. 

I haven’t updated my website and so long, I felt for this update that I’d try a speech recognition system.  I’m tempted to leave in all the mistakes it makes, but then it just would be reading through what it wrote, other than being a bit funny, it was unreadable.

I got on my bike today for the first time since San Diego, it was grueling, I set out to cycle too Santa Fe which is five miles away, after only a mile, and taking into account that it is a flat road all the way to Santa Fe, I was off my bike again coughing a lung up.  I hadn’t realized I’d become so unfit, it was bad to the point where I nearly threw up.  My legs were also still aching from skiing three days ago.  Still, after a little rest and half a pint of Gatorade, I got back on my bike and cycled the rest of the distance to Santa Fe.  I didn’t actually do much when I got there, I was too exhausted, I wandered around for little while, went to a French pastry shop, had a tasty crepe, and a really disgusting éclair, sauntered around a couple of art galleries and headed off home whilst I still had the energy.

My legs are killing me, I’d forgotten how much skiing takes out of you. I decided to take the time out today to get the plumbing fixed on the van, the pipe had fallen off again in Albuquerque. I could only find one RV repair shop in town and frankly it didn’t look that reputable, still it was my only choice. The place was run by a Peruvian guy who was quite clearly drunk, and claimed to have served fourteen years in prison for killing three people, nice! He turned out to be quite nice guy though.  Luckily he wasn’t the one working on the van, they had a sober Mechanic for that.  While he was fixing the plumbing on the van, he noticed the brakes were leaking oil, damn.  I’d only gone in for a cheap fix, this was starting to look like it might be a little costly, but what choice did I have?  It was the brakes.  There are some things you can’t leave unchecked. They were nice enough to allow me to work with them on the van though and I did have a good chat with all the guys who work there, this is a very expensive way to meet people. I assisted them with the work to the best of my ability, i.e. I answered the phone for the garage.  The leak was caused by faulty seal, the spring around which had broken, total cost, including labor, $400, bugger.

The weather was nice today, so I decided to head up into the hills and try my hand at a little skiing. I have only been skiing twice in my life, both of which in their own way where kind of a disaster. The first time was with my ex, we went skiing for the weekend and it took all of the first day for me to get my feet, the second day I was a lot better and I thought we had a good time, a misconception that was quickly corrected on, on the drive home. Apparently, my ex was angry about some time two years ago, when it turns out that I’d been rude to someone? Whatever, I knew she was really angry because her shitty little friend Chris was not there. The second time was a little better, my brother and his wife were visiting, my ex couldn’t come because she had to “work” (a lie). Unfortunately my brother’s wife got a little bit scared of the slopes, and we returned home early, much to the dismay of my ex.

So, skiing for me is not associated with happy memories, so I was a little reluctant to give it another go. I can’t say it was much better this time, most of that was because I couldn’t get my ex out of my head, skiing is something that I’ve always associated with her, or rather associated with the fact that she did not want to ski with me. I guess it was OK though, I did my first blue run, one step up from the beginner slope. Sadly, I didn’t get to meet many people, the only person I did meet was on the ski lift, she was Belgian and did little to dissuade from the stereotype that Belgians are the most boring people on this planet, she was one of the most remarkably dull people I’ve ever met. On the upside, I only fell over once, well twice, but I don’t include falling over waiting for the ski lift, which has more of a comedy fall than anything, I was standing still at the time.

I almost forgot to mention, I picked up my first hitchhiker on the way to the ski run, not much to tell really, he was a very pleasant kiwi, who was working at one of the rental shops up the road.

I had a bit of a scary moment driving back to Santa Fe, like most ski resorts this one was several thousand feet high and only accessible via a small, icy, mountain road, getting the camper van up this was one thing, getting the girl down was an entirely different proposition.  I couldn’t match the speed as the other traffic on the road, so every so often, when there was a space, I’d pull over to the side of the road and let the traffic by. This was fine up until one of my last pullovers, I put my foot on the brakes and although the van at did slow down, it didn’t stop, eeekkk. I took her into the gravel at the side of the road, and she slowed to a stop.  I took ten minutes out to allow the brakes to cool a little bit and then continued my decent in a low gear.  Once I was back on level ground, the brakes seem to be working fine again so I thought little more of it.

