Greetings fellow steppenwolves!

I apologize for the false start a few months ago, I guess I was not quite ready to face the world at that point. But now, 6 months after her passing, and with the house up for sale, I am left only with time to write as I await the sale and my return to the steed (waiting patiently in Venezuela).

The last few months have seen much, but a highlight I will share is that two bikers, Jayne and Phil, whom I met while riding in Mexico, and who have become good friends, completed their own tour of the Americas, returned to Alberta, and then drove all the way to Minneapolis to help me with fixing up the house. What a community we have!
They too are on Horizons and I hope you will check out their thread.

I will begin posting again tomorrow, I hope you will rejoin me on my journey, and that you have had some of your own!

Kindly,

Alexander

Puebla, Mexico

Mexico City would not let me go without a fight: yesterday I was punished by the Mexican food gods. After joking that Mexicans put lime and chile on everything, I proceeded to squirt lime in my eye… later that night I blew up some powdered chile into the same eye. My eye became a Mexican dish – a burning, burning Mexican dish.

On my way south toward Puebla the mighty Google Maps left me in the soup. All I wanted to do was see Popocatepetl, which I did, from gorgeous angles, but afterwards Google simply could not find its way towards any major road, let alone a highway. It skirted me along the mountain range, on horrible mountain roads, for hours! Every time it wanted me to take a turn, there was either no road, or a road which put me in the wrong direction and google told me to make a U-turn right away. Even when I got out of the mountains, as the sun was setting, and was in a fairly big pueblo, it still kept putting me on the wrong road to Puebla. In the end I ended up driving, again, for about 40 minutes this time, in the dark. I did not like it the first time in Michoacán, and I certainly did not like it now. The bad roads and speed bumps, the oncoming lights, the animals… just a horrible experience – every moment of it.

Because the shop I went to in Mexico City, to install my new shocks and tires, left a number of small, but significant, details unattended, which put my riding in jeopardy, my first stop in Puebla was at another shop. I met a wonderful mechanic, Carlos, the recommendation of Alex Chacon. From the very first words out of his mouth I could tell he was a real mechanic and a decent human being (a sadly rare combination). Carlos fixed it all up quickly and we spent the rest of the day just talking. And then when it was time for me to go he did not charge me a peso. Yet another instance of kindness which takes me from the depths of doubt and into the strata of gratitude.



I spent the next few days discovering Puebla and some surrounding villages with Ivan and Boris. No, they were not Russian, rather the sons of old time commies who longed for the days of Frida Kahlo and Trotsky hiding out in Mexico. We played chess, appropriately, ate fried grasshoppers, drank sour traditional libations, and walked for endless hours. Puebla, or at least the center, is very lovely – if you like colonial architecture. The fact that the native residents sided with Cortez against the Mexica, not only saved them from murder and destruction, it also put them in the good graces of the Catholics who built more than 70 churches here.

]

The iron work, the ceramic tiles of the building facades, the intricate plaster work… all very colonial and pretty, but all scream of the Catholic rape of the Americas. I really can’t stand it. They replaced ancient wisdom and a relationship with the earth which is the foundation of balance and harmony, with a dogma of fear, and a healthy dose of persecution, extortion and abuse. I see the people in the churches kneeling and crossing themselves – because it is ingrained in them, because they do not know another way, because the education is shit and will not release them from the bounds of the papacy. But how can they still be so blind, after all these years, how can they not see the egregious fallacies and abuses of the church? How can they give to a church which clothes its priests in silk and puts rich foods on their tables, while the people wear threads and eat the simplest foods? How can they, after the fear of death had been lifted, and knowing how the Catholics destroyed their culture and civilization, continue to “believe” and abide?
A note on the churches themselves: I don’t care how catholic this country is, there is no comparing the cathedrals of Italy, France or Russia to these. Some here even have curlicues and rosettes painted on the ceiling for lack of actual stone or plaster work! It is despicable! Yet another way to rob the people of their donations.

