Blog

Two options today, stay on the trans american and get to Panama City, or not.
Or not won and not by a short margin, it won by an obama.

The peinsula de azuro was just what we were looking for, and there it was, turn right after 3 miles.

Brilliant, astoundingly brilliant. The geography of the hillsides covered in tropical greenery, with distant mountains. Switch back roads following meandering streams that flowed wide under narrow bridges. Sun washed villages, smiling villagers and towns folk sitting around old colonial squares dominated by churches.
Banana plantations, tall feather topped grasses, chalk coloured cattle, spotting the pastures, dropped edge vistas, then sweeps down to the Golfo de Panama and the surfers on pristine beaches, unspoiled by rampant development and just a shack for cold drinks and fresh fish, beans and rice.

The roads had sufficient potholes to make standing up and hitting the gas a good option, but that only added to the adventure, as did overtaking a long queue of traffic by taking to the verge (Javier made me do it) only to emerge behind a truck of armed police, who frankly couldn’t have cared less.

I’ll post pictures later. Now I need a local beer to wash away the dust and to wipe this silly grin from my face.

From New Album 11/10/08 8:08 PM

Costa Rica left behind, along with any opportunity to fully enjoy its richly diverse flora. The coast road becomes the pan american highway, which will form the fall back route for the rest of the trip. I do however intend to divert from it, as often as possible.

Costa Rica’s coast seems to be up for sale and the property agents have secured all the prime spots. This makes it almost impossible to see the sea from the road, the odd glimpse being the best one can hope for.
On the mountain side, there was a carpet of thick cloud, promising the inevitable rain later in the day…the clue is in the name, “Rain Forest” and you don’t have to look to hard.

I’d set off early, so I’m at the border by 9 am.
Rather than dive into the paperwork, I’d pulled over for a coffee. Then a 1200 GSA pulls in. This is the coolest rider I’ve seen. Dark glasses, flip lid up, black t shirt and a back protector. No visible luggage other than the standard tin cases. Very neat.
Javier is from Spain and this is third month on the road, having shipped his bike to Seattle, then headed to Alaska, before turning round

It’s disproportionately expensive here and I’m not sure why that should be.
There are somewhere in the region of 550 colones to the dollar, however this varies. It’s just when I pay $10 I expect a flea infested bed, a tv that won’t work and a fan that sounds like ajet turbine and blows what little paint is left hanging forlornly to the wall off it. I expect towels you can see through like finest gossamer, yet mysteriously have a texture of hedge. For $20 the tv will work with three channels visible, the shower while still only offering cold will have a spray rather than just being a pipe, the bed will have a pillow that doesn’t smell of wee and the curtains will not be nmailed to the window frame.
$30 and I’m expecting air con, two pillows, towels that absorb, a warm shower, a tv with a remote, to find the three channels that work and an electrical socket.
Anything above that is a bonus. Anything cost-wise above $30 and I need a view and wi fi.
I don’t think I’ve found a Costa Rica bargain yet. Last night’s place was good, just not a bargain and tonights cabin is $10 too much. At $30, but I am back on the coast and the touristy bit.
I’d have spent longer looking, but after three deluges during the day, the last coming as I was looking for somewhere to stay, I’d had enough for the day.

The glimpses of spectacular scenery that I caught when the mist lifted, convinces me that there is a very attractive country here, it just didn’t want to share itself with me today, or yesterday, but it should, as I am funding its economy by staying here.

Arrived early at the border. I must admit to being more than a little fractious with a couple of the tranaplodores or something like that. These are the pestering little prats that jump at you the moment, no, actually moments before, you stop.
If another one grabs my arm while I’m holding the bike up, I’ll…well I’ll drop the bike first, then I’ll swing for him.
Today’s tactic was dark visor down, say nothing and just try and darth vader him with the force of my annoyance.

