But what did the Jews ever do to Moctezuma?
Saturday, May 17, 2014
Tuesday, May 13, 2014
Km148 to Puerto Escondido
After crossing to the westbound sde of the Pan-American highway, I advanced on foot to urinate in private at the roads side. Only with an empty bladder could I smoke half a joint and before boarding a bus toward Xela. Once done, I strolled back to the little plaza where the other Xela-bound folks waited. I wondered both how high I would be and how much I would be aired out before a passing bus stopped to pick up the group.
I boarded last with my backpack still atteched to me. Stepping into the full bus, a quick count let me estimate about 6.3 people per row. Beyond six adults, one cant really be expected or ordered to sit down, so I stood, with my backpack still attached to mem wishing I had unloaded it with the ayudante to be strapped on top. I stood there, a lone gringo in the aisle among a chicken bus loaded tot he gills with Guatemaltecos. The backpack situaton couldve been easily solved , but Ill admit that a high brain fart precluded me from being the one to solve it. All I needed to do was shift a couple bags in the overhead racks and insert mine sidewys with the top sticking out a bit. Solved.
Next came the process that seems as impossible as it is uncomfortable. This is the one where the ayudante has to pass by me tot he front of the bus. There are already six men sitting in the row and me standing in the aisle. I cant think of any other situation where such a hetero man on man ass-crotch rub occurs, but I take solace knowing he is so used to it that he wont think twice and I know itll be over quickly. A quick firm rub-squeeze, and he is past.
Someone exits the bus and Im upgraded to the third seat with two fully grown men between the window and myself. On a good curve, Ive got three quarters of one cheek on the seat. An unadvantageous curve leaves my ass suspended above the aisle. This becomes a test of core strength and indirect forces work certain leg muscles in ways they are not used to. This test is set to last until my personal seating arrangement can be improved, an unknown.
The bus is going faster and taking the curves harder than any other Ive experienced on this stretch. Its a little more interactive for the rider and a little harder on the gas tank, but we are barreling toward Xela just that much faster. I examine the driver and can assert a hypothesis of which Im very confident that his above average heft allows him to feel less relative centripetal force around these bends. He has more Normal Force than the rest of us; he is less likely to slide out of his seat. I imagine he has spent at least one year, if not several more, creating a form-fitting ass and back groove, an advantage us riders do not have.
Now that Im satisfied with my Physics 101 assessment of the bus, the driver and the passengers with free-body diagrams drawn clearly in my head (Ive also noted the twin styling of the driver and his ayudante including a white tee and short, curly gelled hair), the gassing begins. With far less cientific proof and out on a limb, I blame the man immediately to my right. Ive spent just shy of 30 years studying, and enjoying, the smell of my own farts but I have never derived pleasure from the stench of another. Drawing again from all that research stored away neatly in a very important area of my brain, I diagnose the cause of this particularly dense and awful odor to be a beef dish of an integrity some notches below top, probably ingested by my neighbor at last evenings supper. The farts are coming about every four minutes and each time one does, I can hold my breath only until I am forced to draw in one horrible breath before the chaotic, Brownian (no pun intended) motion of air disspates the offending molecules and returns the local atmosphere to tolerable. I hate the farts, but I do not hate the man. I would let loose, too, even at 6.3 people per row.
At this point, my thoughts turn within for a look at my own mood. Let me count the ways this situation could cause one discomfort or even induce a phobic reaction:
Despite the list, Im in a great mood. The marijuana tunes my senses into everything (helping with the meat of this paper) and causes me to laugh it all off. Im traveling again. Ive built a comfortable and simple home in an amazing place, one to which Ill be overjoyed to return, and left it in the hands of trusted friend. Ill move through some new places for a couple weeks and arrive at my sisters wedding, and event that brings about the largest gathering of family and friends that we have ever known, to take place in Northern California at a perfect time of year. In life, I am in a great position, and in no way is it passing by unappreciated, but just the opposite. Im blessed and and I am thankful, all the time.
