Forbidden Mayan Parking

    While it's not unusual for the bike to draw a crowd, these guys weren't so interested in where I was heading or where I was from. Rather, they were most critical of my choice of parking.
     I'd paid my last Peso (I was waiting to receive a pin # for my debit card) for the ticket to enter the Mayan ruins at Palenque and as I was entering asked at the front desk for them to put one important bag (which I couldn't carry, I was already carrying one) someplace safe. This was no problem at the ruins of El Tahin but the State employee here wanted 30 Pesos to put my bag behind the counter. After telling of my Pesoless plight, the lady looked up at me with her hands up, palms to the sky and shook her head.
    Being the persistent sort, I spied an access road to the ruins behind a fence which could be reached on a motorcycle, reloaded and mounted my bike and took to the trails. As I rode through the ruins I mused over thoughts of blasting by the blood thirsty assholes that used to run the joint (before the Spaniards showed them what true viciousness was) while aboard my trusty steed. After finding a good place to park, it didn't take too long for the assholes currently running things to arrive (they were the university variety of asshole). The exchange was one sided and it was very clear that a couple of them wanted to kick my ass. They called ahead to have all the exits blocked and I awaited the police.
    The Municipal police of Palenque are pretty nice guys, one of them rode my bike back to town as I was escorted in air conditioned comfort. Upon arriving at the police station on Palenque square every cop in town arrived to gawk at the crazy gringo and his BMW. Most of the officers were equipped with 350cc Yamaha motorcycles and the motorcyclist camaraderie was most apparent, I was a hit. As I checked out their bikes, which were nice by Mexican standards, one of the officers stated "is shit" and then pointed at my r1150gs his other hand balled in a fist, raised parallel with his eyes, pumping fore and aft, and said "muy bueno".
     After an hour or so hobnobbing with the coppers I was told that I was being charged with entering a forbidden zone and the fine was 200 Pesos (about $17). Someone allowed me to use their blackberry to check my e-mail and fortunately my brother had parleyed my pin #. I was escorted to the ATM, withdrew some cash, paid the fine, and I was off. As I left the police once again gathered around as I departed to see me off (I even got a giggle and a wink out of a particularly cute one). 
     I then rode my bike over to the cafe I'd been patronizing the previous couple of days to check my mail before blowing town. As I dismounted a guy I'd talked to the previous day intercepted me, he knew of the whole ordeal, giving details as he laughed. He concluded in saying, "Ju famous man!" To which I nodded my head, smiled, and thought more infamous than famous, dude, more infamous than famous.

From the Mire to the Pavement: Wall of Voodoo....Economics

     Preparing the video for this post has proven to be a challenge. From sifting through hours of footage to dealing with a poor internet connection, the editing and publishing processes have been a struggle. Though, in the end, I feel it offers a good representation of what my days on the road in Mexico have been like.
 

     Internet will be hard to come by in Central America and therefore my posts will be infrequent. In the research for my trip it was made clear that in C.A. corruption is pervasive, roads are unmarked and boarders, infuriating. As I travel the next 1000 miles or so through Guatemala, Honduras, Nicaragua, Costa Rica and Panama, your thoughts are appreciated. I hope to make it to Colon, Panama in under a week, allowing plenty of time for the search of a boat which will take me around the Darien Gap to the shore of  Colombia. 

   FYI, the bat is a stick and the ball a sock. Enjoy.

The Art of Camping

Contrary to what I'd thought, camping in Mexico is challenging (there are more fences here than any other country I've been to, including Israel), and one must be crafty in locating and using a campsite. In the end though, there is nothing quite like luck when it comes to finding that pot of gold which keeps you dry during a torrential downpour.

An Alternate route IV :There's Nothing Quite Like 4 Wheel drive

    There is a first time for everything, and being towed behind a Jeep that was slipping and sliding through what resembled marsh land was certainly a first for me.
     It may be a while before I post again.In the span of 20 minutes I managed to mangle the jack for my external mic and completely destroy the power cable for my laptop. This video finished loading just as the battery died.
 


      The ruins at Palenque are calling my name.

Farmers Show The Way

Though the rain makes viewing difficult, the interactions are great. What a terrific service I was paid in this wet and obscure part of Mexico.

An alternate route part II : A wet and muddy affair

So here is a continuation of my plight to avoid the federali checkpoint. See if you can spot the melons. 

An alternate route