishes which I think is one of the secrets of Mexican cooking as it really adds a nice flavor to the dish. We prepared the cake, the passion fruit water and were
set for our lunch, for which Matt joined us.
We shared quite a lively meal with the Norway couple enjoying the fruits of our labor and our impressions about Mexico and Oaxaca. After lunch Oscar, our chef host, offered us a shot of his casa’s special mescal, which i really didn’t care for as it had a funky flavor and a not so attractive taste for my palate. I will be getting the recipes of all the dished we have cooked and will post them on the site shortly.
Visiting the Artisan Village of Arrazola and the Rug Market at Tlacolula —
The Oaxacan markets are full of delightfully boldly patterned wood animal figurines made from copal wood called alebrijes.
The Arrazola village where they are made was a short ride from Oaxaca and we decided to venture there to see the artisans at work and get some good deals on Christmas presents for family and friends.
We really went to town buying all sorts of themed figurines, and getting pretty good about bargaining for the best price. The region is also known for its brightly colored rugs and textiles, which we could not pass on for the price. It turned out that our bill for shipping all the presents was close to what we have actually paid for the stuff, but not much we could do at that point.
Saturday, December 6th
We knew we had a big day ahead of us, so we arose earlier than normal and really tightened up our morning routine. We knew it would be a long ride through the mountains, and we wanted to be sure to arrive in Oaxaca before dark. An early starts takes the hurry out of the day.
We rode 70 kms down the coast, and then caught the two lane highway going over the mountains to Oaxaca. The curves started about 40 ft after we turned onto the road. The feel of the road was similar to the Hwy 40 road to Durango we had ridden a piece of. Virtually no straightaways, just a ribbon of tarmac winding through the forest. The vegetation had quickly changed from coastal palms to a lush, green forest. As we road round and round the hills, the road climbed up and up.
There was virtually no traffic on the road at this time of day, and it made for a sweet ride. The tight, twisty nature of the road really emphasized proper riding technique. To go smoothly through a tight corner, you really have to not look ahead but through the turn as far as you can see. The bike will go wherever you are looking. This road was great practice for looking through the turn, and after a while I must have looked like Colin Edwards, my neck out, like an giraffe, stretching around the corner to see what lies ahead.
The vegetation changed from broad leafed deciduous trees to pine forests as we climbed higher and higher. It was the first time since the Pacific Northwest we’d really seen a pine tree let alone a forest. As we cleared the coastal foothills and entered more proper mountains, the curves relaxed and the riding became less strenuous. When it is really tight, you can get a bit dizzy after 30 miles so a less taxing road was welcome.
We stopped for a brunch at a comedor perched on the side of the mountain, just dangling off the road. It was a simple restaurant with a few tables surrounding the large wood cooking stove in the center. The 3 owners or locals were already enjoying their breakfast and the stove was covered in large cast iron pots bubbling away with various dishes. We ordered some coffee and made the mistake of adding sugar before tasting. Apparently up here they just sweeten the entire pot in advance to their liking. We ordered some meat and potatoes for me, and a chorizo dish for Inna. The chorizo got highly negative reviews. It was very casual though, and Inna helped herself to the tastier dishes from the stove. This is not a land for vegetarians as all the dishes were mostly meat. The handmade tortillas hot off the grill were a superb side.
We continued our ride onwards and upwards, with the GPS indicating a peak of just over 9000 feet. There was a gorgeous town perched on top of the mountain that seemed to have a busy Saturday life. We were on our Oaxaca mission and didn’t stop in. Soon after the town, we began our descent. After a stretch of downhill twistiness, we got our first view of central Mexico. It’s hard to believe that we had more or less been on a coast since we left Seattle and this was the furthest from the ocean we’d been. We overlooked a city on a brown, arid plain, and I was excited to be in a new landscape with new geology.
We descended to the plateau fairly easily. Oaxaca and the surrounding valleys sit at 5000 ft, so we spared an arduous descent. The ride along the plateau wasn’t terribly exciting. It quickly became a field of topes separated by small sections of road. The topes eased after many miles, just in time for the traffic of the Oaxaca outskirts to become a factor.
None of the nuisances really mattered though. I had been dreaming of visiting Oaxaca for years, and it was to be one of the highlights of the entire trip. We were in Oaxaca and we had ridden every single mile to it from Seattle. We were both beaming when we got to the hotel, anticipating an immersion in native Mexican culture and history against the backdrop of a picturesque colonial town.
Friday, December 5
After our two days of relaxation in Acapulco, it was time to get back to the task of riding south. Our plan was to get to Oaxaca in two days, with the stop over night being in the town of Puerto Escondido.
