Advertisement
Published: October 30th 2005
HOW IS ERETZ ISRAEL BOUGHT? During my first 2 days in Guatemala I rode some 160 kms in Alta Verapaz, and found also the time for walking a little in 2 beautiful national parks. It showed me Guatemala just as I dreamed of - steep hills, covered by very thick green vegetation. The roads were quite, and thus the whole area is really a paradise for cyclists - well, at least for those whose legs are strong enough for negotiating with these fucking mountains. My legs aren´t, and thus this paradise was for me a bit like ERETZ Israel - i.e., Nikneh Beyisurim.
SRAK, SRAK Today I went to a SHUCKI - ZICKRIRIYA (I guess that this how the locals would call a berber). While waiting, I read a local paper (surprisingly, my Spansih is already good enough for that). I read there a bizarre report about a regrettable incident, which happened yesterday in one of Gutemala’s towns: while a truck driver stopped aside the way, a cyclist came from behind, accelerated and shut the truck driver 3 times in his head. Well, not that I am a fucking-Taly-Pachima-murderers’ fan or so, but I must admit, that this item really
Characteristic views - Coban area (2)
See entry \"How is Eretz Israel bought\"amused me. I read it 3 times, to verify that I wasn’t misunderstand due to the Spanish, but this is how it was written. Including the fact that the cyclist ACCELERATED before shutting. Poor cyclist, I hope for him that it wasn’t an uphill.
Monthy Python have a nice sketch, in which a person who was judged to death gets the chance to choose the way of the execution. He chooses to do that by being NIRDAF by a dozen of amazing beautiful women, who run after him, until he falls down from a cliff. Well, if I can choose my way of death - let it be being murdered by a cyclist psycho killer!
WHO MOVED MY STROWBERRYS Raxruja looks like a combination of Ein Camonim and a typical wild west town: sandy wide short main street, with many bars on the both sides, and tough guys wearing Sombreros and having big knives lurking around. But when I entered one of these bars, I found there, rather than tough guys drinking alcohol, just a few ¨moved the strowberrys¨ (ZA-A-TUTIM) drinking juice and watching cartoons at TV.
LO ITUNG - LO KONE Finally I asked one of
Characteristic views - Coban area
See entry "How is Eretz Israel bought" the Muchachos around if there is an internet cafe in this asshole place. Surprisingly he said that yes - I just have to take the left turn in the next block.
Well, probably he was joking with me. When I got to the next block I found myself out of town: this town has got only one block.
Don't touch my Holocaust
While riding Saturday noon, I had a pleasant surprising, while seeing a big sign road, pointing to Antigua. A pleasant surprise, as according to the guidebook Antigua, an interesting archeological site, is accessible only by boats, and I hate such boats, as they are always super-expטnsive and touristic.
Being well-aware to their extreme unreliability, I asked 5 different locals before taking this turn (and any further turn on my way that day). They all said that Aguateca is only 5kms from here. The road didn´t appear in my map, but Aguateca looked quite close to the main road, so it made sense that finally it´s connected by a new road.
Anyway, as things always happen just to me, a few hours later I found myself in the late afternoon all alone in a trail
(single track) within thick jungle, having no idea where I was going to, spider monkeys jumping between the trees above me and other frightening animals´ yells sounds all around. A practical person as I am, I already started thinking about the option I will be stuck here by night - as such a thing have already happened to me 3 times in the past, I´m quite used to it. Also, I started to have some philosophic thoughts, e.g. ¨if Ofanan falls in the forest and nobody hears, did it really happen?¨ I consoled myself by thinking that at least now, if I finally get to these fucking Maya´s pyramid, they would appear for me suddenly from the jungle, just as it should be.
And they did appear. Well, not the pyramids, but the houses of a little Indian village. I entered to one of the houses, asked for some water (and, a responsible-ALEK person as I am, recalled to well-purify them before drinking) and for showing me the way to the park. One of the teenagers there took his horse, and accompanied me some meters to the trail. ¨From here U can go on alone¨, he said, ¨just don´t
take the wrong trails¨- which is a smart advise indeed, especially if you know what´s the right way. I offered him some dollars for going with me till the park´s entrance, but he said he must come back (very busy guy, I guess he rushed to trade in the Jungle´s stock exchange or so). So I went on alone again.
Well, finally the real pyramids did appear. And then came this stupid issue of taking a picture of my bike on the top of the highest pyramid. I was pretty tired for that, but this is my job at life, so I shouldn´t neglect it.
When I got to the park entrance I found there the park´s guard, who told me that the only land way to the park is the trail I had just arrived from, and that the connection to any normal place - hotel, food, town - around is done only by boats, which do arrive only when there are tourists. ¨Generously¨he let me sleep with him in his shelter. He had no spair blanket, but I have got long clothes and a good mosquitos net, so finally I slept there quite well.
Before
sleeping, I surprisingly met there an international group of archeologists, who do their doctorate studies there. Of course I invited myself to eat with them dinner (and breakfast, on the day after. Was very delicious). When the conversation around the table stopped for some reason, they asked for some one who would tell a good joke. As I observed that most of the people around the table were German, I found it a great opportunity to share with them some great holocaust jokes I recently heard. Luckily, I finally decided that maybe that was not such a good idea.
