July 5, 1997 Xalapa Mexico I woke up this morning and decided to take a shower. Early morning travelling,and sweating from wearing leather protective gear in the 90 degree, 90+% humidity has gotten us into the afternoon shower habit. Our shower consists of a galvanized pipe which pokes out of a carefully broken circular hole in the tiled wall running parallel to the ground for two feet then turning 90 degrees downward into a shower head that resembles those used in Auschwitz during world war II. This old industrial style shower lets out a trickle of water below onto the tiled floor of the bathroom. Fortunately, I still remember from the day before which of the unmarked knobs is hot water. This information took ten minutes to ascertain as the pipes warmed up and the water finally differentiated the two knobs. I turn on the hot water and walk away to talk with Sharon for a few minutes as the hot water makes it's way through the hotel to the shower head. Moments after I leave the bathroom, the water stops running. Through the window in the bathroom which serves as a foul gas and humidity vent that joins all of the bathrooms in this hotel wing, I hear an american female voice ask, "Is it back yet?" I heard a man gasping as he likely suffered with the cold water. This is a popular time to take a shower, and the people upstairs like myself are at the mercy of those below. I have the hot water knob turned fully open, with not even a drip coming out. I wait for my short time window when I can take a shower, and just hope that no one below turns on the hot water while my hair and body is covered with shampoo or else I may have to wait until a person below has completed their shower before I can rinse off. This is a typical problem in the type of budget hotels we're staying in. For 70 pesos ($8.75) it's hard to complain. After the first couple odd experiences like this, one's expectations are lowered, and it just becomes part of the adventure. Events like this give the hotels "character" that we have learned to deal with. The only thing we don't like to compromise on in a hotel is cleanliness... if we can help it. if we can help it while we're budget travelling. Fortunately, this place is one of the better ones. The room and bathroom here are mopped daily, Clean sheets, towels and new bars of soap are added daily by the maid, and there isn't a smudge or spec of dust on any of the furniture. This is definitely one of the nicer budget hotels. On the low end, I think our cheapest place we stayed was in Burma at 70 kyat (US$0.70) per night. for that price, it even came with a mosquito net with only a few holes that we managed to close up with some clothe drying pins. We shared a twin size bed which was less than 5 feet away from the open raw sewage ditch that ran just outside our window. The squat toilet outhouse was not a place one would want to venture to without a flashlight. Roaches appreciated the moisture in there and drank from the plastic cup of water that was left to wash ones backside which substituted for toilet paper in Burmese culture. We didn't have a choice that night. It was either that or the streets, which didn't seem like a good idea since we were already out past curfew in this military run country that was at war with it's own people. That hotel serves as a basis of comparison when we think we're in a scum hole. Rat and roach infested hotel that smells of raw sewage,.. that hopefully *is" the low end. The bottom line is, will I survive? Will I suffer any permanent damage? The environment, culture, sights, sounds, etc. that are only accessible by travel that may be uncomfortable hopefully out way the hardships of the journey. Lowering expectations on accommodations and ease of travel certainly helps one appreciate a situation when it is less than ideal. Surviving a sucky situation, which we always seem to do, helps prepare us for future suck situation. Eventually all the suck situations just become traveller tales that often make entertaining stories. At the time they're experienced though, bad situations are rarely appreciated for these future virtues. It's the journey that defines the person rather than the destination achieved. ..some philosophical sour grapes that applies to dealing with suck situations. We set off on the R80G/S looking for the museum of Anthropology, which several sources say is one the best museums in all of Mexico. We turned off our road about a half a kilometer too soon and headed East out of town. The road turned out to be so scenic, that we kept going in the wrong direction. The road wound up a steep paved road that was surrounded in vegetation and snaked through a little residential area/farming community. Along the way up were steep cliffs covered in green with beautiful views of the valley and Xalapa below. At the top was a little pink church that was obviously the pride of the community, The grade school for the area was set