Mexico V: Back on Mex 200 to Melaque

11/14/06 – 11/24/06?

 

Map: http://www.maps-of-mexico.com/jalisco-state-mexico/jalisco-state-mexico-map-a3.shtml  (Melaque is not on this map…strange, because it’s a lot bigger than its neighbor San Patricio which is on this map – bottom right.  Campo Acosta and San Mateo are there along Mex 200)

 

(the photos corresponding to this update and others are up on our flickr account now so you can put images with the stories!

http://www.flickr.com/photos/scrappymoduinne/sets/72157594313508543/ )

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We weren’t exactly sure where Roberto had left us, but it looked like around 40k to the next semi-large rancho.  But that map has lied before.  The atlas of Mexico that I have (bought at that great map store on North Main in Providence, yes, next to that other kick-ass shop!) doesn’t show a difference between the dot that represents a pueblo with hundreds of people and a rancho with 1 broken down abandoned building.  This makes it a little difficult to plan where to stop for the night.

 

For the first time since we began, the riding was a dream.  It was mostly flat, not many cars, and pretty straight.  The hot afternoon sun was brutal, but our muscles felt good, the bikes felt good, and we (if we could distract ourselves from Tuita) felt good.  By the late afternoon (my favorite time of day to be on the roads) the sun lit up the roadside marsh grasses like a neon-green forest.  For the first time I thought to myself: “I could really get into this traveling by bicycle thang!”  We passed through one dirty, industrial looking town that seemed to made up entirely of school children.  Some taunted us, some yelled out in damn fine English: “Hello!  How are you?  Goodbye!”.  By dusk the hills had returned and our progress considerably slowed.  We finally arrived at a rancho of semi-considerable size.  Campo A Costa.  It was stop here or camp by the side of the road.  I knew from reading other people’s accounts that most towns would put you up somewhere. So we pulled off the pavement of Mex 200 and made our way down towards the tall tower of the town church (usually a good indication of where the centro is). 

 

We hadn’t even gone 50 yards when we were surrounded by children throwing a dozen questions at us.  I looked towards Christina for help and she translated: “Where are you from?  Where are you going?  Are your bikes heavy?  Why so much cargo?  Are you staying here?  What are you names?”  The leader of the pack, a complete wise-ass whom I immediately took a disliking to offered to take us to the “President of the Ranch” – the only one who could give us permission to stay there.  He led us instead to the community center (a large open hall and courtyard with offices on the second floor for a cooperative bank).  There in the hall was a meeting of all the women of the rancho.  The overflow of women sat in the hallway near the sidewalk.  I held Christina’s bike (not an easy task…these bikes are too heavy to pick up, and have no kickstands – mostly because I was cheap and refused to spend 50.00 per bike to put heavy duty double kickstands on them that could withstand the weight.  I regret it every day!) and she went forward to face the row of woman.  Scary indeed.  They told us there were several places to put our casa de companion (tent) but that we would have to talk to the President.  3 young children led us across the town to meet the President.  The rancho was very pretty, with a large and bare plaza.  The plaza seemed set up with an arcade and a game tent.  We asked the kids what was going on.  Apparently, not only was the rancho preparing for November 20th (Remembrance of the 1910 Revolution), but there was some sort of holy day being prepared for – perhaps the town’s Saint day, we never did figure it out.

 

I waited outside the shady, tree surrounded house of the President as Christina negotiated our campsite.  Because of the upcoming preparations and events for the festivals we couldn’t camp on the plaza or the nearby field.  However, we could put our tent in the community center.  Thank yous and the kids led us back to the community center.  Thank god we had our air-mattresses (Thermarest, self inflating, worth every damn penny) because it seemed like 90% of our campsites were ending up on concrete.

