Santiago, Chile

So You want to open a pet store, but you are lacking a store. What do you do? This enterprising fellow decided not to let his lack of a location keep him from following his dream. And what a happy face he has.

I've been riding my recumbent bicycle through the streets of Santiago, and am surprised at how safe it is, compared to an American city. They do look out for bicyclists here, and will yield the right of way. I was a bit skittish at first, because of the large number of buses, but have developed a system of staying off the roads that have a lot of bus traffic. If the road looks good, comfortable and well maintained, it is to be avoided at all costs. You would be surprised how uncomfortable cobblestones are after the first three blocks.

Speaking of public transportation and the free market, did you ever wonder what it would be like if bus drivers were not paid a salary, but received a percentage of ticket sales instead? If you incentivized public transportation? That's what they do here. The busses fly down the streets, and it is not uncommon to see three at a time dive into a bus stop, trying to snare passengers. If you flag one down, he will stop, even if you are nowhere near a bus stop, which would be nice if you were the guy on the street, but given the fact that he will literally slam on the brakes from 50 mph, can be a bit disconcerting as your body wants to fly forward, the people behind you are experiencing the same sensation and the only thing keeping you from losing your balance is the death grip you have on the handle hanging from the roof of the bus. Of course they don't follow the schedule, and I have seen three of the same route travel in a pack, zooming in and out of traffic, racing to the next stop. Riding one is an adventure. After much deliberation, the city of Santiago has decided to put the drivers on a salary and make them follow a schedule. Apparently there have been too many accidents and banged up buses.

There are a lot of feral dogs here in Santiago, and they seem to find motorcyclists and guys on recumbent bicycles particularly enticing to chase. After an incident with a pack of the beasts one night on my motorcycle and another on the recumbent, I have decided to carry around a bottle full of soapy water and ammonia. Dogs don't like to be sprayed in the face with this solution, and tend to back off. They still bark, but they do stop chasing the bike.

Buenos Aires, Argentina

I am sitting in a motorcycle shop. They are putting on two tires and changing the oil for $178. They are letting me use the company computer now that the local police officer is done checking his email and viewing porn on it. The mechanic is sipping a mate and talking to a friend. He changed one tire and hopes I am not in too much of a hurry.

Mercedes, Uruguay

The very clever plan was to tell the Uruguayans how much I love their country, then go up the coast 60 miles and exit back to Argentina. But in Paysandu, I encountered the only Argentine border official who reads english and could tell that the document I presented her as proof of insurance is my registration, and the other one knew enough about motorcycles to know that a Moto Guzzi is not an MuZ, and the card I gave them next is for the wrong motorcycle.

So I'm in a cybercafe in Mercedes, printing up a new insurance card for the MuZ. I will cross back over where I had all the problems, but did not get asked for proof of insurance.

Gualeguaychu de nuevo

It´s like being stuck in Lodi again... There is a convention of Estancianero owners here. An Estancianero is like a jeep, but made in Argentina, therefore, of course, better.

There is a show on called 48 hours. It is like the american one but instead of trapping sex offenders, they torture soccer coaches. I´m not sure which is more humiliating. Granted, you fare worse after being on the American version, but spend much more screen time being totally humiliated if you lose a game on the Argentine one. So, prance naked through someone´s house to meet their 16 year old daughter while they are out of town or lose a game to Boca? One publicly brands you a total loser your entire life, the other one requires you to register whenever you move after you get out of prison. And I think the Argentine program does last the full 48 hours. A lot happens in soccer. They run back and forth down the field, they kick the ball. This goes on for days, or at least 48 hours if you add up all the games played in all the provinces in Argentina and the interesting foreign ones when they run out of domestic product to broadcast.

When they harrass me, I just ask them if they still have oil and imply that this matters to my government. For reasons I can´t comprehend, this matters to them.

Gualeguaychu, Argentina

The plan was to ride my bike across the border to Uruguay, return to Buenos Aires with another 8 months to leave the bike there, and ride someone else´s KLR 650 north to the USA. So what am I doing in Gualeguaychu, and why is my bike at the customs office, actually they wheeled it into the Customs office in Uruguay, where it has been confiscated until Monday, when I can go pay a fine equal to a third of the value of the bike and ride it off into the sunset or Uruguay.

I am extremely happy that when the bike ran out of gas today and I poured gas into the tank, some splashed out over the tank and all the plastic above the motor. The border office to leave Argentina and enter Uruguay is in Uruguay. Inside the customs and immigration office, the Argentines have two sections about 10 by 18 feet in shape, between two rectangles owned by the Uruguayos. My bike is sitting in one, stinking and reeking of gasoline.

If you have followed my tales since last year, you will remember when the Argentine protestors stopped me from going into Uruguay to do the paperwork so I wouldn´t be in this mess. I tried to explain to the one honest customs agent in all of Argentina that this happened, he told me to tell it to the boss, and wouldn´t listen to me when I asked if there wasn´t a way to fix the problem there. As much as I dislike him for not realizing that laws don´t apply to me, I do respect his honesty.

The Argentine customs agents gave me a ride to Gualeguaychu, and left me in front of a hotel. We were accompanied by a black Mormon with dreadlocks who only has 10 pesos and is trying to go 200 miles to Buenos Aires. They left him at the bus stop.

While I was there waiting for my new amigos from the Argentine customs office to finish their shifts, one of the Uruguayan naval officers who inspects trucks that enter Uruguay from Argentina let me ride his 50 cc scooter up and down in front of the customs office. The Argentines looked on unamused.

Zarate, Argentina

Mar 1, 2006

Zarate is a charming little town on the side of the river that separates two of the provinces of Argentina. I have often seen it from atop the bridge crossing the river and told myself I should stop here. It is clean and has a lot of very expensive looking houses on the bluffs over the river. The downtown is vibrant at night, with crowded restaurants and lots of foot traffic. I would definitely like to come back and spend more time here.

http://www.ipsnews.net/news.asp?idnews=32277

I was supposed to go to Uruguay today to pick up some paperwork for a venture I am looking into. So I gassed up the bike and headed for the international bridge.

Because the protesters of the Papermills being built in Uruguay had removed the signs to the bridge, I got lost and ended up wandering around for a while, before backtracking and finding the right route. About 10 miles from the bridge, I came across the blockade.

I´ll say one thing for them, the Argentines know how to build a blockade. They have taken a tractor trailer and set it sideways in the road, across a bridge over a river. There is a path next to it wide enough for a semi that they block with a farm tractor. In front of the trailer are two tents, off to both sides of the road are tents, and up the road the police have a tent over a picnic table and what appears to be a camping trailer.

The mood is festive. Once I realized there was no way to ride around the blockade, I planned to charm my way across, told them I supported them, and politely asked if I could cross.

-No, but would you like some water?

The police officers came over and looked me and the bike over.

-Offer him a maté, one said, laughing at the idea of offering a foreigner a maté.

-Would you like a maté?

¨Sweet or bitter?¨ I replied.

That got them laughing. I got off the bike and had a maté with the protesters while the police went back to their tent. The protesters showed me their blockade. They were quite proud of it. One of the tents was a kitchen, with a working stove. There is a working freezer because someone from the electric coop came out and dug up the cable and tapped into it for them, and they have dug a well beside the blockade, so they have fresh water.

On the side of the road, they are building a wooden house, so evidently they are happy there. On the other side they are building a permanent bathroom, so they can stop renting the chemical toilets they are using now.

