• ::just bought another domain, lets see how this working on the net thing really works #
• :: i think the guatemalan system of toilet paper in a bin doesnt work if you end up knocking it into the shower while youre showering… #
• :: the pool was cold but now were back in xela drinking hot chocolate in la luna. Mine is so thick the spoon stands up! Yum! #
• ::glad to find toilet paper but y is it *outside* the stalls?? Surely people just end up taking too much? Y is the owner waiting outside 2? #
• :: the water under the pool doesnt look very deep, but then i am a tall gringo & not a tiny guatemaltecan. Ken can test it first. #
• ::after a ride & a nice walk thru the sunny fields the pool looks nice. Im not sure about the diving board though which is concrete+spring #
• ::this morning were off to study at the pool. Weird idea but there you go. Have to take a hated chicken bus to get there #
• ::its not enough that the local school plays its terrible music all day by my class? They have to start at 11pm? Roll on independence day!! #
• :: now for dinner i had to eat red chilis that my family wouldnt even try… Is that sadism? #
• :: hmmmm, Digg can display my blog? interesting… #
• :: a quick test for RSSless…. #
• :: To be a well travelled man you need to walk fast #
• ::my teacher is pissed off that i didnt do my homework or record here the cd i promised. Im a bad student! #
• :: omg! Will pay *40 for 4 of stirrup! This is killing me! #
• :: going riding without a hat or suntan lotion. Stupid stupid #
• :: for dinner my host family was offering me very hot chilis. They chose the wrong foreigner to test! :p #
• :: i was intending to go to el salvador on the weekend but now im wondering if i should go back to mexico and look for a job… #
• ::the sun is shining and im going horseback riding tomorrow morning. All is good! #
• ::hmmm,waffles for breakfast & fake maple syrup…Whatever happened to oatmeal? No wonder my host family (& half the country) has a problem #
• ::house prices fell 10% this year in the UK. Sooo glad i went travelling and arent stuck in the property well! #

:: the pool was cold but now were back in xela drinking hot chocolate in la luna. Mine is so thick the spoon stands up! Yum!

Day 320

Quetzaltenango, Guatemala

300 posts eh?

Yesterday I felt really bad. I was supposed to be getting up at 5.30 and hiking up to a lake for 2 hours. After tossing and turning until 3.30 and then only getting a couple of hours sleep, combined with a muffled headache and sore throat I reset my alarm and got some more sleep.

I hoped it wasn’t anything serious.

Later on in the morning I hung out at the hostel, half regretting my laziness during such a nice day but mostly happy that I wasn’t stressed and running around while feeling lousy. I did something to my site and effectively killed it so that took a couple of hours to figure out.

When I got it sorted I headed over to my school where I was being my Spanish classes on Monday to hopefully catch up with someone who knew where my host family lived. They were expecting me to come on the hike but luckily Niklas and Chris came walking down the hill and I was able to find where I was supposed to be moving to.

I had a homestay with a family of 5, Lulu and Romero the parents and Michelle, David and Sandra, their kids in their early twenties. None of them speak English which should help. I’m also getting 4.5 hours of Spanish lessons a day for $150 a week. If this doesn’t get me fluent I don’t know what will.

David had his birthday too which meant the house then filled up with friends and relatives for a big booze up. I managed to drag myself up for the party and had a couple of drinks. They then started playing a game which can only be described as ‘strip-pass the parcel’. I was slightly confused but got the general idea. When the balloon got to me I was required to remove an item of clothing while dancing in front of an attractive girl. Just what I didn’t want to do while feeling slightly dizzy but I still put on a good show :p

After a while I try to go to bed but am forced to dance salsa with one of the daughters. Damn this place! :p

Got to Bombay at 2am, was kinda late so I checked into the first hotel I saw, $38 a night but I was tired, slept for 14 hours.
Was far too late to get up and change hotels at 4pm so I had some food and wandered around Colbara, plenty of tourists. Saw the gateway to India and looked at some shops, drank some juice and went back to bed. 14 days of working and the hassle of getting my visa the day before had taken their toll.

