Jan 20

Written by: reh
1/20/2004

January 20, 2004, 6:30, AM Tuesday

I left Oaxaca. Rode south staying in the high basin that is Oaxaca then traversed 100 miles of curves with the added third dimension of steep ups and downs. All well maintained two lane roads. I did not ride aggressively; my mind was with Elise in Oaxaca. Lost altitude rapidly until I was traveling along a coastal plane. The rather flat, almost deltaic lowlands run from around Magdelena in Tequisistlan province to Arriag, which is a coastal town in Chiapas Province. The road turned east and gradually climbed into nondescript foothills, neither coastal nor the Sierra De Soconusco Mountains.

The day before leaving the Doctor had left a message that I should stay at the Kamico Hotel in Tapachula. After arriving there, I should ask for John. He will ride with me for a while.

Tapachula is a very old, primarily Indian city. It is close to a porous border that runs from a narrow ocean coastal plane to rugged volcanic mountains over 13,000 feet high. Opportunists, bandits, and idealists from both countries take advantage of the border. Recent Chiapas Indian insurrections are centered in this province. The ambiance of a shoddy town with nondescript two and three story buildings with neither a mountain view nor a valley view belies its importance to contemporary Mexican history. In spite of its strategic location (or, possibly, because of it) everyone was very cordial, and helpful, if not too talkative. Poverty is more evident as I progress south.

It should be mentioned that smuggling along the border is not what we Americans conjure up. For example, I noticed an old stake-body truck loaded with melons, laboring off a bad dirt road onto the road I was traveling. It seems that melons from El Salvador are sought after in Mexico City for their taste and texture). If they can come across two borders without all the necessary fees, inspections, paperwork, the owner profits. Melon smuggling - not too glamorous.

I will not try another disastrous attempt at describing the beauty of the courtyard gardens located in the rather upscale Kamico Hotel (motel to us). I met John. We had a beer. He rides a rather weather-beaten, 1980’s black duel sport BMW with two utility type square aluminum saddle bags. We exchanged niceties, finished our beer, and turned in for the evening. All I know about John is that he is “from the States”, he has been in Central American “for a long time”, and he lives off of “a pension”. I didn’t ask his last name because he didn’t offer it, and I’m sure it would have been “Smith or Doe”. The day had been a long 475 miles and the night was hot. I slept okay.

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