I was going to suggest putting the bathroom in the house, but I´m sure they thought about it and decided it would be better to have it across the busy international highway. In another tent they have assembled cartoons from all over the world about the papermills, (none are pro-mill), and various media clippings.

I told them I used to go to anti-nuclear protests, leaving out the part that it had more to do with someone named Heather than any real opinion one way or another regarding the wisdom of constructing a nuclear plant on an active seismic fault, and that made them offer me some pastries. I declined, but did enjoy sitting under one of the tents talking to them.

There were five of them, a very elderly man who wore a teeshirt supporting one of the local motels, a guy of 50 who seemed to be in charge, two women in their 40s, and an idealistic kid of 20 from Buenos Aires who had been there for 11 days.

He feels sorry for the Uruguayans.

He showed me the jewelry he made, and was worried that Bush might seek another term. I told him that was impossible. His eyes lit up. Then I told him Bush has a brother. He found this troubling.

The woman who drives the tractor back and forth to allow certain traffic through is fairly fleshy. She told ribald stories about some of the younger male volunteers who had been there earlier.I helped them unload a pickup full of wood.

They invited me to stay for a barbeque, but I told them I had to be moving along.While I was there, the Argentine Customs officers, who work on the other side of the bridge in Uruguay, drove up to one side of the barrier, walked around it, and got in another car and went off to work, after joking with the protesters.

They didn´t let me cross, but I left with posters, stickers, pamphlets, a button and a really neat baseball cap.

Gualeguaychu, Argentina

Feb 28, 2006

The difference between Argentina and Uruguay when it comes to using the tourism office to secure a hotel...

Uruguay- It is Friday night during the height of the tourist season. Late in the day. You go to the city tourism office. A friendly woman pulls out a binder full of hotels, prices and pictures of the hotels and the various rooms. She goes through them, taking time to show you the ones you like, and then, when you pick one, calls it to make sure there is a room available. You pay her ten percent of the cost of the room, get a voucher with a map and directions, and off you go. When you get to the hotel, the person at the front desk shows you the room, then registers you and there you are.

Argentina- It is early, has been raining all day, and you pull in front of the city tourism office. This is in a town where people go to sunbathe on the beach. It is Tuesday night. The tourist season ended a month ago. The woman at the desk looks like she liked the teeshirt she had on so much last week that she decided to wear it another week. You tell her what you want to spend. She pulls out a map and a pen and proceeds to make dots on the map. She hands you the map.You go to the hotel. The name is not quite what she told you it would be, but a few of the words are the same, and it does correlate with one of the dots on the map. When you track down the owner, you tell her what you want, and that the tourism office said they had rooms.

-We don´t have any. Well, not really, but we could put youin one for 60 pesos instead of 40.

¨But the tourism office said you have rooms. I guess I´ll just go back and have them find me something else.¨

-Wait!

She gets her husband. He looks through a paper, it could be any paper, a menu, yesterday´s newspaper, a laundry list.

-We have a lot of reservations, with deposits.

The place is deserted, the town is deserted. It´s a beach town and nobody is going to go there on a Tuesday night in a rainstorm.

-One night? Okay, I guess you could have it for 40.

After that, he´s my best friend. Introduces me to the neighbor, who offers to let me park my bike in his garage until the morning. Asks me if I am related to Hulk Hogan, tells everyone else standing around outside with nothing to do because there´s nobody in town where I am from...

Rio Cuarto, Argentina

Feb 28, 2006

After a long time without really moving very far, I went about 400 miles yesterday, and can feel it everywhere. The bike is holding up surprisingly well, considering that I have no idea how to check the oil and at times it is full, then when I go to check it the next day is completely empty. So I just fill it completely every day.

Nothing is quite the thrill that having to switch to your reserve tank while passing a long line of trucks and looking into the headlights of a fast oncoming bus provides. Rio Cuarto is a surprisingly large town alongside a river. I got in late and rode around for about half an hour looking for a hotel, finally settling on the first one I came to. After checking in, I made a quick walk of the immediate environs and found three more,just around the corner.

I was expecting a small farming community, and found a vibrant city center, full of highrise apartment buildings. I found a sports bar and watched a soccer game (surprise), while eating a late dinner last night.

One thing that surprises me is how many of them drag their very young kids into bars and restaurants at midnight. And the kids are wide awake and run screaming through the places.

When I left Santiago it was overcast and cold. Today is overcast and cold, and the temperature is predicted to drop on Friday.

So much for escaping winter.

It has been raining a lot, and so the pampas are lush, the mountains and hillsides green, and the ever-present pampas grass in full bloom. This part of Argentina has a lot of very rugged little hills, and so the terrain has not been as boring as usually when crossing the pampa.

I have been giving a lot of thoughts to the hotdogs down here. Theyare very popular, the people eat them like crazy, and yet they also eat everything we associate the making of hotdogs with. All the really repulsive parts of the cow that you associate with Fear Factor or your Mexican neighbor´s hangover cure. So what´s left? What are they made of?

Uspallata, Argentina

Feb 11, 2006

I rode here last night.

It is about 150 miles and took about 5 hours.

From Santiago the road goes straight up the Andes through a series ofcurves they call the Caracoles, and gets colder and colder as you climb. The surface is paved, but looks like they drive tanks up and down it on a daily basis. Chunks are missing, and it is full of large slow moving trucks and buses. The fact that they are climbing a steep hill, or descending, doesn´t seem to impede their passion to pass one another. At night it is difficult to see the holes, so it really works a suspension.

Once at the summit, there is a really long tunnel, then you are in Argentina, and because it was late and I am only here for the weekend, the customs agents decided to just let me go without doing the paperwork to import the bike, so I am running around without papers. About 50 miles outside of Uspallata, it started to rain. But the air is clear, you can see the mountains around the town, it and green, and the best hotel is setting me back about $35 a night. So life could be worse. I could be in Ohio awaiting the snowstorm.

Santiago de Chile

Feb 4, 2006

I´ve been back here a week, and I have made a couple of interesting observations about the Chileans.

First off, they hate all things Argentina.

So dulce de leche, which was invented in Argentina and is called Dulce de Leche in every country in the world, has a different name here in Chile. If you order Dulce de Leche ice cream, they will correct you and then bring your order last, after everyone else at your table and around you has been served.

A very popular salutation in Argentina and Uruguay is Che, they use it amongst friends, and when they want to get someone´s attention in a restaurant or store. Because of the time I spent in Argentina and Uruguay, I got used to using it as a salutation, and still use it frequently. As a result of this, I am pretty well disliked by most of the people around me, and most of the Chileans I know say it is just a matter of time before someone beats me up.

To keep people from tailgating the city buses, they took out the brakelights. It works...

Calingasta, Argentina

Jan 27, 2006

I cant believe these guys are doctors and I hope I don^t get sick.These are the two thoughts that cross my mind after going on an outing with them and the tv executive.

We rode about 120 miles through the desert, with constant breaks so they could smoke and argue, and ended up in Calingasta. We stopped on the road to smoke, and they saw cars approaching, so they jumped on their bikes and raced off, so the cars wouldn{t pass them.

The first thing they did when we found a store that sold meat was head for the cooler, open a quart of beer, after removing about six and finding the coldest one in the cooler, and share it while bickering with the butcher about the meat. He was taking slabs of beef out of a refrigerator and showing them to the Doctors. I don{t think he washed his hands,and beside the cash register were two plates covered with dead and dying flies.

