A Date With The Darien

It just got real.  I’m excited and nervous. 

The question everybody asks when you’re talking about South America is “How do you cross the gap?” The Darien Gap is 60 miles (100 Canadian miles) wide and has no roads. The reason is to keep South American foot-and-mouth disease far away from US cattle which haven’t seen the deadly illness since 1954. That leaves wanderers like us to figure out a way past the gap. A young Panamanian Overlander came home from his travels and saw a market for his services.  The Overland Embassy is the hub nowadays for Overlanders crossing the Gap where they provide all services to ship vehicles back and forth, most by container, motorcycles (and lately small cars) by air, and large expedition vehicles by open containers (flat rack) or Roll On, Roll Off (RORO). 

We now have our loading date and have to be in Panama City by the end of November, the 27th is our goal. The estimated cost for a shared container is about  $2300 for each vehicle which is less than we feared. 

And we also know who will share our container with us. Meet Sandro and Lisa from Austria in a 1998 T4 Volkswagen (a Eurovan in North America). Alejandro at the Overland Embassy says our vans will fit perfectly in a 40 foot high cube container though we probably will have to  remove our roof top air conditioner.

 It so happens Sandro is an engineer and says “no problem” to a job that looks like a huge problem to cluster fingers me. But we speak Spanish and they don’t so the relationship is symbiotic more or less  and they are great fun. Even for an elderly couple like us. 

The youngsters are planning to sail on a charter boat that does the trip through the famous San Blas islands but for us Rusty is not a sailor so Layne has a lead on a private pilot who may fly us three in the cabin to Colombia . We sailed that area in 1999 so we’re okay with missing the sail. Especially if we don’t have to crate Rusty for the albeit short flight to Cartagena. 

Many details to firm up but it seems to be falling into place. All we have to do is drive hard to Panama. Faster than normal for us! If anyone wants to meet us in South America we plan to take a year to reach Patagonia where summer is at its peak in December. Think Alaska no with the seasons reversed. But that is for later. Now we have to drive.

Tlacolula Market

I was the chauffeur for three campers from El Rancho who wanted to visit the well known market at Tlacolula.

9:30 in the morning was rather early I thought to be tasting mezcal especially as young Lisa from Austria professed not to enjoy the stuff. “But you should try the passion fruit flavor…” my wife the evil temptress suggested. Sure enough they got a bottle each while Sylvia the German in red stayed true to her earlier statement she doesn’t like the stuff.

This was our third visit to the Sunday market a half hour south of the campground. As usual we took GANNET2 which when parked close by the market served as a cool man cave for Rusty and myself and a clean pit stop for any keen shoppers who might need the loo. 

In winter the market is a raucous affair with the numbers of people packing the streets like sardines. This time we discovered it can actually be pleasant to stroll the covered city streets which become a pedestrian mall devoted to sales for the Sunday. 

It is the wildest street mall you’ve seen.  Lisa was skeptical when Layne encouraged her to come see but she too was captivated, while this was Sylvia’s third visit over the years. After Rusty and I gave up and retreated to some air conditioned nap time the three women kept at it till almost noon. 

It’s not, as you can see, just a food market because they sell everything a natty Maya peasant from the surrounding countryside could desire and locals pour into town for agricultural tools, clothing, dry goods and a also a treat - a meal out. 

Or to have a chat with friends and catch up.

I wished we had bought a ton of garlic from this stolid character and we made a promise to splash out next time and buy stuff we may not need.  Over buying in these communities helps people out and they can always use our unobtrusive help.

Or nuts…

…hats…
…and you can’t go wrong with grilled chicken! 

This cinnamon saleswoman was working the crowd:

And if you needed a scale replica of a crucifixion the market can accommodate you. 

If you need a break you can buy meals right plumb in the middle of the hubbub!

And the help’s lunch room isn’t hidden away either.

In the winter you’ll see a few foreigners mostly brought by tour guides as this market is famous around Oaxaca. But Layne who walked the entire thing didn’t think she saw a dozen foreign tourists this time. 

Lisa worked in a bank in Austria and quit her job to come to South America, her boyfriend Sandro is an electro-mechanical engineer (I think) and they are traveling in a very small 1998 pop top Volkswagen Eurovan which now needs some brake parts as the calipers have rusted out. 

They have no fear at all of Latin America and are planning on shipping home from Uruguay in April as Sandro is on a strict one year sabbatical and must get home. His mother is living in his rented apartment while he is gone paying his rent for him. I wonder why American youngsters in vans aren’t crowding our campsite but it’s just another of life’s puzzles. They laugh remembering concerned Americans telling them Mexico is dangerous. 