against the hill behind the church. People walking up the steep hill smiled and waved back as I tipped my helmet to them as we passed. We backtracked and found the museum. It's really is a first class museum. It's very open and spacious, housing stone carvings, deities, clay figures, etc. from pre-colonial cultures of Mexico. They house several Olmec heads. Excellent trip, and a nice precursor to several of the ruins we plan to visit. The museum also had on display several skulls that were deformed. Some just had teeth filed or drilled, but others the skull was elongated. At birth the parents would strap bands around the child's head so that as the head grew, it would grow in an elongated cone shape. Apparently there were several societies that did this in the area. In Osa Johnson's book, "I Married Adventure", she wrote about encountering living societies in the 1920s that did this in the South Pacific. Her description of the people sounded like this had a serious effect on the mental abilities of the cone head population. I wonder how many times natural selection has wiped out this fashionable mutilation. While having our 5th lunch/dinner in four days at our favorite restaurant in Xalapa, We met a Japanese woman named Yoko Beppu and her japanese understudy who was a local artist in the area. She offered us a catalog of her paintings and asked if we were interested in visiting her gallery. She had been living in Mexico for the past seven years. She drew us a map to get to her gallery. I really liked the paintings in her gallery brochure, and we both wanted to check it out. Unfortunately, we weren't able to find her gallery from the map she gave us. Our loss. July 6, 1997 Tehuacan, Mexico Neither Sharon nor I slept very well. We set the alarm for 6:00am since we were planning to take off around sunrise (6:50am). At 7:00am we finally woke up. I put on my clothes, and then we both fell back to sleep, and didn't wake up again until 9:30. The problem was the mosquitoes. For several hours we were tortured by one or a few mosquitoes that would wait until we were asleep and then buzz our ears. I would swat blindly in the dark as a high pitched whine approached my ear, almost always missing of course. I turn on the lights and find them resting on the wall stuffed after their degustation. One quick squish later, and there lies one big red stain marking the swap of Dengue fever for my essence of life. I leave the bloody corpse on the wall hoping it will serve as a warning to other mosquitoes in the room. Of course they're either too dumb, or near sighted to care. We kept the window closed since it didn't have a screen resulting in a stuffy room. Next time we use the mosquito net. Heading West on highway 140, the road is in excellent condition, It winds upwards through a forested area. After the first hilly windy 53km the road flattens out as it crosses high planar area with an occasional mountain popping out of the planes. The 212km we travelled today, our altitude ranged from mostly 5500feet to as high as 8200ft. Both bikes were showing a performance hit from altitude. The R80G/S had some difficulty building up passing speed at times. The sporadic fuel starvation when going up hill problem that we last saw in Arkansas happened three times today with the R100GS. The problem is sporadic making it difficult to diagnose. We tried running the tank on reserve to see if this helps. I'm not comfortable with the fuel tank and it's non-original petcocks. I have never toured with this steel PD gas tank before we left on this trip. I had checked the carbs and in line fuel filter in Arkansas, and they appeared to be fine. I'm working on the assumption that we haven't had this problem when we ran the tank on reserve. The fuel pipettes (length? clog?) in the tank would then be suspect. I didn't bring any teflon tape, so I don't want to unscrew the petcocks yet to check them out. Now that I think about it, I may not have a large enough wrench either. I seem to remember it takes a 23-24mm? We turned East onto an unmarked highway at S. Salvador El Seco. The market in this town just outside the church was full of people. About 10km further down the road around Aljojuca the road goes by what looks like an old lake filled volcanic crater where it looks from above like locals hang out on the shores of. These towns along this road have a very laid back old Mexico feel. They better fit images I had of Mexican villages than the more modern towns we visited along the gulf. As we approached Ciudad Serdan, we could see Pico de Orizaba which is the third tallest mountain in North America at 18,852 feet coming after Mt McKinley in Alaska, and Mt L?. The setting for Pico de Orizaba is very different than for example Mt McKinley which is set amongst other mountains in Denali. The area surrounding Pico de Orizaba is somewhat flat with an occasional mountain, and then some what abruptly, this huge dark solo