Slowly approaching the Mexico USA border, I have been thinking about the first time we were here, nearly 2 years ago. David and I biked into Matamoros, with a handful of Spanish words to communicate with the people (the people that the vast majority of American citizens told us would surely kill us on sight). Our collection of Spanish at this point (many thanks to Robert in Texas for this) included such treasures as "¿pedemos campar por la noche a lado de su casa por favor?" (Can we camp for the night beside your house please?) as well as the ever useful "no entiendo" (I don't understand). Si is yes and No is no, these words we had down as well as a general understanding of numbers 1-4 and 8 through to 10. As long as I didn't purchase anything that had the dreaded value of 5 to 7 pesos or worse 50 to 70, I pretty much understood what cash was expected of me. We ventured into Mexico with this language knowledge generously provided by the kind people of the USA, also generously provided by the Americans were horror stories of Mexico. This we carried somewhere in the backs of our minds, behind "dos cervezas por favor". So we went against the advise of the Americans and ventured into Mexico. And into Matamoros at that. We decided to arrive on January 3rd. We'd hoped that anyone with bad intentions for two cycling tourists and their old dog would have a hell of a hangover on this day or be celebrating the new year with their family. Matamoros looked like any other southern USA city, big streets with lots of American super stores, lots of SUVs like their neighbours to the north only there was also obviously people with less. Venturing further into Mexico, the city streets got smaller with more potholes and lots of bicycle and pedestrian traffic. I was immediately charmed by Mexico's lack of zoning and building rules. the houses are mismatched, in varying levels of construction and painted like a bag of skittles. David and I tried to soak in Mexico all while trying not to call attention to ourselves until Matamoros spit us out onto the 101 HWY and it was just us and the sorghum fields. It was a cool 5 deg that day and raining so we were grateful when the sun started to set. About 30kms South of Matamoros, we waited until there was no traffic in any direction, no one that could see us and we quickly (ninja like really) lowered ourselves under HWY101 into a huge drainage duct - like a bridge for a river that luckily for us had only copious amounts of thick brown mud left in its wake. We ate a sidekick and cookies for dinner and relaxed into our dry sleeping bags wearing the dry clothes we had been dreaming about all day. Once night fell, there was no civilian traffic. There were two variations of sounds that disturbed our light sleep that night including; On January 4th, we awoke before the sun and again waited until there was no traffic before we ventured onto HWY 101 to put in 60kms in 4 deg C and more light rain. Early on our second day in Mexico I approached my first Military checkpoint. David, being heavily loaded with a two wheel trailer and a crazy old dog, was a few metres behind me when I reached the Police officer, wielding a huge automatic weapon made all that more frightening by a face mask and dark sunglasses. "¿De a donde vienen?" He barked... I hadn't learnt this one yet.. Again, louder he asked "¿de a donde vienen?" Ummm "no entiendo" I responded. David caught up with us and the same question was thrown at him. "¿De a donde vienen?" David obviously had taken the same introductory Spanish course as me because his response was the third meek "no entiendo". I guess our friend with the federal police realized that we had no grasp of the Spanish language and gave us a hint "¿where?" He tried, obviously growing a little frustrated. Ahh! David understood. He pointed behind us, to the North and said "Canada". "¿Y a donde vas?" Asked the check point officer. This can only mean one thing. We pointed South and shouted in unison Paraguay! I couldn't see the officers mouth, as I told you he was wearing a terrifying mask but I think I saw stress just under his nose and above his chin indicating that his mouth fell open. "¿De Canada, a Paraguay en bici?" I'm pretty sure I understood what that ment (horrah free Spanish lesson!) "si!" Shouted David and I, happy to understand something "¡pendejos!" Shouted the police officer along with an exaggerated gesture of get out of here, his extended arm pointing South. That night, camping in an abandoned house 60kms or so closer to our destination, I searched in vain to find pendejos in my Spanish-English dictionary. We weren't exactly sure of its meaning but we happily added it to our ever growing Spanish vocabulary. I mentioned before that we would enter the land of Peyote. For those new to the subject: Peyote is a small, fuzzy cactus that has helped people to trip balls for over 5000 years. The cactus contains more natural alkaloids than anything else on the planet and contains a psychoactive substance called mezcaline. The Huixotl tribe make an annual pilgrimage to the region around Real de Catorce to collect peyote for their sacred rituals.