Next day I got up too late to get a cheaper room again, they called from reception but i unplugged the phone. No do not disturb sign…
I looked at the map and went walking in Bombay, still not sure why they changed the name. Went north from Colbara, was interesting, walked for about 3 hours. Bought a few odds and ends, nothing exciting, was nice to get out and see a whole new city, a whole new country and for the people that lived there, their whole world.

Third lazy day, another walk, same punjabi thali in the same place, same people asking me to buy their stuff. I have to leave tomorrow, still not managed to wake up early enough to check out.

I get up in the morning!! I have a thali for breakfast somewhere new, I walk up to the train station so I know where it is and use my visa card to buy a ticket to Pune (no big queues but it costs me 40p for the privilege of swiping). I store my bags, bum around some more and go to get the train. Wasted time in Mumbai, too tired, too disorganized, but I’m in India…

Late train, sleep, go to big hotel, people call me sir but its cheap. I learn Brad and Angelina left Pune the same day back to Bombay, I was hoping to meet them for a drink. Next time. I explode my backpack and set up the washing line, the water temperature in the shower is too variable to enjoy.

Call Eric, para gliding instructor, he comes in the morning and sits chatting on his phone. Busy guy. We agree to start that afternoon, he gives me a lift to my new backpacker ghetto near the ashram, I find a cheap apartment and pull my jeans back on. Time to fly.

100 rupees for the majority of the way to the school, i get VJ to take me the rest of the way. Nice guy, works the phones all night for the Americans and flies in the day. Eric is on his phone, we drive out to some fields, hike a small hill, they test the wing and then we move 500m to a flat field. Pointless, I’m in my harness and hanging around. They hook me up, give me the spiel, run here, pull this, feel the wind. Up goes the glider and I pump my legs and keep it up, rinse repeat. They ask me if I’m tired but I keep saying ‘One more’. The sun sets and we stop.

The coannell give me a lift most of the way into town, its hot, dusty and dark. The streets are packed with people, no rickshaws but after an age we find one and I head back to coffee and cakes at the German bakery and sleep. I meet Doctor George in my apartment, he’s at the ashram, digs waking my up at 5am, Israeli Australian, nice guy. I sleep.

Up early for my proper lesson, boots, jeans, gloves, helmet, check… I try for a rickshaw, they want to know where, I don’t know, I know how to get there. We agree a price despite the lack of clear goals, he refuses the meter, its too early it seems. He throws me out 4/5 of the way, I pay and walk. Wave to the locals who never see tourists on this backwater farm track. Im late, Eric is on the phone, but we sort the paper work, sign the forms and head off to the bank. Guess they want me to pay.

1/2 drive to the hill, we try a new one, its too windy, its too late. Anandvitty, the assistant, tries a few tricks. I stand around confused. I read my book some more, not been told to read it but it seems like a good idea. They fall over, give up, Eric chats to some locals for ages while we pack the wing and wait. We’ll try again in the afternoon.

I rent a scooter, fuck the rickshaws, 100rp a day, 1.20. I meet Vanessa who rents the other room in my apartment, nice, interesting, married…
No problem getting to school on time, need to get there quick so we can drink tea and Eric can take calls. Im wondering when he will start to teach me. The 4 of us set off, the guys on the toll bridge wave in anger as we refuse to stop again, Eric knows the builder.

1km to the hill base and 200m up, out come to gliders and on go my gear. I’m told the 10 checks for safety, I get a radio, don’t forget to turn it off when told, those rechargeable batteries are valuable! I kind of understand where to try to land, I kind of understand how to land, I have to be ready to run and turn, flare and fold. Its all very interesting, I wonder if I will remember when I hit the ground.

I pull, up goes the wing and you can feel the wind lifting, pulling, trying to draw you up to the heavens, and what goes up must come down. I run on command, the hill drops away, my heart beats and … I’m flying. No engine, just gravity pulling me down and the wind trying to push me back up. My heart beats on, do I feel fear? Panic? Elation? (obviously!). None of these things, i hang in the air with only string and fabric between me and a fall to my death, my heart beats steadily as if its the most natural thing in the world.