It was very much a business day of riding for us. We only stopped for gas as it was nearly 250 miles to our destination. The beginning of the ride was very much like Baja. You know the ocean is out there somewhere nearby, but you don’t see it. From Acapulco we quickly moved inland away from the water, and the landscape turned brown.
This section of the day’s ride reminded me of parts of California – rolling hills covered in dried grasses. The temperature kept riding as we rode along and it was by far the hottest temperature yet on this adventure. I looked at the thermometer on my dash and it registered upper 90s, but it felt even hotter. I’ve been very pleased with my Motoport riding gear on this trip. It’s bulky and ugly, but it’s made of a kevlar mesh that passes air very nicely. Despite being dressed in all black, I’m usually much more comfortable in the heat than Inna. This was the first time I really felt the jacket heat up. The jacket felt like it had just come out of the dryer. We both sweat more this day than any day prior. There are no pictures from this section because neither of us wanted to stop.
The bleak landscape continued for nearly half the day until finally the road turned closer to the ocean and the temperature dropped. We entered a landscape unlike any other we’d been through before. It was a Mexican savannah or wetlands. Cattle were grazing alongside palm trees in fields of lush, green grass. It couldn’t have been a starker contrast and this was one of Inna’s favorite landscapes of the entire trip. The air was cool, the grass was green, the ride was good.
We reached Puerto Escondido in the early evening hours, and after a few attempts, settled on a hotel. This town is famous for its surfing so it attracts a young crowd. The other guests were some German hip hop surfers and some other surfers who liked to play Mexican surfer/punk rock loudly while he showered. Not our favorite hotel.
As usual it seems, there was a festival going on for one of the Virgin saints. The process was quite noisy as it went by our hotel. We went into town for dinner, and it was standard tourist fare. A terrible traditional Mexican band was playing across the street from our restaurant. The owner of the restaurant came by to chat and share with us his dislike of nearly everything including the band and the dancers enjoying the bad music. He did give us some good travel advice on avoiding the road to Oaxaca from this town. He said it was an ugly road, full of animals and the dreaded topes, even though no one lived near it. “Nada. Nada. No hay nadie, pero hay muchas topes.” (Nothing, nothing, there is nothing and no one, but many topes.) We took his advice and took the better road the next day.
The rest of our day consisted of shopping for our standard convenience store breakfast of drinkable yogurt drinks, apples, and bananas. I never thought I’d eat so many meals from what are basically 7-11s with small produce sections. We went to bed early amidst all the noise as we knew the ride through the mountains the next day would be challenging.
Wednesday and Thursday, December 3 and 4
We got up early, had a morning swim in the ocean to compensate for the short-lived beach experience the day before, and were on the road by 10:30 am. We didn’t have a long way to go to Acapulco, but we knew we had to stop somewhere to find a town with an Internet cafe to make a hotel reservation for the night.
We stopped at a town called Tecpan De Galeana, which is where Matt had his five minutes of fame. Having made the hotel reservation at an Internet cafe on the main plaza after, we were suiting up to hit the road when we were approached by a TV reporter and his camera man from the local TV station. They were curious about what in the world we were doing riding our bikes all the way from Seattle. Matt agreed to be on camera for the local nightly news report and seemed like he did pretty well explaining the motives and details of our adventure. I guess “worthy news” spread fast in this small town, so while Matt was giving the interview, I was approached by a local newspaper reporter who was getting on the action by taking notes and trying to ask me follow up questions. Unfortunately, my Spanish is non-existent, so Matt had to take over for me after he was done with the TV crew. They rounded us up for a few more pictures, we exchanged business cards and were on our way to Acapulco, feeling somewhat self-congratulatory and bashful to be a local news celebrity. The article, in Spanish, here: An American and a Russian tour the continent by motorcycle.
Navigating through Acapulco’s traffic was a bit challenging but we found our way to the hotel relatively fast. At first we were a bit displeased with the location as it was quite far from the main center. That normally suits us just fine, but we knew we needed to go to a WalMart and were set on eating dinner at one of the American restaurant chains (we are so tired of tacos by now!) which were located along the main hotel strip downtown, about a 20 minute taxi ride from out hotel. After we got to our room however and saw the amenities of the hotel, including three pools, a private beach, and modern spacious decor; we knew we ended up in our own private paradise. Our hotel, Camino Real, can be considered a real splurge for us, but it was only about $30 more expensive than a Motel 6 back home, so we decided to live it up. We spent the afternoon lying by the pool and enjoying a piña colada while watching the sun set behind gorgeous cliffs that surrounded our lagoon. In the evening we got a taxi ride downtown that cost us more than our romantic dinner at Burger King, but it all hit the spot just right.
