Right Nyeer Da Beech

Plans have changed. None of us are coming home. Just kidding, that plan lives. But the remaining itinerary that we slaved over for nights on end in La Paz is with Roscoe now (rest in paradise). We stayed another night in Ajijic with Belva and Enrique after the last post. They showed us their art gallery and took us out for dinner. It was another restless night though and we were relieved to be heading toward any other place to sleep, despite the warm hospitality. The road to quality sleep is always under construction, as the ancients said. In Mexico there are toll road and free roads. The toll roads are empty and big and fast but they're expensive. The free roads are much more interesting, varied, and scenic, but slower. Google maps is mostly reliable for either option but is not necessarily up-to-date on construction. Our freeway entrance turned out to be a mound of dirt. We saw a bicyclist ride between the barricades and lift his bike up before squeezing between a building and a barrier and figured we might as well check it out. Joe shook his head "no" twice while leading the exploration before shrugging once, clearly signifying "yes." The bikes with luggage were the exact width of the opening, which led across a ridge of loose dirt a few feet wide. Sounded wide enough, barely. A loose foothold or stubborn sand would have sent us into a ditch on either side with no way out. Our greatest offload accomplishment yet. Kali's bike did bite the dust right on the other side of the ridge though, and gave us an hour or so of mechanical concerns shortly after. Bad ass.

We are in Cuyutlan right now, a small beach town, population in the hundreds, a ways outside the major port town of Manzanillo on Mexico's southern Pacific coast. Coming here was part of the plan, as was staying the three nights we have stayed so far. Coming here on the same day as 8 gracious Mexicans and having them spoil us rotten, on the other hand, was not.

FAMILIA NUEVA

I can't imagine we ever would have heard of Cuyutlan if it weren't for the house we were offered here by Joe's and Kali's landlord. It belongs to his brother and was bought semi-recently as a retirement property. It's on the beach. Like, right on the beach. In a town with only hundreds of people. On the southern Pacific coast of Mexico. It's also, as luck would have it, totally run down. But frankly, who cares? The property is spacious, sandy, and full of palms. The white concrete Lego piece of a house is the only structure on it aside from an alter, and it's one of the smallest structures on one of three roads through town. When we first arrived we had to find Silvestre Blanco, a man whose teeth are as blanco as they are existent (not very), to get the keys. We were greeted by his similarly gummy wife and had to wait only a few minutes for Mr. White to return from town. He had not been told we'd be showing up for the keys. Joe told him we had his name and phone number and nothing more. We couldn't tell him anything about the homeowners since nobody has ever actually met them, but this is Mexico and we are white so we probably weren't lying. He let us in and warned us that the homeowner's sister MIGHT be showing up the same day. Oh... Ok... Well, hopefully not, but whatever. We brought tents.

We unloaded the bikes and scooted out for the best roasted chickens yet, washed down with water straight from the coconut and beer straight from the bottle. When we got back to the house, it was swarming with Mexicans. I can't imagine what would happen if a bunch of Americans went to a family beach house and a group of four young dirty Mexicans showed up trying to explain that a friend of a friend said they could stay there at some point, but I'm pretty sure it wouldn't end the way it did for us. Claudia, the sister-in-law of J&K's connection-once-removed, called us part of their family before we were through the gate and a little while later Joe finally "met" the homeowner over the phone, who ensured us we could stay as long as we want. I always thought hosting was exhausting. Now I think being hosted is exhausting.

DISFRUTENSE!

Enjoy yourselves! Ugh. Fine. The first night the whiteys went to the Carnaval party in town. It is technically a religious festival but practically just a street party. Lots of young people, lots of stares, lots of Tim. Wen we got back to the house the parents were still awake so we ate and drank and got to know each other. Claudia and Pepe are one couple. They have two adorable daughters - Laura, 3, and Monse, 9 months. Pepe makes beer for a living. He also feeds small quantities of beer to toddlers. The other couple was Sergio, a hardware store owner, and Angelica, a school worker. They had two lively sons of 10 and 5 - little Sergio and Max. They forced me to dance salsa, and Tim forced himself to dance hip-hop(?) to salsa music. We all calculated that big Sergio had at least 40 beers over the long weekend, usually starting with breakfast. I can't say we were exactly dry either but I don't think we combined to match him the second day. We all went down the street to the turtle sanctuary on Sunday before heading into Manzanillo for a boat ride and some seafood. The boat ride was fine but not that engaging. The driver was obviously high and couldn't remember the name of the only town we passed. He also took us to the same two spots a couple times each, but hey, it was a boat. We also have his "business card," which is just pen written on kelly green paper. No surprise there.

The four parents acted like our parents, trying to pay for everything, hold our things while we swam, and telling us incessantly to DISFRUTENSE! every time we protested. We paid for the seafood spread behind their backs and it genuinely offended them. We were dead when we got home but we had agreed to play poker so we stayed up. I hate poker. Luckily Joe likes it and he won, recouping a solid 20% of the feast we mistakenly sponsored. The next morning we'd had enough. They asked what was wrong with me and Tim and Joe said we were hungover, which was nicer than the truth. They were amazing people but we needed them to disappear. The peace and quiet the last 20 hours has been positively succulent. 

EL REGRESO

Our trip is now halfway over. Cuyutlan is nowhere near the turning around point we had imagined, but it feels right. Early on we agreed on the value of getting to know places rather than breezing through, constantly unloading and reloading the bikes. Some important parts of our itinerary had to change though. We will skip San Miguel de Allende now, my home for 3 months nearly five years ago now. I'm sad to miss it yet again and hate to flake on my friends there after hyping up the hopeful reunion for the past few months. But better safe than sorry, and we've had one too many warnings to stay out of Michoacan right now. We will see the Puerto Vallarta area now, which we elected to bypass with the previous route plan, then right on up the coast to the border. The magic will continue through the US with stops in Joshua Tree and Yosemite and some ATV rentals in the Oregon sand dunes. But before all that, two more weeks of Mexico. Let's keep this going.

Love, 

The Dirty Riders

BERG'S EYE VIEW

-Joe's DDC is now up to six.

-I got sunburned again, but we have aloe vera plants here at the house, so fuck it.

-On a similar note, water straight from the coconut tastes great. Aloe goo straight from the plant tastes like bug spray

-Children are cute, but also sometimes GETTHEHELLAWAYFROMME

-It's cool to ride without a helmet here. It's even cooler to ride with your helmet hanging from your handlebars.

-When speed bumps don't work, use cobblestones. When you want to support the auto shop on every block, use cobblestones with speed bumps.

-My bouncy ball is bouncier than Tim's bouncy ball.

-Iguanas, finally.

-Snacks here come in three flavors: salt, sugar, and nothing.

-Turns out Crocs really are a superior sandal.