I do a couple of turns when Eric tells me through the walkie talkie, but I can’t make out anything else he says other than ‘right’ and ‘left’ with the wind rushing past. I pick my spot, I think about landing, flare (pull both brakes), run, turn, collapse the glider… The landing field is where Eric wanted me, but its me that got there, I flare as I come in like they do on TV, I run but my brain gets confused and I dont turn. Its ok, the wing comes down anyway in a mess, Ive flown and landed safely and my heart rate didn’t change…

Local boys come running, expert packers and porters so I can get back up the hill quick. They want their 20 rupees, but they don’t know the meaning of the word ‘no’. Oh they understand well enough, but their constant attempts at ‘helping’ me only makes the job go slower. Will you be there when I’m flying in Europe I ask them, but they don’t understand, they want pocket money. Eventually I get it packed, Anandnitty comes down nearby and tells me he only pays 10rp for a porter. Its not that far up, ’10 minutes’ Eric says, I wonder when he last climbed it.

Back at the top i rehydrate and get set up again, its getting late, the sun will set soon. Last flight, and the first one took 2 minutes to get to the bottom. 4 days training, with one on the ground, so 3 x 2 flights, 6 flights for 100 pounds, at 2 minutes a time, 8 pound a minute or 500 pounds an hour? Not quite what I expect, is this cheap still? Carrying, packing, sitting in a jeep…

Next flight is also great, I get lifted up nearly right away, and hardly run. My heart beats slowly, I turn and glide down, no soaring for me, landing practice, always the fun parts…. not. I come in for the field a bit too long, my angle into the wind is ok, I flare ok and am on my feet but the wind is frisky, the glider pulls and I fall scraping my arm. T-shirt is not the best idea.

Thats it, ‘lesson’ over and I once again fight 4 boys off my glider to get it packed. The money is nothing, but am I learning or just being stubborn? I join VJ and Anandnitty who fy down after me and we walk around the hill and back to the house we left the jeep, 2 km or so. VJ is cool. Its dark now, Eric sits and talks on his mobile, we refuse the offer of chai and set off back to Eric’s house. An hour later I’m back in my apartment and wondering what I’ve let myself in for.

Up early next day to make it for the 7.30 am lesson, still jet lagged, still sleeping late, I sit waiting For Eric and reading my instruction book, Anandnitty is amazed that I’m half way through it already, he has never read it, although he says he doesn’t really read. We leave about 8.30, so much for getting up early and missing breakfast… The toll guards shout at us again, I laugh.

This time I have my camera and we have guest from up country. We park a bit closer to the hill and climb up together. There are 4 of us, Eric, myself and 2 guys from Northern India who are here to fly, or buy something, or test something, I never really understood exactly what. I think their gliders were delayed on the train or something so they were just checking out the terrain for later. Happily they have a new DVD video camera they are keen to test so they point it at me for 20 minutes as I prepare and perform my third flight. “Um, can I have a copy?” :p

I get kitted up and stick my camera on the front of my helmet, for a true eagle eye view of the trip down to the rice fields. Ready, set, go! This time I seem to lift, stall, drop, speed up, repeat. Doesn’t feel like a very smooth flight, perhaps its my complete lack of training on this aspect of flying. Eric shouts some instructions into the walkie talkie, but I can’t really hear him the wind is rushing past my ears too much. I guess he wants a few turns and I oblige, I turn left and follow the ridge, but I’m not climbing, just dropping steadily, I figure I’m a little too close to the hill and turn right, only I don’t turn, I just seem to stop and at this point I’m only 15 meters or so above the hillside, I start to drop, pick up some speed as I half figure I’m about to land on a steep hillside, with no training or idea of how to do it. Like an expendable action man on a home made tea towel parachute I swoop towards the ground… and keep going! I could have reached out and touched the flowers as I went past if I wasn’t so convinced I was about to crash.

