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

Oaxaca: Contrasts

This chapter of my journey involves Ida. It is incredible how, after knowing each other for only a week, we are very much like an old couple. We do everything together, we enjoy each other’s company and make each other laugh constantly, we ride through beautiful landscapes at sunset, swim in virgin rivers… but always as friends.



Ida and I arrived in Tuxtepec, Oaxaca after months of anticipation. So far every Mexican I’ve met has proclaimed either Chiapas (my next state) or Oaxaca to be their favorite part of Mexico. Though we are still on the east side of the Sierra Norte which separates the steamy lowlands of Veracruz and Tobasco and the cooler elevations of the rest of Oaxaca, the people are already everything I heard they would be.

The great divide between the rich and poor is more apparent here than any other state I have visited so far. Almost every single person I’ve met has either been, or has a family member who is, an illegal worker in the U.S. Oaxaca is a beautiful and diverse state, with good fertile soil and clean rivers. But it is mostly farm land of one type or another and therefore there are those who own the farms and factories, and those who work there – there is almost no middle class. There are many artisans but they generally subsist around the poverty line like most other Oaxaqueños.

We are staying with Magdaleno and his family; but it feels like we are staying with the entire neighborhood. He introduces us to everyone, we have met almost 100 people in the last couple of days. From children to adults to family members… we have quickly become a part of their community. We spent hours playing with the kids last night – everything from futbol, basketball, tag, to general goofing around and roughhousing. I have spent every night playing with them so far. But the sweetest moments have been those lulls in craziness when we just sit and talk. Their laughter rings through the dense air and lifts me from my languor. Dripping with sweat and tired I still play and run around, I am filled with as much joy as they. It has been so long since I have been in a place where kids can run around freely without fear, where they can be kids as kids ought to be.





As is often the case with families from Oaxaca, Magdaleno’s father is in the U.S, as are a few cousins and uncles. Regardless of the money he sends home every month Magdaleno works and goes to school, his mother makes empanadas to sell on the side of the road, and Magda’s girlfriend comes during her lunch break at nursing school to help her future (hopefully) mother in law make and sell the empanadas. All of their hopes and dreams lie with the younger siblings for whom they are saving to build a future. For families who have not had generations cross the border in order to build some sort of financial base, the older siblings are generally left in a limbo between work and school. Most try as hard as they can to get as far as university, and hope that no disaster strikes forcing them to drop out and work full time. This constant state of the unknown allows them (if not forcibly) to live for today. This is reflected in everything they do and how they treat those around them.



As has been true from the very beginning, it is those with the least who are the most generous. Everyone we’ve met lives around the poverty line, and yet it takes a great effort for us to buy something. Basically we have to go out of our way, and sneak around, to buy anything. Otherwise the and food would flow unendingly for as long as we wanted. It matters not if it is all the money they have, they want us to feel welcome and to enjoy ourselves, and feel it is their responsibility to make sure that happens.
On one of our day trips to the nearby river, we met a local who was driving along the shore in his buggy. Ida mentioned she was trying to find an old coconut (coconuts which have fallen to the ground and have not been touched for a few months –the meat mixes with the water to form a delicious cotton like substance). The friend ran off right away and came back in about 15 minutes with two old coconuts. Then we started talking about food, and they mentioned there is a cheese made in their village (Chiltepec), again the friend ran off and brought back a kilo of fresh cheese, a pack of handmade tortillas and a bottle of coke. Thankfully Ida managed to slip him some pesos before he left. Then the local drunk joined us for conversation and food.



The day before we had gone to the source of the river at Zuzul. The water was perfectly clear and clean, and of the perfect temperature and sweetness. We spent hours walking and swimming and breathing in the clean air which is such a rare find in Mexico. On the way back, near every single bridge, we saw women and daughters as young as 7 doing their laundry; and men, women and kids bathing. The river is everything, and sadly it is also a point of refuse. Fortunately, close to the source it is clean and pure, and a few thousand people cannot contaminate the flowing water very easily, but the further you go, and as the river bends around more and more farms and factories, it slowly becomes undrinkable, and even un-swimmable. Again and again I bear witness to a complete disregard for nature.

This is the tropical, extremely hot and humid, part of Oaxaca. Sugar cane, bananas, pineapple, mango, and dozens of other tropical fruit grow here. The landscape is lush and diverse – with a mix of temperate and tropical trees, and everything in between. Tamarind and rubber trees, palms - what look like cherry blossoms, cloud forests, farms, grazing cows… metal and wooden shacks in danger of collapsing with every strong gust, hung with bright laundry flapping in the wind dot the rolling hills and climbing peaks. The contrast of gorgeous landscape and great poverty is very stark here.





With a burning desire to seek the cooler climes of Oaxaca’s elevated plateaus and valleys, Ida and I bid a sad farewell to the community which welcomed us so warmly. For her the next day would be a tranquil bus ride through twisty mountain roads which eventually end in the capital, for me those very roads would simultaneously spell awe, wonder and constant brushes with death. It seems Oaxaca is determined to embody and manifest the yin-yang everywhere and in everything.

Part II of Oxaca, and the riding really starts!

Oaxaca: Riding on the Edge

Finally in the great city at the foot of three valleys!