The next day we had a fancy breakfast buffet on the terrace of the restaurant overlooking the ocean and decided that there was no way we could leave this place without staying for one more day and reveling in Acapulco’s luxury living. We savored every minute of the sunshine by the pool that afternoon and in the evening we decided to go into town to watch the famous Acapulco clavadistas (cliff divers) for the 8:30 pm show. We had another splendid dinner, this time at Pizza Hut. I know, it sounds shameful, but at that point we craved anything but Mexican food, and pizza sounded delicious, though it did not meet our even our low expectations. It was so bland that it almost prompted me to sprinkle salt over it just to get some kind of flavor. We joked that it must have been shipped frozen from US.
The divers show was entertaining, if a bit built up. There were six of them diving from different points on the La Quebrada cliff. They came out on the spectators’ side, jumped in the water, swam across the narrow channel, and miraculously climbed the high steep cliff, each taking his own spot assigned spot. Then in the next 15 minutes they each plunged 35 miters into a rocky channel timing their leap to coincide with an incoming wave, as otherwise there is not enough water to stop them from hitting the bottom. They had to get out fast, as another danger they face is being dashed against the rocks.
After the show we got a cab to the hotel and reveled in the last hours of our deluxe getaway, knowing that extravagant days like these would be few on this trip.
High resolution videos we recorded of the clavadistas can be found here.
Tuesday, December 2
We decided to have a leisurely morning in Caleta De Campos before moving on to Barra el Potosi which was the beach town we were really looking forward to based on the description from the book. We had breakfast in town and tried for the first time a traditional Mexican drink called Licuado – its a refreshing blend of milk, juice and ice, which is really yummy. We’ll definitely be blending those at home.
The ride to Barra el Potosi was beautiful, as we were riding along stretches of remote white sand beaches tucked away behind strips of lush vegetation, but still visible from the main road. Once in a while we would spot empty palapas (beach huts made with palm tree branches) on the beach and there would be random restaurants sprinkled along the highway, but for the most part the beaches were completely untouched and uninhabited. We thought that if we could get on a piece of property like this now, we could be millionaires ten years from now.
At one point out of the corner of an eye we spotted a couple of whales in the water not far from the beach. At this time of year, the whales swim from Alaska to the South, so we were very excited to have this brief encounter.
We reached Barra el Potosi around 4 pm, and started looking for a place to stay. The first B & B we stopped at was owned by a British couple who used to live in Oregon. The price of $85 was too steep for us so we moved on to the only hotel in the area, which also didn’t have anything appropriate to offer for the price. After trying a few other places with unreasonable prices we were ready to give up. At the last minute Matt noticed a hand written sign for some cabiñas right on the beach, which worked out great for us.
We hit the beach right away (at this point we were a bit disappointed with ourselves for starting the day so late), splashed in the ocean, built a sand castle, watched the sunset and went back to get ready for dinner. Before going out, we heard a nock on the door and were visited by a woman who saw our bikes outside and decided to say hello, because she was also from the Seattle area and a graduate of the University of Washington, like me (I have a UW sticker on one of my boxes). Karen invited us to stop by her house later that night.
We happily accepted the invitation, and on the way to dinner visited Karen and Dick’s beautifully built and decorated beach house where we were treated to cold beers, enjoyed hearing their stories, and got on some local gossip. As expected, there is a sizable community of Americans and Canadians who own homes in the area, which is gradually growing from a small fishing village into a vacation destination. Karen and Dick live in Kingston, WA, and have been coming to Barra el Potosi for the last 16 years, finding it to be a perfect balance between a small town with a tight community and naturally preserved beaches without being too overdeveloped. Last year they bought the property and build their home here, and now split their time between Washington and their beach paradise. It was definitely an inspirational meeting for us, seeing that living one’s (ocean beach paradise) dream is very much possible.
Karen also explained to us why so many houses are unfinished. If they had left a few pieces of rebar sticking out of their roof, the building would be considered incomplete for property tax purposes. Many houses are incomplete for lack of funds, others as a tax dodge.
Karen also shared with us another fun tidbit – this section of Costa Alegre was nicknamed Costa Floja – the lazy coast. The beaches here are so beautiful, the weather so temperate, and food so abundant that it’s easy for people to do just enough to get by. It’s not too hard to see why no one here is in a hurry.
We got a recommendation for a restaurant in town, but the enchiladas we ordered for dinner tasted as good (or bad) as the ones we get from the Trader Joe’s frozen section back home. May be the cook was off duty that night.
We went to bed anticipating to get up early the next day as we were heading off to Acapulco, a city that held a certain mystique for both of us, and were were eager to dive into the big city life after almost a month of small town living.