I just finished my second cup of coffee as the sun begins to set behind the 18-foot tubes crashing in from the Pacific at Puerto Escondido, Oaxaca, Mexico. Ill see everyone soon.
I boarded last with my backpack still atteched to me. Stepping into the full bus, a quick count let me estimate about 6.3 people per row. Beyond six adults, one cant really be expected or ordered to sit down, so I stood, with my backpack still attached to mem wishing I had unloaded it with the ayudante to be strapped on top. I stood there, a lone gringo in the aisle among a chicken bus loaded tot he gills with Guatemaltecos. The backpack situaton couldve been easily solved , but Ill admit that a high brain fart precluded me from being the one to solve it. All I needed to do was shift a couple bags in the overhead racks and insert mine sidewys with the top sticking out a bit. Solved.
Next came the process that seems as impossible as it is uncomfortable. This is the one where the ayudante has to pass by me tot he front of the bus. There are already six men sitting in the row and me standing in the aisle. I cant think of any other situation where such a hetero man on man ass-crotch rub occurs, but I take solace knowing he is so used to it that he wont think twice and I know itll be over quickly. A quick firm rub-squeeze, and he is past.
Someone exits the bus and Im upgraded to the third seat with two fully grown men between the window and myself. On a good curve, Ive got three quarters of one cheek on the seat. An unadvantageous curve leaves my ass suspended above the aisle. This becomes a test of core strength and indirect forces work certain leg muscles in ways they are not used to. This test is set to last until my personal seating arrangement can be improved, an unknown.
The bus is going faster and taking the curves harder than any other Ive experienced on this stretch. Its a little more interactive for the rider and a little harder on the gas tank, but we are barreling toward Xela just that much faster. I examine the driver and can assert a hypothesis of which Im very confident that his above average heft allows him to feel less relative centripetal force around these bends. He has more Normal Force than the rest of us; he is less likely to slide out of his seat. I imagine he has spent at least one year, if not several more, creating a form-fitting ass and back groove, an advantage us riders do not have.
Now that Im satisfied with my Physics 101 assessment of the bus, the driver and the passengers with free-body diagrams drawn clearly in my head (Ive also noted the twin styling of the driver and his ayudante including a white tee and short, curly gelled hair), the gassing begins. With far less cientific proof and out on a limb, I blame the man immediately to my right. Ive spent just shy of 30 years studying, and enjoying, the smell of my own farts but I have never derived pleasure from the stench of another. Drawing again from all that research stored away neatly in a very important area of my brain, I diagnose the cause of this particularly dense and awful odor to be a beef dish of an integrity some notches below top, probably ingested by my neighbor at last evenings supper. The farts are coming about every four minutes and each time one does, I can hold my breath only until I am forced to draw in one horrible breath before the chaotic, Brownian (no pun intended) motion of air disspates the offending molecules and returns the local atmosphere to tolerable. I hate the farts, but I do not hate the man. I would let loose, too, even at 6.3 people per row.
At this point, my thoughts turn within for a look at my own mood. Let me count the ways this situation could cause one discomfort or even induce a phobic reaction:
- being a lone stranger in a foreign land
- overcrowding
- highly aggressive driving
- noxious air quality
- physical discomfort
- loud music
Despite the list, Im in a great mood. The marijuana tunes my senses into everything (helping with the meat of this paper) and causes me to laugh it all off. Im traveling again. Ive built a comfortable and simple home in an amazing place, one to which Ill be overjoyed to return, and left it in the hands of trusted friend. Ill move through some new places for a couple weeks and arrive at my sisters wedding, and event that brings about the largest gathering of family and friends that we have ever known, to take place in Northern California at a perfect time of year. In life, I am in a great position, and in no way is it passing by unappreciated, but just the opposite. Im blessed and and I am thankful, all the time.