mountain appears on the horizon extending above the cloud ceiling. There is a gradual slope on the North West side. I think the difference is due to that this mountain was volcanic/lava formed. The surrounding area looks like it's been inhabited for quite a while. At Ciudad Serdan, we came within eleven miles of the peak which sounds far, except that being that close, the hill going up obscured the mountain. We had to be back further to see the mountain.... Road quality dropped after passing under toll road 150D. The paved road looked like it had had all of it's potholes repatched over the last 40 years, without ever being resurfaced. The result was a very bumpy patched road that we were only able to maintain about 35mph before the vibrations became a bit too much. As we drove into Tehuacan, it was surprising to see how little traffic and people there were on the streets. It was a beautiful day with nice temperature and blue skies. The roads we came in on were tiled, and they had wide tiled sidewalks with manicured trees. We found a hotel on the main road called Hotel Monte Carlo. It had all the decorations, fixtures, and furniture of a top notch hotel in the 1920s. There was a beautiful enclosed courtyard with orange trees, caged birds, and a dry fountain, however no hotel clerk. We followed the sounds of a TV and found an older woman sitting in one of the recreation rooms watching TV. She didn't seem to notice me until I greeted her with a Buenos Tardes. She showed us a room and we checked in for 80 pesos ($10). We were one of two staying in a place that looked like it could house 80 rooms. While still very nice, it looked like the place had been in steady decline since it's hayday with many simple things not being repaired. what a pity. It was going on 5:00pm, and the only thing we had eaten for the day was some bakery items we picked up the night before. We went out foraging for food. It seemed all of the stores and restaurants were closed due to it being Sunday afternoon. After searching for a half hour, we stopped at the first place we saw which was a restaurant set up in some family's courtyard. They had their 25" Sony out in the courtyard for customers to watch as they dined The channel was turned to a Mexican bullfight which we watched. We ordered the comida corilla which was a set menu of shrimp soup, seafood pailla (crabs, clams, shrimp on rice), fish fillet, and some flan. The owner wouldn't sell me a corona even though he clearly had some since it was a Sunday, so we settled on some a green Penafiel soft drink which tasted similar to Squirt soft drink. Although the food sounded wonderful, I got the most enjoyment out of eating the free bread with picante sauce. The town's main industry is natural spring bottled water and Penafiel soft drink which is the Coca cola of Mexico, (third of course to Coca Cola and Pepsi). The bottled water is shipped throughout Veracruz state. The economy obviously does well given how nicely groomed the streets are. The surrounding landscape however is somewhat desert like which seems surprising for the main water supplier of the state. After dinner we walked out to the city center which like in all other mexican cities/towns we've been to so far is a park full of people. This one was situated in front of a beautiful church with many people walking in and out of the open doors. July 7, 1997 R80G/S 25057 R00GS 16984 At 8:00am it was 63 degrees F. I love this climate in the mountains. After making an unintentional loop around town and passing several signs that pointed in different directions to get to Oaxaca, we finally made it out of town. Tehuacan seems very laid back with a slow pace of life. Traffic here is certainly one of the easier places to deal with. We took Mexico 135 down to Oaxaca which turned out to be a toll road that after three tolls cost us 75 pesos ($9.50), however it was well worth it. The whole 200km had 1st class highways paved through beautiful mountain passes of the Sierra Madres. The views were stunning, and some what disorienting due to the magnitude in size of the gorges, mountains, and distances viewed. During the first half down, I would guess that typically could view 2-3,000 feet in elevation of the landscape. The sky was deep blue with cumulus clouds adding texture to the scenery. The altitude of the road varied from 5,000 to 7,500 feet. The power loss in the R80G/S was most noticeable when attempting to accelerate uphill travelling at 60mph when we were above 6,000 feet. We averaged between 60 and 70mph along this road. We drove into Oaxaca making a loop by the center, and then parked at a grocery store so that one of us could go scouting for a hotel on foot. 40 minutes later I return to Sharon who is relaxing in the shade with a big bottle of cold water. She has been talking to the parking lot traffic director. His job is to sound short bursts from his whistle as cars back up, and then give one