I’ve just arrived in Santa Fe, still New Mexico. Santa Fe is the capital of New Mexico and also a major ski resort.  I checked out the city today, it’s very nice, all the buildings are either old Adobe buildings on new buildings created in the Adobe style, this gives the city a very unique look, even the gas stations are adobe. Given that I’m five miles outside of the city and as a rule cities and not very good for parking especially if you’re in a motor home, I decided to try my hand at the public transportation system.

It’s fucking cold here, I should’ve put on far more layers to wait for the bus. By the time I got to the city I just wanted somewhere warm so I found myself than nearest coffee shop and thawed out a half an hour. The city is very beautiful, lots of museums, galleries, restaurants and for the first time in America I  really felt underdressed, it’s very chic here. Whilst I was wandering the city I happened upon an Indian restaurant, it turns out this particular Indian restaurant claims to have won awards for being the best Indian restaurant in the USA. I had to give it a try! My first impression of the place was that it was full of Brits, always a good sign for Indian restaurant. I can’t say whether this is the best Indian restaurant in the whole of the USA, but it’s the best I’ve been since leaving England, although it was little bit pricey.

I didn’t really feel like meeting people today, I found a local bar anyway just for pint, then I headed back to the bus stop. I’d missed the last bus! It was only 8:00! I found my first downside of Santa Fe, the place has no fucking taxis. I ended up finding my way to a nearby hotel to get them to call the only taxi firm in town this was after ¾ of an hour wandering around trying to hail the few taxis that I could see, nobody was stopping. The hotel was good enough to call me a taxi, but even that didn’t turn up for another hour. By the time I got back to the camper van, it was 10:30 and I was exhausted and cold again.

I’m in the sky city, it’s an old Indian pueblo 50 miles west of Albuquerque. Now forgive my ignorance, but up until starting this little tour I hadn’t realized that the native Americans had had towns, very nice little towns at that. Again, as is indicative of New Mexico, all the architecture is adobe.

This is one of the most peaceful little towns that have everbeen to; it is high upon a rock face so that the Indians can be closer to their god, the god of the sky. The town has some of the most breathtaking scenery and unusual rock formations that I’ve ever seen, simply put it’s a helluva nice town.  The Indians still live there without electricity for most of the year, they do have a generator, but the generator is loud and disturbs the peace of the village so it is only turned on one day during the year. Electricity is supplied for the Super Bowl alone. They also still carry the water up in buckets, are least the children do, from the base of the hill up to the town, on one of the most treacherous stairways that I have ever walked.

The town also has a great tradition of stoning priests, with great pride the tour guide recounted many stories of many missionaries who had tried to stay in the village, one by one the missionaries were stoned to death until eventually one catholic priest happened upon the village the same day as a child had fallen off the side of the mountain, the child was assumed to be dead. The priest found the child of the base of the mountain still alive and brought her back to the village, the villagers hailed it is a miracle and allowed the priest to stay and he set up the first catholic missionary in the village. The mission church is massive and has a certain cathedral quality which I put down to it being twenty times the size of any other structure in the village.  I was told that the villagers pray for rain every day, I responded by telling them I was English, we pray for it not to rain every day.  The tour guide hoped I would bring the rain with me and sure enough for the next 3 days the heavens opened!

After purchasing some Indian pottery and an apple pie I headed off ten miles down the road to the next tribe and partook in other traditional Indian tradition, I found the nearest casino, lost 60 bucks, and went back to my van.