My heart decides its time to rumble into life, if this lack of control is anything to go by the landing might require some adrenaline and natural pain-killers. Two turns and its nearly time to reacquaint myself with Terra Firma, I’ve only been up 40 seconds and I have to think about where I’m going to land. Not a very thrilling hobby, and I have the hike back up to look forward to. hmmmm. I spy out the target field and guesstimate how I’m gonna get there, ie can I turn a few more times, or do I need to head straight there. The problem is you have to land into the wind, and when trying to hit a tennis court sided field (because you don’t want to piss off the other farmers) with no really experience or idea of if this is possible, it means you’re busily doing complex physics calculations in your head with no calculator, while wondering if you’re going to survive the experience, trying to listen to the distorted instructions from the walkie talkie, scoping out trees you have to fly past (or through) to the target, thinking about the procedure for landing (out the seat, pull the brakes at 5m, run, turn, collapse…), aiming the camera on my helmet for youtube, checking the canopy…. basically its a bit of a head fuck. Not really the relaxing experience I was led to expect.

I glide in, time for a small turn which is a mistake because it lowers my speed, but I’m doing ok for the field… uh oh, whats that hut thing coming up?? Didn’t seem that from the top… going too slow… line of broken trees… never gonna clear them….have to go through… stalling… IM GOIN IN!! No time to think, have to land into the wind, I drift right, no time to turn, I do the best I can, I tag a small tree on my way past, nothing to be done, flare, run, back on the ground somehow. This time my heart is awake!

For my second run the wind isn’t blowing quite as hard or steadily as the previous day and when Eric says to go I run and run, right off the edge of the hill dropping as I go…. no lift, no wind!! I’m going down, the hills is sparsely dotted with spiny thorn bushes, really nasty things to get caught on as you struggle up the hills and I’m dropping right towards one, out of control at 15 mph! My chances of having children flash before my eyes, I put my feet together and kick my way through it! Despite this I gain some speed, i seem to go up a bit, at least I’m not dropping quite so fast. Its seems ok, but no gliding, no wind, its just a quick trip to the fields for this trip.

Caye Caulker,

My mum doesn’t facebook. She’s one friend I don’t need to add. She can read my blog to find out what I’m up to since I now don’t really do much email. That’s fine, facebook is personal.

Yesterday three girls from England arrive in the afternoon. I told them I was Swedish to appear more interesting and to see if they really believed me. They still haven’t got it,who wants to be British on a island full of Poms. Different is good. We hang out, chat, go for some drinks that night. Great girls.

Caroline and Krishna

Next day we hang out and chat some more. My mate frog and I persuade Caroline to come down to the Karaoke for a beer and we start chatting about the hostel which turns to talk of how some hostels are brothels on occasion, like in Africa…

This isn’t going where you think :p

Well I say to Caroline about how she could never do that but it turns out she did. She was in Ghana and did a 3 months overland trip too. We chat about Ghana and the music and dancing. The usual fun of reminding each other of the great times in a shared experience of a place. I tell her that I saw the Eclipse in ’06 thinking this would impress her even more. Hey, I’m not shallow, it was a great thing to see! :p

She impresses me by telling me that she also saw it and we chat about where she spent her 3 months. I ask if she was a volunteer and when she says ‘yes’ a trail of lightbulbs went off in my head.

On my last day I went to a volunteer party… did you got to a party a few weeks after the eclipse? – Yes

I describe it perfectly for her. The court yard, the beer place, the music, the dancing. We also went off to a club together after the party.

So weird.

It turns out she also went to the same place on St Patricks Day in Accra a couple of weeks before, the Irish pub with the live band. We made a pile of shoes and danced on the concrete until they felt like velvet slippers when we were done. Such an awesome night.

It is a small world but I wouldn’t want to paint it.

So why does facebook suck?

Because now you meet people, you make them your friend and maybe someday you notice they’re in the same country and you can track them down. We’re all becoming ultra connected, how can we manage all those narrow threads of brief connections manageable. GPS and mobiles will making ‘pinging’ your friends a normal thing. Its cool to think you will know who will be in the pub that night without asking them but then so will the police if we continue towards this dangerous path along the shattered road of civil liberties.

The chances of people meeting again, randomly reconnecting across the continents is a spectacular luxury we have  in the west, but one that is doomed to die. I met a girl called Rachel in New Zealand, Australia and Indonesia, the second and third time only briefly, but in the middle of nowhere. It was such fun. Maybe a well trodden route and not entirely unexpected but Ghana to Belize after 25 months is so amazing.

So guard your friend requests. Don’t make it a quest to gather up as many as you can. More that a few hundred are not your friends, they’re just names, more than a thousand is a full fledged hobby.  How you people make time to make new friends I never know. I guess I should try being an attractive girl to find out.

