09
Jul
Rolón family
May 3, 2010
It was a lovely, and long, and rather hot ride to Tebicuary. Robert Rolón had invite me to stay with his family there, and tour the sugar can mill he worked at. I was really impressed my the countryside–gone was the dismal, trash-strewn roadside, but clean, kept, and with large ranches proudly displaying their names and the products they produced. German influence meets Latin America, and it kept me wondering why other areas I’d traveled through had such a hard time keeping themselves organized and clean, when Paraguay, the poorest country in South America, was so neat and orderly.
Because I love bathroom humor. But really. Just WHAT was I supposed to do with this hose?
Mennonites.
Note to self: NO MORE BEEF!!!
I got completely and utterly turned around in Villarica. I was supposed to meet up with the folks that I had dinner with in Concepcion, but that went out the window with my 5 laps of Villarica. I ended up asking a taxi driver how to get out of town, and he was nice enough to lead me (for free) to the highway. Sheesha. I was in a state by the time I left town.
I got to Roberto’s late, and he’d arranged for me to speak at the local high school. So he bundled his family into the car and I followed them on the bike to the school where I met with about 50+ kids in two separate groups. We talked about cancer prevention, supporting your loved ones through a diagnosis, a bit about my travels, and about wearing all your protective gear while riding a motorbike. It’s a real problem in Paraguay ALL the kids seem to have a scooter, and so few wear any protective gear at all.
May 4, 2010
Roberto and his family are so lovely–I was so tired that night as we went to bed about midnight. The poor people kept the house and kids so quiet in the morning that I slept until 9:30!!! I was mortified, but I guess I was in sore need of a good bed and a restful place to sleep.
Here’s the little one with her Terere:
A tour of the sugar mill:
On-site church
Cane Trucks waiting to gain entry into the mill.
LUNCH!
I got a late start that day — I think I left around 2 or 3. Hindsight says I really should have stayed over another night, but I did not want to be a burden on the family. Plus, I counted the days and I still had much of Paraguay I wanted to see. Too bad, because things went from bad to worse the next few days.
08
Jul
Paraguay
May 1, 2010
Welcome to Paraguay!
I had to ride another 50 k that morning after breaking camp, and arrived at this Paraguayan outpost…not sure what they really did since they didn’t stamp my passport or do any of the bike paperwork, but they asked me a lot of questions about where I came from, where I stayed overnight, etc. I am not a very good liar, and so finally just told them that I slept in the jungle in a hammock. THE WERE HORRIFIED! They could not believe that I’d slept out alone, and they kept saying “tigres” and I said incredulously, “tigres, tigres“? Yes of course. More like jaguars they said, but they are there, and that I should not have camped alone. Ha! good thing I did not know about the jaguars before I tried to sleep…sometimes ignorance IS bliss!
[I wrote an article for RumBum.com on my night in the Chaco, and you can read it here.]
The border officials also asked me if I had enough fuel to go another 200 k…NOPE! So they suggested I go back about 10 k and try to buy gay from this family…
Um…she decanted the gas from a large plastic container into two litre bottles…and I could see the stuff swimming around int he bottles. Uh oh. I asked for a rag, and, well, filtered my gas as best as I could.
Hey, back through the “border” again! (This time I just waved at them).
Is this? Could it be? What? Pavement?!? Whahoo!
Is this? Could it be? What? SUPER grade gasoline?!? You mean no more 84 octane that *acts* like 78 octane???!!! Whahoo!
Um, Ok, THAT gas price is just a little scary!
(Exchange rate $1 = 4765 Guarani) Phew!
Ok, here I just have to say thwo things
1. Everyone walks around with their Terere…basically a large pitcher of tea with a metal straw sticking out (technically called an “infusion” or a “mate”. It’s quite the social centerpiece, and some of the terere’s are quite quite ornate and beautiful. When I did the paperwork for the bike they invited me to try some (i declined–I’d seen how many people put their lips on that one straw and it gave me the germ-willies!) but it was a really nice gesture, and they all passed their tereres around and shared.
2. Paraguay had a bunch of Mennonites settle in the country, and it was just damned *weird* to suddenly be address in German rather than in Spanish. They all assumed with my light eyes I was one of them and would address me in German first and then I would have to explain it was Spanish only for me. To see all these obviously German-alike faces speaking fluent FLUENT Spanish was a bit boggling.
More dirt roads on the way to FILADELFIA.
In “Lonely Planet” I read about this hotel that was the best deal in town…and it sure was. I stayed in one of the “Cheap” rooms with a shared bath down the hall, but they had great food and free wifi…the place was obviously run by Germans and not Latinos, and everything was clean, orderly, and efficient. I even dared to eat the salad!!!
yeah, and some german torte, too!
