One of the reasons that this blog didn't start up until Ben and I realized we were just disappointing our future selves by not documenting this trip, is because I have a really difficult time with negotiating my liberal arts degree of 'critical kindness' towards all things new, different or unique; and my desire to write out, document and share my love of small handmade and hand delivered stories to other human beings.
To casually display the fight against the existentialist struggle.
I told our host, Gaby, in Monterrey, that I was working in my head on my 'What I Am Going to Say About Mexico That is Honest, Not Stereotyping; Kind, But Critical.' This is part of that series of thoughts.
Today, via my college email address, I received a bulk-letter from one of the administrative bigwigs at Tulane, my alma mater, telling students to use caution, and check the state.gov website for travel information about going to major Mexican tourist areas and the Mexican frontera. Drugs, death, violence, pickpockets and rape! Frankly, short of Tijuana, all of the cities listed on the website seemed charming compared to New Orleans, New York City, Chicago, and sure as heck better than Gary, Indiana. What are we (Americans) telling ourselves about the outside world? Are we writing these blurbs about our most dangerous cities, when all of those out-of-state college students just showed up in New Orleans for Mardi Gras this year?
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Right now, Ben has the whole darned motorcycle apart, up the street (Carlos and Nasul's house is located on the hillside, and the immediate surrounding blocks are pedestrian stairwells only, paved with large stones held together by cement and loosely attached, somehow, to the mountain), so we haven't been driving anywhere for the last couple of days.
Therefore, every few days we walk down to the markets and go to buy groceries. Zacatecas is an old town, and it is difficult to build modern day grocery stores into the city--there are no streets that run straight and buildings, stairwells too, tend to just pop out of nowhere, built on top of other buildings, buildings that are dug into the sides of the mountains surrounding the main valley of the city.
These markets tend to be mixed results for us--sometimes three days of delicious groceries or an incredible lunch comes for less than three dollars (or 45 pesos). Other times, we are ripped off--less than a pound of rice for 20 pesos, or a $1.33. This may not seem like a lot, and in a way, it isn't, either economically or emotionally. But in some ways, it is. We watch and listen, as we get ripped off by someone--we know whats going on and they know that we know. Everyone is clearly aware. What we're paying for is more than just some white rice, we're paying for years of bad blood between two countries, for a child's education, our stilted Spanish, for our blue eyes. In this is the critical kindness. I don't blame this individual for overcharging me, and I let him do it, willingly. It is easy enough to say no. But it doesn't help him if I say no, and it doesn't help me if I say yes. Overall, no one is winning in any of these situations. How do you call someone out on this without skirting around the obvious reasons that you are being ripped off?
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One night, my friend Anna and I were waiting for the streetcar in New Orleans. A woman came up to us and asked us for money for a cab. Her boyfriend had just beat her up and kicked her out of the car. We gave her everything we had short of the small fare for the streetcar back Uptown--did we want to be scammed and do the right thing or not give her money and possibly let this woman try to walk home by herself in the middle of the night?
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It makes me really nervous to fall into the travel blog/travel writing hole of essentializing groups of people and blaming them for historic, political and social events outside of their reach, or summing them up into quaint exoticized moments in my life. These stories may seem negative, but they're really about the difficulty of walking a fine line between forgiving, comprehending, and criticizing. How do you humanize a person, a place or a country without generalizing or being unfair (in either a good or bad way)? How do you write a story about something without taking advantage of the person who made the story--the climb up the hill or the noteworthy news?
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I spend a lot of time, looking at the florae and the terrain on our trips. A lot of the time on the motorcycle is spent between towns; it makes the metropolitan area from New York to Boston seem claustrophobic. It is hard to catch pictures of plants while we're moving,
most of the on-motorcycle pictures tend to be of distant objects (ok, mountains).
So I've been trying to take pictures of interesting plants more often,
so that I can show at least what some of the plants are like, the more "exotic" ones that catch my eye.
I wish I could give names for these plants, but you'll just have to appreciate them for what they are. Included are some photos of the mountains I've loved, too. Just so you can start to feel the expansiveness of Mexico, the rolling desert plains and mountains we've been travelling through since we left the United States.
We had to slow down for these sheep. I would say that half of the animals we've seen have not been penned in. But they tend to be a little smarter, the cows, the horses, the chickens, etc. and they realize that there is no food to be found on the road.
I actually was able to catch a picture of one of small dust whirlwinds that suck up the dry ground. Everytime we crest a mountain, there are dozens of these to be seen on the horizon:
Grapevines in the desert for Ryan:
Ben and I got exceptionally lost, crossed over La Puente de la Unidad, also known as the Puent e Atirantado:
...and then got ourselves to La Huasteca National Park. The majority of these photos are from the back of the motorcycle as we drove through the park. Now we only need to figure out a way to mount a tripod to the motorcycle. Ansel Adams, eat your heart out.