I just finished my second cup of coffee as the sun begins to set behind the 18-foot tubes crashing in from the Pacific at Puerto Escondido, Oaxaca, Mexico. Ill see everyone soon.
Thursday, May 8, 2014
Maximo Supertramp [Live Update]
I took off from the lake leaving a friend in charge of the house and dog. Theres only one dog now. Sanson has not returned though hes rumoured to be with some isolated neighbors nearby. I felt bad because he was cared for by the couple at the Moon Lodge before I took him. Chris had some Muscle Milk or a similar product but decided to stop ingesting it himself so he fed it to the mother of the pups as they nursed. Life goes on and theres plenty of other chuchos and animals to fill the void.
First stop was Tilapita, a coastal sandbar island village very near the mexican border. I took the scenic route bringing me to the island just after nightfall. I arrived with two lanchas, which cruise thru the canals behind the island. Lancha men here are friendlier than at the lake and the boats are more chill too because I think those backwaters remain pretty calm. The island is like a manhattan shape turned sideways, about 2 ave blocks top to bottom and about 12 streets wide. The streets and aves or whatever you would call them here are all sand. I spent the evening with the hotel{s only other guests, three Norwegian girls and didnt realize until the morning that we could see the crashing waves in the ocean from the hotel.
I spent plenty of time in the ocean and in the sun the next day. Waves were sizable but breaking all over the place. The big ones were tough to reach but I caught a couple good ones with my bopdy as a board.
After two nights, I set off early yesterday morning for Mexico. I finished my pot and hopped on the lancha alone. The pilot offered me a tour of of the mangle (mangrove) and I accepted. I was up early, and the half hour tour seemed a good idea, and it was. Most of what we launched thru was mangle colorado if youd like to look it up, and it was cool. Perusing Tilapita, a sandbar lush with vegetation and mango harvest among others was a major teachable moment for me about how certain plants can thrive in sand. The mangroves are another example of plants being interesting, adaptable and really strange. These mangle colorados produce a dart shaped seed 10 inches long which fall from the tree and stick in the mud. A new tree grows.
At one point, the tourguide Adolfo, pulled up to a small platform on which you could enter a bit into the forest. He told me here, I could listen to the natural sound. Once on the platform, he repeated, bellowing, that here I could hear the sound of the naturaleza. Sure, Adolfo, Ill be able to hear it if you could just SHUT THE FUCK UP FOR A SECOND: It was a fairly deafening cacophony of some kind of beetle or cricket or something. A few birds were around. So were some plastic bottle floating in the water.
My Spanish was partially useless near the coast and even worse in Mexico. I made it Tapachula and tried to draw some money from a couple ATMs. They all told me I couldnt connect with my bank. I didnt have much. I went on to Escuintla. At this point, and I hope this will change, but Im plenty happier in Guatemala than Mexico. There is some good gringo loathing going on lately.
ATMs told me the same in Escuintla. I was not going to increase my cash flow this day. I had like 60 pesos, $8US, 250 Quetzales I wished I had changed. I remembered theres been a US twenty in my backpack for the last 8 months or more. A tuk tuk driver approached me with some English. He brought me around to the ATMs and when I asked him what else there was to do in Escuintla he told me Well, that depends on what the fuck you want to do. You can go to the fuckin river or walk to the fuckin waterfall or find a fuckin prostitute. He brought me to guy who give me ten pesos to my dollar. The rate is just under thirteen. Not too bad a hit and now I can pay for the room for the night. I needed to save my money to get to Tonala the next day, so I decided to skip dinner. It was so hot that I had to get a beer, and some water.
100 pesos for the room. Shitty room, shitty night. The fan works, but it has no front. No problem, my fan didnt have a front cover in Northampton either. I forgot to mention its very very hot here. The shared bathroom is a toilet behind a curtain. Theres no toilet paper, theres no lid on the toilet, no seat. Theres no shower but you can bucket pila water over yourself and this I did to battle the extreme heat.
