TROUBLE IN PARADISE

Sunday

We have decided Oaxaca deserves two days at the least. Max and I devote about 3 hours on his bike removing the carburetor, cleaning the air cleaner, changing the jets and putting it all back together. I ventured into the Mercado and found some good stuff. Shrimp, oyster cocktail with a great salsa. After, we all went to the Zocala to hear some music but after waiting an hour for it to start we gave up . The Zocala was hopping. Some kind of book festival going on. There is something about this city that puts it apart from other Mexico cities. Clean Air! It sits at 6000 feet on a high plateau.  Oaxaca is steeped in history and is the center for the various indigenous peoples in the area who bring their crafts into Oaxaca to sell on the streets and mericado. Black pottery, silver, weavings, leather goods and oh yea, Mezcal. That night we wandered around sampling the street venders food and hit the sack early.

Oaxaca Cathedral

Oaxaca Hotel

Monday November 14

Another early start today. We want to get to Puerto Angel in time for a little beach time. The ride out of town was the usual battle of the topes. You would see 95% of them coming but it is that 5% that hammers you. We climbed up to 7500 feet on a not so well maintained road then began the usual twists and turns bringing us down to sea level. We rolled into Puerto Angel around 2:30 with Max’s bike, you guessed to, running like crap! After conferring with the Lonely Planet we headed over the south side of the bay and found a hotel. Or should I say they found us. As we rode down the road looking for the place two guys come running into the street beckoning us to come into their respective businesses. The parking looked better on the left so that’s where we pulled in. Then they began yelling that the each had the better food. Jorge, our hotel guy, was pretty smug when we headed his way. The hotel was a little over our budget but what the hell we’ll only be here 2 nights. We decided, since we are staying at Jorge’s place, to give the guy

Oaxaca Zocola

next store our business for dinner. This did not go well with Jorge. He had an obvious attitude when we returned, mumbling something about the great price they gave us on the room. He then had us move our bikes and said they wouldn’t be safe unless we locked everything up. It was at that moment Max notices his two extra tires are gone! All’s well, we find out Jorge had moved them f or safekeeping. After promising Jorge we would eat at his place tomorrow night we turned in for the night.

Tuesday

It’s so nice here we decide to stay another day. Max’s bike (now the theme of the trip) was running rough so Max and I take another stab at the carburetor. We notice there is a washer missing at the bottom of the needle. When did that disappear? We also replace yet another oil soaked spark plug with a new one, start the bike up and call it good. A swim followed by a couple of beers and it really does feel like vacation! Interesting place this is. Very few Gringos, mostly Mexican visitors. Actually there are very few foreign tourists here or anywhere we’ve been in Mexico. The threat of cartel violence plus the bad global economy is really hitting Mexico hard. Tomorrow we leave early hopping to make San Chistobal de las Casas for a few days.

View from our room

Wednesday

Bikes loaded ready to go by 8. The KTM won’t start. Won’t even pop. Off come the luggage, gas tank and carb. We work on it until noon and decide to keep the room one more day. We hear about a mechanic in the town south of us so we hire a cab, find him and bring him back. He goes through the carb again, looks at the spark and decides he’ll come back tomorrow. I go ahead and adjust the valves and still no go. Another night in paradise.

Thursday

We work on the bike waiting for Senore Mechanic (who never did show). We have run out of ideas so we take up the hotel owner’s son offer to take Max and his bike to the next large town where there is a Yamaha shop. We put the bike back together and enjoy some beach time.

Puerto Angel

KTM going to see a real mechanic- I hope

Friday

Max and the bike are loaded up and on the way by 8. John and I decide to explore the town a little and drop off some laundry. Not much to see, just a small town with the usual small shops and such. There is a huge dock there. Must have an occasional large ship come in. A nap and John and I decide to ride up to the next town North of us. Shorts, tennis shoes and tee shirt make up the total safety gear we are wearing. It felt sooooooo good not to be encumbered by all the usual gear! Walking up the beach we happen upon a hostel and bar run by a expat from San Diego. As far as Expat bar owners go this guy was all right. He’s 60 something, lost is job in the states, had no health insurance and said “what the hell, it’s not too bad here”. He leased the hostel and bar, got himself a bar manager (another gringo who by appearances looks as though he’s paid with beers.)