Though my hosts were further examples on how wonderful Mexicans are, Veracruz and the promise of Carnaval would not let me linger. I packed poor Georgia until the new shocks groaned under the weight of camping gear, enough spare parts (including tires) to build a new motorcycle, and my fat taco stuffed ass, and headed for the mountains of Veracruz.

Orizaba, Mexico

I know most of my stories are not about actual riding, but that is because I stay for so long in a given place, and therefore have a lot to tell you about the people, the culture, and the fascinating things I encounter while uncharacteristically stationary. But, after the Carnaval story there will be lots of riding again!

Heartbreak in Orizaba

The night I arrived in Orizaba, my host Miguel, his girlfriend’s family, and I, went out to eat. Afterwards the women went shopping and Miguel and I went for a walk. I saw a mass for the first time since arriving in Mexico 4 months ago. We observed the observant and spoke of architecture, the arts, and the beauty of the surrounding valley.
As we were walking back to meet the ladies, we saw a girl on the street making toy grasshoppers and lizards from long green leaves. The little animals were very nicely and skillfully made. The girl, who looked to be about 10 years old, was sitting in a corner of a shuttered store front, cutting the leaves to make the next toy. I could not tear my eyes away.
She worked with precision and confidence, and if someone from the gathering crowd asked a question she would answer with the surety of a proprietor of a handicraft store. I realized almost immediately that she was an exploited child. Most kids in the street work with their parents, she was alone. Whether sold into slavery by her parents, or kidnapped from them, or taken from a group home, or drugged on the street – I don’t know. But it was all I could do to hold back the tears. Unlike drugged children carried around by their “mothers” to solicit help as if they were sick, this girl was… like Oliver Twist, except creating as opposed to stealing. I wanted to grab her and run; ask one of my rich friends in Mexico City to take her in, give her a home, schooling, a future… happiness. I wanted to do it and be confronted by the man who was exploiting her so I could run my Gurkha across his throat.
The sad reality, however, is that it is harder to help these children than to prosecute the exploiters. The mob pays off the police so they do not bother their “pimps”. And that’s it – that is where it ends. But if I wanted to help her, there is an almost impossible process of adoption. And if she is discovered in the care of a citizen trying to help, before the papers are done, she is taken away and placed into unknown circumstances, and the person trying to help is heavily fined and possibly arrested.
I have never felt so impotent and angry. There was in fact nothing, especially because I don’t live here, that I could do. Damn it! Poverty is one thing. A person in poverty can still have friends and family – the most important things in life, but slavery is something else entirely. What were her days like? What kind of food could she eat? Did she have books, some sort of education, friends to play with, at least some knowledge of her parents…? Was she destined to become yet another child prostitute in Veracruz? Was the unthinkable already being done to her tiny, malnourished body?
The image of her burned into my mind. The next day, though I was set to climb Pico de Orizaba, I walked around town looking for her. I didn’t know what I would do, but I desperately wanted to find her. Of course I could not, who knows where she was stashed during the daylight hours. I left to climb the peak overwhelmingly despondent for my inaction and impotence. And even the crisp and rejuvenating air of the mountains failed to rid me of thoughts of this girl - thoughts I still carry to this day.

