My flight from Buenos Aires stopped in Houston, where I cleared myself through customs. I’d been out of the country 7 months, had 26 extra pages tacked into my passport, and they only said “welcome home”. I DID ask for a stamp
and I got it.

Karen picked me up at the Sea-Tac airport, and brought me back to her place in Snohomish, North-West of Seattle. It was a sunny day, cool-ish, 70-ish, and I remember thinking it was a lot nicer here than in Buenos Aires. That night we went to an ADVrider meet & greet some nice folks had set up, and I got to meet lots of great motorbikers, Seattle locals. Timmer was going to help me at the airport, but Continental Cargo took their sweet time in getting the bike to Seattle even though it left BA 1 days before I did,

I remember being tired and wired at the same time, and I remember starting all my conversations in Spanish rather than in English. It was shocking to be back, but that only lasted about the three days I was here in Seattle waiting for the bike to clear customs.

I’d been offered lots of help with the bike, with things to do in Seattle, and even got to see a hand specialist for free thanks to ADVrider John Eicherman. Karen’s husband Burt brought me to the airport when I finally got the call saying the bike was here, and he helped me re-assemble it since I’d unbolted a whole bunch of stuff to make it “smaller” for transport.

By the time I hit the road Friday to ride to Idaho Falls and meet up with Edward, the weather had turned. Cold and getting colder, typical north-Wet weather. Everyone was telling me it was about 90 degrees the week before, and I was bummed. I had 890 miles to ride, it was CRAP weather, and I was exhausted and COLD.

I made it as far as Yakima the first night, arriving after 9 pm. I had an incredible stress headache, and I was staying with friends of friends, and basically landed on their doorstep, wilted on their couch, then shuffled off to bed.

The next day I rode around 500 miles on that little dirt bike, and finally stopped in Boise when it started to snow. enough was enough. I was soaked through, and knew I had a high pass to ride through and would stay at elevation for the rest of the ride (Idaho Falls is at 5000 feet) which was about 250-300 more miles…

I stopped at the first hotel I could find (see through the foggy visor and snow) and negotiated the rate down to $60. ugh. Wow. Back to expensive everything I guess. I took full advantage of the hotel room and turned the heat up to 85, dried everything out, did laundry, and tried to take the world’s longest shower. There was a TA Travel center next door and dinner there was advertised “second one free: so I had a roast beef open faced sandwich (the cheapest thing on the menu at $8) and then had another. I waddled back to the hotel and passed out.

I woke Sunday very early, but it was about 30 degrees out…even with the heated gear, 50 is my limit. I waited until 10 or so, doing internet, an rolled out when it was around 40 and I was still seeing my breath.

I got to Idaho Falls mid afternoon. Edward’s company had given us temporary housing at an airport hangar, and let me tell you I was impressed. When he told me that we’d be staying in an airport hangar I imagined pitching the tent in the middle of a big building, showing at the gym, or whatever. Nope, it’s NY loft meets tarmac central. There’s no windows, but it’s a great (posh!) space and we even have a kitchen.

Gosh, it’s great to see Edward again, and good to have a nice place to settle for a couple of weeks. Thanks sweetie for waiting SEVEN months for me to come back from my wild adventure…

Hm.
So what’s next?

Wow. Return day is finally here.

How do I feel?
Nervous, excited, ready.

There’s a momentum that is created when you travel and you sort of get caught up in it.  I’ve been going through the motions of coming home without thinking about how I *feel* about it too much.

Mentally I’ve been “done” with this trip the whole time here at Dakar Motos. I’ve been on the internet lots reconnecting with old friends, catching up on the blog, and making arrangements, connections, and plans for once I am back in the USA.

I booked an overnight flight may 18th, which gets me into Seattle Wednesday the 19th at 10:30 am.

The morning is spent visiting with some other motorbike travelers that came in late yesterday, a little bit of internet, and a bunch of packing. I don’t have much stuff, but it’s heavy (I am carrying an extra chain and sprockets Joanjo brought to Buenos Aires for me from Quito). I leave for the airport about 3:00 since I have to take a series of trains, buses and shuttles to get to the International Airport.

