Feeling Stronger Every Day
Thanks for the good thoughts, y’all. They must have worked because I started feeling a fair amount better after that last post. The fever’s gone, and most of the sore throat. My head still feels like it’s stuffed with wet gauze in the nights and mornings, but I’ll take what I can get.
And, with my health on the upswing, I was up for riding again, so I have finally crossed my first border into Mexico! Thank god. Besides the sickness being terrible in its own right, I was losing my mind being cooped up in a motel for five days. The sheer vacuousness, the monotony of it, moreover contrasted with what I was supposed to be doing, and on top of all that I was paying for the privilege of being in this misery. Really, I don’t mean to harp on this, but waking up on the fourth day of feeling not a lick better than the previous day and dragging myself to the (very nice) hotel manager to plop down for another night in paradise, and I really have zero other choices, none… Garbage.
Where was I? Right, back on the road, new country, all that. The border itself was really confusing. There wasn’t a single stop crossing the border - one moment “Mexico Border This Way” and then suddenly “Bienvenidos a México” and I was riding through a Mexican town. And then it turns out I had to stop at a poorly marked turnout 10 miles (rather, 16 kilometers) down the road to get my passport stamped and motorcycle paperwork filled out. But I got it all sorted, and now I’m in Mexico, and that is pretty neat!
I’m really very jazzed about it. The immediate change in atmosphere that came with crossing the border (literally, even, with all the dirty diesels and the old cars running rich) was a big boost for me. It feels like this has finally really started, riding past all the llanteras and paleterias and men in the middle of the street offering all manner of mysterious treats.
After I got off the main highway, the ride was really nice too.
A quiet road through the Río Sonora Valley, bringing me to my destination for now of the quaint mission town, Banámichi. It’s a great town to stroll around, but the thing that brought me here is my accommodations. I’m at the Hotel Los Arcos de Sonora, a very charming place, and one that serves as a first stop for many American motorcyclists doing the same kind of thing I am. The proprietor is a motorcyclist himself, and a very kind man, who has already spent a lot of time chatting with me and getting me up to speed about the area and riding in Mexico.
No cat, though. One star.
Well, this sucks