Striding with a hopped-up buzz back to the US Embassy to collect our visa-stickered passports, what were the odds of bumping into the clerk who’d approved the travel permits just four days previous—within five minutes of stumbling across the Romanian chef whose restaurant we’d breakfasted in that same morning—along the same street? Too uncanny! Continue reading
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27 Aug 2015 – Half a mile of Mexican boobs, knots of men in their boxers and visa victory!
An opening sequence of sweeping panoramas of metal-and-glass skyscrapers glinted in the sun, people in sharp suits carried briefcases as they vanished into revolving doors, the endless rush of traffic sped on sunlit freeways. Welcome to Mexico City. Every building had its own character and street its own identity. Peeling back the gloss, I was in a city that had a spin of its own—a wilder orbit inside the Earth’s calm blue-green whirl. Mexico City wasn’t open to the peace and tranquil that drifted around other places. Here, people raced on the roads like their lives depended on it. And cursed constantly in front of other vehicles hell bent on gaining distance first. But strangely, no one really honked their horn.
19-26 Aug 2015 – Bike-eating manholes and Karma’s divine intervention: Yusif
Scooting through the volcano studded Iztaccihuatl-Popocatépetl National Park took us nine miles on undulating hard dirt up to the cloudy top, and down quite a bit farther on the smooth stuff towards Tepoztlán—the “place of abundant copper” in the state of Morelos. Once there, Eddy opened his backbreaking sliding door to Posada La Casa De Ana B&B and greeted us as if we were one of his own. That’s what his grandfather had instilled in him from an early age towards travellers. I liked him instantly.
16-18 Aug 2015 – Mediocre museums, ringside comedy gold and grandiose cathedrals
Upon saying our toodaloos to Leanne and Calvin in El Tule, we tootled off with the mountains and volcanoes flirting in our periphery onto Puebla—70 miles southeast of the capital. As well as the city, Puebla is also a Mexican state and the Spanish word for ‘seed that a gardener sows’. Might as well kill three birds…Meeting overlanders Chloe and Toby (from Carpe Viam), with whom we’d become acquainted at Overlander Oasis at an Air B&B apartment there was both a respite and a splurge for the month. Jason’s eye had just been all but taken out by a firework, unlucky lad.
14-15 Aug 2015 – Manmade shooting stars and firework-fraught fiestas!
Back in El Tule for the start of the town’s bi-annual fiesta celebrations, a religious celebration had commenced in honour of Saint Mary. Leanne and Calvin, owners of Overlander Oasis, chatted away to us in their usual style; unhindered with a lifetime of hilarious stories. Some anecdotes never failed to reach new levels of crazy, others were just unhinged! I adored Calvin’s sense of humour, the cheeky glint constantly twinkling out of the corner of his eye and an innate ability to turn his hand to practically anything. I chuckled when he casually mentioned his favourite factoid about the country: alongside Israelis, Mexicans are the largest consumers of hair gel. Love it! There were indeed many males who indulged heavily there. Continue reading
6-13 Aug 2015 – When conditions align and you’re left in awe: Oaxaca!
The pavements were sticky with heat, the roads became rivers of exhaust and steam and the air felt lifeless. Eager to leave Zipolite, albeit Pearl’s clutch cable was hanging on by a frayed thread. It’d consequently engaged the gears, which is always a laugh-a-minute when riding through the rush hour traffic. Jase executed a quick fix in the bustling thick of it all—utilising a clutch repair kit from eBay that’d been rattling around his pannier for the last 18 months—in front of an intrigued audience of passers-by. Outnumbered by traffic wardens, one guy on patrol made a beeline for me and asked in addition to my wheels, if my ensemble—item by item—was for sale. You want my wrecked gloves, why? Sorry sugar, Pearl and my girl-sized gear are going nowhere. Continue reading
3-5 Aug 2015 – Jammy Dodgers, surf’s up dude and sometimes, life’s a beach
I cherish the fact that our mean machines lend themselves to munching miles when scorching roads and melting riders’ needs arise. Namely blasting 260 miles from San Cristóbal to the Pacific coast—is just one of the extrinsic rewards that comes with a two-wheeled reality. Don’t get me started on the myriad intrinsic ones…Vroom! Continue reading