Up, up and away the flight leaves more or less on time, and wow. I am really going back.

I walk past this at the entry…

And go straight to the Tigers!

Tigers!

Is this cool or WHAT!

I was in with the elephants all of about 1 minute when they broke out (see the tine electric wide holding them in place?) and the  guy shouted for me to get out of the elephant area. I wasn’t too concerned for my welfare, as the poor beasts really just wanted some fresh grass an trotted away. Pretty cool, but being underfoot would not have been.

Next I visited the camels. I declined a ride on one, instead I opted for petting and feeding them. Thanks, Carolyn, for the introduction to them in Texas. I wasn’t scared when they sniffed me real up close and personal.

No too much excitement here…so I didn’t go in.

Ducks bathing in the buffalo water…

This gal cracked me up…a little disheveled are we?

The on to the BIG tigers!

These are the two year olds…6 tigers with 1 lioness thrown into the mix.

Seems innocent enough in the picture…

But then the female lioness started growling and rubbing on me like a house cat. Now unlike a house cat, this lioness rubbed on my HIPS and not my ankles…further, I did not understand the grumbling noises she was making…Further, the handler kept telling her to knock it off.

OKAY, ENOUGH FOR ME! I asked to be let out of the cage before some instinct of mine, or worse, theirs, took over and things got ugly.

But dang! Talk about a once in a lifetime experience!

OK, so on to the bears:

I took a whole bunch of pictures of them, but mostly had fun feeding them raisins.

What a day!

If you ever get to Buenos Aires, make it a point to go to the Lujan Zoo. It’s an hour and a half out of town, but there’s a bus, and  it is so worthwhile. Try to hit it on a weekday, too. I was able to spend an hour in with the 6 month old tigers, whereas marty went on a weekend and spent 5 minutes in with them.

http://www.zoolujan.com/

Well, let me tell you, 10 days is a looooooooooooooooooong time to sit in one spot after traveling for over a year (and 7+ months of it in Latin America for me)!

Let me tell you, 10 days is a looooooooooooooooooong time to stay in a city when you are not a “city” person!

Let me tell you, 10 days is a looooooooooooooooooong time to sit in one spot after traveling for over a year (and 7+ months of it in Latin America for me).

Let me tell you, 10 days is a looooooooooooooooooong time for someone used to being alone to be c-o-n-s-t-a-n-t-l-y in the shared company of others.

Let me tell you, 10 days is a looooooooooooooooooong time to be with a bunch of guys, not many of them very neat, OR very considerate, sometimes 10+ at time, living in a motorcycle repair shop with 4 bunks and a shared kitchen in it!

And, let me tell you, 10 days is a looooooooooooooooooong time to sit waiting for a flight back to the USA to be reunited with your boyfriend that you have not seen in 7+ months!

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I entertained myself by going downtown with Jonas and Eduardo.

ha! This is INSIDE the Burger King! (NEVER in the USA!)

Swedes are the BEST!

Jonas enjoying the free internet (Swedes are the BEST!)

The Swedes (who are the BEST) and Justin bring their bikes to the airport the day before I do. The Swedes are on Dakar 650’s they shipped over and rode in Argentina and Chile for  6+ months, and Jeremiah is pictures here with his Triumph Tiger. He shops his motorbike to the States the day after I do. Busy week at Dakar Motos I guess. They help all motorbike travelers who request their services coming into and out of Buenos Aires. Sandra helps with import / export and Javier is a great mechanic. They’ve developed quite a business and a good reputation there in the outskirts of BA..

Here’s Justin shipping his interim KLR back to the States:

Eduardo.

Jonas (Swedes are the BEST) (the reason I developed the irritating “Swedes are BEST” habit)

Justin.

Yes, now there’s more room in the workshop to admire MY ride…

So while they are at the airport, I go and bet my bike cleaned for travel. They charge me $8 and it is s-p-o-t-l-e-s-s!

Next day, here’s my pre-airport beauty shot…

Last ride in South America…BA freeway!

…and I gauge my gas usage perfectly…the bike runs out of gas in the cargo area!!

I wasn’t supposed to take pictures inside the airport, but I snuck a few…I took the front wheel off in order to make the bike “smaller” and hopefully cost less money in shipping, since they measure actual weight and cubic weight, and charge you whatever is more.