I made a big mistake before I went to bed last night, I cleaned the toilet in the van, actually I just poured some bleach down it.  I was in bed for 15 minutes before the smell became unbearable, I got out of bed and the closer I got to the toilet, the more my eyes started to water, by the time I got close enough to flush my eyes were burning, I open all the windows and put the fan on for 1/2 and hour.  I went to bed again with a headache and had a night of insomnia, funny how a bleach headache makes you think of your ex.

Once again I headed out for the bars, after this I need to take a rest from going out every night, it's doing no good to either my stomach or my wallet.  My first bar, St. Elmo's was a waste of time, the minute I walked through the door, the local drunk tried to start up a conversation, now this is okay but frankly I've had enough of talking to people who are too wasted to form even the most basic of sentences, I hastily headed away from him, the rest of the crowd was a bit too rowdy for my taste , lots of screaming and whooping every time a half descent shot was made on the pool table, it reminded me of the student bar in Tucson, this time no students just loud kids (god I'm getting old).  I headed for the next bar, there are only three in town so the choice is not extensive, this one had 6 people in it, unfortunately I'd missed the jazz band that was playing that night, a shame, it would've been good to get away from C & W for one night.

I sat down to read my book, despite the lack of people in the place it did have a nice atmosphere and the owner of the place was gracious enough to buy Tequila's for the entire bar.  The guy next to me turned out to be really cool, he was the guitar player for the band that night and has traveled all over the US (I tried to convince him to go visit Ireland, I think he'd fit in really well there), I'm guessing he's in his mid sixties and struck me as one of those people who truly have their head screwed on the right way, he spends his life traveling around bars playing guitar and loves his life, can't say I blame him.  It's really good to come across people like this, so many of the people I've met so far have either miserable lives or they have their own agenda, only talking to you because they're trying to get something from you whether they're trying to sell you something or just trying to get drinks for the night.  This guy was good company, after a few beers and a good old chinwag I retired to the van for the evening. 

I did the tourist thing today, Tombstone is a weird old town, it's strikes me as really strange that people can live there lives in a place that's not only stuck in history but it's stuck on one particular day in history, the ultimate groundhog town.

I went to see the 'showdown at the OK Corral' today, it was actually a pretty good show, the actors did an excellent job of entertaining although as with all of these things you have to question the historical accuracy of the recreation.  For the rest of the day I just wandered around town looking at the shops, it's only a very small town so that didn't take too long.

I went back to the same bar I went to last night, the guys that had insisted that I come back and partner them at pool didn't turn up which was kind of disappointing, this was compounded by the fact that it was Karaoke night, Country and Western style.  It wasn't a complete loss though, the group of bartenders from last night turned up again and this time at least a couple of the people singing could hit a note, I'd even go as far to say that one guy who was singing should be doing it professionally, not that he was a great singer but he was a fantastic entertainer.  As the night progressed we were approached by a guy who tried to sell us meat, literally off the back of a lorry, he was the driver.  We were in mid conversation when with no apology he interrupted us, he'd clearly had a few to drink and was apparently driving to Tucson that night with his lorry full of meat, our eyes started glazing over at this guys spiel, singularly it had to be the most boring and fast paced sales pitch that I'd ever heard, the guy must have gone on for half an hour, barely pausing to draw breath, evangelizing about his range of cut price fillet mignon, New York steak, prawns and so many others that I don't care to remember, at no point did he ask us if we'd like to buy any of his vanload of meat, he just kept going on about how everybody in the bar loved his meat, I even tried to throw in the obvious gay joke at this reference but it was quickly dismissed / ignored and the rant continued.  As quickly as he'd arrived, he left, he just stopped talking and walked away much to the relief of me and my company.  The traveling bartenders left to go back to their hotel room and as I was about to leave myself when I got chatting to another guy at the bar.