I don't have any numbers but i think the peyote is the biggest tourist attraction around here. However there are a few challenges connected to it. First off it's illegal to collect peyote cactus and the punishment is severe. Eight years in a Mexican federal prison for every specimen. They are considered an endangered species and therefore collection is a federal crime. Being endangered also means that you cant find it just anywhere. Our host in Wadley told us about the growing habbits of the peyote which comes down to a lot of information and a lot of luck finding it. In short: Peyote grows on limestone, on slightly sloping land under a bush called Gobernadora. Happens that this particular bush is the most common plant for 500 miles in all directions, there is more sloping than flat desert and limestone is everything that this desert is. So all this information isn't particularly usefull. So the needle in the haystack or the little fist-sized cactus in the desert, it sounds about the same to me. Now I have to say, especially to a couple friends in different parts of the world, you know who you are when I'm talking about you, something about me and the peyote: If I don't eat any Peyote while I'm here I will not excuse myself for the following reasons - It is illegal - They are really hard to find - I don't excuse myself for either doing, or not doing drugs. David and I have been relaxing with Milo and Fea in Monclova, Coahuila for 2 weeks now. It has given us much needed time to get out of the desert sun, to fatten up our touring dogs (as well as ourselves) and to reflect on the adventures that we have been living in Mexico. I love Mexico! It is a diverse, beautiful, culturally rich country with landscapes that can cause your mouth to open and your eyes to pop and with people that will strengthen your trust, love and confidence in the human race.
Monclova is a small city about 250kms from the USA border, located in the mountainous, desert state of Coahuila. About 200 000 people call Monclova, La Capital del Acero (The Steel Capital) their home. Monclova produces more steel than any other city in Mexico. This means lots of jobs creating steel and steel products for its inhabitants as well as hot hot desert temperatures made hotter by the constant burning of steel ovens. We have been super fortunate to be welcomed into Monclova by the nicest neighborhood of people. It will be very hard for us to leave this place. Should you like to partake in a little Mexican reflection, here are some photos from almost a month of bicycle touring in Mexico. David, Milo, Fea and I just got in from a photo shoot that we took with Mauro from Photo Red here in Monclova. We had a lot of fun capturing some photos so you can see how we are riding these days, with all kinds of fancy gear from Huntington Cycle and Sports and a new furry friend. We will have the photos here soon as well as on our Facebook page at www.facebook.com/thefreelife.weebly Biking through a bit if Canada, 10 US states, 9 Mexican States and into Guatemala, we found that the vast majority of the wonderful people we met have something in common. They are debilitatingly afraid of their neighbours to the South. What is so frightening about the province, state, country or continent to the south of us? Does it stem from bible stories of a firey inferno with a red triton wielding, horned beast ready to devour our souls just below us? Or could it be Fox News? Maybe just the very real fear that we all feel of the unknown. Do our neighbours to he south really pose any threat to us? When our clothes were still clean and our bikes sparkly new, biking in Southern Ontario we told curious Canadians that we were headed to New York State. New York? They would gasp!! You'll be killed. they would inevitably list unthinkable dangers from being run over by super sized pick up trucks to rape, shoot outs and general unnicities. We biked across the "peace bridge" covered in banners celebrating 200 years of peace between the Canadians and American. So we pulled into the outskirts of Buffalo scared shitless of the seemingly harmless Americans. Wolves in sheep's clothing I guessed. So we bravely started mingling with these dangerous New Yorkers and we found that they were actually nice people who didn't want to shoot, rape or drive over us with their SUVs. We recounted for them the stories their neighbours to the north had told us and together we laughed. Here it's fine they would tell us. But Pennsylvanians!! They'll kill you just as soon as look at you. Our friendly New York friends would then spill over with stories of hill billies, bad drivers, drunk drivers and again the general unnicities. Gulp! We were headed there next! We found Pennsylvania to be just like New York State, lots of full dumpsters and really polite people. We recounted the stories we had been told by the Canadians and New Yorkers alike and I am not exaggerating to say that our Pennsylvania friends told us that the real threat would not be found in pennsylvania with the hill billies but with the red necks in Ohio. I guess you are starting to sense the pattern in my story. As you may guess, we found the people living in Ohio to be just like the rest, generous, helpful, kind and a lot of fun! I don't need to run on with this story forever but I would like to say that the warnings that we received suggesting that we, at all costs avoid West Virginia were repeated and repeated throughout our breathtaking bike through Ohio. I can't wait to get back to West Virginia because some of my favourite people live there! At any time, if we told someone that we were headed to Mexico, they would recount tales of murder, kidnapping, robberies and rape. SCARY SCARY stories that made me really afraid of Mexicans. All of the Americans that we met (except for two very generous hosts, one from Ohio and one from Louisiana) literally begged us not to pass over into Mexico. The two exceptions to this rule told us that we would love Mexico. They told us of a country rich in mountain views, culture, history and full of kind, generous people. What set these two people apart from the rest was not just a different view point on their neighbouring country but that they were the only two who had actually been to Mexico! In all of our travels, we were warned about the people to the south, a bit of a switch up took place in Mexico where they would also (perhaps justifiably) warn us of the states to the North and of course, Guatemala. We travelled