Sheesh, I thought I was in heaven! I stayed for two nights! Hotel Florida was definitely a gringo oasis, but at this point I did not care. It was clean & comfy & did I mention it had free WiFi and good food? 
Here’s a pic at the breakfast buffet:
It was here that I started organizing my return home…Edward had taken a job in Idaho Falls, Idaho, and so from Filadelfia, Paraguay we started hatching my plans for post-South America. I was missing Edward like crazy after 7 months apart, I found myself staying several nights at whatever place felt comfortable and clean, time was dragging a bit, and it just seemed like I needed a break from travel, so why not head home.
May 2, 2010
My last morning at breakfast I talked with Johnny, a tour-guide, and he gave me some ideas for a scenic route to ride. His group was going to Concepcion, and he gave the name of a good hotel. I vaguely said I’d go that way and he left with his group.
Leaving downtown Filadelfia. Paraguay seems “richer” is the quantity of mopeds are any indication. The photo doe snot show it well, but they buzzed around like gnats all over town!
At the left turn towards Concepcion, the police tried to talk me out of riding that road saying it was not in good shape. True, the road was not in good shape but the scenery was downright spectacular, and I am so glad I followed Johnny’s advice.
Potty break.
Ok, I did a double take at this scene and circled back. Sorry I have a small camera, but these are BIRDS, folks. Tall as a fence post, they look like a cross between an ostrich and a pelican. Wearing a tuxedo. Holy Moly, was I excited!
I rode by lots of indigenous villages. These kids were walking the bicycle herding these cows and assured me that this was dinner, not a prank.
I arrived in Concepcion and found the hotel Johnny had recommended. They surprised me by knowing all about me and having room reserved for me already. Nice to have friends! I dumped my gear and headed off towards the port.
After dark I went back to the hotel, and got a message from johnny. His group invited me to join them for dinner, so he came and picked me up in the tour van. we had a lovely evening.
11
Jun
Into the Chaco
May 4th, 2010
Oofa. I wake up and I am a wreck.
The only satisfaction I have is that there’s a car in front of the hotel entrance–I ask them if it’s a guest and they say yes, and they go and wake Mr. Noisy at 6:30 AM. He comes down shirtless, which I easily could have gone the rest of my life without witnessing, and moves the car. I fire up the bike in the lobby (I’m feeling wicked) and Oh yeah, I bump into all the furniture on my way out, too.
Ugh.
Putting on wet gear to ride in the rain. My Daytona boot were great when I bought them in 2006, but now they have decided to not be waterproof any more, despite the Gore-Tex lining. It’s a drag to put on cold/wet boots. But I solve the problem by putting my my cold/wet socks first so the cold/wet boots are less noticeable
Dirt roads in the rain = slow going.
OK, now I am feeling REALLY sorry for myself. Rick and I talked about riding the Che trail together, but Rick had problems with his chain and needed to make a bee line to Lima…too bad, I could have been (not) enjoying this days ride with him.
Bad piggy! (Doesn’t seem like the stick thing worked on this one, either!)
Ah, blessed pavement. Normally I don’t mind dirt roads, but two days of dirt roads in the rain have me wanting to kiss the pavement. Too bad I cannot find the border crossing I am looking for. Next up: Paraguay.
Lunch. Note the pile of french fries to make it look like I got more chicken! (I’m so hungry I order a second piece of chicken, sans fries, and they serve me a drumstick. Same price, too!
(Little do I know at the time this will be my last meal for two whole days!)
OK, where IS that border? I backtrack a bit, consult the map 452 times, ask a few locals, and never seem to find the northernmost border crossing. Oh well, I head to the one everyone points me to.
I’m told this is the way…I only have 60 miles of dirt to the border…then another 60 miles of dirt to the next pavement
Oofa. Not good. I haven’t seen a car in hours. Guess this ones on me.
I get the bike upright again, but it’s not easy with the still-hurt hand. Yeah, can ride without every vibration of the road coming up and sending electrical shocks through my hand, but sheesh, gripping and heaving a bike upright and my hand is DONE.
Well, jeez. this is MUCH slower than I had counted on.
But I’m a gnarly adventuress, right?
If I can just get to the border, I’ll find a nice place to stay, eat a good meal, and sleep the sleep of the dead…
These little green birds (I think they are Quaker parakeets) make these nests e-v-e-r-y-w-h-e-r-e. Noisy critters! I’m entering the Chaco region.
