poorwhitecrippledboy

I would guess we are sitting well above 8000 ft above sea level. (it took us nearly 11 hours of driving to get here) Much driving, poco reparation, and mucho grande Montanas, we climbed off the beach today on a road that seemed to be one long brutal uphill run, as we rolled up and up and up, the truck got hotter, and hotter and hotter, we spent at least an hour maybe two, just letting her rest, then we decided to stop and have her checked out considering we had much more mountain to climb, the culprit was a bad thermostat, after less than an hour and 200 pesos (less than 20 usd) we roll uphill, the car is good, we are tired, Ed is getting sick, (I just hope it doesn’t last long as my sickness did), we stop along the road a couple hours after dark and camp under a small grove of ancient Avocado trees. Its is cold outside, damn cold, (I suspect ed will be buying another blanket before he buys his guitar), and I need to evacuate my system, I sit under the trees on my commode chair literal

For me, Tamales remind me of Christmas in California, my family is not from Mexico, but for a good part of my life I have lived in areas that were if not a majority Mexican then pretty close, and Tamales are a decidedly Christmas fare in these areas, the basic tradition as I remember it was for all the women in the family to be in the kitchen making huge mounds of Tamales on Christmas Eve, (while all the men drank until they passed out). Tamales are a labor intensive food, you boil the husks, prepare the filling, and take mounds of wet masa and form it into Tamales, then wrap the corn husks around the filled masa and steam them, sound easy? my guess is its not, but really I cant say for sure, the one and only time I was lucky enough to be invited to one of these fetes I was forced to display my Machismo and Bravado with the Men by drinking way to much and passing out in the yard. (freshly made Tamales do make an excellent hangover food that I can say for sure) there are so many types o

Yeah, I know its April fools day, this is not a joke though, its not a prank it actually happened to me yesterday and not today, I wasn’t going to write about it but I find I have no choice other than to get the whole nasty episode out of my head, So pardon my verbosity and the graphic nature of what follows, (if graphic scenarios aren’t your thing you might just stop reading this now.) I have been spending a fair amount of time on the various highways of Mexico this winter, none more than Mexico 200 and when you drive down Mexico’s Highway 200 you slowly wind down the coast of Mainland Mexico, at every village there is a tope (or 3) topes are essentially giant speed-bumps meant to slow you down when you are driving through the small towns that dot the coastline here. These topes generally mark the main areas of each village or poblado. Commerce springs up around these markers, in the form of fruit vendors, abbarotes (convenience stores) and vendors of all types dependent upon what may

As I write this I am sitting on the beach in my tent in Michoacan MX. an amazing coastline full of tiny indigenous pueblos that are beginning to change ala the California of my youth (gone baby gone). In Ticla the indian girl of maybe 15 years old sits behind the counter of the abbarotes (convenience store) I am buying Cacahuates (peanuts) Mangos, Bananas, Coffee, and Condensed Milk, I ask a simple question but she doesnt seem to hear me, inside my head I check Mi Palabras (words), and I check my pronunciation, feeling fairly sure I am speaking correctly I try again,this time louder, she looks in my eyes, reaches for her ear and pulls out her I-Pod headset and answers me in the affirmative proving once again that things are not exactly as they seem down here. She sits behind a well stocked glass case filled with stickers and sex wax, the selection is a stoners paradise candy, ice cream, and red bull I see the well stocked store and think its a shame that here in Mexico the things that

When one decides to drive to a remote beach deep in the baja there are may things one must first consider, such as; Is there air in the spare? Do we have enough water? How about beer, should we grab some? How much gas do we have? Tires are solid. Will there be food? Quanto Kilometros to la playa? Donde es la calle de costa. Many questions, yes many questions indeed. For me I prefer to do a cursory map check (it’s usually the tiny squiggle I cant even see) Then turn to mi amigo Eduardo and ask aya or aqui? So tonight 60 km of crushing dirt roads later it is nearing sunset and we sit on el Pacifico, our kidneys bashed, the Toyota is hot, the waves crashing on la mar, we are in a small valley that drains onto the beach, sunset is a golden glow of liquid light, we are semi stuck in deep sand but no matter, there are many whales spouting off shore and its absolutely incredible its un perfecto campo (except for maybe the deep sand and low charge on the power chair that effectively leaves me

Its not often in a persons life that an opportunity arises to drive a 1973 Volkswagen thing from California to Costa Rica and get paid for it. For me the call came in July of 2007, I had more or less forgotten that I had even put the car up for sale, and I was sitting at my sisters farm in beaver creek Oregon when it did come, I don't remember the exact words that were spoken, but it went something like this; I want to buy your car, will you take 8000 for it? would you be interested in delivering it to Costa? Yes seemed like the right answer at the time so thats what I said. Between monsoons, hurricanes, and missed connections, some months passed before we had all the details worked out, agreed on a plan of action, and money and titles changed hands, but somewhere near Thanksgiving of 07 I found myself planning the details for the Sunday drive of a lifetime. Trying to get out of the country was not the simplest task for me, since having fought a bout with cancer a couple of years