They finally settled on one, raced off to buy wood, and off we went, with 5 pounds of meat for 4 people, and a loaf of bread.

The houses here are adobe, and we made a párilla, which is like a barbeque, and roasted the beef, while drinking many bottles of wine.Mixing red wine with ice and seltzer still bothers me, so I just drink water and look on in amazement, doing my best to stay healthy enough that I don{t require medical attention.

It is hot and dry here. They bicker constantly and one will get mad and leave for awhile, then all is forgotten and they fight about something else.Unfortunately there is good cellular reception, so I have talked to everyone they know who claims to speak english.The doctors are constantly getting lost, and asking people where they are and how to get where they are going. Tonight one drove past the hotel, and the other almost wrecked getting here.

Last night, in the desert, with only one road crossing it, we got lost about four times, and at one point they stopped the bikes and one of them walked back about a quarter mile to ask someone for directions. I was tempted to offer him a ride.

Something I forgot to mention about the ride through the desert lastnight is that the road was straight for miles and miles, and in the distance I would see lights approach, and when they got closer I realized it was one guy tailgating another with his brights on. Theydo this for miles. On straight roads. With plenty of opportunities to pass. It is the middle of the desert and there is nobody else out there. They also like to hit you with their brights at the last instant, when you can{t do anything about it.

San Juan, Argentina

Jan 27, 2006

I am in the foothills next to Chile.

It is hot.

Last night I decided to try my ride at night technique, because I was once again in the desert, had 120 miles to go, and it was warm. So as the sun set, I rode on, confident that it would work this time. The next thing I knew, as soon as darkness set in, I was in a marsh, it was pitch black, and ducks were flying across the road.

The road turned again and up ahead I could see lightning flashes. Mosquitos breed in marshes, lots and lots of mosquitos. So I was covered in dead bugs,dodging ducks, and heading for lightning. And there was no town or gas for 140 miles.

At the gas station I met three Argentinians on bikes. We traveled the rest of the way to San Juan, and I ended up sharing a room with one.He is a doctor from Cordoba and a chainsmoker who confines his smoking to the bathroom. We went out and were out to three in the morning, then the other two started calling at about 8 am. So I am not at my best or brightest this morning. Not only that, but I have gone more than a week without laundry service.

Cordoba, Argentina

Jan 26, 2006

This is the second biggest city in Argentina, nestled in the foothills of the Sierras, which are older than the Andes, and a very popular tourist destination. I spent the night in Oliva, after having lunch in Rosario with an artist I met last year down near El Califate. Because it has been so hot, and there are no deer in Argentina and the cows are kept behind fences, I decided it might be a good idea to ride to Cordoba at night.

Unfortunately this part of the country is like their Arkansas, so I got pelted by bugs and some fairly large flying creatures until I could barely see through the encrustation of little feet and wings. Oliva is an agricultural town about 50 miles south of Cordoba. I was looking for a hotel, passed one which looked expensive and asked the woman standing on the side of the road beside it where another hotel was.

She turned out to be a transvestite working the passing truck drivers. And unfortunately this was the only hotel in town. But everyone at the hotel was nice, and they evidently have a notransvestite policy.

While there, I talked with the guy working the front desk about a bank robbery that is getting a lot of news in Argentina right now. Six guys went into a bank during business hours and told the employees they were robbing it. One of the employees hit the alarm, and the police showed up. The robbers began negotiating with them, and they were trading hostages for pizzas and cold beers for over six hours. When the police finally got in, they found out the guys had gotten out through a tunnel that ended two and a half blocks away, in a house. Last night the police had found another rubber raft in the river. They got away with about 25 million dollars in securities, 200,000 in cash, and the contents of 125 safe deposit boxes. Being Argentina, everyone here hopes they get away.

Rosario, Argentina

Jan 24, 2006

One thing I learned traveling through small towns is that you can usually find a reasonably priced hotel near the bus terminal. What I learned in this city of over one million is that nobody in his right mind would want to stay near the bus terminal in a town this big.

On the way here, I went through the notorious Entre Rios province, and was stopped by the police. They asked me if I had a fireextinguisher, then proceeded to tell me that there was a law that I needed one and that I was in violation of that law. The officer went into exquisite detail about the size of the extinguisher I was supposed to carry, and was quite officious about the entire matter, taking me into the office, so he could show me the law, on a mimeographed sheet of paper, and then tell me what the fine would be.

The whole thing was quite funny.

Once inside I explained that I didn´t have a fire extinguisher, that I had no intention of getting one, that the law excluded motorcycles, and asked if he intended to ask me for a bribe.He told me that there really was a law, that all the Brazilian and Chilean riders who passed through there had fire extinguishers, and he had no intention of asking for a bribe.

Then he asked me if I had a visa.

I again told him I didn´t, and wasn´t going to get one. At this point he set my documents on his desk, because the law also says they can´t detain a person or his documents without a judge present. I did ask if there was one around, while picking up my documents. He reiterated that he had no intention of asking for a bribe, and watched me ride off.

Down the road I ran into a couple from Argentina and asked if they had been stopped by the police and asked if they had a fire extinguisher. They rolled their eyes and said no, but a Brazilian they had met was. He apparently paid the fine.I wonder how many return visitors carry 1 kilo fire extinguishers on their bikes.

Paso de Los Libres, Argentina

Jan 23, 2006

I made it to the border with Brazil and then realized I really don´t have enough money to get far enough into Brazil to make it worthwhile. So I´m off to the other side of Argentina. Today a couple of interesting things happened.I was going through a tollbooth and one of the policemen on the other side waved me over, asked to see every document I could thinkof producing, asked me what all the medications I had were, where I thought I was going to get Malaria, things like that, then took all my papers into his office. I waited and waited, then he came out, folding my documents up and sticking them back into my passport. He got to the bike and said, ¨Sir, the bike is stolen.¨ I got rather indignant, and figured he was going to ask for a bribe or something, but he waited a couple of seconds and then started laughing and handed me back my documents.

On my way north, I passed a sign for German Town, and on the sign was a beer stein, so I figured I would take the gravel road the 2 km the sign said I would take to encounter German Town, and off I went.

There was a big sign announcing that the Argentine government had just put new gravel down, and boy did they do a good job. It was thick and slippery, and the bike was starting to wander. I rode on and on, and on, down this lonely dirt road, more than two kilometers, then went around a corner and saw a guy walking towards me. He was very dark, and as I got closer I could see that he had piercing blue or green eyes, and a Seed of Chuckie teeshirt. Meanwhile the sky had started to fill with heavy black clouds. I went a little distant further, then turned around, and quickly passed the seed of Chuckie on my way back to the main road.

San Jose, Uruguay

Jan 18, 2006

I´m never going to make it to Punta Del Este.

I spent about ten days in Buenos Aires, because a friend left me his apartment for five, and then couldn´t get rid of me for another five. The first two days were stifling hot, then it started to rain, and rain and rain. Finally, last Saturday, I took the ferry to Colonia de Sacramento, taking advantage of a lull in the rain to get onto the boat and across the river.

The ride takes about an hour, and there is a duty free store, so I was able to get some things you can´t find in the stores here, like hot sauce.