Endless Fiesta
Veracruz – Tlacotalpan, Veracruz, Mexico

What a first night! 6 hours of music, dancing, and falling in love.
At first, my host Ezri, Manu and I walked around the center of Veracruz, then focused in on a courtyard with a stage in the middle. It felt like Cuba, or how I like to think Cuba will feel. The salsa was very Cuban inspired – high energy and very Caribbean. After wearing ourselves out dancing, we ended up at a rock bar. When we were passing by, at first, I thought it was a CD playing, but it turned out they were actually THAT good! Metallica, Led Zeppelin, AC/DC, Doors, System of a Down… some Mexican rock bands – it was all incredible. We stayed there for 4 hours easily. I haven’t head banged so hard in a very long time.
I found 3 ballerinas at the bar. One of them reminded me a lot of a girl I knew 14 years ago, whose name I cannot remember - tiny, beautiful, delicious. All three were cute, very cool and very fun. There was none of that bullshit normally associated with good looking girls, particularly ballerinas. We laughed and talked, though it was hard considering how loud it was and how crappy my Spanish still was at that point. That smile, that tiny, perfectly shaped body, the hair, the eyes… I was smitten. I just need to be sure to keep myself calm. I don’t live here, I have a lot of traveling to do even around Veracruz, she is busy with dance and work... but how I want to see her again, to kiss her... Diana.

Ezri and Manu (two incredibly cool people) finally dragged me home toward sunrise. We spent the rest of the night sharing stories. Manu, who is a musician and a clown who travels around Mexico when not in school and earns his keep by performing on the streets, had plenty to tell. Ezri, a chemical engineer, engulfed us in such a glow of warmth and acceptance, it felt like we had been friends for years.

A few days later I went up to the northern part of Veracruz, around Xalapa, to discover the first of 3 major coffee growing regions of Mexico. In Coatepec I finally found a place in Mexico with some semblance of coffee culture, though still almost entirely lacking in taste. They grow fine beans, and even roast them well, but fail to make a decent cup. Like the incredible art I mentioned before, marred by a lack of curation (museology), the coffee here is only limited at the point of presentation. There is an exception, El Café de Avelino, in Coatepec; so far he is the only exception, but even he falls somewhat short of what I make at home. But it is undeniable that he loves coffee – he crushes the shells with his hands and smells deeply of the beans. He roasts in small batches to taste and examines the coffee to understand its flavor and character before he makes larger batches to sell. He is a true lover and poet of coffee.



I’m sleeping in a bed, a real bed! Even though it is only for a couple of nights, I am relishing every moment! It has been a very long time since I have felt a mattress beneath my increasingly sore back.

On my way to Tlacotalpan from Xalapa I was confronted with a scene I am still struggling to understand: paramedics collecting money, like beggars, from cars on the road because they lack the funding to fix ambulances and buy supplies. Oh Mexico! Is there no limit to your corruption?

Tlacotalpan is the home of the Fiesta de la Virgen de la Candelaria in Mexico – one of many excuses for people to get together, drink prodigious amounts of alcohol, and play incredible music. . Because we are in Veracruz, the predominant form of music is Son Jarocho. With fandango dancing, and dozens of guitarists playing simultaneously in the street, in bars, and on stages around the little town, there is a constant rhythm permeating the air. The music has a very particular dance associated with it. It is not like a salsa or any other ballroom dance, rather it is folky, with hard shoes and a box to give the stomping sound greater volume and allow it to become a part of the music. In fact, there is no Son Jarocho without the dance.

Ezri, along with Ida (yet another guest staying with her), met me at the festival. As per Ezri’s modus operandi, Ida turned out to be a wonderful person with whom we got along as if coming to this festival was a tradition of ours.



After 2 days of endless music and dancing, a bonus of hearing Ricardo Delgadillo live, and having all of my things and person drenched by the unceasing rain, I decided to head back to Verazcruz in preparation for Carnaval.


I have now been in Mexico for 4 months – more than half of those days involved music of one kind or another. I have been to more concerts in the last 4 months than in the 3 prior years. It feels so wonderful to have so much music in my life.