Defriend a few people right now and see if you miss them… they wont mind, they wont even notice you’re gone. Then maybe you’ll bump into a old friend you stupidly failed to make the first time.

So where is the tragedy? That I had to wait so long to really meet Caroline. She’s great. Rest assured I have not fallen in love with her over a weird coincidence, indeed she was  freaked out by the whole thing. Maybe she thought I was stalking her across the world :p We passed and didn’t connect.

The tragedy was that I didn’t make any impression on her the first time. Although she lost her photos she doesn’t appear in any of mine from the two nights in Accra. I hung back a bit, I chatted to some people but I wasn’t really there until I started dancing. As you get older you have less to lose and more to gain from being outrageous. We all want to be remembered, if only temporarily, because one day that’s all we will be.

So I will make it my goal now on to find as many people as I can to charm, encourage, humour, help and impress. I’m trying but I need to try harder. I need to be more aggressive than I am, less watching from the wings when I should be pushing towards the center of the stage. You should try the same. Who wants to be forgettable?

I believe we’re like a half marble bouncing around in a marble bag. You may never meet other half but you never will unless you try to connect with every marble in the bag. Just don’t add them all to facebook, it crashes if you have more than a million friends.

So I guess its really not facebook that sucks but me. I shan’t cancel my account just yet.

You’d impress me right now by subscribing and telling 3 more people to subscribe, my blog is now my sole income. I’m trying to travel overland to every country remember, its not free.

*If you want to add me in facebook I’m Travel Trousers, put something original on my wall. Mum, don’t even try!

Comments are back on.

Zipolite, Mexico

I came to Zipolite just for one day on the way to San Cristobal and ended up staying 8 nights. Its nice, the weather has been great, the water warm, the tourists naked, why shouldn’t I stay longer.

Not been doing much. Yesterday I went on the Crocodile tour at a nearby swamp which was good but marred by my stupidity at locking my key in my van and hence having to do the boat ride only with my point and shoot camera. Luckily the American family that was in the boat gave myself and Paula (my new Canadian friend) a lift back and I got a further lift from the owner of my hotel. I missed hundreds of shots of birds though which were all over the place. Very annoying I couldn’t use my new telephoto lens.

The town is very small, just a village really and its the low season so there aren’t many people around. Tomorrow I have a 10 hour trip up through the mountains to San Cristobal and then onto Palenque. Hopefully I will run into my South African friends up there….

Ziplote, Mexico

It was time to eat pizza, drink $1 Mezcal and dance in the local disco. So thats what we did. And after watching our new Australian friends embarrass themselves on the dance floor I was so glad I went for some salsa lessons.

Day 181

Guadalajara, Mexico

I was getting close to finishing off the current book I’m reading, an Umberto Eco novel called ‘The island of yesterday’ which was a tour de force of brilliance but was slightly distracting in my quest to be a tourist. I must try not to read when I wake up as there is a natural tendency to fall asleep once more, which is of course what happened. It was afternoon by the time I woke and I wandered up into town to find something to eat. My car was sitting baking in the sun and I opened it up to find the new wax on my surf board had melted and dripped all over one of my camping mats :/

The city center isn’t very far so I decided against putting my bike together and just walked up. The traffic was pretty bad, but this being the second largest city in Mexico would only be eclipsed by Mexico City, a place I’m not looking forward to driving in, but shouldn’t be any worse than anywhere else, it would just be more crowded. People in the states told me that Boston had the worst drivers but I didn’t particularly find that to be true just as people in Mexico warn me that Mexico City is a nightmare to drive in, but I’m not so sure. I’m sure its only as bad as Bangkok or Kamapala in Uganda. More traffic means you go slower but also means its safer. Then you only have the problem with the cars around you. I’ve found Mexican drivers to be rather selfish though, the usual stupidity of third world thinking where everyone is looking out for number one. Yesterday I saw a ambulance sitting at the traffic lights with his lights flashing and no one moved. So either it wasn’t a real emergency or the driver realised that even using his siren wouldn’t get them out of the way. This is the scariest thing I guess, you can crash your car, get some help and the traffic still kills you on the way to hospital.

