bus

North of San Vincente, Baja to Los Angeles, Upper California
387 kilometers

ola y buenos dias, muchachas and muchachos...

alright, i didn't bicycle the whole way in a day--having heard criticism that somehow i don't cover enough miles every 24 hours, and feeling it sting my ears, i had to speed up...

came back to the states on a comfortable mexican bus so i could attend a friend's movie premiere and film festival up in nederland, outside boulder (i want someone to teach me how to use my camera to make videos) --and to see if the colorado women who are getting butt naked in the shape of a peace sign need an extra camera--also get my passport and a few shots of doctor juice in my arm for the jungles of colombia...

then it's off again farther south towards forrest gumpville (or maybe iДll find my jenny)...

(but where's my jenny?)

really--jennys everywhere--the mexican girls are the most beautiful in the world--i can see why that tough white guy john wayne married seven of 'em, one after the other...

they don't talk a lot--too busy dancing and eating and walking and leaving most of the cooking to the men during a six-day long carnaval...

ensenada isn't the greatest city in the world but not the worst either--but a cabdriver from el salvador called me a bueno suerte gringo, "good luck guy"--'cause i get to go around the world on a bike--it's true too, despite any temporary winds blowing in my face or steep hills to climb--nature is not unkind--the people of mexico are warm, take things paseo, slowly, so the engines of their old cars with the catalytic converters donДt overheat--still, all cities are tougher for me to ride through than the driest desert...

that's where it's easy to get stuck in the modern comforts of life--in the sticks, there's something about being in a small tent pitched on foreign soil that keeps ya moving right along...

and it had to be ensenada, of course--the fiesta getting louder, louder, all night long and every night until last night when i fled in terror, haunted by old memories of love and pain...

before that i had a few tequilas and danced while the senors and senoritas stared at my crazy hair--wishing desperately that i could speak better spanglish, even studying words occasionally--i've heard it's all about the flash cards, doncha know--but a hardy pretense of understanding combined with a smile that says, "i'm from canada, don't hurt me" is all i really need...

?П?П?П?ПП??П?ПП?П?П?П?П?П?П?П?П?П?П?П?П?П?П?П?П?П?П?П?П?П?П?П?П?П?П?П?П?П?П?П?П?П?П?П?П?П?П?П?П?П