Colonia is an old city, and the city center has been preserved. It was the capital of Uruguay when the Portuguese ruled here, and is as close to Buenos Aires as you can directly get.

Normally I would have driven around to the first international bridge and riden across, but the Argentinians have closed all the bridges, because they are protesting a pair of paper mills Uruguay is building across the river.

I figured that because this is the vacation season and it is difficult to get to Uruguay, that there would be a lot more vacancies there than Argentina. So I got to ride in a boat. I then went to Mercedes, where I spent a lot of time last year, and got stuck for another day in a torrential downpour with lightning strikes and thunder.

After seeing pictures of lightning strike victims on one of my favorite macabre websites, I have decided to pass up riding in lightning storms for the time being. From Mercedes, I set out
yesterday for Punta Del Este, and got to San Jose, then hit the first of the toll roads, and this is where it got very interesting.

Because of the recent torrential downpour, the entire road as far as I could see was under water. There were people fishing off the sides of the part that entered the water. Of course I should have known something major was up, because there were three traffic cones set at the edge of the road, just in front of the fishermen.

So I returned to San Jose, about 25 miles back, and was told the road would be open by this afternoon, and that I should stay at the hotel. The guy who told me this actually works at the hotel, and it seemed pretty empty at the time. Now, as I ask more people, who are not in any way renumerated by the hotel, I find out the road will probably remain submerged for a couple of days.

San Luis, Argentina

Jan 3, 2006

I left Santiago yesterday around noon and came back across the Andes, intending to take a leisurely ride through the Mendoza wine country of Argentina. I am a big fan of touring wine country, having spent many a happy afternoon in the Napa and Sonoma valleys during the harvest season riding from winery to winery, the air ripe with the smell of fermenting fruit.

Touring the Mendoza wine country would be more like touring the Gallo vineyards around Fresno, in the California central valley. Vast expanses of vineyards and fruit trees, and guys in beat up old Fiats on the side of the road selling wine and peaches off a card table. The wine sells for 5 pesos for 5 liters. It is 3 pesos to the dollar, so my first thought was too bad my motorycle won´t run on the stuff.

I´m sure they have a different marketing strategy for the good stuff.

San Luis is in the middle of the route to Buenos Aires, and I know absolutely nothing about it.

The drive into town goes past factories and warehouses, and then suddenly you are in a town alive with people on vacation, three and four star hotels, bars and restaurants full and spilling out onto sidewalk tables. Evidently it is either a tourist destination, if you believe the brochures, or a nice place to spend the night on your way to other places.

Santiago, Chile

Dec 31, 2005

Needing repairs, I headed back to Santiago, because this is where I had the bike serviced last year and I have a lot of confidence in this mechanic. When he showed me the chain, with broken links, I realized I was lucky to have made it all the way back.

The ride up through Argentina from Malargue to Mendoza wound along a river, tucked up against the Andean foothills, High desert scrub gave way to Pampa, and then vinyards as I entered the province of Mendoza, where the Argentine wine industry is located.

Much like the road from Neuquen to Malargue, there were lots of goats and horses on the road, and the occasional odd creature scurrying across. One of them looked like a cross between an armadillo and a rat. Parrots explode from the trees.

On my recent circle of Chile, I met a guy from Mendoza who said it was a three hour ride from there to Santiago. On the map they appear to be very closs, so I set out optimistically and leisurely at about 4.30 for Santiago.

The road across the Andes is long, twisty, and cold. The highest it gets is about 10,000 feet, and above the road are jagged peaks, many snow covered. There is plenty of runoff from the snowpack, and because the Andes are relatively new, is is full of mud and rocks. Much of it runs across the road in places. There are a lot of tunnels, and relatively few guardrails.

I was a bit conderned after going through one of the long tunnels and seeing a sign that said ¨Welcome to Chile¨ because I hadn´t seen the Argentine border crossing, and it has been my experience that Chile and Argentina like to leave enough space between their two countries to fit their entire armies, should the need arise. While passing through the tunnel, I did wonder how many times both sides have planned to blow it up. Luckily, the Argentines and Chileans
share a building on the Chile side of the line. So I was able to go to window 1, then 2, then 3, then 6, back to 3, then 4, then 5, back to 4 because 5 said 4 did something wrong, outside to have my bike and luggage inspected, then to the guard at the side of the road, then back to 1, then to 2 then back to the guard at the side of the road and off to Santiago.

When they don´t share a building, my experience is that one side will say the other did something wrong, shrug and let you go.

The road down is a lot of numbered very tightly twisting turns, where it is apparently customary for trucks to see who can get up or down the fastest. There is a surprising amount of passing on the road, and trucks so long they have to drift the back end around a corner. And of course, no guardrails. At the top, before you make the descent, there is a pile of twisted cars they have pulled up out of various places, perhaps to serve as an example, but surprisingly,
or alarmingly, no trucks.

If I find the guy who told me it was a three hour trip, he may disappear. After five hours between Melargue and Mendoza, I enjoyed another seven on the bike, and arrived in Santiago at 10.30, exhausted and in need of a shower.

Malargüe, Argentina

Dec 29, 2005

The road from Neuquen hugs the foothills of the Andes, and follows a river north to Zapala, then continues on through very green high desert, bright red rocks remniscent of Sedona, AZ, and buttes that remind one of the west.

Suddenly the road is gone (this is one of the main thoroughfares in Argentina, Ruta 40), and I was on gravel and sand, and patches of broken pavement where the road was once paved, for 120 miles. It was hot, dry, dusty and I passed about three cars the entire 120 miles. I ran into 6 guys from Mendoza, my next stop, on motorcycles out on this road. They were on their way to La Angostura, the most beautiful town I have encountered so far, the one with the wildflowers that I didn´t know the name of earlier after driving through.

In the middle of this dusty gravel and dirt road, I came across a perfect intersection with new streetlights and pavement going off in all directions. For about 100 yards.

I was lucky when I got to Malargüe, because a hotel was easy to find, and it was about a block away from where they were having a concert to celebrate the new year and announce the candidates for the beauty pagent for the Goat Festival that is coming up. While the idea of possibly getting a glimpse of the next Miss Goat over the heads of the throng of people who will show up for anything free, I hadn´t eaten since breakfast, so I found a parilla, which is an Argentine steak house, and had a nice steak, thinking I had ordered shortribs, salad, and for dessert something I thought would be cheesecake, but ended up being a piece of cheese with some flavored gelatin on it. Definitely interesting.

So it was off to sleep, and then at 3 AM the fireworks display started. Apparently Miss Goat is an important part of the social fabric in Malargüe, and mortars are cheap, because they set off a lot of them, very near my hotel.

Interesting thing about this hotel, it was the first one I´ve ever been in in my life where there was plenty of hot water, but not enough cold.

Neuquen, Argentina

Dec 27, 2005

Leaving El Bolson, I headed back toward Bariloche, and was suddenly under dark, menacing clouds. There was a definite chill in the air, and I actually had to put on a jacket. I went through Bariloche, heading for Neuquen, which was an interesting looking dot on the map I broke down and bought at a gas station.

Neuquen province is famous for jagged rock formations that look like fingers, and the vegetation can best be described as dense high desert. On the way to Neuquen, which is a palindrome, I saw a sign for San Martin De Los Andes, so I realized what the name of the mountains I was riding in is, and also remembered someone telling me San Martin was worth seeing. I got a bit down the road and the Patagonian wind kicked up, buffeting me from side to side, and sending long streamers of dust across theroad.