He'd been 'looking for a game of pool all night' and I was happy to oblige.  This guy was the worst kind of obnoxious, from the very start of game one he was rattling on about how he was going to kick my ass at the game and that I had no chance of winning, okay!  This guy was a true gem.  The bastard won the first game as well, we were playing for beers!  He continued his banter during the second game adding that he had some great property investment opportunities just outside the town and that for a small (unspecified) fee, I could be part of it.  I won the second and third game.  This did little to shut him up though and the bar we were in closed pretty early so he suggested we drive to a nearby burger joint that had a pool table and continue, this place was only three blocks away and there was no way I was getting in this guys truck despite his insistence, he was a big lad and I didn't like my chances of escape so I told him English people don't drive to places that close.  He jumped in his truck and I did the 5 minute walk to the burger bar and met him there.  I'm guessing that by this point the guy who granted, didn't have a great deal going on upstairs must have twigged that I didn't trust him.  After a couple more games and after he'd stuffed himself on a burger he made his excuses and left, final score 4 - 3, to me, ha ha!  He wasn't even gracious enough to buy me the drink he owed me for the final game, I didn't care, it was good to get rid of this albatross for the night.

There were a few guys still hanging around the bar at the end of the night, a biker gang.  I struck up a conversation with them.  They reckon that I should be doing my trip on a bike not in a van, bizarrely enough this was my first thought when I was planning this trip.  The gang was from Canada and were good company to end the evening, by this point in the I'd had a bit to drink and my tongue was a little looser than the situation warranted, in fact they took my opinion that Harleys were a bit gay, badly manufactured and couldn't corner for shit in very good humour.  They even offered to show me how a Harley could corner as good as any Japanese sports bike, I politely declined their gracious offer despite my curiosity, I'm still skeptical though.  After a couple more beers and a good laugh with these guys I called it a night. 

I'm in the 'town, that's too tough to die', Tombstone, Arizona, site of the famous shootout between Doc Holliday, Wyatt Earp (and his brothers) and suspected cattle rustlers, the Clanton's at 2pm on October 26th, 1881.  the showdown at the OK corral.  All but one of the Clanton's were dead within a few minutes and Wyatt Earp was the only one to escape the fight uninjured.

The town is now basically a theme park, celebrating not just the murder of the Clanton's but three other shootouts that took place in this town. A tradition that has been passed down through the generations  throughout all the major cities of America with weapons ranging from the old fashioned handgun for the traditionalists to assault weapons for the newer, younger crowd, obviously more interested in the quantity of the kills rather than the quality.  It makes you wonder whether or not a hundred years down the line, if the economy of Columbine ever falters to the point of desperation, whether it too will become a tourist trap complete with graphic reenactments of the slaughter that took place. 

The town itself is nice, in fact given that it was built in the 1800's it looks surprisingly better that many contemporary small American towns.  I somehow doubt that the town looked this good in 1881 and the authenticity of the place is lost a little by the fact that the main tourist strip is tarmaced (paved) but still the place has a certain charm.

I spent most of the day assessing and trying to fix the destruction caused by the Mexican roads.  Cracked windshield, collapsed wardrobe, obliterated drawer struts, fan under van (for god knows what) now won't turn off, not sure how it ever turned on! Electricity hookup became dislodged and fell out onto the road, after several miles being dragged unnoticed, no more plug (it wasn't a standard plug either), drainage pipe for controlling the vans effluence fell off, not sure where but I'm sure that my territory was well and truly marked, electrical connections for the lights inside the van have loosened, a crack has formed in one of the skylights resulting in a leaky roof and the platform holding the microwave has collapsed.  The engine still runs though!

In the evening I went down to the Crystal Palace bar, it had a fairly descent C & W band playing although the place was virtually empty, not surprising as the barmaid in there clearly hates tourists (it's a tourist bar).  The look of contempt she gave me for just for asking for a drink beggars belief.  She also sang a verse or two with the band, totally out of key, she has a night where she's the lead on stage, I'm glad I missed out on that night.  The band stopped playing for the night and I politely thanked her and said goodbye, she briefly glanced at me, stuck her nose up in the air and walked away to the other side of the bar to laugh and joke with the locals, what a bitch!

