Peenie Wallie

So, now I start thinking about what I can do. What should I take. Should I check out of this place, or keep it also. So many decisions to make.

Finally, I decide to book 2 nights online at the Hotel Riande in Tocumen. This will allow me time to book an excursion for Saturday (or possbly Sunday), and then do my tour/excursion on Sat/Sunday. And roll into Portobelo Saturday afternoon/night.

So I leave some things....pants...shirt...cold weather gear...and I take a somewhat lighter load than I have been riding with this trip.

But always make sure to have Passport, Drivers License, Insurance, Vehicle Import Permit,

Around about 11:30 or 12:00 noon, the guy at the foot of the hill is selling grilled meat on a stick. So, I'm usually there for lunch. It's hard to beat grilled animals on a stick.

Now, another patron steps up, and I sense it's a gringo. I introduce myself. It's Captain Jack. He had a falling out with Marco, and left the Portobelo Hostel fairly recently, it seems.

But he and I don't discuss this. I know this from other sources.

I eat some grilled meat on a stick, and get a CocaCola from the Chinos. They have CocaCola (regular), CocaCola Zero (sin calorias), and CocaCola Sin Calorias. So, they have two different varietes of Coke without sugar: CocaCola Zero and CocaCola Sin Colorias. Interesting.

Of course, I'm just making a pig out of myself in the Chino grocery store. Scarfing down snacks, and picking up things for el Gato Calle tambien.

The Africa Twin

People always ask me about the Africa Twin, and I always say it's great. But in truth, it has at least 2 issues:
It frequently backfires/chokes when I've been holding back on the gas, and then dump the throttle. My KTM never did this. Ever. It ran as smooth as a baby's ass.
The Africa Twin is frequently difficult to start. I'm guessing that it's because I'm parking on a hill, and leaning it to the left, but I'm not certain of why it's hard to start. This is a guess. Today, I could not start it with the starter and had to roll start it down the hill. Not a good feeling when you're 6,000+ miles from home.
It occasionally jumps out of gear. So, when I shift up, say from 5th to 6th, it will periodically, on occasion, run in gear for a second, and then jump out of gear. It doesn't happen very often, but it does happen, and again, my KTM never did this. Not once.

Now, as I'm rolling out of town on the Africa Twin, it's not raining...thank the Lord. And it's such a great feeling to get on the bike. My brain is rushed by all of these images...the bay...the beaches...the rivers...it's truly exciting to be riding a motorcycle alone in a 3rd world country, doding dogs, vultures, cows, children, and thunderstorms.

It rains on my lightly. Just sort of spitting. But I'm not turning back. I want to escape from Portobelo.

OK. Maybe it's not Portobelo that I'm escaping from. But I want to escape from doing nothing every day, sleeping in, afraid of the persistent rainstorms.

And now, it's not raining (ok...just barely raining), but it feels so good to be outside, riding by the beaches and the rivers and, it occurs to me, that something is wrong with my brain that doesn't make me ride out here. I have been the the hostel nearly a week, and I've never once swam at the beach. And, OK...it's true I've been running errands every day like crazy to get things I needed in Colon, but also, I haven't been uploading my videos or my photos as much as I was when I was riding every day. I think that the discipline of the road is something I need very much.

Now, just before the Miraflores locks, I pass a restaurant on the side of the road.

A sign says Parrilla Sebastian in the town of Chilibre, Panana and I pull in for a Picada Mixta. Basically, a mixture of grilled meats served with Arepa, a traditional Venezuelan fare made of fried corn meal with something inside, cheese, etc. Delicioso.

But now, when I go to start my bike, it won't start. Again. And, suddenly it dawns on me....this isn't about sight-seeing any more. This is about fixing the fucking Honda so that I can continue riding on into South America. Because, if I don't address this issue, then my ride is in danger of being over prematurely.

I'm still heading to the Miraflora locks, for some reason. And the traffic in Panama City is just freaking insane. Like..probably you've never been here. But worse traffic than I've ever seen in any third world city. Just gridlock as far as the eye can see in all directions. And this isn't due to a flood. This is just due to poor planning and execution on their roadways.

I get to the Miraflores locks, and it's just like I recall it from last time. Funny to think that I would remember it, but I'm sure that I did. Then, a little further, and the Panama Canal Panaflores Locks museum. I remember this place also. And the little jackass that stands there by the STOP sign loses his freaking mind when I don't stop. It's like..."dude...you're a wart on society's ass. No one cares what you do. I know that I can go down here to the museum if I want to. I've been there before, nutlicker."