around in all of these states and countries a bit and never had any problems. sure people in Kentucky talk like they have a potato in their mouth, like Veracruzanos are always late and Texans drive really big cars and people from Louisiana (among other states) say ya'll a lot and Canadians DO say eh all the time although it hurts me to admit it. We all have a little something influenced by our surroundings that makes us special. What I want to tell you is that you should not be afraid of other people even if they live to the South, are really different or have a lower income. They are beautiful and afraid just like you. So it's been a month since we left Veracruz on route for Canada and we have spent a lot of money! $3087.87 Mexican pesos to be exact. That's about $250 US. As you can see, bike parts and a bit of service have been our biggest expenses. These numbers do not include the numerous valuable parts and products given to us by the good people at Huntington Cycle and Sport in West Virginia. In the last month 57.32% of our money was spent on bike parts. 31.51% of our pesos were burnt away on delicious Mexican food, as you may imagine it is much easier to find free food than free bike parts. Milo was kept fat (and is actually gaining weight) as we spend 1.88% of our money on his needs. We have greatly reduced the amount of money we spend on Milo by buying him meat shavings or hearts from local butchers as well as more expensive, dry dog food. Often when they hear that Milo has travelled to 7 countries and 9 Mexican states, the butchers won't accept our money and provide Milo's meal for free. In past tours, we would visit Internet cafes to update our website, this is a costly habit. In this tour we have reduced our visits to the Cyber (as they call here in Mexico) to only times when we cannot find free Internet for a week. 8.1% of our money until today has been invested in items to sell or trade (items that we guess will have more value elsewhere) and for gifts. Currently we are carrying hand made sandals made from tyres and vanilla from El Tajin that we hope we will be able to turn a small profit with. Often we just end up gifting away these items bit by bit but that's no waste. We hope to reduce our spending in the future, mainly on bike parts. This month we had to replace consumable bike parts like bottom brackets, chains and David's crank set and chain rings which (apart from the crank set) generally need replacing every 5000kms or so. Should these new parts hold up for 6 months or more we should be able to get back on our $50 Mexican Peso aka $3USD daily budget. To clarify, the $50 pesos or $3 USD that we spend daily we earned (for this particular trip) working in Veracruz teaching English, fishing, gardening, cleaning, chopping and selling firewood, farming, selling herbs, fruits and vegetables from our garden as well as eggs, chicks and chickens that we raised. Our greatest tool in the fight to save money has been not spending money, we did this in Playa Hermosa by eating fresh food from our garden, the mountain, the ocean and from the gardens of our generous friends there. While traveling, to supliment our $50 peso or $3USD budget, we hustle. Meaning that we look for many ways to make a little extra cash for those times when we need to spend a little extra cash. A good example of this is from last week. A friend of ours, Hermien sent us $15 USD from the Support Us page on our website. This day we were biking to Saltillo, Coahuila. About 30kms from Saltillo it started to rain, a type of rain they call "chippy chippy" in Veracruz or spitting elsewhere. I believe David said something to the effect of "it's a shower, it will pass" so we carried on. To quote the Dutch, "and then it stopped raining softly". Hard rain progressed into hail and then a full torrential downpour. After a bit of this, we arrived in the outskirts of Saltillo and I screamed to David at the top of my lungs (the only way that he could hear me) that we should take shelter at the approaching corner store. The cashier invited Milo and us in after seeing what a sorry, soggy site we were. We dried off Milo, who was shaking like a leaf from fear of the booming thunder. I took to the staff washroom to change into dry clothes. For a desert it was really really cold. I left David, poor shaky Milo and the employee out in the store watching the water in the steet grow to a rushing river of more than 2ft (60cm) in depth. Being gentlemen, David and the corner store employee didn't say anything about the horrid odor wafting out from the washroom. I too noticed the odor but wasn't sure from where it was coming until, about to change my pants I noticed brown water leaking into the bathroom from under the door!! Eiiikkk!! Eventually the entire cornerstore, save a small patch in the centre flooded with black water, back washing from their pipes. With the rain not letting up and no visibility causing total mayhem in the streets David and I decided we would take our chances with the small dry patch. It must have been divine intervention that the dry patch in the store lead directly to the chips and hot coffee. Thank you Hermien! we spent $56 pesos, more than a normal days total budget on chips (something we haven't bought since we left Toronto two years ago) and two delicious cups of coffee. If I held the steamy cup just so under my nose it almost smelt like I wasn't standing in a sewer. To make our own money on this trip we have used a bit of tact and a lot of luck. In Veracruz, 3kms from Emilio Caranza we found a mountain of perfectly intact juicy limes. We baged them into 2 or 3kg bags and managed to make $80 in about an hour selling them for $10 pesos a pop. On this trip we also found a sealed carton of juice powder which we have been using as currency to trade for things like prepared corn cobs and have made a not very impressive $9 pesos trying to sell the juice packages individually while we take breaks in small towns. Occasionally, generous people that we meet gift us cash. The $400 pesos that we were given this month was from the same, wonderful family in Poza Rica. We have been able to keep our bikes (and therefor ourselves) going with this money. David, Milo and I would like to send out a great big lovey dovey thank you! to all of you for your financial and emotional support. We can't do it with out you! Xo H |
AuthorDavid and Hannah - cyclists extraordinaire Archives
October 2015
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