Surveys show that the vast majority of people consider themselves to be an above average driver but this is clearly impossible. I find it better to regard myself as a below average driver since I am regularly doing what is the most dangerous activity in my life it is better to regard the whole act of driving as a easy route to my own death and I would be better thinking I barely knew how to drive. Hidden oil spills, dogs on the road, blown tires, mechanical failure, gravel, dust and sand, huge potholes…. the list is endless and all waiting for an unwary driver to not be concentrating. Dying in a car crash is surely the stupidest and most pointless way to die as its highly preventable. Dying in a drink driving crash is far, far worse, but we’re in Mexico… It happens.

Maybe I should go shopping, Guadalajara has loads of stores and I think my current wardrobe is rather lacking. At least I don’t have to carry any clothes In the city center I set off in search of something to eat but I didn’t seem to have much luck. Everything seemed so… meaty! I wasn’t going to starve though I’m sure, and I’m happy to back into size 32" jeans once more, maybe I can get it down to 30" before the end of the year, something unseen for 10 years. Kira reminded me about a water/maple syrup/cayenne pepper/lemon juice diet with daily sea water enemas which would probably do it. 10 days of that and I’d be really able to eat like crazy for a few months :p If only I could find some food. I found myself in the wedding dress district which was clearly the wrong place for a hungry tourist although it was packed with hopeful looking girls all window shopping for their perfect dress, whether they had the perfect man to go with it was unclear.

Guadalajara isn’t a bad place to get lost searching for something to eat though, the architecture is stunning, with sunny plazas around every corner and neoclassic buildings towering overhead. Its still typical Mexico though with plenty of street sellers hawking their wares; beggars and buskers. I finally gave up and headed for Sanborns, a slice of the 50′s and somewhere I had eaten in before. I was disappointed to see that they give you Nescafe if you order coffee with hot milk, although I’m not sure whether that was a better option than the weak Americano coffee with those awful non-dairy creamer pots you get. What’s so wrong with milk?? I spent far too long reading but tempered my guilt with going through some Spanish-English flash cards and hopefully sticking a few more words to my dull brain. By the time I was onto the last chapter it was dark outside but it was still early and I hadn’t even eaten. I then realised that I had gone through a time zone and lost an hour, but this is hopefully the last one I will have to suffer. I really don’t like going east!

Day 161

Los Mochis, Mexico

Even though it was Saturday I had to get up and move my van from outside Roberto’s office. I shouldn’t complain since he was kind enough to lock it up for me overnight but I hate to get up, especially since I had won the toss with Roland and snagged the bed. I should have sensed trouble when Roberto backed his car out to take me over there right into the front of a truck behind us. This wasn’t the only crash we would be facing this Saturday…..

After a shower and not much of a breakfast we then had to wait for the local plumbers to fit the kitchen. Roberto had recently separated from his wife and was now going through the painful process of not only living 400km from his 4 year old daughter but setting up a new bachelor pad for himself, the kitchen was just a shell and needed filing out. When the kitchen fitters had finally arrived and had gotten to work we went off on our mini-tour of Los Mochis. I’m not sure you would put it down as the cultural and architectural center of Mexico but it gets a steady stream of tourists all hoping on or off the train that heads up through the Copper Canyon, Mexico’s version of the Grand Canyon, and an arguably better version of the same. We went for a walk around the botanical gardens, which was a hot walk in the middle of the day. I’m not quite sure why Roberto though we were interested in plants but it was a nice enough place, and free, which is always a bonus. It just looked like a park to me though, if the fact that it had plants in it made it botanical so be it. Roland took up the challenge of jumping over one of the irrigation ditches which was good of him, but the photo would have been much better if he had fallen in, as I hoped :p

We did pick up an interesting snippet of information though, we learned that there was a baseball game on later on and since Roland used to play baseball a lot, and I’d never been to a game, it would be nice to check out. Best of all the tickets were only $3. Always thinking in the correct way, Roberto took us to a Taco place which he knew sold tickets and proceeded to demolish a load of food while I sat nursing my soda. Telling the average Mexican you don’t eat meat usually garners the equivalent response to saying I had castrated myself, they are horrified, couldn’t understand it and feel sorry for you… My life, my choice…. There was problem with the kitchen and we had to go back. Trying to save a few pesos, Roberto had hired some Mexican Cowboys and they didn’t have the right tools to connect up the gas and water. At least he had worktops instead of nothing as he did before.