 

We entered the community space quietly because of the ongoing meeting.  The large courtyard outside the open hall was empty so we just picked a corner near the street.  The meeting was all women except three men who sat at a table in front.  I’d like to believe the men were being charged with sexism before the group, but it seemed to me like they were leading the meeting.  Hard to say and Christina couldn’t make out what they were saying.  Within moments of entering the courtyard we were surrounded again by curious children.  They wanted to ask about what we were up to, who we were, how we did things.  The boys were super excited to help set up our tent and watched with unblinking eyes as we cooked our dinner.  The Strike Anywhere matches proved to be the biggest hit of the night and I gave out dozens to excited boys.  The girls seemed to be missing.  We asked where they were and got vague answers.  At one point some boys brought over a bike with a flat tire.  Before we left I had printed out a glossary of bike parts in Spanish – this was a great help as we navigated the language barrier to figure out that it was simply what it looked like – a flat tire.  I got out the pump (a Road Morph) and patch kit.  Except for the sandpaper part they knew exactly what to do and I just watched.  After that 2 other sets of boys came by with bicycle issues and we took care of them.  Lubed each chain afterwards too.  The boys kept rotating all evening long.  One group would come in, ask the questions, hang out for a while and then leave.  Then another group.  At one point when reaching for my pump in the pannier I discovered, in the dusk, what I thought was a large cricket perched on my bag.  All the boys began yelling and I instinctually pulled back.  It was a scorpion.  And the scary thing was that all these brave young boys were taking it very seriously.  One in the group stepped up and knocked it off the pannier.  Another then picked up a large rock and dashed the monsters brains in.  They all cheered.

 

It wasn’t until later that evening that the girls came by.  We asked why and were told that many of the girls were in school in the evening.  Two girls in particular stayed with us for at least 2 hours.  They must have been early teenagers.  Christina, and me a little, talked with them about every subject imaginable.  They were extremely bright and curious.  We talked about the differences in our cultures, life in the rancho, our wedding, their boyfriends (one had a boyfriend of 2 years and her dad still didn’t know!  Try that in Providence, let alone a small rancho), and the Spanish and English languages.  When Christina asked them if they’d get in trouble being out so late they laughed and said they would tell their parents they were getting an English lesson.  I was utterly embarrassed that they could say the days of the week in English but I couldn’t do it in Spanish.  Before leaving they warned us that at 4am there would be a band practicing in the church next door.  Great – we hadn’t had a good night sleep in…gods knows how long.

 

Expecting some god-awful choir music at 4am we were completely stunned at what woke us up.  We heard, in the pre-dawn darkness, a tuba, trumpets, drums…it was a street marching band!  They were playing some sort of romping yet serious tune in a continuous pattern.  Suddenly they came into view.  Leader the marching band were women and children holding lit candles and singing.  They passed by 15 feet in front of our tent and continued to make the circuit of the plaza.  It was one of the most magical things I’ve ever witnessed.

 

We left by midmorning and continued on Mex 200.  The hills were getting pretty tough again.  In the afternoon we took a side detour to find some lunch.  It was Punta Perula.  Or Punta something nearby.  We ended up in what seemed like a ghost tourist town.  Half built buildings.  Half decayed buildings.  Hard looks from hard men.  The hotel in town was 500 pesos a night!  Our lunch was damn pricy as well.  But nobody was there.  Like the town had forgot it wasn’t booming any more and it still kept its prices up – further preventing anyone from coming.  Well we got suckered in.  There was also this strange feeling about the place, strange as in some odd x-files government project kinda shit going on.  Anyhow we got out of there and back to 200 quick.  That evening we found ourselves in the pretty rancho of San Mateo. 

 

San Mateo was a pretty new town (10 years at the most!) that sat high on a hill above the Pacific. The plaza’s gazebo (kiosk they called it, or something similar) and church were painted in bright desert colors reminding us of Albuquerque.  We asked around for the President of the rancho and found him up near the plaza at his house, lounging around in only his shorts.  His wife kept us busy for a second as he changed.  He directed us to an empty, weed filled lot where he said we could camp.  Just next to the lot was the police chief’s office/house.  He intercepted us and told us that the lot was full of mosquitoes and we should instead camp on the plaza – put our tent in the gazebo itself!  Well that sounded better than a dirty, bug filled, glass strewn lot.  Ah, but things are never that simple now are they?

