Tuesday, October 11, 2005

7/20/05 Mexican Motorcycle Diary pt.3


(continued from part 7/20/05 Mexican Diary pt.2)

I stayed a forth night and took the bike out for what I thought would be a short run to some nearby caves and one of the world's deepest pits where swallows swirl above and then dive into the abyss at dusk. The ride turned into a fun, but grueling off-road challenge with many kilometers of eroded sand, gravel, stone, and mud. After I'd finally reached the village where the cave was, I parked the bike and began the hike to the cave's entrance flanked by village children. The heat and humidity were really taking their toll, but I enjoyed the diversion. By the time I reached the pit on the bike, I realized I was going to have to return via all those glorious off-road kilometers in the dark! So, I decided not to hike to the pit's edge and begin the ride back. Dark clouds moved over head and it began to sprinkle. The horror of all that dirt, stone, ruts, etc. turning into mud and traversing it in the dark began to concern me. And, when I realized that I'd taken a wrong turn and was hopelessly lost in the dark... well, I won't lie... it was beginning to panic a bit like a frightened toddler and since I'd not taken any provisions like water with me.... well, you can imagine my concern. Finally, I came upon a small village and asked if the trail indeed led back to the paved road. After some confused banter, the farmer calculated that I might reach the city of Queretero in about 300 kilometers or so if I continued in that direction! Ouch! Time to back track.

Eventually I found the original trail and made my way back toward the paved road after several kilometers stuck behind a Corona beer truck choking on it's exhaust and dust cloud since he didn't seem interested in letting me pass. Every time I tried to make a move the pendejo veered over to block me. What a sour sport! I guess he had a laugh or two making the foolish gringo eat HIS dust! Finally, I arrived back to Xilitla by 11ish. I was so relieved the rain held back until I made it back up the mountain to Xilitla and my cozy room.

The rain continued through the night and into the next morning so I decided to stay one more night and then move on the following day rain or shine. I ran into a young Canadian fellow and his Italian girlfriend that I'd met briefly in the desert. He asked if I wanted to get a beer with him while his girlfriend napped. I didn't really want to, but I thought the company and conversation might be nice. The beer wasn't really doing it for me, but we chatted for hours about our own life stories until the conversation became political and his girlfriend rejoined us. They had also experienced Chester's non-stop banter and he asked his girlfriend, "You remember that American man who went on and on about Costa Rica? Well, this guy (me) is just as bad!" I laughed it off and suggested to her that her boyfriend had held his own in going on about his OWN pitiful life for the better part of the last hour or so. ;-) He got me back by asking how old I was, when I told him he said, "Wow! You don't look THAT old!" Gee, how does one take a comment like that? Is is a compliment that I have a youthful appearance? Or, is it a condemnation that I'm nearly at death's door? On top of that, he kept complaining that we had to converse in English. But, I don't speak his Montreal French, and his English was stronger than my Spanish so I opted for maximum clarity. About the 3rd time he complained about having to speak English I started looking for the exit. ;-)

His Italian girlfriend had been studying international law and wanted me to explain why the Americans had reelected Bush. She shouldn't have got me started with regards to that fascist, but in the end we were all in complete agreement about the whole situation. We all speculated on how the American population had been cleverly and surrealistically bamboozled into an illegal war, etc. and each of us hoped for a change in direction for the world. They both felt that perhaps before the civilized world is reborn into a new enlightened era, there might have to be a painful transition before truth could once again come to light. Again, who knows but I'll refrain from any more discussion of this nasty business out of respect for those of you still under the illusion that your boy Bush is just a good ol' boy lookin' out for the little guy and neither he, Halliburton, Cheney nor their countless conglomerate New World Order minions care not for absolute power, control, and oil, but only for "freedom" and the good folks of the U.S.A., spreading democracy and the lovin' good word of Jesus with a little help from Rupert Murdoch's Fox News network, their wealthy corporate pals, defense contractors, and a handful of 5 ton bombs delivered with a kiss and Jesus' and George's blessings. I do sincerely hope that I'm just a "clueless, freedom-hating misinformed lefty liberal" who can't see the forest for the trees. I really do hope my eyes and ears have deceived me and that I'm utterly wrong about all of this. But, for the moment, I couldn't care less about the whole mess. I merely want only to "be" and let "be" and try to stay out of THEIR well-financed holy crusade... with the faith that it will all eventually work itself out some how, some way.

(to be continued in part 7/20/05 Mexican Diary pt.4)

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