Alrighty then.
Some SERIOUS Bolivian military folks ask me every question under thee sun, and try to intimidate me. They take me inside, and another officer logs all my paperwork, while Mr. Intimidating proceeds to try and try on all my gear, and asks me how much everything costs. I wince when he tries on the helmet, and rejoice when he realizes it’s an EXTRA SMALL and it doesn’t go on. Yick! I don’t want someone else’s head in my helmet!
These guys don’t really get to me–I’ve been through this drill so many times, with so many NICE policemen…I know my papers are in order, so I revert to my too-chatty-American-butchering-the-Spanish-language persona, and eventually they lighten up. Back outside at the bike we chat about my trip, I try to take pics with them and they get all serious again, OK, so I ride off to the migration office. The police have informed me that there’s no place to stay there, and frankly I really want to leave them behind anyway. Here’s the only picture they let me take.
Nope, says immigration, but NOT! The drunks at the bar next door tell me it’s down the road a bit but invite me for a drink. No thanks. I ride off.
Ah. THIS is immigration. And NOPE, not the guy in the uniform, its the couple in farm clothes.
?
No place to stay here, either, they tell me to try the next stop, 60 miles, on the Paraguay side. I ride off into no-man’s land between the borders. I’m officially checked out of Bolivia, and have to ride another 60 miles or so to Paraguay. Alrightythen.
More dirt. I am riding FAST, like over 40 mph, even though I know it’s not “safe”. it’s almost dark, and my only option is to make it to the Paraguay side and hope THEY take pity on me. Hmf. Usually I am luckier than this…
Ain’t gonna happen. I m NOT going to ride this dirt track that keeps turning to sand every once in a while in the DARK, so I start looking for a place to pull off the road. Not an easy place to find: I need somewhere where I can get off the road without leaving a track, get far enough off that no one will see the reflectors on my bike, hard enough that I won’t get stuck in sand, with two trees so I can hand the Hennessey Hammock Edward loaned me just for this “emergency” purpose. I can use it like a tent on the ground *IF i HAVE TO* but since you enter the thing from the bottom, it makes more sense to hang if I can. Besides, even though there are trees it’s desert-like and all I can think of are things that slither and crawl.
Did I mention that I never actually TRIED the camping hammock? Edward showed me how to unpack it once in my barn at home, but that’s the sum total of my experience with the thing.
One horrible night’s sleep in the Chaco, coming right up!
<>
11
Jun
Chaco (Bolivian Side)
In order not to repeat myself here, I’ll re-post the link to my Chaco experience I wrote about on RumBum.com
http://rumbum.com/953-a-night-in-the-chaco#continue_post
This tree is called the “palo borracho”, the drunken stick. The engorged trunk is actually a lifesaver for the tree: when the rains come, the tree stores water reserves in the trunk. I’d smile every time I saw one (which was quite often!)
Crappy night’s sleep, but the Chaco is an incredible place. Here are some of the sounds the next morning:
10
Jun
Goodbye Rick
May 3, 2010
Goodbye Rick.
Gosh, I’d had so much fun with him…he was great company–easy to be with, an awesome rider, and an instigator like me and we kept pushing each others’ envelopes. We’d had a great time together, but since we were headed in opposite directions (him North, me South) it was time to say goodbye. A break in traffic outside the hotel and I was off.
Need to make a call?
I had to show all the bike paperwork here for the nice policeman.
Bad piggy!
Pavement ends, back to ripio…
Yeah baby, I forgot to mention my Bolivian luck…Air Hawk found out that I was riding all these miles on a STOCK SEAT, and they sent me a cushion to La Paz. Yeah! salvation for those achey buns!
Wow. Serious landslide.
Uck. rain. Off and On all day. I’m soaked, even though my gear is supposed to be waterproof.
Miserable, I stop in Monteagudo. A strange little town that has all sorts of mining supplies in every little store…also selling lots of alcohol. Why alcohol? (Like the sterilizing kind.) I ask someone, and am told, in case they get cut or want to drink it! Oofa.
My hotel had a girl working that didn’t care too much. I bumped and banged into all the lobby furniture to get the bike inside–she was too busy watching her soap opera to help me.
I’m not happy with this place…there are two people in the hotel an they manage to put us right next to each other. There is no divider at the top of the wall, so I get to listen to my neighbor snore while the TV blares it’s evil noise. Just when I hit the REM sleep, his alarm goes off. WHAT?!? He get up, lights on, get ready and leaves. Phew Thank goodness. I just hit the REM sleep again when he’s BACK, this time with 114 kids and a woman that yells at them constantly…