After the bike was secured, battery disconnected, riding gear thrown in,and “inspected” by Argentinian customs,

they shrunk-wrapped the bike…

Then they put these labels on it…

Whoops! Bike’s not going to Denver, it should be going to Seattle!!!

Then the guys took me to this crazy office  where all the customs brokers work…

From here I called one of the fellows I’d met in Bolivia (see THIS post) that invited me for Parilla when I got to Buenos Aires. I met them for lunch at the airport–turns out that two of the four work at the airport.

Then made my way back to Dakar Motos, and the Swedes, since they are the BEST!

And for some reason Justin decided to do some bike maintenance after dark (I think alcohol was involved, too!)

Javier working late fixing a traveler’s bike…

Next day, I went back into Downtown BA to pay for the shipment. I tell you it was VERY nerve-wracking to be walking around with $1500 in my pocket! I felt like a target the whole time.

Here’s the famous obelisk.

7 lanes going one way? Eek?

I ended up taking myself to a Hollywood movie, “Robin Hood” with Russell Crowe.
(Countdown to seeing Edward: 8 days)

It was after dark when I re-emerged from the Cinema, so I took a leisurely stroll along the pedestrian mall (holding tight to my camera and wallet!)

Next Day, Parilla with the Argentines!

It was kind of a blustery day, but that did not stoop the wind-warriors on the lake.

A powered bicycle!

My friends. Sheesh, they are so fun, such good friends with each other, and so hard to understand! Even a week in Argentina and I am still having trouble with the Argentinian accent. Usually “ll” is pronounces “y”  but in Argentina it’s pronounced “J”.  Oofa.

Then it’s back to Dakar Motos.

And Jonas the Swede (who is the BEST!)

And sometime in all of this Marty shows up. Marty  is  this cool kid (I can say this because technically I am old enough to be his mother) and is larger than life. Literally, at 6.4 I met Marty in Cali, Colombia, where he was just starting his trip.  He’d ridden with Ben (www.afewmoremiles.com) who I’d met up with in Central America. Marty had an incredible adventure in the Salar, barely getting out alive, and here he shows up at Dakar Motos at the same time as me.

Marty tells me about a zoo he’s heard about where you can pet the tigers. I’m in!

And that’s tomorrow’s adventure…

http://rumbum.com/1009-argentinian-shakedown

Breakfast! (Included in the spendy room rate)

Get this: the waitress comes by and asks if I want coffee. of course! (Although I never exactly know the country’s customs with regards to coffee–it’s always an experience the first few days  figuring out how to achieve strong, yummy coffee. Home run on the first Argentinian morning…the waitress has a pot of steaming black coffee in one hand, and a pot of steaming hot milk in the other. Hot Milk? I think I like Argentina!

OK, so I am basically just passing through Argentina…I consider whether to take 2 days and ride up to Iguazu Falls…and because I am having some irregular email correspondence With Sandra at Dakar Motos (who is supposedly going to help me ship my bike back to the USA), I decide to be safer than sorrier and just

Apparently, Route 14 in N Argentina is known for the police scam…unfortunately I fell into it. I’d  been so proud of my mordida-evasion (bribe-evasion) techniques in Peru, I was caught  completely off guard and didn’t realize I was getting stung!

So they flagged me to pull over, saying I was riding without my front headlight. Now, for anyone who has traveled in Latin America *everyone* travels without their headlight!!! I mean, in every other country, people were flashing me that my headlight was *ON*!!! Apparently it’s the law to ride with your headlight ON and technically, at that moment, my headlight was NOT on, because it was cold and I was running my heated hand grips. I was having problems with the Denali lights–the fuse box had a loose connection and they’d flicker on and off.

Anyway, good cop  makes nice nice with me, I think I am getting off the hook, then he refers me to bad cop.  Bad cop never takes his dark sunglasses off. bad cop is ALL bad cop, telling me how horrible I am for breaking the law, etc.  Tells me that I should know to ride with my lights on since I am from the USA. basically, he goes round and round with me. The are doing a whopping business here, lots of folks with no headlights or other terrible sins.

writing th

I tell him I want to see the book, where it is in writing that drivers need to operate a vehicle with their headlight on.  I make a big production of taking a picture of it (I’m a journalist after all!)