I found a bar just outside of the tourist district which had a bit more life, I met up with a trio of tourists from Prescott in Arizona, three bartenders that had taken a few days off to travel and a guy from England who owned a hotel a few blocks away.  We chatted for the evening and spent the night people watching, lots of wannabe cowboys in this place. 

I learned something new tonight, something that I'm surprised that nobody had informed me of and I hadn't noticed in the 6 years I've been in the States.  There's a lip on the inside of American bar, I've never paid it much mind but apparently if you put your glass or bottle on this lip, you'll get a refill without the need to talk to the barperson, and it works, and it was faster than trying to catch the eye of the barmaid that was clearly more interested in talking to her friends than serving beer.

After the traveling bartenders had left, I hooked up with the locals who were playing pool, a pool table really is a fantastic tool for meeting people, it usually only take a couple of games, a couple of beers and a bit of chat for people to warm up to you and take you into their clique for the night.  The guys were local builders and I was playing well tonight, by the end of the night we were all a little worse for wear and one of them insisted that I come back the next night and partner him in a game against this guy (who wasn't present this evening), I figured why not.  

When she awoke again she was feeling a bit better, we cut the breeze for a while and she headed back home to her kids.

I just chilled for the rest of the day, I went downtown again briefly and back to the hotel for an early start the next morning. 

Given the fun I'd had last night, I decided to stay another day. I went for a wander around the city again today, I came across a reenactment of a robbery that took place way back when, this is about as much information as I gleaned given the show was pretty poor, the sound system too crappy to make out what was being said, I couldn't get a good view for the crowd and frankly, I wasn't interested enough to delve.

I've gave my waitress friend a call at 6:30, as I remember it she was looking to go out at 7:30.  A guy answered the phone and politely informed me that she was out, given that I wasn't sure who this guy was, I didn't want to get the girl in trouble, I gave as little info as possible, 'can you tell her I called, thank you?'  I waited around in the hotel room for a couple of hours and decided that I'd been stood up, I found a nice little restaurant 1/2 mile away and chowd down, I'd decided to leave tomorrow, regretting somewhat I'd not left today.  I went back to the hotel for a quiet night.  At around 11:00, wide awake and a little restless, I figured what the hell and headed out to the bar that I'd met the girl, I felt pretty sure that she wouldn't be there but I thought at least I'd get a beer in before I left and as I said, the place did have a good atmosphere.  The floods had cleared from the day before so no need for makeshift wellies this time. 

I come through the door and I spy her at the end of the bar, I wave hello and she seems really pleased to see me so I get myself a beer and beckon her over, she signals okay but doesn't move, very quickly it becomes clear as to why, she was completely blotto, when I walked over she started asking where I'd been all night, that she'd been waiting for me, this was news to me, clearly our communication channels had become mixed the night before, as far as I knew she wasn't working today so I didn't expect her here!  She'd been talking to a 'Mexican Gizillionaire' all night and he'd been plying her with Tequilla, he apparently had $30,000 cash in his pockets and had been throwing it around a bit, drug money.  As the girl is getting off her chair to join me she stumbles, falls and in doing so knocks into the other girl that's caught this Mexican guys eye that night.  It starting to look like a cat fight might erupt, both girls are giving it the verbal, in Spanish, sometimes you don't need to be able to translate a language to know what's being said.  I try and lead the girl away to a nearby empty table to calm her down a bit, it's not working, each time I get close to the table she runs back to the other girl to start over again, she stumbles and falls again, this time me and the boss of the place catch her before she completely hits the ground.  The boss of the place asks me to take her home and not to let her drive, given I don't know where she lives and the fact that I'm not sure her family would appreciate me taking her back in that state, I take her back the my hotel, she won't walk the three blocks, she wants to drive so I take her keys off her and drive the three blocks back.  All the way back and for quite a while in the hotel room she's still asking where I've been all night and reiterating how much a bitch this woman is, the 'but I called you and you didn't return my phone call' reason was not flying.  I used a good old fashioned method to settle her down and she fell to sleep for the night.