There is something that I just love about meeting new friends, particularly its great to meet people who speak a different language than you do, there is a purity and warmth when two people are doing there best to communicate simple thoughts using rudimentary language skills that is simply unmatched in same language communication. After all, if you believe the idea that we are vibrational beings (i know I do) then regardless of our language skills, we pull the people to us who have the lessons we need at that time, so for me, the inner work I have been doing is to practice non judgement, this is no simple task, we are trained from birth to make snap judgements about people, I have been in sales virtually all my life, and commisions live and die based on your ability to read someone (judge) so as I travel this amazing journey, I am always amazed how quickly the attraction of vibration serves me. I have done a fair bit of picking up hitchikers this trip, the first of which was a born aga

One of the really cool things about driving La Chingadera is the ability to drive with no windshield, it is similar to riding a motorcycle and makes 50km an hour seem closer to 90mph, so you drive at a safe speed, but still satisfy that ever present need for adrenaline. While the rush is nice, what I really like is that sense of flying, as the wind rushes past you you feel free, content, and connected, the connection comes from the smiles that are ever present, the laughter of children and adults alike ( I am pretty sure the laughter stems from the hairstyle that only wind and a beachy bed head can acheive though), in any case its a sublime infection, and the Klicks pass effortlessly. So there I am, driving a seemingly never ending track of twisting turning asphalt. If you look on a map they call it hwy 200, but quite often it is less a highway and more akin to a thin line of broken surface connecting enormous pot holes. This track seems to have multiple functions, The primary purpose

For me to awaken on a deserted beach is about as close to heaven as I can get, the vibrations are perfect, the music of las olas crashing fills my brain, the stars fading away to a golden sunrise, it is peace, it is paz. I pulled into town around dark, and followed my nose, they say the olfactory system has the easiest access to memory, and the smell of fresh tortillas and perfectly prepared carne is something one can never forget, I took a few minutes to breathe, give thanks and organise myself, have a quick sponge bath and just enjoy the stillness of my surroundings. I popped out of the car bouyed by the promises of tasty delights, there were seven or eight tables on the street, each table holding un grande plato, on the plate was a cornucopia of fixin´s, guacamole, salsa, frijoles, cabbage, limon and chilis, I took a table with a local man named Tony, we spoke of where we lived, and where life was taking us, at the table to my left sat 4 young travelers from Napa valley, they carrie

I dont even know where to begin, what an amazing adventure this is, well worth the wait, I find myself in a tiny puebla in the state of Michoacan, just above Lazaro Cardenes (see map) there is just too much beauty to put into words, there is really no way of blogging it as it happens, (or there would be no time for it to unfold)so I will just try and share a few tid bits here and there the rest will have to wait for a rainy day... I woke this morning to the sound of laughter, I was at a little hotel on the coast south of Puerto Vallarta, and a tour bus of Vacationers from Guadalajara took the place over, it was time to get up anyways, so I got rolling, to the music of people checking in for a weekend of tranquility and playing on the sea, it doesnt get much better, i showered, and jumped in the car excited to see what lay ahead, I pulled slowly onto the main drag of town, waved at the kids and shop keepers then stopped and grabbed some Watermelon from the Fruteria, found a secluded spo

You know the rest, so about 2 hours out of Loreto am headed down the road, I have Manu Chao Esperenza on the box, all is well, and then comes the noise, a high pitched grinding sound, I have heard this before, somewhere, I realize it is my speedometer cable, so I pull of at the next wide spot (which just so happens to be a fantastic little restaraunt) pretty much the moment I pull up there is a guy on the most Badass KTM (motorcycle) I have ever seen, he has apparantly run the Dakar in it (a Rally), and its covered with Stickers from all over the world, he steps off the bike and heads in for Breakfast, I take out the one screw that holds the dashboard in place, and hop out of the carlooking for lubricant, as I roll to the rear of the car to grab a dipstick full of oil it occurs to me that anyone with a trick machine like that must have spray lube he

So for those of you who are interested I find myself back in Mexico again headed for Central America, the meat of it is I sold La Chingadera and am delivering her to the buyer in Costa Rica... As many of you reading this already know I have had several attempts to get myself out of the states and down south, regardless of my intent, something always seemed to go wrong, generally it has been a mechanical issue that stops me (read previous blogs, or buy me one too many tequilas and you can get the details... That said, if my adventures begin with mechanical problems this one dropped right into place, my intention this time was to leave on Christmas Day, I was as ready as ever, the car gassed, freshly painted, and in perfect mechanical order. Since this trip is essentially a delivery, I packed light. A sleeping bag, mosquito net, thermarest a couple flashlights and some clothes, my toolbox, some music an extra fuel tank and thats pretty much it. So with all that crap in my 4Runner I grabb