We had a while to kill before the game and Roberto now confronted me, saying he was very worried about me. I hadn’t eaten since the night before and this was a cause for concern. I did remind him that I only eat vegetables and seafood and we had only been to places that only serve meat, besides I am perfectly capable of going several days without food and not feeling any ill effects but this didn’t assuage his concern and we set off in search of a ‘Subway’. I quickly reminded him I would rather eat fish tacos and happily he knew a good place that might still be open next to the 24 hour disco. Why it seems impossible to get seafood in the evening is still a mystery to be solved, as well as the 24 hour disco conundrum but at least I got something to eat. Roberto would be remiss to allow me to eat alone and joined in with gusto.

Before the game we quickly went to check our mail at his office and I rapidly uploaded all my missing blog posts that I had spent so much time on the beach writing. I still didn’t have enough time and was transmitting them from the car as we left. There is always another connection though, and 15+ posts at once would have to do :p

I have never been to a baseball game, the majority of my experience with the game is playing it on my Nintendo Wii, so at least I had some idea of what was going on, but then not much. I quickly gathered that the main objective was to drink at least one beer per inning.We took it in turns going off looking for ‘Senor Cervesa’ but with each trip up the steps to our seats I took my turn to be concerned as our host was panting like a car trapped dog, and the stadium was tiny…. For some reason we had chosen to sit right behind the local band and infrequently they would start belting out some random tune at breaks in the game. The guys played away but as no one was bothering to update the scoreboard no one knew who was winning. I soon lost interest and started reading my book, trying to ignore the annoying samples of music they would keep playing and the nearby band. The most interesting action came from the girls who would appear and start throwing promotional items into the crowd. Like plastic cups and key chains… To see the locals go after these was like watching refugees chase a UN food truck, I thought people would start fighting if they didn’t get something. I guess baseball isn’t my sport :p

My First Baseball game, possibly my last…

One of the teams won, I have no idea which, nor did most of the crowd, and we made for home. Roberto had managed to snag one of the big beer cups and was now on double portions of beer, I gave up after 4 beers and a trip to the disgusting cockroach infested toilets but my Amigos were both on double figures and were miles from home. I knew I shouldn’t have gotten in the car, I tried to persuade him to let me drive by admiring his car and asking how it handled but it was no good. It seems the idea of letting the person who has had the least to drink handle the driving is as alien as not getting completely wasted in the first place. Roberto assured me he wouldn’t go too fast, but the speed kept creeping up and thankfully the roads were quiet. He didn’t think it was a problem since he was a lawyer! Of course, you have the other drunken drivers to worry about too… ‘

By now our Mexican friend was hungry but he had a pescatarian guest to consider, luckily he knew a place that did potato tacos and we somehow managed to get there. I had 4, and probably would have had more if I had known they were only 2 pesos each! Bargain! Suitably full we went back to the apartment to get ready for an evening of drinking… it was close, we made it. Roland had set off searching for cigarettes despite my attempts to dissuade him and after smoking one agreed that is wasn’t a good idea, but there is no rolling tobacco in Mexico.

Roberto is a big Sopranos fan, as am I, and he put it on for Roland hoping to get him interested. Perhaps I should have gone to watch as well, then we might have stayed at home and lived, but it was not to be. They soon got bored and then insisted I get out my guitar, which I did. We had half an hour of painful shouting to various Beatles tunes before I had enough and succumbed to asking if we were going out. We got changed and set off to a good club Roberto knew of, after first checking we didn’t have any illegal drugs on us. A few more beers while hanging out kept the mood going and Roberto was in fine spirits as he cruised around looking for the club, telling us only the poor drink tequila in Mexico and his adventures in Amsterdam. Perhaps he should have been concentrating more on the road as he nearly killed us all by starting to turn left into the path of an oncoming car. Only my girl like screams of terror averted disaster and we pulling into the parking spot without a sound.