Next he goes into this elaborate fine calculation, punching numbers like crazy into a calculator. The numbers seems steep, but I still think if I am patient and act dumb enough (my latest trick since I’m well past the point where I can pretend not to understand him).

Well, he finally touches on my Achilles heel…I can pay the fine here, roadside, or they will tow the bike and I can pay an ever larger fine wherever they tow it to.

Two days ago I was robbed, and I’m making a beeline to Buenos Aires to end my trip…and this dude tells me that they are going to tow my bike. ARGH! I FELL FOR IT!!!

They got me for $100.
(When I got to dakar Motos in Buenos Aires other travelers told me they’d gone through the same deal with the same cops, and basically they just waited for the cops to get tired of them. they refused to pay roadside, waited for the bikes to be towed, which never happened, and finally got the cops to write them paper tickets and ride away.)

I am told they are not allowed to collect fees roadside, bt evidently these particular cops make a handsome living at it. They are so well set up that they even have a briefcase full of money so they can make change. Such effective businessmen, you can pay in US dollars OR Argentinian pesos.

I stood there for quite some time taking pictures of other people passing through without lights, and there were plenty. The cops preyed on obvious tourists and old people, from what i could tell of the people they pulled over. I stayed a while and even took pictures of what they were doing, but when I started talking to someone else that got pulled over, they got really upset. I just wanted to see what the other guys’ fine was. Never did find out.

Bummer. Bummer Bummer. Hindsight (which is usually 20/20) says I would have been better off of they’d impounded my vehicle…I ended up paying $1500 to get my bike back to the USA.

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I cut my losses and moved on. More flat and straight highway to Buenos Aires.

Here’s a pic of me trying to get the Dakar Motos way-point into  my GPS.

It’s almost dark as I enter the City. Sheesh, My Garmin 60 Cx doesn’t calculate quick enough, and i miss my exit. It was an absolute nightmare trying to get to Dakar Motos. I finally stopped at a taxi stand and asked for directions. I despise cities.

But I roll in (coming the wrong way down their one-way street) and get a nice welcome from the man himself–Javier.

Justin, the fellow that zip tied my broken fingers together in Cuzco,  is there waiting for him BMW to arrive (the shippers sent his 800GS around the world without him!) There are also two Swedes Jonas and Roberto (Swedes are the BEST! the joke became).

Ah. Nice to be in the final stretch.

10 days before  my flight.

Believe me, I was eager to get everything all set and get out of Posadas (Paraguay) after being robbed.  Big Bridge separating the two countries.

One of the MANY things I enjoy abut traveling on a motorbike is all the, er, liberties you can take.

Take this line, for instance…loooooooooooooooooooooooooong. With a motorbike? PASS THEM ALL! Ha! Shaved an hour off my border crossing, and at that point I was just feeling ornery enough to not give a hoot…

Well, here’s a darned civilized way to cross a border…nice orderly lines (except those crazy motorbikes that pass everyone), everyone waiting their turn rather than cleverly cutting each other in line, etc.

Welcome to Argentina! Welcome to order. Welcome to a funny accent that takes a bit to train your ears to.  Welcome to high prices!

Welcome to flat, straight roads.

Welcome to…………………

……………………………………………………………….PARILLA!

Parilla is loosely translated as Bar-B-Que (although without the BBQ sauce).

Oofa, I did not realize that this on was all-you-can-eat. I got STUFFED!!!

No more pics that day, I was in a just-been-robbed funk.

http://rumbum.com/1138-the-kindness-of-strangers

I’d spent about 4 hours on the internet last night, then finished off a cheesy novel in my room reading until the wee hours. Next morning I went to breakfast a little on the late side, wrote some emails over coffee, then went out to my bike.

It was something like out of a bad movie…all my panniers were open, and I just stood there staring at it for a few moments…how could my panniers be open when I had not been out to the bike yet…

then it hit me: I WAS ROBBED!