long burst notifying the driver that they can now drive forward. It seems unnecessary in this wide roomy parking lot. I suppose he also serves as a guard. Antonio's hotel let us park the bikes inside the hotel lobby, in what was a inner covered courtyard that served as a nice restaurant. All of the hotels in this town turned out to be twice the price of what our guide book which was published in 1994 quotes. In previous towns, it's only been about 50% off which is more in line with how much the pesos devalued since it's publishing. Oaxaca is a traveller ghetto. At times, there are more foreigners around the central square than mexicans usually eating at the outdoor cafes which surround the central park. This place is very alive with people, vendors, performers, etc. When we arrived, they had set up the park for a live concert that was to be performed that night. In the mean time they were playing nice classical music through the concert speakers. I heard a solo violinist playing a Bach Brandenburg that played over and over in my head for hours afterward. I really crave western music when we travel We sat down on the square and ordered up a feast. We had only eaten some dunkin doughnuts we picked up Tehuacan, and a small can of chicken. On the menu, listed as a Oaxacan specialty were fried grasshoppers. Not having had the opportunity before, I ordered this as an appetizer. They brought out a plate with four tortillas covered with a heaping pile of several hundred tiny fried grasshoppers, and a side of guacamole. The grasshoppers were fried in a hot garlic oil, and sprinkled with lime. While it made Sharon ill to watch, I ate all of them which tasted quite good. The breeze would occasionally sweep some of the little grasshoppers off my plate and onto Sharon's, to which she kindly asked me to keep my insects to myself. They didn't really have much flavor. All I could taste was the hot chile garlic oil, lime and guacamole in a tortilla. The grasshoppers just added a lot of crunchy texture. Another Oaxacan specialty is the Botana surtida which is an assortment of snack foods. They brought out a huge plate full of flank steak, soft white crumbly cheese, fried pork rinds, pork slices in chorizo spice, Oaxacan string cheese (which is tarter and stringier than Wisconsin string cheese), Red red Oaxacan sausage, Chorizo in 1" diameter balls, A giant fried tortilla with white cheese sprinkled on top, guacamole, and refried beans with anise, and a stack of tortillas. We had a Victoria Modelo beer, and a Montejo, which were two new brews we hadn't seen before. Very good, however Negro Modelo is still our favorite for Mexican food. That night an eleven person band played live music that sounded like a fusion of Mexican and Caribbean. Meanwhile, a guy behind and off stage would run around in front of the cathedral with what looked like a wooden reindeer whose antennas were loaded with lit, exploding and twirling fireworks. The man carrying this reindeer would rock it back and forth running around as the fireworks went off and the band played. In another corner of the park, a brass band played some traditional Mexican music as two ten foot tall mannequins danced. The mannequins were clothed wooden cages dressed as a man and woman with a person inside who could see through the navel of the mannequin. They danced and twirled to the music creating a fun atmosphere. Just about every night we've been in Mexico, there has been some live music being performed in the center of town. Mexico seems to be a very music oriented society. July 7, 1997 After having a little breakfast in our hotel,we hopped on the R80G/S and road the 10km out to Monte Alban which is an ancient ruin on top of a mountain dating back to 800BC. In it's hayday, the town housed up to 25k people. A lot of work has been put into restoring this. The pictures inside show that in 1930, it looked like several rectangular rocky grassy mounds. Now they are newly cement rocky pyramids with opened tombs and underground passage ways which we explored. The views from on top of the pyramids of the surrounding valleys below were beautiful, and we took more pictures than we'll ever want to look at. While Monte Alban isn't as well preserved as El Tajin, it was fun to explore in the cool dry climate. There was a group of high school age student archaeologists from argentina all dressed similar for an archaeology dig. Throughout the ruins are locals that sell antiques (look like at least) from the surrounding sights. Some were really cool, however, I'd hate to get thrown in jail for trying to export antiques considered national treasures. I later found out that everyone almost the same antiques at the various sights suggesting an antique factory source. This would explain the slightly uncomfortable look of the vendor when I would ask if the artifact came from this sight. The reply was always, "no somewhere else..." We met a couple, Dave