thought I'd try something different today and like the dutiful tourist headed for the caves outside of the town, the colossal caves, hmmm, colossal disappointment maybe.  I'd hoped that I'd get to wander the cave myself and have a root around, no such luck, this was a guided tour.  There's something I don't like about guided tours, I'm not sure what it is, I've can't remember one that I enjoyed, I think it's something to do with being herded around like a bunch of cattle, or maybe it's that oft times it's the impersonal nature of the people given the tours, that certain way of presenting something in a manner that comes across as a speech that has been too well rehearsed, that has been given so many times that it's impossible to ignore the underlying boredom of the person who's job it is to repeat the same thing several times a day, every day to the point where the words mean nothing anymore and every pre-prepared joke is met with the same stilted laughter.  These caves aren't up to much either.

On the way back, the rain started and despite the rain being relatively light, by the time I got back to the hotel it was surround by a moat, walking anywhere would now require wading ankle deep in water, the drainage system seems non existent, they don't even camber the road in America.

Given the rain this evening I found the second closest restaurant to the hotel, I'd already been to the closest so I set out trying to avoid the flooding.  I must have walked 7 blocks out of my way before turning back to the hotel with my trainers and socks thoroughly soaked, I hadn't thought to bring wellies to the desert.  I went back to my room and had a cunning plan.  With a new pair of socks (and a spare pair in my jacket), my dry boots and a bin liner on each leg, I was ready to go, I looked like a complete muppet, but hell at least I would be able to eat a meal with dry feet.  I was leaving this place tomorrow, what did I care.

Outside the restaurant, I took off my bin liners and tucked them into my brolley and went inside.  It turned out to be a restaurant and bar and the place felt like it had some atmosphere.  I got myself a drink and the tall blonde waitress asks if she could sit down.  I like this, some people might not but I thought it was a nice touch for the place, it's much better than the usual, another drink sir, is everything to your satisfaction sir, the check sir?  It turns out that this is her first night working there, she knows the boss and is making the most of it by sitting cutting the breeze with me and enjoying a cigarette.  I liked this girl, she was very down to earth and her manner was very genuine which is a rare thing whatever country you're in.  Basically she was a good laugh and her shift ended at about the same time as my meal, so we moved into the bar for a few drinks and a lot more chat, this girl's a little crazy, some of the stories she told were outta there, something to do with a homicide in Chicago connected to a drug run she was doing, she should seriously write a book, I'd buy it, any one of them would put my Mexico section to shame.  After, the beer and the dancing, she was good enough to give me a ride back through the flooded streets to my hotel, we kissed goodnight, exchanged phone numbers and planned to meet the next day. 

I thought I'd find more action closer to the university and I did, I found a firkin' pub, in the middle of the desert, I've never seen one in the major cities in the States so finding one in Tucson was somewhat of a surprise.  For the uninitiated, Firkin' is a chain of 'theme' bars in England, they generally take a comfortable spit and sawdust pub that has been the hangout of old men for most of there lives, then they surgically remove any character that the old place had and replace it with a little faux character accompanied by a life size 'Connect 4' game.  It's also a good excuse to reel out a string of puns in order to keep the constantly renewable supply of 18 year olds who are fresh meat for the pub amused for hours.  The firkin' beer mat, the firkin' barman, the firkin' toilets, you get the idea.  Has FCUK got old yet?   No matter, I'd found an English theme bar, at the very least I was assured of a decent pint.  I'd gone there in the afternoon and just sat at a table for a while and in true student fashion a protest march passes by, I won't go on about how student will protest absolutely anything, everyone has their cause and every cause has it's supporters, this one however I agreed with, even if I do consider it to be a bit pointless.  They were protesting the inauguration of Dubya.

