Inching Along.

Post date: Jun 18, 2010 10:11:01 PM

The next day I felt more at ease than I had since the States. I’ve accepted I’ll be late and perhaps not make my first volunteer site, as hard as that may be to swallow. Too much outside my control, but releasing myself from the attempt to control the uncontrollable, I’ve acquired some peace. Taking it easy through the mountains of Guatemala, I saw lamb shepherds on roadsides talking on cell phones. Ironic. The mountains were cold, over 7000 foot elevation, and drizzly. I could see my breath. I was in the clouds, literally. I snapped a picture from a vantage point in the clouds of the bottom of the clouds over the valley. The roads continued to get worse, and mudslides were coming into the roads. I thought they were all old, but then I saw one happen right before me. I pulled over to snap a pic, then got on my bike to go, only to realize I’d sunk into the mud. Duh. A roadside under a mudslide-prone cliff, and I decide to park? No problem, I thought. I’ll “chock it” with these handy, scrapped pieces of concrete I found across the highway! I was working on that when some guys just pushed me out. Back on the road, yeehaw! But the bike quit. Yup. Not working. Starts, then stops. Starts, then stops. And so on. Check the hoses, the air filter, the gas tank… nothing wrong. No mud clogs. No reason it shouldn’t work. I gave up, waved down the police. They said to tow to Guatemala City would be no less than 1000 quetzales. I said I would not pay that, that I’d wait and wave someone down. They made a few calls, and one guy offered to do it for 1400. I said no. The police stopped many, many trucks before one offered to haul me to G.City. And I couldn’t believe the police didn’t request a handout for their services. I love Guatemala! The three Guatemalan men were very friendly and very quiet. The ride took four hours to go 70 miles through the mountains and traffic. Plus, we got lost in G. City, and they called who knows who for help. But, we made it to the hostel I’d located the night before. And they accepted only half what I’d told the police I’d pay (they accepted only 400 Quetzales… about 50 dollars). I was so touched. I paid the hostel guy over double the price for a room because all the shared rooms were full. Oh well. I had no choice. That or the streets. Not gonna happen in Guatemala City. Any U.S. city? Sure. Well, maybe not Detroit or Harlem. I’d sleep in Balboa Park, San Diego. I said goodbye to Jose, Gustavo, and Tulio, my towmen, and Jose gave me his number in case I needed anything else. His English is choppy at best. With money I “saved” I got a taco meal for about $1.25 and, of course, my room, in this (yet again), not-so-great hostel. But hey, I’m in Guatemala City! Progress! Next step? Mechanic.

Kawasaki’s mechanic was up the road 1 mile (I’d chosen the hostel based on proximity to the mechanic, since I’d likely have to check on the bike over the course of several days.) This morning, I started a-pushin’. Halfway there, a guy stopped to see what was wrong. I showed him how it wouldn’t start, and then it started! So, I rode to the shop, showed the guys my Google Translator translated long, long list of problems and explanations (I am a thorough individual). Turns out the mechanic speaks English quite well. He says it’s the balancer causing the vibration, the not-starting problem is an easy fix, he can fix the turn signals, and he can see what’s wrong with the carburetor, in addition to changing the tires, changing the oil, cleaning the spark plug, replacing some missing bolts. And changing the front pads. I have a new front tire that Garry in Mexico City gave me (woohoo!), front pads I’d purchased before the trip because I’m smart like that, and I saved money by going to another shop to buy the rear tire, which is a size smaller than my present one. Not sure about that, but choices are limited. Plus, I bought some new gloves since la policia in Actopan were so fond of them.

I’m presently looking for a couch via Couchsurfer.org so that I can save time while await the repairs. Two guys have offered to meet me, but not let me drool on their couch pillows, so I’ll contact them. Need something to do this weekend. Guatemala City. That’s further south than Mexico. That means good.