and Laurie who sold there house, quit there jobs, and were exploring Central America in there Vanagon (VW camper). Lauri mentioned an AT&T program called a military saver plan which was the cheapest way to dial home overseas. I'll have to see if I can get this set up. They also mentioned that compuserve has an 800 number for mexico dial-up access that only cost .25 per minute. Certainly would be a cheaper alternative. Dave mentioned that Sprint phone access from Mexico was almost non existent. We're carrying AT&T wallet size cards listing all of the toll free numbers from all countries to get to an AT&T carrier. very handy. Experience so far (from Tuxpan and Xalapa) has been excellent. July 9, 1997 Oaxaca, Mexico I came down with a bad cold, and wasn't able to sleep well due to congestion. Sharon slept in too since she didn't sleep well either. We ate our breakfast of hotcakes and fruit salad rolls around noon, and by 2:00pm we mustered up enough energy to take a day trip to Mitla, another ancient zapotec ruins who's hayday precipitated the fall of Monte Alban. Mitla is 40km East of Oaxaca and in the modern day town of Mitla. The ruins are throughout the town, and are a bit disappointing after seeing Monte Alban. There is a big church on top of the North ruin from which they took building materials for. In order for the spanish to establish their power and impose their culture, they destroyed these pre colonial buildings. The homes and stores are built right up to the ruins. It seems the main industry of this small town is tourism. There are more stalls selling the same tourist stuff than I've seen on the trip so far. They all sell. This is a strange place to people watch. Both tourist and hawker seem out of character. Joe tourist who hopped on a flight from San Francisco to Oaxaca arrives, and is shuttled to his luxury hotel. The next morning, he's picked up in an a/c bus for his prearranged tour of the ruins. The bus lets him out and then blamo, culture shock. He hasn't had any time to adjust to the culture or the economic differences and no time to deal with preconceived notions of what Mexico would be like. The result is a cautious numbness as he walks through the hawkers here who only see the tourists as money and thrust their goods on them, because the other hundred hawkers all have the same stuff, and only the persistent ones bag the sale. On the flip side, Guadalupe local has lived in this quiet little village all of her life. So did her ancestors for as long as could be remembered. Daily, loud, noxious fume spewing diesel busses drive through the normally quiet village bringing foreigners who don't speak anything she understands to wander through her home town. The only thing good they bring is money. It was next to impossible to draw out real people here. I would try to draw out a conversation with a hawker, and I would end up getting a wrote spiel about the crap their selling as their eyes would drift off scanning the horizon for the next tour bus (bag of money). Often, the tourists seemed to have shut down such that they would not smile or make eye contact, and would look shocked when they heard a non solicitous "Hi" in english. The hawker/tourists mentality at Mitla is very A-typical of what we've experienced in Mexico so far. On the way back, we stopped off at El Tule which is a small village which supposedly is home to the oldest tree in North America. It's approximate age is 2000-3000 years. Statistics read off the back of my 2 pesos ticket read (dated Nov 1995). common name = Ahuehuete O Sabino Family = Taxodiacea Genus = Taxodium Technical name = Taxodium Mucronatum - (TEN) Height = 41.85m (137 ft) diameter = 14.05m (46 ft) weight = 636,107 tons circumference = 57.9m (190 ft) volume 816,829 m R.T.A. approx age = 2001 years The tree is in a fenced in well groomed park next to a church. When we arrived, The Argentinean sponsored student group was out front posing for pictures holding up flags from countries of the Americas & Sweden. The trees is in good shape, free of any graffiti, It's the width of the trunk that is most impressive. July 10, 1997 Oaxaca, Mexico Throughout Oaxaca are Zapotec Indians who dominated this area in pre colonial times and held the Aztecs back from Western expansion. The Zapotec woman now roam through the central square of Oaxaca often selling things such as wood carved combs, spoons and book marks. Others would sell bundles of roses... always to the male of a couple... One pair of Zapotec women carried fried grasshoppers like the ones I had eaten a meal of several days before. She offered free samples, and smiled as I declined suggesting.. "you don't know what you're missing...". The female Zapotec indians wear colorful print dresses often times plaid or floral prints. Over this they always wear a smock, and almost always have some sort of scarf which has many uses. Some use the scarf wrapped on top of their head to pad a