Miniature pizza rolling pin demonstrated by Sylvia…Layne asked of course and it’s sold as a toy. The salesman preferred Sylvia’s demonstration of the mini pizza maker. Much laughter:

Tlacolula de Matamoros is also known for its church: 

Had we no toilet aboard GANNET2 there were local toilets “baños” - literally bathrooms, and surprisingly “regaderas” literally sprinklers, which is Mexican Spanish for showers. Look closely and the signs are bilingual! 

Pig cheese and pig skins and Oaxacan sausage at the creamery. Virginia ham and mole sauces…as well as creamy white salted Oaxacan cheese much prized across Mexico. 

If you ever wonder why houses have rebar sticking out the top it’s to show the house isn’t finished. In Mexico property taxes are only levied on completed buildings … and sometimes they take years to complete! They all have water tanks though, even if not finished! 

I confess I was surprised to see a currency exchange in town. 

I was looking forward to broccoli but Layne said it looked iffy up close and dinner yesterday was chicken and rice with air fried green beans. 

Rusty did really well with the crowds and with the local dogs. I was proud of him and I was happy to get him back to GANNET2 when he showed signs of flagging. 

It was supposedly 86 degrees but it felt hotter. 

I think our plan to drive to the coast later this week, stopping to swim on a lovely beach we know on our way to Guatemala, may be cut short by the heat. It’s cool up here at night but it’s still very hot by day. Not unbearably warm but we are at 5,000 feet. 

I wonder if we’ll be back in a couple of years to check the market again…great fun and I got some pastries and a measuring spoon I needed as well as some water jugs. A good day. 

El Rancho Life

Let’s be clear: El Rancho RV Park is a trap. I call it the roach motel: once you drive in you can’t get out. 

Cali the maintenance man keeps the place spotless, the pool, the toilets, the hot showers and the lawns are perfectly manicured.

We have electricity, sewage dumps, water faucets, a communal kitchen and a pizza oven. All for 350 pesos or US$20 a day. 

There is WiFi but we use our Starlink as the sky is wide open. At night temperatures plummet from 85 by day to 50 by night which makes for excellent sleeping weather. 

We can buy purified drinking water and Rusty is at home behind the secure walls that surround this slice of paradise. 

I sent a friend this picture of me looking grumpy but I only did it to avoid having Dale moan about his responsibilities. Life sucks in Oaxaca I have to explain. 

Yesterday Layne kicked me out of my comfortable groove with my out of control hair and we went into the nearby village of Santa Maria Del Tule where we got our hair cut. $20 for both of us. 

Hair be gone!

Life in the village adapts to an influx of winter gringos and Europeans when RV travel is at its height but this is out of season travel so we don’t see many foreigners on the streets. Mexicans, especially young ones have their universal priorities. 

Walking back to GANNET2 we passed a motorcycle shop where the owner was trying to retrieve his repaired scooter. They looked like they could use a hand so I stepped in. 

Wherever you have room you set up your shop even if the ramp up is a bit steep…

The reason we left the campground was to buy some mezcal at an artisanal operation twenty minutes out of town. Some friends of ours were taken there by their cab driver when he stopped off to get some for himself. Geraldo’s family has been running the place for generations. 

The Mexican flag is flying everywhere, a left over of Independence Day September 16th. 

We bought three bottles at $29 apiece (500 pesos). But first we had to taste, tradition requires it. 

Rusty sat at my feet politely declining offers of a taste. 

We loaded up with drinking water st a place that sells five gallon jugs at 14 pesos each (80 cents). We paid for three and I siphoned 15 gallons into our thirty gallon tank, returning the empty jug to be refilled each time. We buy purified water as it’s cheap and safe to drink but we always run it through our Berkey filter to take away the taste of our plastic water tank. Then it was time for dinner. 

It is not sushi for gourmands or connoisseurs, but we enjoy it and it’s a pleasant opportunity to eat something different. 

El Rancho has some drawbacks. One is the local passion for setting off thunderous fireworks at all hours of the day and night. There is the constant sound of gunfire, no lights in the sky or anything, just bangs. It annoys me and it scares Rusty which annoys me even more. Cali the caretaker looking mad at me. It’s hard to tell but I don’t think he is:

The other drawback is the lack of places to walk. The countryside is arid and agricultural, the streets are filled with dogs who overwhelm Rusty, and there isn’t much opportunity for photography. El Tule, the village is pretty enough but not much of a draw. 

I am ready to drive to the coast. Layne has her stitches out on Tuesday, stitches she got in the US for the removal of one of those cancerous skin cells popping up on old folks these days. After that she can swim so Wednesday we shall drive for the coast. It’s very nice here but the cage is gilded and I’m ready for more driving, new horizons.