12-27-09 Palenque

Upon getting to Palenque the we found that all the posadas were full and were wonding what to do next when we were approached by a funeral director who said the place next to his shop and room for us.

We unloaded the bikes and brought our gear into the room which was rather prison-like.  No windows and a shard of a mirror propped up in a hole in the plaster above the sink.  Within seconds of entering the room the funeral director, who called himself 'Mike' stuck his head in and requested our attention as he was going to show us something amazing.  He reached into his back pocket and produced a stack of neatly folded receipts, a 20 peso note and a single 4" nail, unusually shiny. 

Mike then leaned his head back and showly pushed the nail into his right nostril until the head disappeared.  "You like?" He said.  I thought about saying, "No" but held my toungue.  Then he pushed the tip of his nose up with his left index finger causing the nail to fall out of his head and landed in his right hand.  He dropped the nail in his pocket and reached forward to shake our hands.  Just a little gross, Mike.

Mike spoke a little English and noted that he had lived briefly in LA.  He was always outside our hotel or in front of his funeral home sitting with a group of people.  He always would say something in rough English to us to then look over at his friends who seemed to be impressed with his bilingual abilities.  His typical remark was 'Ehhhh booooyyyyyy'.

We once asked Mike how business was, his reply, 'No dead'.

Not long after arriving we decided to ride to a waterfall that we'd heard good things about.  Misol Ha was a 25 minute ride into the mountains where we had to pay 15 pesos to the damn Zapatistas (more on them later) followed by another 15 pesos to the another set of guards to get into the waterfall.

The falls were impressive, 45m high with two streams plummeting into a pool they claimed was 25m deep.  We hiked to the top of the falls and were the only ones there which seemed strange as there was an obvious trail leading to the top which provided a great view.  I got much closer to the edge than my mother would have wanted to and got some great pictures before retreating towardds the large pool below.

We hadn't planned on getting in the water but there were quite a few people swimming as it was hot and humid as usual and it looked rather refreshing.  I dropped trou' and jumped in.  I couldn't breather for a few seconds as the water was surprisingly cold.  I eventually got used to it and enjoyed a good swim.

We decided we would stay in Palenque two nights as there was much to see around the area.  They had a great central Plaza, or 'zocalo' which was always filled with people.  At night a band played and impromptu salsa dance-offs were frequent.

Our next morning we hit the Mayan ruins, the first of my trip.  While in the parking lot  we were approached by a guy who wanted to wash our bikes (this happens often down here) and we politely declined as we both felt it was pointless.  Then he said he'd 'watch' our bikes, which means nothing. I played naive and asked him why they needed watching and he couldn't produce a good answer.  Again we passed on his offer and went to check out the archeological site.

The ruins were impressive and used strange building techniques.  They used no arches as are seen in many other stone buildings from their era.  To create rooms they used vertical walls that then angled in at the top but whose exterior wall stayed vertical, creating a void that looked like a triangle stacked on a square.  Apparently, each of the walls is structurally independent, if one falls, teh other will remain upright, unlike an arch.

Another strange thing I noticed was the haphazard placement of the stones.  It looked as if they'd simply thrown a lot of stones and mortar together, paying no attention to the size or fit with one another.  I guess it works, as the ruins are still astanding and don't seem to deserve the term 'ruin'.

Upon returning to the bikes, Luis noticed a large fresh gash in his gas tank, most likely courtesy of the bike 'watcher' we chose not to employ.

We took off and headed for Agua Azul, a series of waterfally and rapids separated by large blue pools.  I was leading through the twisty road, passing packs of children standing on the side selling local fruit.  At one point Luis raced up next to me and started yelling and pointing behind us.  I slowed down and he said "Tienen guanabana!" excitedly.  I inquired what it was and he said it was a delicious and rare fruit that he used to eat as a kid in Venezuela.

We spun the bikes around and found the proper little roadside stand with the guanabana, a Shrekish-looking football-sized green fruit with pointy black lumps on it.  I took out my camera and snapped a picture of the transaction between Luis and the young boy which caused a group of girls to start screaming.  I snapped another picture and subsequently stole 4 of their souls befoe they could run behind a tree giggling.

The guanabana was excellent.  It has a white and somewhat fibrous inside almost like that of a pineapple but was softer than a banana.  It had large black watermelon-like seeds in an array that were held firmly by the fibers and took some effort to spit out.  The taste can best be described as tart fruit punch, I've never had anything else like it.

Once on the road again with half a guanabana wrapped in a towel and lashed to my seat I came upon a straight section of road that allowed me to get up to about 80mph, I was quickly approaching an old truck that was going unusually slow and drifted into the oncomming lane to pass him.  Upon passing the truck I realized why he was going so slow, there was a huge rogue speed bump about a hundred feet ahead, not meant to be taken at my current speed.  The bumps are typicaly painted yellow or white or marked with a sign, but not always, and not this one.

I grabbed a fistful of the front brake and squeezed the tank with my knees, downshifted twice and dumped the clutch, chirping the rear tire then squeezed the rear brake until I set off the ABS.  Just before impact I burped the throttle to uncommpress the suspension, applied some pressure to the foot pegs and held my breath as I knew I'd done everything I knew of to slow it down.


I don't know how many feet I sailed through the air, I suppose it could be calculated and would make a great physics test question.  I was in the air long enough to hear things get quiet before a loud, banging landing, rear-wheel first.  I quickly checked my mirrors to see if I'd lost anything in the jump and to see how Luis was fairing, luckily he did just fine.

Upon getting to the falls we had to pay our blood money at a Zapatista road block.  Zapatistas are a local group of radical guerillas who are fighting for rights for indigenous people and often set up their little 'tax stations' along touristy roads to fund their cause.  This is deemed illegal by the Mexican government but not much seems do be done about it.

We argued with them for a while, I asked one why we have to pay and he said that it was for maintenance.  I pointed at the chewed up road ahead of us and noted they were doing a great job.  Luis got particularly heated with them calling them theives and liars and said they should be embarassed of themselves before we rode off.

Further down the road we had to pay the usual entrance fee and were waiting in a line of traffic. We came to a stop sign where Luis was in front and I was behind him, a little closer to the center line.  From our right a large tour bus started making a left turn in front of us.  The bus was clearly not going to make the turn without swiping Luis, which Luis quickly realized.  He tried to roll his bike back but couldn't go fast enough, he yelled out at the bus while I leaned over in the saddle and issued a good ninja-kick to the bus which stopped long enough for us to scramble away.  Unfortunately this is the norm down here, no respect for other vehicles on the road