The bed was ridden with all kinds of bugs that wanted to bite me throughout the night. There was a long, loud and close thunderstorm in the night and at one point I thought the the thunder would break the tejas that made up the roof above and my head would be covered in rubble. That didnt happen but eventually I felt the vibration through the rock pillow of water droplets hitting the pillow. I was very calm throughout all this and at one point expressed my thanks that at least there wasnt any loud music. At 3am I exited the room dissapointed to find darkness persisting. I maximized my situation but putting on my yoga pants and a long sleeve tee and with the fan on high, this was comfortable and the bugs were mostly fought off. My feet remained exposed and I solved this by placing around them the pillowcase from the extra pillow. I slept some hours and left quickly in the morning.
Transport in Mexico is a bit more expensive than it should be and my peso count was low. I decided to give hitchhiking a try to save a bit. Good old fashioned hitchhiking in Mexico. I picked up my first ride pretty quickly. I sat in the middle seat up front in a box truck between a teen and the guy driving who had had a couple beers quickly in the morning. When they asked me where I was from I told them Canada. When we were stopped at a checkpoint, the military guy asked me where I was from. Hmmmm, I thought. Quick calculation and I told him I was from Canada. If he asks for my passport, which he did, Im using the German one, so the double lie can go over undetected.
I was walking along the side of the highway waiting for another ride when I started to get hungry, I still hadnt eaten. Luckily, God had left a couple ripe mangoes by the side of the road. Thats a Louis CK reference but really they had a just fallen off a big mango tree. I made it to Tonala with two free rides and two paid stretches and a few pesos left over. When I found an ATM, it meted me a bunch of pesos with no trouble and I was back. I took a nice hotel room for 2.8 times the previous nights price. King size bed, private bathroom with shower, toilet, toilet seat, paper, soap and a telvision with about 87 channels and lights to read by. Also air conditioning so tonight I should be happy.
Without bothering to shower, I hit the streets for food. Opened with a mango smoothie, big size. 20 pesos. Then three tacos, one beef, one chicken, one tripe. The tripe wasnt too gross, Just less flavor than the others I thought. Then the real meal upstairs of chicken in mole with rice and a Sol. Back to the hotel and now this...
Im in Davis, CA May 20 to 28th. Im in WMass May 29 to June 11.
First stop was Tilapita, a coastal sandbar island village very near the mexican border. I took the scenic route bringing me to the island just after nightfall. I arrived with two lanchas, which cruise thru the canals behind the island. Lancha men here are friendlier than at the lake and the boats are more chill too because I think those backwaters remain pretty calm. The island is like a manhattan shape turned sideways, about 2 ave blocks top to bottom and about 12 streets wide. The streets and aves or whatever you would call them here are all sand. I spent the evening with the hotel{s only other guests, three Norwegian girls and didnt realize until the morning that we could see the crashing waves in the ocean from the hotel.
I spent plenty of time in the ocean and in the sun the next day. Waves were sizable but breaking all over the place. The big ones were tough to reach but I caught a couple good ones with my bopdy as a board.
After two nights, I set off early yesterday morning for Mexico. I finished my pot and hopped on the lancha alone. The pilot offered me a tour of of the mangle (mangrove) and I accepted. I was up early, and the half hour tour seemed a good idea, and it was. Most of what we launched thru was mangle colorado if youd like to look it up, and it was cool. Perusing Tilapita, a sandbar lush with vegetation and mango harvest among others was a major teachable moment for me about how certain plants can thrive in sand. The mangroves are another example of plants being interesting, adaptable and really strange. These mangle colorados produce a dart shaped seed 10 inches long which fall from the tree and stick in the mud. A new tree grows.
At one point, the tourguide Adolfo, pulled up to a small platform on which you could enter a bit into the forest. He told me here, I could listen to the natural sound. Once on the platform, he repeated, bellowing, that here I could hear the sound of the naturaleza. Sure, Adolfo, Ill be able to hear it if you could just SHUT THE FUCK UP FOR A SECOND: It was a fairly deafening cacophony of some kind of beetle or cricket or something. A few birds were around. So were some plastic bottle floating in the water.