For those in Britain who fly the Anti-American banner, try to remember that virtually half of the population here do not support Bush or his actions, in fact if the people I'd met whilst traveling are representative of the average American, and I'd like to think that I've met with a broad spectrum of people whilst I've been wandering, you'd believe that nobody here voted republican.  In the last five days I've had 4 separate American's apologize to me for their President, for the most part they seem as mystified as the rest of the world as to why he got a second term in office.

The evening was a little disappointing, even though a decent pint was indeed to be had at the pub in question, the crowd didn't fit my mood.  There's an irritating habit that some American's have that puts me off sometimes, in this case it's commentating on their own game of pool, congratulating themselves on a good shot or whooping up and down giving 'high fives' to their partner every two minutes when playing doubles, what can I say, they're an easily excitable bunch.

I left and strolled on over the the club across the road, I got carded despite being 10 years the senior of everyone else at the club, after the pub my heart wasn't into making contact with anybody here, I called it a night early on.

I found myself a reasonably priced hotel within walking distance of the city centre and university and checked myself in.

I took a walk around the city, where the hell are the people?  Where are the shops, the bars, the restaurants?  I came here because it is a university town, I expected more than 10 people walking around the centre!  As you do, well as I do in these situations I started fanning out the search to the outskirts of the centre, it turns residential surprisingly quickly.  After watching a movie shoot, nobody seemed to know the name of the movie and I didn't recognize any of the actors, I went back to the hotel and back to my book.

On my search of the city I had found a couple of bars in the centre, just not the myriad that I'd expected.  I went out and found one of the bars / clubs.  The music was okay, a nice break away from the choice of C & W, bluegrass or rock that I'd had in the last few days, this was some thumping dance music.  Still when you're one of three people in the place, it loses it's appeal quickly.

The bar across the road had a bit more in the way of life, 10 people.  I got myself a beer, picked up my book and watched the people for a while.  I'd found my mark for the evening, a couple of guys and girls playing pool who looked like they might be interesting.  I wandered over, put my money on the table and asked if they wanted a game, they were leaving in 10 minutes.  I should have been quieter when I'd asked, this guy, same age as me sitting at the bar on his own heard me and jumped up to attention saying 'I'll play you', I'd already clocked this guy earlier, it was just a gut feeling but I knew he was to be avoided, setting the irony aside for a second, guys my age sitting alone in a bar on a Wednesday night are generally best left alone.

He turned out to be quite intelligent and well read but with a serious self confidence problem, he desperately wanted a friend and I desperately didn't want to be that friend, that sort of self loathing always puts you off a person.  It's strange because on some level he's in a similar position in his life to me, he's got a reasonable amount of cash put away and he's in between jobs, not even looking, but he's doing nothing with it, he's sitting at home all day.  He let's himself down with his desperation though, it even shows when he plays pool, honestly he wasn't that bad, I think he could have beaten me, but every shot was 'lucky' and came with a chorus of 'I'm terrible at this game'.  Generally I don't take such an instant dislike to people, but this guy, the way he behaved reminded so much of my ex's creepy little friend Chris, the one whose friendship caused such a chasm to develop between us that the damage became irreversible, the best I could do was begrudging tolerate this guy for the night and try to remain polite.  I shouldn't blame this poor innocent for my baggage though, it's not his fault.  After two games he gave up citing that he could never beat anyone as good as me.  For the next couple of hours or so we chatted and I tried what I could to build his confidence a bit, spending the night as his counselor was not what I had in mind.  He gave me his real phone number and email address, he wanted to spend the entire day together tomorrow, I gave him a false contact and wished him well.

I drove for hours through the desert today, initially the desert is beautiful, surrounded by mountains in the distance on either side of the road, a long seemingly endless highway with giant cacti as far as the eye could see.  After 4 hours driving in a straight line, I was bored shitless of the desert.

