January 01, 2003
Photos -- San Blas to Oaxaca and the "Rear View"
Happy New Year from Oaxaca!!
Hope you enjoy a few more pics from the Road, as well as some of Zelie's vignettes from the back of the bike. We have a more detailed travelogue in the works, so stay tuned...
Dry Stats as of today:
Location: Oaxaca City, Oaxaca State, Mexico
Miles from Home -- 3200
Days on the Road -- 19 (omigosh, is that all?)
Number of Mezcals tasted on New Year's Eve -- 12
Some tacos are better than others. We ate three meals in a row at this lovely street taqueria. Best tacos in Mexico for 4 pesos each -- about 40 cents.
The "Christmas Tree" in San Blas. It's all relative...
El Cabroncito with his guts all hanging out midway through the water pump rebuild in San Blas.
When you get our messages, imagine us writing them in an open air Cybercafe like this one in Barra de Navidad -- a one minute walk to the ocean... ;)
The children of Barra de Navidad performing La Posada, a reenactment of Mary and Joseph's search for shelter in the days before Christmas.
Away in a Manger... a look inside our lovely digs on Chirstmas Eve in Playa Azul, chamber pot bucket, quilt wall and all. Now imagine puking, farting hosts on the other side of the quilted wall, and M-80 firecrackers going off all night. Silent Night, Holy Night...
Z, El Cabroncito, and our little friend hanging out in front of our Christmas crashpad. Our room is just left of the bike.
Close Quarters. Sometimes it's better to just invite El Cabroncito in for the night. Note Z's lovely disco afro...
Easy living in Playa Ventura with Zelie's friends from Cuernavaca. The water is just 50 yds. to the left.
A view from just next to the tent looking out to the water.
Las Sirenas del Mar -- Zelie and Marisela at Playa Ventura.
Sunset in San Agostinillo on the Oaxacan Coast near Puerto Angel.
A friendly old man jerking his beef right in front of some roadside baños.
Nuestra Senora de la Soledad. Inside Our Lady of Solitude Cathedral in Oaxaca City.
"Acteal se no olvida" -- Acteal is not forgotten. Graffiti on the streets of Oaxaca commemorating the 5 year anniversary of the massacre of over 45 Tzozil Indians in the village of Acteal by a paramilitary army (supported by the Mexican government) on Dec. 22, 1997. The indigenous people of southern Mexico have been resisting for decades in an effort to retain control of their lands -- lands that are being clearcut by outside interests at an alarming rate. The response to their resistance has often been gruesome. The victims were attending Catholic Mass when the shooting began.
Inside the market in Oaxaca -- the taco stands. From one vendor you purchase veggies and salsa, from another your meat which they grill on the spot in one of the booths you see in the photo, and your tortillas come from yet another vendor down the hall. Quite a process for some not-so-good or cheap tacos. We miss San Blas...
A pet Tucan hiding out under our table at a restaurant in Oaxaca.
Fireworks on the Alcala in Oaxaca just before New Year's -- and just before my batteries died for the night.
And now, a few of Z's visuals from the back of the bike.
For all of you who have expressed concern over the fate of my derriere, I thank
you. I'm actually doing quite well in that area. My lower back also seems to be
holding up. it's my knees that may never be the same. Don't know if I failed to
adequately break in my thick leather riding pants or if the gear is a bit defective, but I've taken to stuffing socks into the knee pockets and letting my legs dangle off the pegs to release pressure. Still, if it wasn't for an extended stop in San Blas (which I will refer to as San Fleas until the welts on my feet subside)I'm not sure I'd be walking now.
Otherwise, the view from the back seat has been amazing and fun, particularly
now that we've entered the tropics. Mountains of green, lush jungle remind you
of what Mexico must once have looked like, long before agriculture and other
development began its destructive creep.
Edward has been a fantastic driver and has made my initial sheer terror melt
into garden variety never-ending fear (a requisite for any rider).
While E keeps his eyes glued to the road, images of the Mexican countryside and people help the hours pass by for me: boys no older than ten hunched over fields of drying red chile plants; tired women wandering dusty roads; cotton spread over miles of highway blown from nearby factory bags; Mennonite families in simple dress speaking their own otherwise unrecognizable German dialect; dense pine forests reminiscent of the Gila in New Mexico and vast plains of yellow grasses; crops of corn growing on the sides of mountains so steep you can hardly imagine climbing, much less cultivating; ornate cemetaries dotting otherwise barren valleys; garbage wherever there is roadside space (largest collections under signs reading 'no tire basura', meaning don't throw your garbage); plumes of smoke from burning fires in every town and village, consuming everything from paper and plastic to tires and other toxic materials; winding coastal roads and idyllic beach coves; the underbellies of passing pelicans; trees ripped apart from recent
hurricanes; barren patches of mountain shaved clean of any tree or shrub and
the dozens of surrounding villages the timber industry built; random individuals walking on long stretches of highway, appearing out of thin air and seemingly heading nowhere; curves, curves and more curves, interrupted only by the thousands of topes (major speedbump) dotting every Mexican road that have made our driving life hell; animals wandering on every road and every town, and the beautiful faces of Mexican women, men and children living, working, eating, playing and watching the world go by. They are joyous and curious, hard working and tired. They are some of the most generous, kindhearted and fun-loving people I've ever encountered.
There's another observation I've made:
I've decided that all Mexican men (and possibly all men, though I haven't
completed the research) want to have a motorcycle, with or without a cute girl
on the back. This lends itself to a few too many unnecessary road stops where
twenty something boys with big guns poke and prod the cool moto equipment under the guise of "inspecting". But for the most part, once their curiosity is sated, they have been entirely gracious and haven't asked for any bribes -- yet!
Happy Holidays to all.
Posted by Sully at January 1, 2003 02:03 PM