Carnaval









In the days preceding Carnaval, instead of resting in preparation for the insanity, I spent the daylight hours wandering in markets and the nights dancing salsa. And then all of a sudden it was upon us. The streets instantly swelled with people, and the smell of and sweat permeated the air. What I thought was a lively and colorful city before, managed to become even more so. People from all over Mexico, and the world, began pouring in. Music blasted from every corner, costumes began appearing, and church bells rang ceremoniously all through the day and night. The very first paseo (procession) felt like it would suffice to celebrate the beginning of Lent, but it was only a taste of the wilds to come. The costumes! The pulsating rhythms of hundreds of drums, the brass crashing of horns… feathers and beads and paint and glittering sweat. Many of us could not be contained in the stands and we made our way down, over the railing and into the moving midst of frenzy. We played and danced and sang, we made love with our eyes, and demonstrated our prowess with our hips. I can’t count the amount of beautiful women with whom I danced, and with whom I could have easily continued the night – their hunger and lust unmasked in this masquerade. Their luscious, jet black hair, full, moist lips, curves that artists dream of painting, and shiny caramel skin… and then as suddenly as it began, I found myself with my two friends squeezed onto the back of my steed, riding home in the cool of the morning.





At the end it was the company of Ida and Ezri that I preferred. Though we had known each other for about a week, it felt as though we had long since been friends. We laughed, and cooked, and danced, and always had the most wonderful time together. So much so, that when I was getting ready to leave the heat of Veracruz for the cool of the mountains in Oaxaca, I surprised myself by asking Ida to join me. I had been alone for so long, and I was finally used to it – I finally understood myself and what it was like to be alone, but there was something that drew me to her Latin soul encapsulated in the antithesis of a Latina body – white skin like marble, hair the color of a sunflower, and the eyes of a Finnish, cloudless summer sky. I could not take her (yet) on Georgia as she was fully packed, but we agreed to meet in the first city in Oaxaca – her going by bus, and I on my trusty KLR.

What followed was a month of pleasant comradery with her and two other bikers that joined us, debilitating infections, idyllic virgin beaches, breathtaking landscapes and endless days of off-roading.

Greetings friends!
As I sit writing about the amazing riding of Oaxaca, Mexico, I want to take a moment to give a shoutout to some new sponsors who have seen it fit to help me along my crazy journey.
For a complete list, please visit my sponsors page: http://www.alexandertolchinsky.com/main/?page_id=136

The new members save my ass are:
Heat Demon - who saw it fit that my hands don't freeze when I cross the Andes a few times in the coming months and gave me their adventure hand warmer kit



Trail Tech - who took pity on the fact that I have had 4 instrument panels now, all of which broke (I haven't known how fast I'm going, my revs, or the clicks now for a few countries!), and gave me a super electronic instrument panel. They also recognized that a KLR doesn't have a headlight that actually illuminates anything, so they also gave me a lighting kit!! Wow guys!



Reevu - A new, innovative helmet brand which has a unique mirror system which allows you to see what's behind you without having to turn your head. It takes time to get used to it, but wow!




I hope you guys take a moment to check out these wonderful companies! Between all the shops who have stood up to help me (unlisted, and there are many) and the all the companies I have listed on my sponsorship page, I have been able to save the little money I have to continue this journey of finding the common bonds we share between all cultures and people of our world.

A special thank you to my first monetary sponsor whose generous contribution to the writing effort has given me almost enough to finish South America (still a few thousand short) - Ralph of Red Hook Lobster Pound
Not only do they make the best lobster roll in New York and D.C, Ralph also builds custom choppers in his spare time, as well as (before the hurricane) gorgeous wood tables.

I am become Joy – at once alight in silver, emerald, and blue,
on the gold and black artery through which I surf the evergreen swells.
The hills, like giant waves that dip and rise,
look ready to crash upon us,
their cliff-like breaks forebode ominously with shadows of impending drowning in the vastness of green.

Just wanted to take a moment and welcome the latest member to my sponsorship team - Yuasa Batteries!


I told them about all the stuff I'm trying to add to the bike (electronic intrument panel, heated grips, 2 more lights, bike alarm - all sponsored!!) and they had a battery at my house 4 days later!

For the complete list of my official sponsors please check out my sponsor page:
[url=http://www.alexandertolchinsky.com/main/?page_id=136]Sponsors