 

The gazebo (cement again!) was gorgeous with a view out to the ocean.  We were surrounded by kids again within minutes.  It was just like the last town – the adults were friendly but pretty much ignored us while the children flocked around us.  They asked us a million questions about our gear, our plans, our lives.  They stayed with us late into the night.  The plaza itself filled up with townspeople after dinner.  Old men and woman sat on the edges eating ices.  Teenage boys played a mean game of volleyball for hours.  Lovers kissed under trees. 

 

At a certain time in the night, we’re not sure exactly when because we have no watches, the police chief and his three men come into the square.  They walk around a bit and then just take up positions around it.  The volleyball game comes to a halt.  The lovers retire to alleys.  The old men and women amble away.  Even the dogs clear out.  Two groups of rebellious teens, one girls, one boys, hover at opposite edges of the plaza.  Before they bolt we ask a group of little boys: “What’s the deal with the police?  Why is everyone leaving the plaza?  Is there a curfew?”  We couldn’t get a straight answer before they ran off.  So with nothing else to do we got into our tent.  It was very strange laying there.  Like we were on center stage.  The groups of teens watching us, pointing at us, making jokes about us.  The silent cops (one with shotgun, one with rifle) stood around the square.  The police in one town (El Tuito) hid us on the outskirts, while the police in this town placed us directly in the center.  Both seemed very planned and both felt demeaning.  We found out in the morning that the police had asked people to leave the plaza on our account.  That felt awful.

 

The next morning was hot, hot, hot, like every morning.  People were saying it was more hot and humid for this time of year then they could remember.  We left late, late, late, like every morning.  We were so tired and fried from traveling on the dangerous curves and hills of Mex 200.  So fried in fact that Christina offered up a canister of cinnamon flavoring to see if it smelled good to me.  We continued on through those curves and hills.  We decided to try and make it to the town of Tenacatita.  We had heard from a Canadian in San Mateo that is had a “dreamy” beach.  We ate a late lunch in Emilano Zapata (the “real E. Zapata” a sign proclaimed – the map showed another town further south with the same name so perhaps there was some rivalry). 

 

It was a long day and we were beginning to melt down by the time we made it to the turn off for Tanacatita.  It was another 9k, downhill, to the ocean we were told.  And this time, it actually was.  But even then our legs would barely move us any longer.  We had gone over 50k that day, which for us, on those hills, was a damn lot.  The beach WAS dreamy - wide and sandy with large craggy out-croppings out in the ocean.  The town itself wasn’t really a town though, just a strip of beach-side restaurants (with nobody in them) and a store.  At the end of the strip we found an RV park and camp site.  We were too tired to even look for a place to camp for free.  We paid up and crashed.  Minutes after we got there the owner came out and warned us that the large black clouds on the horizon weren’t there for the hell of it and it was about to rain like mad.  It was spin-off from a Hurricane 400 miles away he told us.  We got the tarp up seconds before the sky tore open.  This was an incredibly hard task because as soon as the sun had set we were besieged by hordes upon hordes of mosquitoes.  It was one of the most violent storms I’ve ever been in.  Huge thunder and lightening with us huddled in our tent, praying that the fly would stay on and keep us dry.  It did.  Three cheers for Big Agnes tents.  However, from the screaming of the 40 school children from Guadalajara who were sharing the campground, their tents didn’t fare as well.

 

We swam in the ocean the next morning.  It was warm and clear with nice sized waves.  Just before the waves would break, as the sun illuminated them, we could see fish within them.  What a way to start the day!  We got a late start on the bikes – almost noon!  The water I filtered from the campground hose was yellow and tasted like absolute crap.  I could barely force myself to drink it during the long hot day. Christina didn’t seem to mind.  Funny the things that some people care or don’t care about.  We were trying to make it around 40k to Melaque, a large town on the coast.  It was probably the largest town so far south of Puerto Vallarta.  We figured we could stop there for a few days, find a hotel to rest a bit, and do some mailings.  We had already decided upon a bunch of belongings we could send home.  We were also carrying several projects with us that we hadn’t finished back in the USA.  We could rest a few days, get some of these things done, do a mailing, lighten our loads, and get back on the road.  That was if we could make it over these damn hills. 