San Martin is a ski resort that instantly makes one think of Europe. Most of the buildings are Heidi style, made of wood with pitched roofs. The streets are clean and well maintained, and this is definitely the Aspen of Argentina. Not one to be distracted, and despite the fact that I had gone about140 miles out of my way, I set back out for Neuquen. The landscape changed again, and I was crossing the Pampa, miles and miles of pampa, flat, endless miles, with even more wind and dust, and no more jagged rock formations that look like fingers.

All along the way, I passed hotels on the side of the road, and kept going. I had decided to go to Neuquen. Dust was burning my eyes, and I couldn´t focus close up, but I pressed on. I got to Neuquen, and it is a dirty broken down industrial city full of graffiti. The people speak the most indecipherable dialect I have ever heard. And the drugstores sell brylcreem by the half kilo (1.1 lbs.)

I drove around and around looking for a hotel, and finally found one. The price was 50 pesos. I was beat up, exhausted, and thought about looking around some more, because I had decided I was going to pay about half that. Then I thought, wait, 50 pesos is about $13, I´m here, I´m exhausted, my eyes are crusting shut with dust....,

Pay the lady and take the room.

El Bolson, Argentina

Dec 27, 2005

I left Valdivia and headed south, to Porto Montt. The ride was long and straight, and through what is like the central valley of Chile. First I encountered several of the wine producing regions, and on both sides were vineyards. Then, as I got further south, I looked over to my left and saw a perfectly shaped snow covered volcano , and the terrain changed to lush green forests and gently rolling hills. I began to skirt a lake, and passed another big town before entering Porto Montt. Porto Montt slopes drastically down to the water, and the houses remind me of old boomtown houses built on the hillsides. In the harbor, tugs were yanking a freighter into place. It was a lot colder than up north, and the people were rude, so I left and headed north to Orsono, where I spent the night.

The road from Osorno, in Chile, to El Bolson, Argentina, is one of the most spectacular ones I have ever been on, especially this time of year. As it climbs the Cordillera, the mountain range separating Chile from Argentina, the road skirts a large lake, and more snow covered mountains come into view. The pavement is in pretty good shape, and it is easy to get caught up in the road and forget to look around at the waterfalls and lush green forests. Both sides of the border is a National Park, and so the land is very well taken care of.

Once through the border formalities, and descending down into Argentina, the terrain is still forest, but not quite so thick. Purple and bright yellow wildflowers line the road, and the first town in Argentina looks like something right out of Lake Tahoe. In fact, the ride around the lake to Bariloche, a fairly well known town, is a lot like riding around Lake Tahoe, without traffic enforcement, and with very little traffic. Again, the roads are in very good shape.

From Bariloche south to El Bolson, the road levels out a bit, but is still very twisty. I passed a stream and stopped, went back and filled my water bottle. The water was rapidly moving, ice cold, and absolutely delicious runoff from the snowpack. El Bolson is a resort town in the mountains. There is a fairly successful MicroBrewed beer industry here, and a lot of people go on hikes in the National Park. This time of year it is full of European backpackers and the occasional family.

Camping is very popular, and there are several well equipped campsites lining the road through town. The beef in Argentina is delicious, and the people are a whole lot warmer in temperment than the Chileans. I am heading north, since it is my plan to see the northwestern part of Argentina, and then try to cross into Brazil. So this is as far south as I will go this year.

On a sad note, my camera broke yet again. If anyone can get a great deal on a cheap (since I´m mounting it on my handlebars and riding very fast with it) MiniDV camera with 2 or 3 UV filters and 2 longlife batteries and a charger, please let me know.

Valdivia, Chile

Dec 25, 2005

Merry Christmas. This is my first day actually on the road in Chile since I started this trip. I left Columbus, Ohio on the 7th of December. It was about 19 degrees,and lightly snowing. By the time I reached the border with West Virginia, my feet were extremely cold, and I could barely feel my legs. So I did the only reasonable thing I could think of. I found a McDonalds and used the automatic hand dryer to warm my boots. After about six sessions with each boot, I could feel my toes again, and made it all the way to Winston Salem, NC. Surprisingly, one can smoke in Applebees in Winston Salem. I went on the next day to the outskirts of Savannah Georgia, then to Miami.

This is where the fun starts. I got in on a Friday night and the person I had planned on staying with was out of town. So I ended up in North Beach, then spent the following night in South Beach, then down to Key West and back on Monday. Monday I did what I needed to do to ship the bike, and called the shipper. She told me that I should have brought it over that day, and she was right. I took it over on Tuesday, and had it put in an open crate. Then I went to her office and the shipping agent explained to me that US Customs needed to approve the export papers and then the bike had to sit for three days at the airport. My friends in Chile says this is to see if it´s going to explode. But the shipping agent said it was to give Customs time to see the bike and check that it is the bike I say it is, the VIN matches and that it is not stolen.

So I left the bike to be crated and shipped and got a cheap next day fare to Santiago. Once there I found out that Customs wouldn´t accept the papers because the copy they had of my passport was too dark. Then they needed a copy of my drivers license. Then they wanted to know what a MuZ motorcycle was, how big the motor, how many cylinders, etc. Then they told the agent that the year of the bike did not correspond to the VIN. Then they decided to go look at the bike. Four days after receiving the papers, they stamped them, and that´s when the three days of waitingto see if it was going to explode started. So I could ship on the 22nd. Meaning I would miss the flight of the 21st, but could ship on the 25th, because Hazardous Cargo from an unknown, to the Homeland Security Department, shipper can only go in cargo planes.

So I was convinced I would be spending two weeks in Santiago, watching my friend the cronic napper take naps and reading three year old motorcycle magazines. I started calling rental car companies. And immediately after making a reservation I got an email from the shipping agent that there was an extra flight going out the night ofthe 22rd, and that my bike was on it, but that they had to get the papers to the airport to go with the bike. So I was still not sure it was coming or not. Finally, I got an email that it was in the air, and the next morning, the 23rd, picked it up, after three hours of waiting and wandering between various Chilean Customs offices. After being in one place for a sizeable length of time, all my possessions were strewn about, so it took me a few hours to pack, and I headed south the 24th.

During this wait, my friend the napper got tired of my disturbing his rest with questions about things to do that did not involve sleeping, and let me take his BMW motorcycle on a loop from Valparaiso to Vina Del Mar, then north up the coast and back to Santiago. The beaches in Vina Del Mar are spectacular. Long stretches of sand with vivid blue water. And because it is on the Pacific, there are waves. And there are a lot of nice little restaurants on the beach. Everything in Chile is clean. There is no litter on the streets, and the people, if a trifle cold, are for the most part friendly and honest.

Valdivia is a lot like being in Washington state. Very green and lush, surrounded, as far as I can tell, by lakes and alpine type mountains,with lots of rolling green meadows thrown in, and in the high 80s this time of year. They eat a lot of pork, which is rare this far south. There is a strong German influence, and the guy who stopped to help me when I ran out of gas was hoping to speak german.

It is not smart to pass gas stations in the middle of nowhere with about 20 miles of gas left in your tank and an empty gas can strapped across the back of your bike. I´m sure most of the people who passed me wondered why I didn't just fill my tank with the gas can I was waving at them.