My Spanish was partially useless near the coast and even worse in Mexico. I made it Tapachula and tried to draw some money from a couple ATMs. They all told me I couldnt connect with my bank. I didnt have much. I went on to Escuintla. At this point, and I hope this will change, but Im plenty happier in Guatemala than Mexico. There is some good gringo loathing going on lately.
ATMs told me the same in Escuintla. I was not going to increase my cash flow this day. I had like 60 pesos, $8US, 250 Quetzales I wished I had changed. I remembered theres been a US twenty in my backpack for the last 8 months or more. A tuk tuk driver approached me with some English. He brought me around to the ATMs and when I asked him what else there was to do in Escuintla he told me Well, that depends on what the fuck you want to do. You can go to the fuckin river or walk to the fuckin waterfall or find a fuckin prostitute. He brought me to guy who give me ten pesos to my dollar. The rate is just under thirteen. Not too bad a hit and now I can pay for the room for the night. I needed to save my money to get to Tonala the next day, so I decided to skip dinner. It was so hot that I had to get a beer, and some water.
100 pesos for the room. Shitty room, shitty night. The fan works, but it has no front. No problem, my fan didnt have a front cover in Northampton either. I forgot to mention its very very hot here. The shared bathroom is a toilet behind a curtain. Theres no toilet paper, theres no lid on the toilet, no seat. Theres no shower but you can bucket pila water over yourself and this I did to battle the extreme heat.
The bed was ridden with all kinds of bugs that wanted to bite me throughout the night. There was a long, loud and close thunderstorm in the night and at one point I thought the the thunder would break the tejas that made up the roof above and my head would be covered in rubble. That didnt happen but eventually I felt the vibration through the rock pillow of water droplets hitting the pillow. I was very calm throughout all this and at one point expressed my thanks that at least there wasnt any loud music. At 3am I exited the room dissapointed to find darkness persisting. I maximized my situation but putting on my yoga pants and a long sleeve tee and with the fan on high, this was comfortable and the bugs were mostly fought off. My feet remained exposed and I solved this by placing around them the pillowcase from the extra pillow. I slept some hours and left quickly in the morning.
Transport in Mexico is a bit more expensive than it should be and my peso count was low. I decided to give hitchhiking a try to save a bit. Good old fashioned hitchhiking in Mexico. I picked up my first ride pretty quickly. I sat in the middle seat up front in a box truck between a teen and the guy driving who had had a couple beers quickly in the morning. When they asked me where I was from I told them Canada. When we were stopped at a checkpoint, the military guy asked me where I was from. Hmmmm, I thought. Quick calculation and I told him I was from Canada. If he asks for my passport, which he did, Im using the German one, so the double lie can go over undetected.
I was walking along the side of the highway waiting for another ride when I started to get hungry, I still hadnt eaten. Luckily, God had left a couple ripe mangoes by the side of the road. Thats a Louis CK reference but really they had a just fallen off a big mango tree. I made it to Tonala with two free rides and two paid stretches and a few pesos left over. When I found an ATM, it meted me a bunch of pesos with no trouble and I was back. I took a nice hotel room for 2.8 times the previous nights price. King size bed, private bathroom with shower, toilet, toilet seat, paper, soap and a telvision with about 87 channels and lights to read by. Also air conditioning so tonight I should be happy.
Without bothering to shower, I hit the streets for food. Opened with a mango smoothie, big size. 20 pesos. Then three tacos, one beef, one chicken, one tripe. The tripe wasnt too gross, Just less flavor than the others I thought. Then the real meal upstairs of chicken in mole with rice and a Sol. Back to the hotel and now this...
Im in Davis, CA May 20 to 28th. Im in WMass May 29 to June 11.
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