Before too many beers John and I decide it would be best to get the bikes back. As we approach the hotel people begin running out in the street yelling, “the moto is back!” “The moto is bien!” I swear, the whole village knew about our dilemma! And there it sat, the POS KTM in all her glory! We, of course were elated. I truly thought there was no hope of getting it fixed anywhere near there. I guess the mechanic was more thro than us and went back through the carb and found some sort of blockage. A calibration was in order so we got a cab and went back to Zipolite for drinks and dinner. I think John must have been the happiest since he timbered the bar with shots of tequila and started a party that lasted well past midnight for him. Max and I, being the responsible adults we are, caught a cab back and didn’t expect to see John until the next morning. Much to my surprise he was laid out in his sleeping bag in the middle of the floor when I got up.

Saturday

What a trooper! John is up and about and we’re loaded up ready to go by 9! After a quick stop to pay the mechanic (who didn’t fix anything but, to his credit, didn’t want anything) we began the day’s ride. We rode down the coast highway stopping at some village for breakfast at a street venders place. Chicken, tortillas and a fruit smoothie and we all were feeling fine. We made good time and pulled into Tonala for the night. Found a nice clean hotel with secured parking for the bikes after looking at a few “no tell motels”. The Independence Day calibration had begun and the town square was packed. Found a place to get a bit to eat and returned. The only special thing that happened this night was that John did not have a beer with dinner!

Road to Tonala

Sunday

 The highway took us inland from the coast and through a valley that about blew us off the road. No wonder it was also the largest array of wind generators I’ve ever seen. We drove through the middle for miles!  For some reason Dufas did not want us to take the “shortest most direct” route into Guatemala instead turning us north up into the mountains again at Huxtila. This being Mexico Independence Day all of the villages were having some sort of festivities. Most of these villages have only one street going through town and as we rode through this one village we found ourselves surrounded in a sea of locals. I hadn’t noticed they all were wearing the same white shirts and all of them were men. Shit! We are in the town parade! Only one thing to do but keep going. The masses parted for us and began yelling and clapping. When we finally made it to the front I had to maneuver around the banner and then the two police cars that were blocking the road. I gave the cops a shrug and a smile but only got a scowl in return. Once cleared we high tailed it out of there. The road snaked up to 7000 feet toward the Guatemalan boarder. When we got to Passo Hondo we found ourselves at the rear of their parade. This being a larger town we were able to swing through the side streets and around the parade. In another 10 miles we were at the border. Processing our bikes out of Mexico went smoothly. 1^st we had to go the Banko something or other and have the guy check our import papers with or vin numbers. Once he was satisfied we had the same bikes we imported back in Ensenadas he refunded our $300 deposits and sent us over to immigration. There they simply took our tourist visas, stamped our passports and sent us on our way in less than an hour. We then road through 5 miles of no mans land to the Guatemala border. Holy shit what a zoo! Venders everywhere, lining the streets. I get excited because this will be my first 3^rd world border crossing with my bike! Some guy waives me over and says he has to fumigate my bike. I had already read this was legit so I didn’t argue. He takes this sprayer and waves it over my tires like a bartender waving the vermouth over a martini. Then tells me it will cost 20Qil or about $1.50. I then go into the customs shack and find no line and two of the most unenthused individuals I’ve ever laid eyes on. I promptly hand over the 20Qil note to them and ask what’s next? Of course I speak little or no Spanish so maybe something was lost in translation. Anyway they take my money and I ask for a receipt. The one guy smiles to the other guy and points to another building. He then stamps my passport and I head over the fumigation shack. Thinking I already paid the fee I ask for a receipt. This guy won’t give me a receipt until I pay him. Hmm I see now. The 20Qil I gave the customs went into their pockets. Not being one to quivel over $1.50 I let it go and continued to the import processing building.

Hotel in Hauhauteango Gua.

There I gave them my original title, my driver’s license, my processed export paperwork from Mexico and my passport. They made triplicate copies of all and sent me to the bank office where I paid 160 Qils (about $20). After which I returned to the window and was given my Import papers. All and all the entire process took about 2 hours. Not bad for a Sunday and a Mexican holiday! It’s 4:00 and darkness will be falling soon so it’s time to skedaddle! It’s amazing how everything changed at the border. The mountains more rugged, the air cooler and roads rougher. We weren’t making very good time with all the villages and such but just made it to Huehuetenango by dark. 

Lunch break

This would be the 2nd Mexican Independence parade we crashed
fortunately we found  away around this one.