Gaby, our hostess with the mostess, says this is the Mad Scientist's house. She says that her parents' used to tell her this as a little girl, but it turns out that all of her friends' parents used to tell their kids this, too, so it must be true.
Wooooie!
 A few days before flying out of Connecticut, Ben spent several long hours on the Internet, trying to figure out how to get us a ride from the Houston airport to Conroe, TX to get the motorcycle where we'd left it at Katie's parents house. His last ditch effort involved posting onto the Adventure Rider forum and asking for a ride. Surprisingly, despite numerous other attempts on rideshare websites to no avail, we had over five phone calls one after the other with offers from folks to pick us up. At one point, while still in Connecticut, Ben turns to me and asks, "Hey--tomorrow. Do you want to get picked up in a BMW?" and I, thinking he is joking, replied, "Yeah, totally." He was serious and we were picked up in a BMW the next day by Billy, a member on Adventure Rider who was exceptionally flexible (or as the joke became, "pliable") in picking us up, taking us to Conroe to get the bike and then inviting us back to his house in Humble, where we met his wife (and the better half of the motorcycle duo), Anna.
 They were wonderful and funny and best of all had a lot of good advice about what to see, particularly in Mexico, and some times for maintaining the motorcycle. All I gathered from it was: white lithium lubricant for the chain. I will swear on this tip until the day I die or until it locks up our chain and we go flying from the bike. The other advice I received was from Anna; she told me to go to Guanajuato, Mexico, and you could tell by the way she recommended it that it was more than just a destination for her, but a place she really, really loves. They showed us some of their photos, and they are definitely the crazy adventure riders types that I aspire to be.
We spent a few hours in downtown Houston in the Museum District. The de Menil Collection was pretty amazing--it is a multi-building museum free to the public and created around a private collection of art spanning from the prehistoric all the way to the 1990s (with new acquisitions). The docents were jerks (running around, tapping their pens, chatting and staring at you like you're about to steal something), but that doesn't detract from the quality of what we saw there.
 What kills me is that I didn't realize that Houston had such an outstanding museum district. When you Google 'Things to do in Houston' the first two things that always come up are 'The Galleria' and 'The Houston/NASA Space Center.' The Galleria is a SHOPPING MALL. The Space Center isn't really in Houston, or if it is, it is only because Houston is the size of many former Soviet countries. Ben and I also ran into the Houston Children's Museum for the hour that it was open, but we were treated like creepy, second-class citizens because we didn't have any children in tow. I am only 22. I am obviously still interested in how phones work and other industry-sponsored exhibits about oil, money and engineering. If you're ever in Houston, don't be turned off by the illustrious Galleria, although I secretly wanted to go see it, because I can only imagine how fabulous this place must be if it is THE BEST PLACE IN HOUSTON.
 Now, we're back in Galveston; which is more and more like home everyday. This is bad when you are on a road trip, but good when you really like the place and the people. We're here until Tuesday, because the bike needs some er, maintenance and so we can do a couple of days of glorified yard/hurricane work for, as Ben likes to proclaim him, "the legendary Rex 'Wrecks' Bell." It's like doing yardwork for Bob Dylan or Lucinda Williams, I guess.
Kisses, Jennifer
Wonderful. That is usually what i have to say when i get good news. Great news in fact. I just found out that I did in fact buy a battery with a warranty!!! Wonderful. NAPA auto parts was more than accommodating when I called them and let them know that the battery that I bought from them less than 4 months ago was dying. They told me that the battery had a 12 month warranty, and even though I didn't have my receipt, they would be happy to give me a new battery on warranty. So in the same breath I must thank our wonderful C ouchsurfer friend Katie from Galveston TX for letting me borrow her car to go and drop off the old battery and pick up the new one. Thanks Katie!!!! In addition Jen and I decided that we would go ahead with the purchase of the battery tender. We decided on the Deltran Waterproof 800 battery tender. The idea is that whenever we have stopped at a city and are working on the bike, or on financing our trip, we can keep the bike's battery plugged in and keep it charged, but not overcharged. I have the new battery plugged in right now in Conroe TX. That brings me to the final note of this post. We are in Connecticut right now. Jen's family brought us up here for the holidays! While  we are here we are having our boots resoled with Vibram soles. This will give our cowboy boots the traction we need to get through the Andes, and the Amazon. While still looking good enough to attend dinner parties and work banquets, biker rallies, and paint the inside of a house. Like this interior we completed at our friend Jet's house. It is a western themed room with this great Blaze Folley picture hanging on the wall. So let the reminiscing begin. We will be in Connecticut for 3 weeks. almost as long as we were on the road from Seattle to New Orleans. Have we told you about that trip yet??? Benjamin
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