I ran back into the hotel and told the front desk guy to call the police. he didn’t rather he followed me out to the bike, which I’d parked in the hotel parking lot, where the owner was just pulling in. SHE told him to call the cops and he finally did. Then she yelled at ME!

I guess I can say they were nice robbers because they left my credit cards and my passport…but they stole all the souvenirs I’d bought for people back home, plus my cold weather clothing, plus some cool tools, PLUS about $1000 in cash. Everyone asks why I had that much cash on the bike, and it was because I needed $1500+ cash for shipping the bike back…and the ATMs would only give me $190/day for some reason, so I was stockpiling. At any other point in the trip the most they would have gotten was less than $200.

Why did I have the cash on the bike? Because two travelers had told me how their hotel rooms were robbed. I had the money split between my person, my luggage, and on the bike. Ugh. What a blow. I spent the day filing a ‘denuncio‘ with the police, getting my locks fixed, canceling my credit cards (I did not realize yet that I still had the credit cards) and getting the bike locks fixed since I did not want to go through the border with an UN-lockable bike.

At one point the police got a call from the hotel owner and we went back to the hotel–it looked like the robbers tried to take my goody bag an throw it over the fence to hide the evidence, but it got caught in the barbed wire so the bag fell back into the back lot of the “secure” parking lot. Here’s what I found:

The nice guy at the locksmith charged me $6 to fix all three locks…it took him two hours because he had to go all over town to find cylinders that were close. He still had to drill out the locks so the new cylinders would fit!

Here I am at the police station:

)(*(*^&*&%$$%$#@!!!!!!!

Leaving town (finally!)

Leaving Paraguay:

Well, it’s never a good time to get a flat tire, but at least I knew what to do when it happened. Check out this bolt I picked up about 40 miles after leaving Tebicuary…

That bolt was 4″ long, and the entire thing was embedded in my tire. The rear tube was absolute toast, and so I got to use the spare I’d carried for about 19,000 miles!

In hindsight I wish I had more pictures…I rolled the bike off the road and started to work…only to realize I’d set up shop in the sand and the bike was sinking…and I had no way of breaking the bead of the rear tire since I oul not get enough leverage off my center stand with it in the sand…

…along came a very nice gentleman on a MINT 250…he offered to help, and I quite surprised him when I not only knew what I was about changing the tire but also when I asked if we could use HIS bike to break the bead…

After he helped me to change the tire, he commented on how dirty my bike was, and INSISTED that I take care of it and get it  washed. Funny guy. So I paid tribute to him by washing it.

Did I mention my savior’s name? Miguelangelo. Michael, the Angel.

SO after that  it was almost dark. The only hotel in town was a LOVE HOTEL. Ha! The proprietors did not know what to make of me, but they let me stay all night. First night in a round bed!!!

May 5, 2010

I woke up to rain. Downpour. Wet-you-through kind of rain. I waited an hour, then another,  but it wasn’t letting up, and I was quite certain that I did not want to pay for this hotel room by the hour, so I packed up and took off. Ugh. My panniers leak, my Scorpion riding suit leaks, my boots leak, I am NOT happy riding in rain. o much for seeing the Animal park, and several other points of interest I wanted to see in Paraguay.

It cleared a little after 2:00, so I stopped and had some lunch. I think it was chicken.

My horn had died again (the first one quit, the second one rattled off the bike, the third one quit, so now I was needing horn #4. I really like my old, LOUD on, but I thought this one might be overkill…

The owner of the auto shop was eating something yummy looking, and I asked where I could get ine (I assumed he’d purchased the parfait across the street at the ice cream shop). nope, he went in the back and served me up one for myself.

Ice Cream AND Auto parts?

YUM!

Here’s his shop…if you ever make it there be sure to ask for your ice cream too!

Next stop, gas.
Remember I spoke about the tea the Paraguayans drink? EVERYONE carries their terere…and the convenience shops at gas stations? They take it seriously too. Here’s a pic of everything they had on the shelf:

oops, sorry this pic is upside down…but they even have hot water machines at the gas stations for your terere!!!

I rode to Encarnacion, the border town where I would cross into Argentina…I decided to spend the night there since I did not want to cross the border late afternoon.