heavy load that they carry on their head. Some have them slung over their shoulder crossing under the opposite arm such that the can carry various items on their back sort of like a one strap backpack. Sometimes it's used as a sling to carry babies up front. I found the locals around here much easier to talk with than anywhere else. I'm not sure if it's the oaxacan accent, or that they are just use to talking with non native spanish speakers. I found I could understand the spanish spoken here much easier, and it was also much easier speaking. I think they were more tolerant to my slow pronunciation of certain multi-syllable words, and occasional mispronunciation of a vowel. There are quite a few foreigners here, so I'm sure they get a lot of practice listening. After breakfast we headed up to the Santa Domingo church which is the pride of this town. The thing that stuck me as I entered the church was all of the plaster faces facing me on the walls and ceilings. The church has the faces of saints all throughout. Several of the ornate walls are covered in gold leaf. one of the chambers has a statue of the virgin Mary dressed like a Queen in front of a gold leaf wall with a clam shell over her head like Venus. [excerpt from Sharon's log for today....] In Oaxaca, we were doing the touristy stuff around town. I was interested in checking out the top-end Stouffer hotel which was converted from a 16th century convent in the '70s. As we leave the Santa Domingo church we head for the hotel but where it should be is the Hotel Calesa Real (also on the map, but a few blocks away). Confused, we go in anyway and look around. The doorman gives us a friendly welcome. Through an arched doorway. we see what looks like a small art exhibition. Beyond that is a large room with a small stage in the center and chairs set up around 3 sides. A man is sitting in one of the chairs and a man on the stage starts playing the violin (quite beautifully, especially with the room's acoustics). Of course, one reason we went to the hotel is for me to use the banos, so I go searching. When I return, Dave is still listening to the violinist. A man (the one who was seated), speaks to me in Spanish. Seeing my confusion, he asks "in English?". Then he tells me that the violinist is the first chair violinist from the Prague symphony orchestra and that there is a free concert at 6:00 pm. We immediately decide to return. BTW, the LP guide is wrong, the footprint book is correct about the hotel name - maybe it was sold?? Anyway, later that evening, we walk back to the hotel at 5:50, thinking that we won't be early enough to get a seat - we didn't realize that this would be a typical Mexican event (i.e., at least 20 minutes late). We enter the room, which is the converted chapel, now a banquet/concert hall. There are 3 people present! We are shocked, but seat ourselves front row, on the side. A few more people wander in and sit down. A waiter from the mini-bar comes around to take drink orders from everyone. You can hear the violinist warming up off in some hidden location. The walls of the room are mortared huge stones, approximately 4 or so feet thick. There are arched doorways with tall, heavy, black double doors. The promoter goes about closing these up. They bang a bit. Some hotel service men and a hotel guy with a walkie-talkie come in and start messing with the lighting - both the stage lighting and some electric candelabras mounted along the lengths of the walls. One guy pulls away part of the stage fabric and yanks off a board and pounds it in. The walkie-talkie guy waves his arm at a large sign hanging behind the stage and one of the work men runs off. Now the violinist enters. He is wearing a black tuxedo with a velvet jacket. His hair is slicked back. He looks slightly nervous as he walks on stage. The promoter jumps up and decides to introduce, Jiri Sommer. Of course, it is all in Spanish, but the acoustics echo his voice such that the language is indeterminable. As he is speaking, the workman returns and drags a metal folding ladder on stage and starts climbing up to remove the sign. Another guy, friend of the promoter, jumps up and waves this guy away. Its not like they had all day to prepare the lighting and remove the sign! Jiri is now alone on stage and is speaking about the violin. A scrawny cat runs across the back of the stage and tries to exit by the doors that the promoter carefully shut, He paws at it and a woman jumps up to help, but the cat escapes first. Jiri sits down to play. He pauses as the room noise continues and the bar tender is opening cans of soda. He smiles slightly, as if to remind himself of his surroundings and the local culture then he begins to play. A photographer bops around snapping action shots for a while. People meander in and sit down. Drinks are delivered to the seated people. Finally, things do settle down a bit. The music is beautiful and the audience is