And, if U ask where the fuck I got out of that place… well, a lucky guy as I am, these researchers told me that some of them were going to come back to town by boat on the day after, so I just took a hitch on theirs boat…
Itamar,
Great, Great stories...
1st of all, I envy you for being in such great places.
2nd of all, I envy you for being in such great places with bikes
(between your legs).
3rd of all, I enjoy reading your stories very much and to laugh a lot.
Enjoy the rest of your trip and send us as much stories as you can.
Oren
Hermon For many years I used to estimate hills by CASTELs, a unit which I invented, which is vertical difference of 250m, like that from Motza curve to the Castel.
Here in Guate, I use another units, which better suits the local topography: the Hermon, which is 1500m uphill, like that from Kiryat 8 to Rackevel Tachton. Each full day of riding here means at least one Hermon on the way. For the next few days I consider doing Hermons of a different kind - climbing the Vulcanoes around.
Yalla Hapoel On Saturday I plan going to a soccer match here. At least in one aspect I will feel in the stadium really like at home: surprisingly, the Guatemalans, who really like playing soccer or watching it on TV don´t really go to see it - I read in the papers here that usually there only about 1000 people in the audience. Well, quiet similar to what I am used to from my beloved Hapoel Jerusalem.
The Children
To some I give
CHAF on the way, while riding. With other I talk a little, before going on my way. Some hold my bike, so that I have to carry them with me. Some try to run faster than my ride pace (quite an easy task in the uphills). All of them shout ¨Cyclisto¨ or ¨Gringo¨ while seeing me. Children. Giving me some of the strongest memories, those which no picture can show and no words can express.
Subject: Bond. Ofanan Bond
TURKEYSH HORSEMAN Fortunately, the spies who investigated the holy land before our ancestors (and not the fucking Palestinians! - BTW) entered it by foot. Had they used bikes, theirs report would have been even less accurate than what is told in the bible.
My 1st bike-spy mission took place near Kfar Zekharia, where a very secret IDF camp, which holds nuclear-headed Jericho missiles, is said to be found. I decided to look 4 it. Cycling around, I found nothing, but - there was always an helicopter wandering above my head all the way, so I guess I was pretty close.
The 2nd mission took place when Luchi (also known as ALUF ROMANIA BE-BICHIKLETA) and I decided
Yalla Hapoel
Vivero Jerusalem to check the eranut of the Syrian soldiers on the border, near Kuneytra. We didn´t get to see any Syrian soldier, but we indeed made a Parash Turkey jumpingingnationing (Hakpatza) for the whole - how the fuck U say Gizra in English? Later, we were lucky to have a Nun-nun honorly accompanying us all the way, till we got far enough from the border, so that he assured we won´t get again too close to the border. (Guy, U never believe my stories, so now I have a witness - mail Luchi n ask him. On a 2nd thought, he´s not much more reliable than me).
Today I did my 3rd bike-spy mission. I looked for the beginning of the trail to the panoramic point over an active vulcano - a trail I plan to hike next week. At the beginning, I was sure that I got to the right place - I saw a high mountain, having plenty of smoke on its summit. Unfortunately, it turned out that, as usual, it´s easier for me to climb mountains by bike, than to open the map and think a little: only when I got pretty close to the place, it
El Palmar Viejo
See entry "Narrow-Narrows" turned out to be just a few locals burning garbage.
Well, that was enough bulshit stories for 1 day,
Ofanan U r Gadol.
Luchi
20$ 20$. This is the price of renting a bike for a month here. Fast calculation shows, that it´s much cheaper for me to rent new bike each month, than to pay all the blay of my bike. So finally I am pretty close to achieving an old dream of mine: having a leased bike, with a mechanic, which takes care of all the many needed repairs. But the real dream is that, just like in car leasing, I will be given also free fuel - i.e., someone will pay the huge quantities of cearels and dry fruit, which I eat while riding.
NARROW - NARROWS In the 1990s, Huricane Mitch destroyed all the houses of the little village El Palmar. Horrible disaster for the locals (the survivers built new village next by, BTW), but a great party for photographing fans, as the ruins, and especially the church, which was sliced into 2 parts, look just great.
When getting there, a few kms before the village itself, I
Cafeteria Adonai
My favorite retaurant on Yom Kipur started to hear very strong alarm. I thought to myself, that maybe this alarm was activated when the Huricane fucked off the village, and nobody recalled to turn it off. I was wrong. It was just plenty of ONOMATOPE’A - NARROW - NARROWS (Tzartzarim).
From the destroyed village, a great jungle single-track leads to another village. The other village wasn´t destroyed, thanks god, and thus I managed to eat there my favorite lunch: 2 bananas, 2 coconut (first open and drink the juice from inside, and then eat them), and 1 whole big Papaya.
Travel date: Mar-2005 Old Kato
Advertisement
Tot: 0.193s; Tpl: 0.014s; cc: 15; qc: 74; dbt: 0.0745s; 1; m:domysql w:travelblog (10.17.0.13); sld: 1;
; mem: 1.3mb
Yosi
non-member comment
U R the best Itamar.