This side of the Sierra Juarez is much cooler than the Veracruz side – thank god! We are surrounded by mountains and valleys. There has been a strong wind and a bit of rain, but the sky has made up for it with gorgeous sunsets and huge, beautiful clouds.

The drive to Oaxaca, over the breathtaking Sierra Juarez, was long and very difficult. Of the 200 or so clicks from Tuxtepec to Oaxaca, almost 150 go through the mountains. Of those 150, 100 or so you ride in 1st or 2nd gear, the other 50 in 3rd. The east side of the mountains was covered in a heavy fog for a good portion of the ride. The hairpin switchbacks gave no quarter of shoulder, rail, speed indications, or reflective posts. A mind blowing mix of trees and vegetation of the cloud forest rose into the mist on the left, as the unprotected cliff dropped off on the right. I wish I could have stopped to gaze on what looked like to be a magic forest – something out of a fantasy book, but the turns were blind and any car, coming from either direction, would have run me over with no more than a second notice.

This brings me to a continued observation from Veracruz, in which I noticed that cars in these two states pass in the oncoming lane with an air of propriety which forces those in their rightful lane to move over to the shoulder, if there is one. Basically, there is no right of way. With cars it’s one thing, but when semis do this, and they do this often, I fear the end of my days. When 2 walls of steel are coming at you, and the shoulder is but a dream, there is little you can do but pray. On relatively straight stretches of road, where there is warning, it’s one thing, when this happens in the mountains… At least 3 times I came around a corner to discover some 150,000 pound asshole trying to pass another semi - on curvy mountain roads!! I saw this in Baja as well, but it was never this close. In the last 4 months I have now had 15 close calls, in which a moment’s difference could have ended my life, or worse, put me in a wheel chair. New York was very dangerous, and I thought Mexico could never reach its heights, but it’s getting there. What’s worse is that I remember a great deal of the close calls I’ve had on my bikes over the last 10 years. It is scary how sometimes flashes from almost 100 instances of near death or possible paralysis come up from the subconscious. Every time I’ve had to stop and allow my heart to return to its rightful place in my chest is burned into my memory. For that matter, every freezing and/or soaked ride I can recall with incredible vividness as well.

But, as is the case with most days on the road, the tribulations are often soon forgotten for the triumphs and joys which abound. After being introduced by a fellow Mexican biker a few months ago over Skype, I’ve finally met Jayne and Phil - a brother and sister making the trek from Alaska to Tierra del Fuego (Website: Ultimate Ride). We’ve been writing to each other and trying to cross paths for months now. Jayne and Phil are like friends of old. Our stories and conversations flow like the cascades of Angel Falls. It feels so good to have finally met up with them. I don’t know why there has been so much anticipation, but I think I see why now. They are wonderful, happy people, who share my passion for travel and the motorcycle. And burners to boot – an instant understanding of so many truths.





I’ve been alone for so long, but now, not only do I have Ida to share a little bit of my journey, but Phil and Jayne have also decided to throw in their lot for the next few weeks – we are a veritable caravan!

We began at the world’s biggest tree, in Mitla. It is awesome to contemplate how a single tiny seed can produce a living organism which weighs over 400,000 tons and grows 31m tall and 14m wide!







Then to calm our awe we proceeded on a tour of the local Mezcal producers… with plenty of tasting. And just to be sure we are well rounded and not just Mezcal slugging philistines, we took a 2 hour scorching hike up Monte Alban in order to sneak into the UNESCO protected ruins found at the top. This center of the Zapotec empire is majestic and grand… and so very hot. As fascinating as it was to trace with our fingers the works of masters past, it was shade and ice cream which we truly sought, and got by way of hitchhiking back to the city.





There are many things for which I have my mother to thank, not the least of which is my gift of gab. So much of my journey, so much enjoyment and open doors, have all come as the result of my ability to talk to people and to get along with them. That I can approach complete strangers and start up conversations has put me in contact not only with interesting people, but also those who have helped me along the way. My ability to get along with almost anyone has ensured that my experience staying with other people has been fulfilling and informative, as people open up and I am able to learn from them about their lives, countries and cultures. It is a gift for which I shall be forever grateful.



After spending a few days on a dank mattress in a dirty house with a dirtier bathroom, Ida and I found our way (thanks to Jayne and Phil) to the immaculate home of a military helicopter pilot. He invited friends to meet the lunatic bikers, we made ceviche and passed the long night in song and laughter. The following day Jayne, Phil, Ida and I left for the mountains and the relaxation in hot springs, followed by the adventure of finding lodging and riding through random mountain dirt roads which brought us to places white people rarely get to see.

Greetings Fellow Riders and Vagabonds!

For those in the U.S I hope you are voting!

I just wanted to let you all know that I will be returning to the road on December 2nd. I finally finished working on my mom's old house, and somehow managed to sell it. All is left is to bring the books and pots to storage, pack my backpack and return to my sick Georgia in Venezuela.

I hope you can understand the large lapses in time between posts as the last 9 months have been the most difficult of my life. It is no easier now, to be sure, but I pray the road will lend its healing powers forthwith.

I've started posting weekly again, and am writing furiously so that I may continue to do so.

Thank you all again for following my crazy adventure! I hope to meet more of you on the road soon!

Alexander