The ride down was extremely sweltering at times and I got a lot of strange looks when I took off my shirt at gas stations and soaked it in the outdoor fountains. The further one gets from Santiago, thecleaner the sky is, and the rivers are so clear you can see the bottom from the bridge as you race across. One of my theories, which I set out to prove on this trip, is that you can be just as comfortable on a smaller motorcycle if you set it up right with a good seat and more road friendly gearing. This is not true.

One of the main attractions in Valdivia is the microbrewed beer. There are at least three companies that make beer here, and half a liter of one of the artesanals sells for about $2. Finally something cheap in Chile. I also found a hotel with hardwood floors and a private bath for less than $20 a night, within walking distance of downtown.

Another of the attractions is the cheap avocados. You can buy 7 kilos, which is about 15 pounds, for a little less than $2. At the gas stations, you can squeeze all the guacamole you want onto your hotdog. I am now starting to suspect the price of avocados in the US is artificially controlled, much like diamonds.

Round Two

December 7, 2005

Round Two... I have decided to ride a MZ Baghira from Columbus Ohio to Buenos Aires, Argentina, and leave it with pilotos solidarios, a group of medical professionals that go out into remote parts of Argentina on motorcycles and treat the indigent. There will be frequent stops to smell the roses along the way.

Leaving Miami, Florida

Apr 8, 2005

After my deluge of emails to people asking them to contact the Airline, I was informed by one of them that the Quota had arrived this morning. Evidently the airline wasn't going to tell me. So I went to the warehouse, then to the Customs office to get it cleared back into theUS. I was so surprised when the Customs officers just signed a box, and didn't start madly stamping the document with rubber stamps. It's been a long time.Tomorrow I head for home and the end of the road... For now.

Miami, Florida

Apr 8, 2005

Tuiesday morning I arrived at the Buenos Aires airport, to finalize shipping arrangements for my bike and fly back home. I was happy. An hour before I left, all that had changed. The letter below explains why. Gotta love those Argentinians. This is the national airline

***************

Dear Rider,

Marcelo Kunis is holding my bike hostage in Buenos Aires for $2000 more than Aerolineas Argentinas agreed to ship it for. Below are excerpts of a letter I sent to him, trying to get it back, which I think clearly explains what happened. Please write him a letter encouraging him to ship it to me. Antonio Mata is the president of the airline. Feel free to forward this letter to all riders, groups, and friends who may be willing to send an email. The more emails he gets, the more likely it is they will ship my bike as agreed. If you can write in Spanish, al lthe better

Thank you,

George

*******************

"Re Guia 044-35308921

Dear Mr. Kunis,

Recently I completed a 5 month tour of South America, .... After consulting several people who had made similiar trips and shipped their bikes back to the United States, I decided to ship from Buenos Aires. I found that other people had paid in the range of 750-1200 for this service. I called Aerolineas Argenitinas and was told that your airline provides this service. On Thursday, the 31st of March, I went in and talked to Carlos, who gave me a price of $785 as an estimate, based on the weight of the bike.On Monday, I went in to the offices, and we prepared my motorcycle for shipping. I did as Carlos and the other employees had advised to ready my bike for shipping, and it was loaded onto a pallet and packaged to be shipped. The Aduana was consulted, and all the paperwork necessary to leave the country was prepared by Daniel for the Aduana. I was told the bike would be shipped that night and would arrive in Miami on Tuesday. At the office, I was then given a price of $987, which was higher than the original price, but I agreed to pay. At the time I signed the contract and paid $400 US and 1400 pesos Argentinos, leaving a balance of 314 pesos Argentinos. I told them at the time that I had a flight leaving on Tuesday in the evening and was assured that the bike would meet me on Wednesday in Miami if I paid the balance before noon on Tuesday, the 5th of April. At approximately 11:00 on Tuesday, I paid the balance in your offices, and was given a copy of the signed agreement between Aerolineas and myself. A few hours later, Carlos and Daniel found me in the airport and told me I had to pay an additional $40 US and sign 3 copies of a Dangerous Goods disclaimer. I followed them back to the offices of Aerolineas and was told that I had to sign the copies, but didn't have to pay the fee. I returned to the airport, checked my bags in for my international flight, and waited to leave, confident that Aerolineas would ship the bike as agreed. Approximately an hour before the flight, after checking in and receiving my boarding passes, I was yet again found by Carlos and Daniel and told that the fee was another $2000 more, because the rate was different than the one to which Aerolineas and I had agereed, even though we had a signed contract to ship the bike. I was told I could give them my signed copy of the copy and they would give me back my money, and the bike would just sit in the bodega until I could make some other arrangements, regardless of the fact that we had a signed contract. I was also informed by your employees that it was virtually impossible that I could get my motorcycle out of the bodega with permission from the Aduana to operate it in Argentina. I was further informed that I would have to have my luggage removed from the plane and would lose the value of my non-refundable ticket because I would miss my flight trying in vain to remove my motorcycle from the bodega. I was further informed that for the extra $2000 Aerolineas would do exactly what they were going to do in the first place, put the bike on an airplane and ship it to Miami. The additional funds were not for any special services to be provided. I am not sure if you are aware of the terms of the contract, but one of them is that Aerolineas perform "in a timely manner," At this point, Aerolineas is almost in default of the terms to which I and Aerolineas agreed.I have a signed contract between your airline and myself, for services for which I have prepaid. I demand that Aerolineas perform those services as per the contract or subcontract them out to someone who will, in a timely manner. "

Buenos Aires, Argentina

Mar 31, 2005

The Flying Gringo is coming home. Today I bought my ticket home, monday I get to disassemble the bike and put it in a box at the airport, then hopefully meet it in Miami on Wednesday morning.Looking back, it seems strange that I was in so many places that Ireally enjoyed and will probably never see again. And all the people along the way, who took me in and helped me out, who would make really great friends except that I'll never pass through their slice of the world again. It feels good to be coming home.

Gualeyguaychu, Argentina

Mar 28, 2005

When the dentist started heating an instrument with a bic lighter I knew it was time to get a second opinion, preferably in another country. So I´m on my way to Buenos Aires and then home. Four rounds of antibiotics and lots of time in the dentist chair and pain later, and I´m on my way home. But first I have to find another dentist and get this root canal filled in. I have had a lot of fun in Uruguay, the people are wonderful and the pace is slow, and it really was a nice way to end this trip and make the last few dollars last.

One of the disadvantages I found to their managed healthcare is that you have to go the the pharmacist for everything, and while drugs tha tare very costly in the US are much cheaper here, things like 12 sudafed or 4 ounces of metamucil cost $8. Come to think about it, everything costs about $8 in the pharmacies in Uruguay.

Delores, Uruguay 3rd time's a charm

I´m still here.

The weather has been nice, sunny and in the 80s and 90s, but nothing exciting happens until the dentist gets done pulling teeth and we sit and share a mate. I've gone native.

There are a lot of old cars still on the road, but if I mention that I like one, the owner tries to sell it to me.

Back home, it has been cold, cold and more cold, and you can stay at a hotel here for a little more than $80 a month.

I got a $40 root canal, and since then have had nothing but problems with the tooth in question, so I´m waiting it out. The bike still runs, and I´m talking to Mark, the dutch tatoo artist, about doing the same trip next year on waverunners, riding down South America just off the Atlantic coast. We both think it is feasible, and would be an interesting way to feed the mosquitos while exploring the rivers of Brazil.