 

And it wasn’t just the mountains that were wearing on us by now, it was the traffic.  I knew people biked this route.  It was a popular ride – from Pt. Vallarta down the coast.  There was even a Mexican whom I emailed back and forth with who led tours down Mex 200.  But Christina was terrified.  And even I, with my life threatening rides with Providence drivers every day back in the US, was getting worried.  The blind curves were the worst.  Even if a truck wanted to move out of the way (which unlike the busses, most would do for you), it couldn’t do that if it didn’t know you were there.  The decents are supposed to be fun.  But when traffic can’t see you, they are absolutely terrifying because those with combustion engines are fucking flying!  I had been taking up the rear for several days because 1) I wasn’t as nervous about the traffic, 2) I had a mirror, 3) it kept us riding together and not me way ahead and 4) it meant that once a vehicle saw me they would usually (unless it was a bus) give Christina a wide berth.

 

Almost towards the end of that day’s ride to Melaque, after climbing 6k straight up, we were on our way down a beautiful decent when the final straws broke.  At one point going around a curve, we heard the screeching of brakes and horn just behind us.  Christina turned and expected to see me hit.  I wasn’t, but it did shake me up.  Minutes later, the town in sight, we again heard the hard squealing of brakes and smelt the burning rubber.  Christina turned around slowly with absolute horror, expecting to find me dead.  I wasn’t, but this time I had almost pissed myself.  It was the smell that really got to her.  An instant transportation to every time she’s smelled that smell before – all of them really bad.  “I’m not doing this any more.  I couldn’t say it enough times.  I am not riding on this road anymore.”  It wasn’t a statement to argue with.  I’ve known her long enough to know that.  We decided then and there that once our rest in Melaque was over we would take a bus inland.  Find smaller roads that though they might have no shoulders, wouldn’t be highways of possible death like Mex 200 in the state of Jalisco.

 

Map of Melaque area:

http://www.tomzap.com/map-melaquecoast.html

 

Melaque is a bit like Old Orchard Beach in Maine.  A tacky, local touristy town that’s either dusty and dead or bustling with drunken sunburned folks.  We pulled into town just as things were reaching the drunken bustling end of things.  It was after all the Friday before the November 20 Revolution weekend.  We biked around the town looking at different hotels.  At one place a young, bare-chested man shouted down to us in accented English: “You need a place to stay?  Where are you from?”  We asked him how much the place was and he answered: “Maybe something, ah, maybe nothing.”  Ah huh.  The owner soon appeared, a skinny Canadian woman who looked just like Joni Mitchell did when she first showed up in California.  The young guy was from Chile.  He had been living there in the hotel for quite a while.  They only had a room for one night (and we needed for several), but they insisted we come in and drink beer and talk to them about our trip.  It was so temping but it was now dark, and we were exhausted and needed to find a place.  The Canadian insisted on walking us around to all the area hotels to inquire about prices and availability.  Many places were booked up for the holiday weekend.  Finally we shook free of her (she was beginning to grate on Christina’s nerves with her stoned way of talking and her meandering comments about the Dali Lama when all Christina could think about was collapsing), thanked her, and returned to the first hotel we had stopped at.  It was clean, had a beautiful deck, a fridge, fan, hot water, it was right on the main drag, and by a stroke of luck we’d been quoted a really, really, cheap price by the next door store owner who happened to be watching the desk.  The owner was a little mad when she heard the price, but honored it.  When we told her we might stay past the weekend for several days she seemed to brighten.  The only bad part (besides the bat that lived above the deck Christina would say – I like him/her and try and chatter back to it at night) is that it’s right across from the town’s Disco!  So on the weekend nights of the holiday weekend we heard nasty dance music until 3am.  Most nights we were so tired it didn’t even matter.