appreciative, even if they do applaud and yell 'Bravo' between the movements of each piece. Jiri seems genuinely surprised by the warm reception. He is very skilled and his "work" seems effortless. About half way through the concert, the movie camera man from the Argentinean tour group of students we keep encountering comes in with camera. He moves about shooting some film. By the end of the concert, Jiri receives a standing ovation. The 'art gallery' portion of the room is filled with people, too. Jiri is obliged to play an encore, which is the only piece I know and recognize - Vivaldi's 4 seasons, one movement, It was beautiful. [ end of Sharon's log excerpt] The chapel of the convent was perfect for this concert. The room is approximately 30 feet across by 90 feet with 4+ feet thick stone walls, stone arched ceiling, and stone floor. The notes played from his violin lingered and softly faded in this cool stone chamber creating a natural hall depth to the music. The unfortunate side is that all other noises reverberated in this chamber. On the corner just off the square, we came across 4 enduro/ dual sport bikes that looked like they were travelling together. One was registered in California, two were New Zealand? and one didn't have plates, but I suspected UK. One was a triumph tiger, which is Triumph's latest version of our bikes built with a Kawasaki engine. Another was a Yamaha Tenerre 600 XT which is the preferred bike by many Europeans for crossing the Sahara Desert, another was a Honda (600XL?). and I forgot the fourth. Sharon and I circled the square for the likely owners, but had no luck finding them. I left a note asking them if they were headed in a similar direction, and left the location of where we were staying. If they are heading in the same direction, I would guess it's likely we'll meet up. Seeing the dirt bikes got me thinking about styles of travel. Sharon and I travelled for a while in Northern Thailand, and Indonesia on a bike with similar luggage capacities. We had barely enough room for one change of clothes each and basic toiletries. We had to depend on the reliability of the bike since there was almost no room for spare parts. Also, my rear end never got use to the seat of the dirt bike. However, we were able to go places on that Honda XL250 dirt bike that our GS could not. I don't miss it, however I'm sure if we do some sand crossings, I'll wish I had a light weight bike like that again. July 11, 1997 Oaxaca, Mexico We drove out to Yagul which is another ruins near Mitla (~35km from Oaxaca). Unlike Mitla, Yagul is on top of a hill with an excellent view of the surrounding valleys. Also unlike Mitla, it's not situated next to any modern town. Strangely very few visitors visit these ruins. There are no hawkers, only grounds keepers that keep the vegetation at bay. Yagul is an unrestored ruins that I found far more interesting than Mitla. The ruins contain six interconnected courtyards of which several families could live in each. The interconnection of courtyard and the adjoining rooms make for a maze that is not always easy to navigate through. Further up the hill is the fortress where people of Yagul would run up to if the town was being attacked. Cool place. We also drove by the ruins of Dainzu, and Lambityeco which amounted to just a solo small pyramid. Because of the entrance fee, and being slightly tired of seeing another pile of rocks, we settled for our view from the motorcycle which was good enough. We've had 3 full days this week of playing amateur archaeologist. On the way back, we stopped off at a restaurant near El Tule (the old tree town). I had some cactus leaf soup while Sharon, through a translation mix up, ended up with spaghetti and hotdogs that even Chef Boyardee (sp?) would turn his nose up at. My cactus soup was made up of cactus pads cut long ways such that they were similar cut to thin french fries. They tasted most similar to canned green beans, however had a much firmer texture. The soup broth was a red spicy one similar to other red spicy broths that are common in mexican soups. I'd like to try this again at some other restaurant. Here it wasn't one I'd order again. I talked with the owner for a while. He had lived in California for 10 years before returning here to start this restaurant. The waiter had lived in the states for 3 years, and learned to speak English while he worked as a bus boy at a hotel. After lunch, we stopped off at a welding shop across from a Pemex gasoline holding area. They had an Oxygen Acetaline and a stick welder out under a shed. It looked like a typical welding shop in the states with scrap metal and pin up girls all over with the exception that work was done outside under an awning with a dirt floor. I showed him the foot on the kickstand of the R80G/S had broken off. I removed the kickstand and he welded it up. He did an excellent job and charged me 10 pesos ($1.25) ------- Dave Thompson