New Orleans (U.S.) to Mexico City (Mexico)

19-23 August 2009

From Argentina or Bust!

[San Luis Potosi (Mexico) town square]

I spent the first night in New Orleans with a old Navy friend of who served with me on the USS O'Brien in Japan. It was good to see him if only briefly. New Orleans is still a large construction site busy rebuilding itself since the destruction caused many years ago by Katrina. Before leaving New Orleans, or “Nawlins” as the locals refer to it as, I indulged myself in some fine ol' Cajun cooking. I stopped at a little hole in the wall diner near downtown Bourbon street area and had what's called a Cajun biscuit and it turned out to be probably the best breakfast I've ever had. It cost me $5 USD and I tell you, Michelin star restaurants had nothing on this place.

Between New Orleans and San Antonio, Texas nothing on any real significance happened other than the fact that I was soaking wet to the bone for about 500 miles. I entered the rainstorm thinking that it would only be a sprinkle, but then the sprinkle, turned into a moderate rain which then quickly turned into a torrential downpour with gale force winds. I found myself inclined at a 45 degree angle while trying to drive in a straight line with only about 20 meters of visibility. By then I figured it was too late to put on my rain gear so I just stayed that way till it was all over about 8 hours later. I spent that night in a hammock in the middle of some uninhabited woods near the outskirts of San Antonio and was awoken to the sounds of deer feeding nearby.

The next morning I made my way to the Texas-Mexican border but before the crossing I stopped at a local electronics store to pick up a spare battery for my camera. While at the checkout counter I experienced something that I thought was only possible in one of those late night talk shows where people on the street in the U.S. are asked to answer the most basic of geography questions--the answers to which are always embarrassingly wrong. I'll be honest that I never believed that there were sufficient people out there who don't know the very basics of geography such as “where is Africa on the globe” and had been therefore convinced that the majority of these skits were merely staged. But today my naivety was harshly revealed to me by the young cashier. He had asked me for my zip code for the usual marketing reasons and I replied by telling the young man that it wouldn't be necessary as I live don't live in the U.S.. This then elicited further questioning from him such as “so where do you live?” to which I replied with “London”. At this point the young man paused in deep thought and with a straight face asked me “what language do they speak in London?” I was in shock for the next few seconds and tried to give him a chance to redeem himself by telling him that London is in fact in England in the hopes that he would snap out of his mental stupor—it did not work. I was then momentarily relieved to hear his female colleague next to him speak up, insult his stupidity and then proceed to inform him ever so confidently that “they speak French in London, you know, because it's right next to France”. I felt the blood drain from my face and my limbs go cold and numb. I quickly looked around in the hopes to find some hidden camera where all this was been taped for some prank show—which was unfortunately not the case. I couldn't bring myself to answer the young man and just walk out of the store feeling somewhat uncertain of the future of that generation.

The next stop was the border. After a solid 3-hour dance of bureaucratic paperwork bliss, I was finally on my way into the Mexican heartland. I must admit it was a strange feeling making that cross off of American soil. I think it was more just personal confirmation that the trip was actually underway and that there was no turning back past this point.

It took me about four hours to make it down to Monterrey where I decided to lay up for the night. I walking into the first hotel I came across in downtown Monterrey. I was even able to talk the girl down from 350 pesos to 200 pesos for the night. I set my backpack down in the room and closed the door behind me. When I returned to my room with the rest of my gear, I found that the key didn't work. I then found out, or better said, the hotel management then discovered that none of the keys they had for that room actually worked. My backpack was now locked inside my hotel room. This was just one of the many little things that reminded me that things operate a bit different down here. I then spent the next two hours helping the hotel repairman/porter/security guard remove the door from the frame. It was another moment of deja vu as I recalled the time in Beijing when my roommate unknowingly locked me in my own apartment after leaving for work and I then spent several hours removing a metal door frame from its concrete foundation just to get out of my own apartment. It was the same thing, only this time around I was rewarded with a few tacos and a beer for my assistance in the matter. Later that night, after some greasy Mexican fajitas and a few pints of Dos XX from the tap at the local hangout, a German Bierhaus with Karaoke music, I was ready for some shuteye. It was only after I was already in bed that I realized that the hotel was earning some extra revenue through deviant methods as there was a "partnership" with the brothel next door. My auditory senses were quickly inundated with harmonious moans from multiple directions, all of which were out of synch with one another. Oh well, it was nothing that my trusty earplugs couldn't resolve.