Montevideo, Uruguay

Feb 14, 2005

It is carnival season here, which means that every town that can has one or more nights of really loud music and women dancing around the streets in feathers and a thong. Montevideo is small, old, a little rundown, and clean. There is one Mexican restaurant, but the owner, who is from Mexico City, seems to have been in another line of work in his own country, something that didn´t involve making food taste good. The food is awful.

There are not any really tall buildings in Montevideo, and TGIFridays bailed and closed three restaurants some years ago, so my only connection to home here is the local McDonalds, of which there are several.It has rained for days on end, and on the other side of the country,about 200 miles away, the picnic benches beside the river are submerged.

I have been here for a lot longer than anticipated, not only because the weather back home is miserable, but also to check out an opportunity to help produce a motorcycle rally in this region next year. While I may not have a lot of experience at this, none to be exact, I have been to a couple of bike nights and nobody here seems to have any idea how to put something like this together, much less the ability to verify my claims that I am the one who puts together the Sturgis and Daytona Bike Week rallys in the US every year.

Fray Bentos, Uruguay

Feb 6, 2005

The second annual international motoencuentro is underway in Fray Bentos, a small town on the other side of the bridge from Argentina. Because they managed to lure 5 argentinians and me over, it truly is international.I´ve been interviewed twice by television, twice by radio and once by print media.

I´ve had to give a reporter a ride and manoeuver through an obstacle course. We went on a ride through town and the people literally lined the streets waving and clapping as we drove down to the beach at Las Arañas. I have a teeshirt and diploma.The meal was barbecued crossribs and big bottles of generic coke. Quarts of beer were 40 pesos, expensive when you consider that they are only 30 in the stores. And it´s 25 pesos to the dollar. I tend to gravitate toward the Argentinians, and spend most of my time talking to them. I´m not sure why, but there is something I find familiar in sarcastic people who think they know it all and have an opinion about everything. One of the Argentinian riders, originally from Colombia, offered to share her carpa with me if I wanted to spend the night at the rally. And it was a fairly attractive carpa at that. It´s been a long time since I´ve been around a carpa, having lost mine in Mexico, and late at night, her carpa was mighty inviting.

There is something charming about Western Uruguay, and that is why the Argentinians come.

To them it harkens back to the 70´s. It is positively relaxing to ride through the countryside fields of sunflowers and soy, down to the beach by the river and watch theUruguayans suck down their mate. And they are for the most part attractive people with relatively few teeth. At night the road is completely dark, and you can see an incredible amount of unfamiliar stars. The air is cool with moisture off the river, and the lines are fresh on the asphalt all the way back to the hotel.

Gualeguaychu, Argentina

Jan 26, 2005

I´m here because I can´t get a battery for my bike in the entire country of Uruguay, about 20 miles away. And it costs a fortune to ship one across the border. It takes four stamps in your passport and on a piece of paper to cross the river.I had lunch in a parilla, which is Argentinian for Barbeque joint. Iordered the parillida for one, which is basically a short rib, sausage and four things you eat on Fear Factor to advance. I either ate something´s tail or unmentionable part, and I hope there is an animal out there with no bones in the tail. I don´t see what the big deal about Argentinian beef is. It´s tough,over cooked, and if they killed it last week, it´s aged.

Gualewhatever is a neat town, not much to offer, but a paradise compared to the entire nation of Uruguay. If Argentina is your friend that owns everything but is always cash poor, and Brazil is that crazy uncle that answers the door in his underwear and hasn´t seen a shower in a week, Uruguay is the old lady with ill-fitting false teeth who always pushes her way past you in the supermarket. You´ve seen her on the bus. There is nothing to do but watch the grass grow, cut it, put it in a mate, add hot water and enjoy.

From about 1 to 4 this town shuts down and life as we know it comesto a screeching halt. This is why they eat at 10pm and are up to 4, they sleep all day long, sort of like rabbits that are really good at kicking a ball around. At about 6, when the sun is starting t oset, they appear in the streets and plazas, eating ice cream and sipping mate.

Delores, Uruguay Take 2

Jan 25, 2005

I am so bored. This is a one horse town and the horse was put down last week. Fortunately the barefoot dentist who tried to fix my tooth last week took me in.

I was returning from the Cataratas to Buenos Aires, and decided totake a pass through Uruguay and spend the last of my Uru-shekels. Once I got here and turned off the bike to get gas, it wouldn´t start, and the battery was making that whistling sound a kettle makes when it boils over.

To make a long story short, there is no battery of the size I need in Uruguay, and I can either have one shipped from Buenos Aires, or jump start my bike and hope I can cross the border to the other side without turning the bike off, because jumper cables are very hard to come by here. There is a battery 60 miles and a border crossing away.

Uruguay is a lot less developed than Argentina, and much more agricultural. The people here really do have one arm. The other almost always has a thermos tucked under the bicep and a mate in the hand. I have been told there are four different times of the day for mate, but each time of the day apparently lasts 6 hours. They describe it as a friend, or better than a friend, but who wants a friend that makes your teeth brown-green.

The Uruguayans say the Argentinian mate is not as good as theirs, but they evidently overlook that all theirs is imported from Brazil. You can buy a kilo of the stuff for less than 30 cents, and that will last about a week of constantly sucking warm water through the weed.

As I´m writing this, I look up in the mirror and the woman who enters to use the cybercafe is carrying a thermos and mate.

I´ve seen them swerve across the road trying to drive and suck the mate straw at the same time, and I decided soccer is so popular here because it´s the one sport you can do without putting down your mate.

2 de Mayo, Argentina

Jan 21, 2005

I left Uruguay yesterday and clipped the corner of Brazil before someone told me I needed a $100 visa and to be fingerprinted, because that´s what we now do to all foreigners, so Brazil does it to all Americans, and sent me packing to the Consulate, which was closed. I didn´t really want to see Brazil that much this trip, because of the time limits I´m hitting, and the distinct lack of funds that is becoming something to contend with, so I headed north and spent the night in Santo Tome, Argentina.

But I did get to ride 49 miles in Brazil, without a visa. And I did know beforehand that I needed one.

Santo Tome is less than ten miles from Brazil, and a great place to sit outside and watch the nighttime traffic go by. Young girls in pants too tight and heels too tall stumble past guys too interested in talking about football to pay them much mind. The same people pass by in cars and on bikes every fifteen minutes. Yes, they are cruising. It´s like American Graffiti all over again.

Take a big bun, put a slab of beef, fried egg, ham, cheese, lettuce and tomato on it, and you have the basic Argentine complete sandwich. They sell for a dollar in Santo Tome.

From Santo Tome I headed north to the Cataratas, which is said (byArgentinians of course) to be one of the wonders of the world, a waterfall that separates Argentina and Brazil. They claim it is better than Niagara Falls (It is), which I have yet to see. It is impressive,water roiling over the falls as if boiling, in a part called The Devil´s Mouth. I dropped the lens cover to my wide angle over the side of the catwalk, then promptly stuck my finger on the glass.

As I was riding north, I kept passing giant mounds of mud on the sides of the road. My curiosity got the better of me, so I stopped and gave one a big kick. Nothing happened. Then I threw rocks at it. Still nothing happened. I'm sure it's some sort of insect mound, and it is strong.

Everywhere you go in Argentina, there are these signs about the Falkland Islands, saying the Malvinas belong to Argentina. Next time I'm coming back with Union Jack stickers and putting them on each one of these signs I come across.