 

So here we are, still in Melaque, a week later.  We are getting stuff done (all these past updates, photos uploaded, resting which we still need from the insane stress of leaving the US, and getting several left over projects done).  The town has grown on me a bit, as all towns I spend time in usually do.  It’s mostly Mexican tourists on the holidays and weekends.  During late November and December it’s full of West Coast Canadians as well.  Not many Americans.  The plaza is pretty with a large fountain, a double decker gazebo, and a really tacky church (complete with a massive framed picture of Jesus above the alter, outlined in blue neon).  The town is stretched out along the beach which is nice, but a little dirty.  Before it was a tourist town it was a fishing port (there’s still a large fish cooperative) and the water smells, tastes, and feels a little like gasoline.  Reminds me a bit of Galveston, Texas in that way.  Supposedly, the neighboring town of Barra de Navidad (which is more touristy and upscale perhaps) had “cleaner” beaches.  It’s only a little bit down the road but we’ve yet to get there.

 

The street food is excellent.  Although to cater to the Mexican tourists there are way too many hotdogs and hamburger carts!  We befriended one of the taco sellers and his son.  Saulo and Jonathan. Saulo is originally from Peru.  He fell in love with and married a woman from Guadalajara, which is where he usually lives now.  He comes down with his son to sell tacos in Melaque during the high season.  He’s been to almost every country in Central and South America and told us all about his travels.  He kept trying to charge us nothing or very little for his tacos and we would insist on paying more.  It’s like a little dance we do every night.  Like many places there are no prices listed so there is no way no know what they actually cost.  It seemed that at many places the price fluctuated depending on who you were, where you were from, or what kind of mood the seller was in.   The small restaurants are great as well.  One of our favorites has these amazing Cubanos (Cuban sandwiches) and mango y leche shakes.  Only two have been so-so.  One because the food was not so good (a place on the plaza), and one, a gringo magnet (side alley with a sign: I speak English – with menus in English…should have warned us) had horrible service, tiny portions, and we had to ask for tortillas with our Huevos Rancheros. And when they finally did come we were only given 4.  Unheard of even for the US, forget anywhere we’d been in Mexico!

 

I’ve fallen in love with the live music of course.  I’ve heard several roving bands on the beach.  They go from shore front restaurant to restaurant up and down the strip, carrying their instruments over sand and dodging occasional waves.  The ones I’ve really fallen for are the bands that play Norteno style.  This is an accordion, bajo sexto, guitar, and trap drum. 

 

Last night Christina had her first bought of homesickness in the form or really wanting to order a pizza and watch a movie.  We actually found a pizza place (crust not great, but damn all that hot cheese was good), and lo and behold one of the kids there put in a movie.  Granted it was that terrible Vietnam movie: Casualties of War (watching American soldiers rape and murder a woman in a restaurant where you’re the only gringos is a little bit tense), but she got her pizza and a movie.

 

So the days have pretty much been the same.  Wake up early or late who knows.  Eat some good food.  Get a bunch of work done.  Eat some good food.  Rest. Walk.  Get some more work done.  Rest.  Walk.  Eat some good food.  Also a bunch of using the internet, drinking cerveza, one night of too much Tequila con Sangria, beach walking, sitting in the plaza. 

 

In the next day or two we will head out.  Our plan is to take a bus or hitch down the coast all the way to the Oaxacan coast.  From there we’ll take a bus inland up into Oaxaca City where we’ll meet our Providence friend and compadre Eric Larson.  We’ll spend a week or so there experiencing the amazing social revolution that is happening alongside the demands to throw out the Governor.  There are lots of good websites with info on the situation there, and lots of FALSE info coming from US and Mexican newspapers.  Try here for some good reporting:  http://www.narconews.com/en.html

After Oaxaca, we’ll be back on our bikes through Chiapas and into Central America.

 

Today is Thanksgiving.  Tonight there’s a bar in Barra de Navidad that is having a gringo Thanksgiving dinner that we may try to go to.  Christina needs her Turkey and Cranberry after all!  So Happy Thanksgiving to all of you.  Hopefully you’re spending it giving thanks to and for all your loved ones.  And giving thanks to all the farmers who made all that good food you’re eating (well, probably a large multinational agrobiz, but maybe someday….).  And last of all, We thank all of you!  More soon….

 

 

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