I got out of Nicaragua without any help other than from the appointed officials, who stamp documents and were very helpful, unlike on the way in. Plus there’s signage in English…easy peasy.
Outside I took a tourist survey, that a friendly well spoken lady was undertaking for the tourist board. I reported the police and said if it happened again it was her fault. She apologised. The chief of police is a woman in Nicaragua apparently, not that I draw any conclusions from that, the tourist lady apologised again though.
Costa Rica documentation follows the by now tried and tested formula of three stages, passport, vehicle documents, customs, then just for fun a bit further down the road, just as you have finally packed everything away, another police check point. But at least I was called ahead of all the trucks that were parked up. There was hours of paperwork there. Oh and for $3 they squirt water at your bike, but just a note, they do refuse to wash your bike boots. I asked.

4pm tea time in Costa Rica turned into a failure, despite my renewed determination to complete this task. The reason was my second encounter with rainfall while riding, so far. This time up a mountain, in a mist cloud. I’ve stopped at the nearest hotel and am now in Palmares, Alajuela, in a Boutique hotel
www.hotel-casamarta.com
Costa Rica seems more switched on than other countries, its signs selling in neon English and Spanish and this hotel, I’ve just been informed, has a New Jersey toll free telephone number, but I’m not going to post that, as I’ve only just arrived, so can’t pass comment.
There’s an MG in the car park that looks in good nick.
I’ll get a pic and post it.

Granada, Nicaragua was a stop I made on the way to the Coasta Rica border, before I decided to spend two more days in Nicaragua at the beach resort of San Juan.

I liked Granada. i liked Granada a lot. What I liked about it was what was missing in San Juan sur Mer and why on my second day by the sea I found myself very bored…authenticity, that’s what Granada had and San Juan had lost.

An example: you couldn’t get a raspberry frappe latte in Granada.

Don’t get me wrong, the natural beauty of San Juan, rivaled the distressed grandeur of Granada, and both should be visited. San Juan however left me struggling for a reason to stay, beyond washing and internet access, and therein lies it’s attraction. It’s easy to be there, to enter into a routine, not too dissimilar as to be a challenge. I spoke to more tourists than locals, the locals predominantly serving the tourists needs for food, lodgings and entertainment.
What I would say is, it would make a good base for taking spanish lessons and they do provide this service in an abundance, or go if you are a surfer dude or dudette, or, if you are white and want to pretend to be Bob Marley.

There’s a guy on the BMWMOA site that’s sort of complaining about the Long Way Round, or Down, book. His issue seems to be that Ewan and Charley write more about their feelings, than giving descriptions of the places they are visiting.

Just to put a touch of balance in place, it’s a month since I left home. I’ve missed Karen every day. The more spectacular the location, or event, the more I want to share it with her.

Being on the road gives you a heightened awareness of your thoughts, as they are often all you have in your helmet. There’s time to contemplate, to absorb, to try to comprehend.
Move away from the normal conformities of daily life, the business conversations, the platitudes exchanged, that pass for dialogue and then you’ll find every word you use, has to be considered and chosen. Such activity is alien to the contrived formulae that have been instilled in us.
So, it’s only natural that emotions take on a far more prominent role and I can understand why a book would reflect this. It’s a medium that isn’t constrained by bandwidth, or advertising schedules and time slots.

If you are looking for vicarious jollies from an armchair, then the price you pay is that you have the views of those who are out doing these things. If that isn’t satisfaction for you, the answer is obvious…go do it yourself, to some level that brings you to a point of revelation, that a journey doesn’t need to cover mile after mile, after mile, it can be as challenging as finding the new and previously unobserved in your daily commute.

Short on tea interactions at the moment as most folk I talk to at 4pm dont want tea, but are happy to hear about the Three Tea Tour and how by buying books they can help, the problem with that is, it would be films of me telling people the same thing all the time and that’s not really the point. Well not totally. Of course the charity part is important, but it’s important that I try to get something from these people about themselves and that becomes difficult, as by default I have to explain what I’m doing first.

Can’t say it’s a tea party.

I’ll come back to this topic.