I realized yesterday that I have shot 49 hours of tape since leaving Ohio in November.

To give you an idea of the distances I have covered in Argentina alone, if you were to cover that same distance in North and central America, you would have to drive from Toronto, Canada to Panama City, Panama.

And now it´s finally time to head home. The bike could use a little TLC, and I have done most of what I set out to do. So I´m going to baby it back to Buenos Aires and put it on a plane home.

This part of the trip is called ¨visit places who´s money you still have¨

Delores, Uruguay

Jan 18, 2005

No, I didn´t get very far yesterday. And now it looks like I´ll be riding back to Buenos Aires.
Once I got here, my bike started leaking a bit of oil out the differential. So I could go to Montevideo and take my chances, or go straight to Buenos Aires, where I know someone actually has the ability to repair it.

I was loading up my bike yesterday, and someone started talking to me, trying to sell me a motorcycle, figuring that if I was traveling on one, I might like to take another one with me. I told him that I was on my way to Montevideo to find a dentist, so he recommended his dentist in the next town over, then offered to put me up at his house.

There are no free lunches. I´ve seen the videos of his last four vacations, I´ve seen videos of him dressed as Santa on New Year´s Eve. I´ve seen videos of his son visiting Texas. I´ve seen videos of a marathon race, I´ve had the entire Uruguay road system explained to me. We went through the entire yellow page listings for motorcycle dealers in Montevideo, with detailed explainations about each one. I know everywhere he´s ever lived in his life. There is not a seller of motor oil in this town who doesn´t know that I´m trying to find a particular grade. I´ve turned down offers to disassemble my bike on the sidewalk in front of his house. His voice was the last thing I heard when I went to sleep, and in the morning he was waiting on the porch, with more ideas of how to fix my bike, if I could just explain to him how it is put together.

His wife doesn´t talk much.

Mercedes, Uruguay

Jan 16, 2005

On the Argentine side of the border, two apparently drunk border guards just waved me through, ignoring the piece of paper I was told to surrender when I leave the country. The Uruguaians are a little more thorough, if you define thorough as the application of stamps to paper, and it took a total of five stamps on a little piece of pink paper and two in my passport, from four different windows and a guy who asks if you have any fruit or milk before I could enter the country.

They love their stamps down here.

Uruguay is remarkably well groomed. The sides of the roads and in the medians are kept short, and the roads are neat and well paved.Mercedes is 20 miles from the border, and a little rundown but still well kept up. The favored mode of transport appears to be 50cc scooters and motorcycles, and it is not uncommon to see a family of four on one, scooting around town. Lots of girls ride them in shorts,and of course nobody has a helmet.

Yesterday I went on a scenic tour of Buenos Aires, and it is a remarkable place, very clean, spacious, and gregarious. I rode on both the longest and the widest avenues in the world, and looked across the widest river in the world, separating Buenos Aires andUruguay. There is nothing more entertaining to be done in Argentina than slipping up and referring to the Falkland Islands. At least twice a day you can get a rise out of someone, usually the same person. There is a beautiful tower in the middle of Buenos Aires built by the English community several decades ago that used to be called the English Tower, but during the war it was officially renamed as a monument to the army. Sound familiar?

Buenos Aires, Argentina

Jan 14, 2005

I´m staying next to the Polo Field, on the 20th floor, in the apartment of an orthopedic surgeon who has basically reassured me that my thumb is okay and the swelling is a normal part of the healing process.

Traffic in Buenos Aires is hectic. The light changes from red to yellow to green. The yellow means see how far you can launch your car into the intersection before the green light, or "does your horn work?", depending on the actions of the person in front of you. Lanelines are vague reminders of where you might want to be.

On the way up, I passed a group of people shooting a music video in a truck stop. They waved me over, and shared their barbequed lamb, beef and red wine with me.

Things I learned from my friend Hans, the harmonica playing proprietor of the hotel in Monte Hermosa...

His father was a high ranking SS officer. They immigrated to Argentina right after the war, when Hans was 15.

The jews persecuted his father after the war, and his father spent time in jail here, for no good reason.

Adolfo Hitler had a good idea for world socialism and the world would be a better place if we followed his ideas.

The jews bombed Hiroshima and Nagasaki.

Argentinians are lazy vagrants and thieves who don´t want to work.

The Argentinian army has no bullets for their guns (this would explain their success in the Falkland Islands, and may be true.)

The best thing that ever happened to Chile was Pinochet, the ruthless dictator currently on trial for crimes against humanity. He armed them to the teeth.

The best thing that could happen in Argentina would be a Pinochet, who would arm them to the teeth and make them work. (most argentinians and chileans do not like Pinochet.)

A new pet peeve is people who try to have conversations in noisy intersections while wearing full face helmets. The ones with a bar across the mouth. You can´t hear a word. That´s why I bought one for my ex-girlfriend. But they insist on carrying on a conversation anyway.

Come to think about it, so does she...

Monte Hermosa, Argentina

Jan 12, 2005

This is the sort of place that spoils you. I´m two blocks from an incredibly long beach, in a clean room that set me back $20, just had a hamburger for $1.33, and walking past the place with Paella for $3, in a big pan they cook right next to the window, I asked myself when I would be hungry again. There is a long strip of stores closed to traffic that leads down to the beach, with street performers and throngs of vacationing Argentinians.

There are women who should not wear thongs. Most of them are here.

There have been a lot of jokes made about Argentina and Germans, and there are a lot of German placenames here, but it was still somewhat disconcerting when I returned to my hotel from the beach and the owner started speaking to me in fluent German.

I got a new tire put on and decided to put in early for a change instead of riding until ten and hoping to find something, figuring my luck was due to change. So I turned in here at 4, and took nice long walk on the beach. The water is warm but brown, because of the sand, I´m told.
When the argentinians are not kicking a soccer ball, they play a game like bocce on the beach, tossing wooden discs instead of rolling balls.

You can buy a beachfront condo here for between 15,000 and 30,000 US.

Bahia Blanca, Argentina

Jan 11, 2005

There are times when the sight of a McDonalds is oddly comforting. There is one here, but of course they have managed to find a way to make things move slowly.

Yesterday I wrangled permission from the local government to film Sea Lions at the largest sea lion reserve in Patagonia. There are about 3,500 of them there right now, having babies and in general making noise. Finally I found something that smells worse than that Chilean´s breath.

I was assigned a member of the park service to take me down to the part of the reserve that is off limits to the public, and things were going pretty well until he figured out that all I wanted to film was the sea lions running away from me. So I've got a lot of good shots of sea lions scrambling down rocks and over one another to get to the ocean.

There are also flocks of parrots clinging to the telephone poles and screaming so loud I can hear them, even wearing my helmet and riding at about 50 miles an hour. I tried to film them and got a lot of shots of them flying away as I approached, so I had to film one that had a misadventure with a truck to get a general idea of what they look like.

Bahia Blanca is a big city, with a high rise downtown, and a lot of blonde people and Italian-Argentinian businesses and hospitals. I got in at about 10, which is dark now, unlike further south, so I really haven´t had a good look at the city. I did take a wrong turn and
quickly found out there are places in Argentina that look like Tijuana. One nice thing about the country is that you can drive at night without worrying about some idiot grazing his herd of cows on the highway.

And everything is still cheap.