A Long Ride

We turned around to eat at this food stand because the food smelled so good as we passed. It's called "Comedor Miriam," and it's about as rustic as they come, with chickens running around, a dirt floor and a giant tree growing out of the middle of the kitchen. The meat was incredible, served with beans, roast veggies, avocado, fresh cheese, salsa fresca and totopos, a cross between a crispy tortilla and a cracker.



The totopos are prepared similar to Indian naan bread, thrown against the inside of a round glazed oven cast in concrete. The little holes poked in them are to keep them from exploding.



It's very popular place, with lots of truck drivers and locals stopping as they travel along the coastal road between Oaxaca and Chiapas. The man that was eating before us told me that he travels for work and it's the best food stand for miles in any direction.

Guy radioed "check out the butcher on the left" as we passed and I did a fast u-turn when I saw the calf standing in front of fresh meat. After making small talk with the people, I pointed at the calf standing and asked "does he know he's next?" The woman in charge laughed and said "¡Soy su mamá! - I'm his mother, he's got a long life ahead of him!" He was rejected by his mother at birth, so she bottle-feeds him and keeps him nearby.



Once the people saw that I wasn't grossed out or judgmental, they relaxed and started asking questions about the U.S., including how cows are butchered - in some ways the same, in some very different! They showed me their tools, explained the different parts, and demonstrated bottle-feeding the calf. They were very proud to continue a long local tradition.



This little girl got in the act, hamming it up for the camera, proudly showing her toys and possessions, including this baby chick. Like just about everywhere else in rural Mexico, everyone was incredibly open, kind and warm.

We ended up in Cuyutlán because it was starting to getting late and we needed to get off the road. An expat American living there called it a "faded beach town." That's putting it mildly: it's so badly maintained that some buildings and streets looked like they've been carpet bombed.



Entire sections of streets have fallen apart and not been repaired. There are piles of trash drifting in the breeze, street lamps fallen or with wires hanging out, and literally everything crumbling. Nobody seems to care or even notice the mess.



On the beach there were thousands of chairs in front of every hotel and not a single person sitting in even one of them. So strange. I can't quite figure out what's going on, but I wouldn't want to go back to find out.

I slammed my brakes on as soon as I saw this man riding on his donkey on the outskirts of Pinotepa Nacional, in the Mexican state of Guerrero. I asked his permission for a photo, and at first he said no, asking "porque quiere? (why do you want it?)" I talked with him for a while and finally he agreed to pose when I told him my friends and family are interested in the people of Mexico.

It's more than a little uncomfortable at times to be on an BMW motorcycle, taking photos with an expensive camera of people that make only a few dollars a day. We couldn't possibly lead more different lives, but the barriers just melted away when I talked with him, showing respect for him and interest in his way of life.

There are fires all along the coast of Mexico, along roadsides and in fields. I accidentally rode through a sheet of fire that was whipped up by the wind - I told Guy "no need to shave today, all the exposed hairs on my body are singed off." Old cars and trucks add their clouds of blue-black exhaust to the mix. Guy has had a terrible cough for a week and we both have big nasty boogers at the end of each day. Yuck.

This little pueblo at the end of dirt and then sand roads was a beautiful and peaceful place to rest for an evening after a couple of long days of riding. Both of us almost dropped our motorcycles in the deep sand in front of the hotel, but it was well worth it.

I've been told "don't eat from stands, don't eat uncooked lettuce or veggies, eat only fruit that's not been peeled or cut by someone else, etc." Screw that, we're eating! We pulled up to taco stands and shanty-looking cafes and got meals that would put expensive restaurants back home to shame. We've also had a chance to eat a few local specialties:



Camarones Secas, shrimp dried in brine that you eat with a garlic dipping sauce. They taste kind of like shrimp jerky - absolutely delicious.



Mangos with chili, lime and salt. I loved it but Guy said it didn't sit well on his stomach.



No, Guy didn't shrink his beer: those are Coronitas, which are just Coronas, only smaller.



Burrito de Camarones, prepared with sauteed onions, vegetables and chilies, folded into a tortilla, then grilled.

Guy has had a plate of shrimp al mojo de ajo at almost every meal. The price is usually somewhere between 40 and 80 pesos, or about 4-8 dollars, including drinks.

I bought a well-used BMW R1150GS motorcycle about six months ago and christened her "Claudia." It's designed for this kind of trip: tall for extra ground clearance, crash guards for the inevitable drop, built-in luggage cases, and tires and suspension that can handle dirt and gravel roads. The first owner took her all the way from California to the southern tip of South America. So far she's worked great, although the front shock is leaking oil and might be a problem soon... we'll get it checked out in Guatemala.

I'm riding through Mexico and the Central American countries for the next month, turning around at the Panama Canal and heading back to California using a different route. I've been planning this trip with my friend Guy for over a year, and after a couple of delays and near cancellations, we're on the road and in Mexico.

The first couple of days were long and fast, getting to the border, then getting across the Sonoran desert. We're now in the state of Jalisco, which is hot, humid and starting to feel tropical.