It is morning in the town of Tehuantepec. I am sitting on the balcony of Hostel Amelia feeling a cool breeze on my skin. Across the way is an old colonial building. Curved terracotta tiles shingle the roof surrounding an open courtyard where a lemon tree peaks above the roof. Dogs bark and people talk, but the primary sound in this town comes from tiny engines propelling three-wheeled covered taxis. They look like they were built in my highschool’s shop class. Continue reading
On Monday February 2nd after nearly two months off the bike, I ventured out into the world once more. I never intended to stay in Mexico’s capital city D.F. so long (short for Distrito Federal and similar to the US capital Washington D.C. It acts like a state; although, it is not). One week in a hostel turned into two. Staying the third week week meant the fourth week was free, an offer to good to refuse even for a wandering nomad. The fifth and sixth week? Pictures must suffice for now. They speak volumes as it is…
The universe providing is an overriding theme of my journey and always when I need it most. A long goodbye led to a late departure. Hoping for an easy transition back to vagabond, and using the excuse of still being within city limits, I searched for a hotel. Searching high and low along the steep hillsides of Milpa Alta revealed nada. Questioning the police verified my findings. The nearest hotel he said, was ten miles back down the mountain.
I messaged Stephi, “No hotels here. Thinking of riding back to Xochimilco.”
“No!” She responded. “Be an adventurer!” Easy for her to say. Continue reading