So he lets me go, after a good dressing down. And I go down to the visitor parking area but now, finally, I realize that I can't be wasting time on a sight-seeing tour when I can't even trust my motorcycle to start when I hit the starter. I have to change my plans and go find a motorcycle shop to look at my bike.

Searching the internet, I find a motorcycle shop in the center of Panama City with a few others around it and figure that's as good a place as any to start tackling this issue.

As i enter the city, there's about 3 lanes of traffic on my side. I'm following a truck...a sort of cargo truck with a cab and a box on the back. The back of the cargo box has two large doors and, as I overtake him, one of the doors swings open, smashing my left rear view mirror. How it didn't hit my left hand and/or handlebar, I'll never know. But I was stunned, like a bat that flew into a mirror. I thought I was dead. Then, when I realized I didn't crash, and still had two hands, I dropped back to try to figure out what had happened. Sure enough, this jackass is riding down the road with the back doors swinging open in both directions. I pull up to the cab and just start dog-cussing in driver in 7 different languages. Another truck driver pulls up and joins in, also attempting to alert the idiotic truck driver that his door is swinging into the lane beside him. I pull ahead, frustrated, but glad to be alive.

So, Portobelo has one thing going for it. It's not nearly as dangerous as Panama City. I don't think you would live very long riding a bike every day in this city. I think you'd crash and die pretty quickly. Eventually, I make it to Panabike PTY. I don't see that there's an authorized Honda dealer in the city, although it's hard to know for sure, because there are Honda cars also. So, I just go for the generic Panabike, hoping they can figure out what's wrong with this ailing piece of shit.

But they say all of their mechanics are busy, and if I come back in the morning at 9:00 a.m., they'll look at it and see if they can figure out why it won't start for shit. So I leave and, after I've gone about a mile, I realize that I should have at least replaced my mirror while I was there, but it didn't occur to me until after I left. Now, I'm headed to Tocument and at some point, I'm following a policeman. The cops are the only motorcycles down here that have paniers. And every time I see one, I think I've found another road warrior, only to realize that it's the police. So we're lanesplitting together, him in front, me close behind. He's using some cop-sounding-horn to scare the shit out of anyone that blocks him from lane-splitting. And I'm behind him beeping my gay little horn that sounds like a 50cc moped on acid. Seriously, Honda. The horn is weak. Let's work on that.

I follow Waze and it directs me to the Riande Aeropuerto. When I pull up, the guy in the parking lot comes after me. He hates me. He always chases after me and yells at me for where I park. But I just ignore him. Then I go inside. These women at the counter hate me also. But this time, I've outsmarted them. I have a reservation. So they can just shut the hell up and they don't get to tell me what the rate is. This way, I tell them what the rate is.

Now, I have a room for 2 nights. And I walk to my hotel room. It's so nice to be in a decent hotel with A/C and hot water. I just don't even want to get out of the shower. It's like standing under a waterfall. And there is soap! Yay!

Now, down to the swim-up bar at the pool. I love that they have 3 kinds of Coke. Regular Coke. Diet Coke. and Coke Zero. No one ever has all three kinds. This will be a good place to do a taste test. I'll tackle that tomorrow.

After 2 Diet Cokes in a row, I ask her for a drink menu. Like..."let's what my options are here." She's confused on whether I want a dinner menu or a drink menu. But I'm stuffed from lunch. So, I see on the menu that there's some sort of fruit smoothie drink. I'm like...I want that...and point to the drink menu. Now, I need to choose a fruit, it seems. She says "Mango" and I'm like..."perfect...a Mango smoothie" So, she makes me a Mango smoothie which is to die for, with a cherry on top.

But when the sun goes down, the mosquitoes come out. "La quinta, por favor."

For 2 diet cokes and a mango smoothie, the total is like...nine dollars and something cents.

Now, I will point out something that I recently learned. Panama has their own currency, at least in theory, and it's called the Panamanian Balboa. Now, the exchange rate is 1:1. And I've never seen any printed Balboan currency, they only use US dollars to the best of my knowledge, but they do mint Balboan coins, apparently.

So I go back up to my room for the night, and set my alarm for the morning so I can take my bike into Panamoto and pray that they can fix this piece of junk.

Update: Here is the link to track the FedEx package I shipped back to the USA yesterday from Colon, Panama.