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Published: January 28th 2013
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We find ourselves in desperate need to be removed from Oregon, the shopkeepers tell us it hasn't rained in months but it’s coming and once it arrives, you can be sure it’s going to drizzle every single day thru march. It was rather comical because it was our first time bikepacking and we couldn't believe how many other people were doing it but in actuality, it only seemed that way because we were the only ones traveling north along the pacific coast in mid-September. Ultimately it did just what we expected, it rained, and I really thought my boots would keep my feet dry, not a chance. We both started to go crazy trying to plan our next move, searching craigslist for a ride out of Portland, applying for jobs in ski towns. Sam ditched his road bike, bought a mountain bike and caught a ride to Utah to keep playing but tragedy struck and his bike fell off the car on the highway and somebody else picked it up before they found out and went back for it. I found a ride back to Sacramento and the kid sitting next to me was on his way back to Mexico, I
had been telling myself for a long time to close my eyes and buy a plane ticket, start traveling the Spanish speaking countries and here this opportunity fell into my lap. It was decided before we even crossed the Oregon border, and two days later I picked up my new friend Irving in San Francisco and we headed to L.A.. We spent a week in Compton with an old friend of Irving’s, Alex, and his wife and son whom he loves very much, a good introduction for all to come, my world in Spanish. To be honest, L.A. is not a place I visit by choice, the traffic in southern California connecting the endless sprawl of bland urbanity is enough to keep me away for life, but Irving had some business to take care of and I had time to be sure I was going to go through with it.
October 30
th, the day before Halloween, we drove down to San Diego, and my cousin Rachel dropped us off at the metro station with all our stuff. I was not traveling lightly, my bicycle, my Farfarer trailer and everything that after the week of deliberation, I decided
might come in handy. Irving as well, had an immense amount of stuff, he carries a larger wooden case to display macramay and wire bending jewelry that he makes and sells. Last stop on the San Diego metro line and then it’s nothing but follow the signs to Mexico. This marks the first time that I crossed an international boarder on foot and I’m am very excited to think that it won’t be the last. No one asked me a single question or to see my passport, no one checked my bags, we went through one of those revolving gates like in the subway in New York and without knowing it, crossed into another world. San Diego fades into Tijuana without a hint of empty space in between, I wonder why I thought it would be different. Furthermore, who knew that there are thousands of people crossing back and forth everyday! The next boarder I cross will be from Mexico to Guatamala and I will arrive from far, far away, by the power of my own two legs.
Once you’re in TJ, keep walking straight and look to the right for the lights of the golden arches,
McDonalds. There is a bus station by there and I probably paid about $100 for a 30 hour bus ride to Guadalahara. My Spanish speaking mentor seems to be the perfect person to help me succeed the transition. Sometimes the road seems too narrow for two busses but the driver keeps on passing. At night, I wake up and we’re on a long straight dirt road, barren and dusty. In the day, giant cactus wiz by, high desert brush and scattered mountains. It’s sunset the next day but it feels like we still have a long way to go. Our stop in Guadalajara is brief, we need to be at this festival tomorrow, Irving drops off his stuff at his mother’s and we take another bus ride overnight to Mexico City and then another and then a taxi and then we’re standing on the side of the road between Tepoztlan and Atmatlan. I’ll find out later about the public transportation vans that take you from pueblo to pueblo but at this moment Irving flags one down and hops into it and tells me to just go straight and in a very short time he’ll meet me at the Iglesia cause
were in a hurry to find someone and I still have all my stuff with me. I’ll understand later that the road I’m on bears right to Atmatlan but at this moment straight is straight and I end up biking up a mountain for over an hour with my incredibly heavy luggage. I reach the town of Ocotitlan and the road ends at a church so maybe I’m in the right place? No I’m not, it’s my first day and I’m lost and alone. I don’t speak Spanish and I don’t know the name of the festival that we are going to and I’m under the false impression that its taking place nearby. “Puedes ayudarme, yo busco un festival de musica eletronica pero no se donde esta o como se llama.” Nobody knew what I was talking about, your average small towner isn’t involved in the electronic music scene and the festival was still a decent car ride away. I started biking back down the hill, my stuff is too heavy and my handle bars shake like mad, Irving shows up in a red pickup with a woman and her children. SAVED! Dropped everything except what I needed to go
to the festival, picked up more people, women in the front, the backseat crammed with kids and three of us in the truck bed, myself, Irving and another traveler from New Mexico, Lucien who’d been down and around here for over a year.
Arriving at the festival grounds, a chopped down corn field at the base of a magnificent mountain of cliff faces, almost tropical rainforest vegetation. We are put to work right away, a lot of set up needs to be done before people start showing up. Tents and tee pees, straw mats and recycling bins. At sun down we gather around a fire, drums and feathers and painted bodies. Animal noises, conch shells, flutes and didgredoos, chanting, dancing, shrieks and shouts. “OMETEOTL OMETEOTL OMETEOTL”
I took lots of yoga classes and did my fair share of dancing but the experience that really rocked my world was called Sensorama. Blindfolded your other senses are stimulated from all directions by the hosts and other participants as you are guided through a group meditation, feeling your way around until the group begins to move as one. What made it so crazy is that no hablo
espanol at this point and were being told to stand back to back, rub our heads together, hug, lay down, move around but I’m clueless as to what going on until I feel around at what other people are doing.
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