And we had to drive home….

The ‘club’ was empty, just a few locals in cowboys hats standing around outside so we went next door to shoot some pool and drink more beer. I’m ok at pool but its just a game, not a competition of wills, but Roland and Roberto were pretty drunk so it was a simple matter to keep playing for me. I was bored though, and soon gave up and started reading my book. By now I had gotten to the 7th book in one of my favourite series and there was a whole new novel waiting to be read, much more interesting that beer and pool I have to say. After a few hours of this the club must be busy now? We paid our tab and went out to check, I saw inside before the bouncer quickly closed the door, it was still empty but now they wanted 100 pesos to get in! Oh well at least I would be able to get started on my new book since it was too loud to talk and I doubted we would be dancing… Some Saturday night this was!

We got back in the car and went looking for something, finally spotting some police cars outside a club and calculating that if the police were there it must be good… Well it wasn’t the best place in the world, but it was busy, people were dancing, occasionally a load of teenagers would get up and play some pretty appalling music which the crowd seemed to appreciate. I wasn’t being an old fart, the music was awful, but I was still bored. I thought it hilarious to see Roberto finish his beer and then stand waving his bottle around for 10 minutes trying to attract the attention of a waiter while the bar was only 3 meters away :p Eventually the DJ kicked in and Roland and I went off to dance. Roberto didn’t want to dance with us, apparently that’s a bit gay, but eventually he came over to sit nearby while I hoped and prayed to go home to bed…

getting van/crash/shower/kitchen wait/botanical gardens/jumping Roland/tacos/baseball tickets/kitchen install/fish tacos/office&uploads/baseball match/panting Roberto/too drunk to drive/10 beers/cockroach/potato tacos/cigarettes/sopranos/drug discussion/Beatles/drive/near crash/empty club/pool/not caring/reading my book/100 pesos empty club/police club/kids/terrible band/reading again/waving bottle when bar so close/dancing/Roberto not happy/interesting girl/drive home

Day 161

Los Barilles, BCS, Mexico

God it was hot! Happily I had camped closest to the wall and didn’t have too much sun on my tent in the morning, but I woke as usual at 9.30am and prepared myself for the day. After 4 days of being stinky I had another shower but only for pure enjoyment of being clean. We had kind of decided to stay another day. There wasn’t really anything to do but there was a beach nearby and a pool. When Roland finally rolled out of his blue oven we started chatting about trying to find the puncture in my air mattress in the pool and that became the activity of the day, although not in the pool. We blew it up and found one large hole using water but no more. The pool + facemask idea would have been better I’m sure as it was still leaking. We also removed everything from the van in an attempt to discover what had happened to the bottle of vodka Roland had bought in San Lucas the week before but it was gone baby, gone. Someone is going to have a nice surprise at one of the 2 campsites we dropped it at I had solved my GPS marker problem and then started looking at compressing the tracks a bit better. I was also terribly out of date in my blog and despite a few days effort was still 12 days behind. Roland fell asleep and I took advantage of the nearby electricity outlet to try to get back up to date.

Eventually hunger called to us both and we took a walk into town to fix our appetites and Internet addiction. We went for Tacos at La Curva Restaurant and had simply the best tacos yet. First they heaped fresh nachos and salsa in front of us, with guacamole to die for, and then we had fish and shrimp tacos which were piled high for only 20 pesos each. Simply stunning food and just the thing for my appetite. I got another car key cut while Roland checked his email; we had found a place to stay in Los Mochis, the next town after Topolobampo where we would get off the ferry. It seemed likely we would try to get the ferry the next day and Roland gave Roberto in Los Mochis a ring to confirm. We enjoyed our last evening in Baja by revealing to Roland my video game emulator collection on my laptop and he spent a few frustrating hours trying to get Street Fighter to play properly with my cheap gamepad. When he eventually gave up and went to bed I stayed up far too late watching Gone Baby, Gone which was pretty good (8/10) and then despite my previous loathing for Family Guy watched Blue Shift, their Star Wars parody and enormous fun. It looks like I’ll have to start downloading all of them again soon, if only I could find a decent Internet connection….

lazy/puncture/shrimps at la curva/gone baby gone/blue shift