The next morning I got an early start and headed to San Luis Potosi using the road less traveled. Easily the best ride of the trip so far. I drove for nearly three hours in the mountains on hairpin turns, passing goat herds in the middle of the road and flying down small single track dirt trails that attempted to shake my bike apart. There were times where I had to remind myself that I didn't have my race-prepped Ducati anymore and instead was driving a fully-laden Beemer. I thought of the Martins (B & M) from Steam D and knew they would fully appreciate the roads here. I even found a small deserted village in the middle of nowhere. Neither my GPS nor my detailed topo maps showed its location. There were basketball courts and buildings that looked like they hadn't been kept up in over 30 years. I drove through doorless buildings with my bike thinking I was recording the whole day on the helmet cam only to find later that night that the past 2 days of video had not been recorded due to a memory card malfunction. It was very disappointing not to be able to share the ride with you all but I'm certain that there are many more good rides to come. As I pulled up to a small hotel in San Luis Potosi at around sunset another fellow motorcyclist traveler pulled up next to me. Matt from Michigan (U.S.), and he was headed back home after a two month wandering through Mexico.


[Matt: fellow motorcycle traveler]

We exchanged stories the rest of the night with several locals who proceeded to edify us on the local alcohol of choice, the name of which escapes me for some reason or other.


[Small town entertainment]

It was a great night filled with amazing food, drink, and eventually some late night salsa dancing at the only club in town where I even ran into the hotel attendant who had checked me in a few hours earlier. The next morning Matt and I bid each other farewell and as he headed north and I pointed my front tire towards Mexico City, I was invigorate with the prospect of many more great evenings like the one I had just had.

It was now Sunday the 23rd and my plan was to stop for lunch in San Miguel de Allende before pulling into Mexico City for the night. On the way to San Miguel de Allende I stopped at a fresh strawberry stand on the side of the road and indulged myself in some of the most delicious strawberries and cream I had ever had along with making a new friend Ismael, the proprietor of the stand pictured here. He shared with me the nuances of strawberry cultivation and I recounted a few travel stories he was keen to hear about. In end he pulled out a small flask of his family's special homemade tequila and gave me a small taste. An hour later after Ismael refused to accept payment for the strawberries, I was back on the road with another a deeper understanding of what makes the people down here tick.


[Strawberry proprietor extraordinaire]

When I arrived in San Miguel de Allende I was somewhat disappointed to see it flooded with tourists prancing around in a Disney World sort of fashion. The town's architecture and cobblestone street were exquisitely maintained and I found myself just wandering around the small side alleys trying to avoid the crowds. As beautiful as the town was, I honestly couldn't take much of it so I decided to call the visit short and head out of town to eat have lunch at small mom and pop mexican cantina and then headed onwards to Mexico City. In Mexico City I met up with Luis Berrondo from LBS and was generously put up at his place for the night. Next up... Rancho Escondido and Palenque before hitting Guatemala.

Here I have to mention that I was very disappointed after 3 days of riding to discover that most of the video I had recorded on my helmet cam was corrupted due to a faulty memory card. I was only able to resolve the problem after arriving in Mexico City where I bought a few new memory cards. It's all fixed now and should be good for the rest of the trip. That being said, the upload times here in Latin America take an eternity and I therefore don't think I'll be able to upload the huge HD video files until after the trip. I'll try and make tiny snippets, like the one below, from here on out. Till the next posting...