Advertisement
Published: April 10th 2017
Edit Blog Post
I've had two car problems so far in Malpasito, and I can't be more grateful that they happened here and not at some random spot on the road. The nearest mechanic is ten miles away in Heradura, but I'm getting familiar with the people, and I don't have anywhere I have to be. So if it doesn't get fixed today, there's always manana. We got a flat tire on the way back from the most recent trip to Huimanguillo. It took us two very careful trips to Heradura riding on the donut. Plugging the hole didn't work, so another guy patched the same spot and problem solved... until I blast into another invisible pothole. These Mexican roads can be unforgiving. The car overheated a week ago in the middle of the night, and two drunk guys tried in vain to pull it back to the hostel with their pickup. I thought they were going to drop her in the river at one point. It's the thought that counts though. My friend next door offered to help me talk to a mechanic, and I'm grateful for his generosity. And in a town where driving at 15 MPH feels fast, there's no urgency.
There's no urgency for anything here really... manana...
Terje left two weeks ago. Since then I've had a few guests stay, most notably a couple from Spain/France who stayed for two nights. There's something in the atmosphere here that puts everyone at ease. Again, fun swimming in the jungle, sharing travel stories, playing chess and guitar, and lots of laughter. With them I share my new favorite memory: driving around a nearby village to find weed with no previous contacts.. just driving around randomly asking (my friend from Spain was very ambitious). After a few stops, a lady abruptly jumped in the car and brought her four toddlers/babies with us. To get weed. That's eight humans in Old Mae. A personal record.
Other than that, it has mostly been just me here at the hostel. It's a different life. Sometimes I hallucinate that I'm hearing a vibrating sound and look around for my phone, only to remember that I haven't had service for weeks. Sometimes I have vivid fantasies of eating a piping hot Papa Johns buffalo chicken pizza with extra peppperoncini peppers. Being the only English-speaking person for miles helps force me to improve my Spanish. Some
days I feel like I'm doing very well, and some days I feel like I should know more by now. I'm like a baby, learning basic words for numbers, times, days, etc for the first time. A 6' tall skinny-ass white baby. For me, understanding other people has been much more challenging than saying something that people will understand. The accent in south Mexico is different, as are some of the slang words. Last night, I was unofficially initiated into the group of young guys in the village who like to drink, smoke and talk about chicks. A couple guys have been helping me with my Spanish, including vulgar slang of course. A group of us hung out by the basketball court smoking and drinking the night away. Eventually as I became 'la caca del perro,' my Broca's Area (thanks Archer) stopped working and I had to retire because I couldn't think of any more Spanish words. La mota no mejora mi Espanol... Basically my life is exacly like Kenny Powers' life in the second season of Eastbound and Down (minus all the stupid fucking baseball).
Mexican police have been nothing but helpful to me in the long ride
through their country. Most of them are armed with machine guns. Awesome. They're your friendly neighborhood civil servant to offer any help they can give. AND they can blast you in the face and turn you into a stew if they need to. There was some social reform involving the law enforcement and, according to a few Mexicans I've talked to, things now are very different to how they were 5-6 years ago. The drug cartels don't have nearly as much power or influence as they once did. Most of us know the rumors about crooked Mexican cops looking to get some quick cash, sometimes including physical violence. I've heard a few third- or fourth-hand accounts, but I've only had the police offer to help with utmost sincerity. Six times I've interacted with the police, and I've only received courtesy. I've been shown detailed driving directions when I was very lost in Monterrey in the middle of the night. After sleeping in my car beside the road by a random farm in Michoacan, the police drove by, then slowed down and reversed. I thought I was in trouble. He leaned out and said, "Do you need any help?" in plain English. While I was desperately looking for a place to sleep, again in the middle of the night, a cop in Mexico City directed me to find internet and offered to watch my car for me while I was away. In Huimanguillo, a cop pulled up behind me on a dark road as I was slightly lost, sitting in my car, looking at a screenshot of a map of where to go (just kidding, I was looking at porn. not really... or was I? hmmm, we'll never know). Thought I was in the hot seat again. He called my friend on his phone to verify the address, and personally escorted me to his house. So I got to follow a Policia Federale truck for a couple miles, while two of the dudes stood in the bed with machine guns (they were very kind, but anyone looming over the road in the back of a reinforced vehicle wearing combat gear looks menacing). I felt like royalty. If anyone tried to fuck with me for that two miles, they'd immediately get a face full of bullets. That's how the hypothetical played out in my mind. I'm instinctively afraid of authority figures, maybe because I do so many sinful things. As a person who's out-of-place or looking lost, the police here approach me with the intent to assist. I'm used to police approaching with the intent to interrogate and intimidate. Also I hope I'm not jinxing myself with this praise of the police. I don't want a ransom note and my severed pinky to show up in my family's mailbox just because I rattled the karma cage. But seriously, that topic deserves a full paragraph because of the profound difference it's made in my experience.
I put myself into this situation to disarm myself of previous dependencies, to disconnect from my previous world and enter a new one. I wanted to shed some of the perceived needs of comfort and luxury that most people I know consider part of life. I wanted a new paradigm for daily life and I found it here. Driving (when the car works) is less stressful nowadays as I've gotten used to the roads and the lay of the land. I know some people well enough to address them personally. The kids who hang out by the highway next to the rest stop washing windows are hilariously gregarious. They usually ask me to buy them beer, despite clearly being 10-12 years old.
I've now eaten armadillo and iguana. Lots of bone/shell pieces in the armadillo but the flavor was nice. Iguana reminded me of pulled pork but more muscular and chewy. Awesome texture. I've been learning to weave palm fronds into decorations and baskets. I'm being taught by a mystical shaman who lives in the mountains. Her name is Google. Also there's a spider monkey. YEA A FUCKING MONKEY! He's the neighbors' pet. I saw him in his cage one single time in the first five weeks of living here, then suddenly he's free and rolling around on the hostel roof and prancing around the porch. His antics woke me up from a hot siesta one afternoon. He's very misheivous by nature, tearing up plants and knocking over everything. I've learned to monkey-proof the hostel pretty quickly when he appears. He's wildly entertaining. He hates eye contact, but despite this quality, we're still best friends in my eyes.
Advertisement
Tot: 0.23s; Tpl: 0.015s; cc: 7; qc: 52; dbt: 0.104s; 1; m:domysql w:travelblog (10.17.0.13); sld: 2;
; mem: 1.1mb
Jon Heister
non-member comment
Incredible
So glad that you allowed yourself this opportunity. Take advantage of the lesson of self reliance. You presented yourself as someone who lives life to experience it, not just pass thru. Keep up the blog when you can, I really enjoy the trip.