I arrived in Tucson as the sun settled behind the mountain, I'd arrived later than anticipated and this town at first glance seemed devoid of hotel, I knew there were no RV parks within walking distance of the town centre before I'd arrived, what I didn't know was the hotel I'd picked out had sod all parking, certainly nothing that would accommodate my van, besides which, the 'hotel' was more along the lines of a doss house than a hotel, the type of place used by the homeless when they've had a good day and fancy a bed for the night, see also hookers, pimps and their johns.

It was dark, without my glasses I am a danger on the road, I'd been circling this tiny city for what seemed an age with ne'er a glimpse of a hotel, my laptop had run out of power so I had no roadmap to go by either.  I do have a road atlas but it's a little light on the ground when it comes to street-maps and hotel locations.  I saw a sign for the airport and headed off, I was guaranteed to find a place there.  Sure enough I booked myself into the first place I found, the Hilton.  I've been in Hilton's before and they are a massive waste of money IMHO, four times more expensive than a standard hotel, for this you get a cookie while checking in and his and hers bathroom sinks, whoop dee do.  There was nothing in the surrounding area as far as Restaurant's and bars, the hotel restaurant was empty and overpriced, the hotel bar was deserted, including the often mandatory barman. 

I went to my room for the night and caught up with a little TV, all 10 channels worth that were available.    

The people around here are huge, in some ways you can see why, this place reminds me of a couple of towns I visited between San Francisco and San Diego, one, given the lack of footpaths around, it's difficult to get anywhere on foot, the town is a sprawl so getting from one place to the other often involves covering largish distances, the place is flat and the surrounding vicinity has little to offer in the way of aesthetic prowess so if you do walk, it's rarely a nice walk, but mainly I think it's the dining choices, so far I've failed to find a place within a mile of here that offers anything other than burgers, fries or Pizza, there is supposed to be a Mexican somewhere round but I'll be damned if I can find it. 

I watched Supersize Me! a few weeks ago, well worth a watch for any of you looking for an entertaining documentary. 

The guard at the border crossing was less than friendly, all the other cars were let through with just a flash of a passport, he didn't seem to like the fact that I had a British passport (unusual I guess) and he didn't seem at all convinced that I was traveling alone.  Nonetheless he let me through after a couple of minutes of questioning (in Spanish!).  I let the Mexican family out in Calmexico and headed for Arizona.

As much as I like Mexico and it's people, it's good to be back on semi decent American roads again, my van really did not appreciate the fact that I took her on Mexican roads, luckily I brought enough tools with me to affect any necessary repairs that need to be done, I'll do it mañana..

For the first time, I've crossed a time zone, I now be on mountain time I be.

The RV park that I've landed myself in is pretty nice, no hookup for the TV though but that's not such a bad thing.  It's surprising how much I've missed having Internet access on my own PC, for the first time in a week I've been able to get my email and update my website, bliss!  Not that they don't have internet cafes in Mexico, they just don't allow you to hook up your own machine and every place I've been to has been sensible enough to have a secured wireless network so no dice on the WAR driving front either.

After the obligatory wander around to find my bearings, I headed out to find a bite to eat, it was about 9:00 and I'd found a place on the Internet that was about 10 minutes walk from here, apparently the chef had gone home!  When I asked if there was anywhere to eat within walking distance the bar lady said no and looked at me as if I was crazy to walk anywhere, I gave my 'thanks anyway' and went hunting.  I found a 'sonic hamburgers' place about 15 minutes away, and odd variation on drive through restaurants, a drive-in restaurant, basically each parking space has an intercom of it's own to take your order through, the place does not have an indoor seating area and given I was hungry and this seemed to be the only eats available after 9:00 I walked into my parking space, pressed my button and ordered.  For the second time in that very evening I was met with the 'are you crazy, you're using you legs' look.  I chomped down my burger graciously ignoring the truly obsessive car culture that exists in this town.

There was a bar across from the burger place so I thought I'd give it a look.  I managed to find something worse than a karaoke bar, a Country and Western karaoke bar.  The closest British analogy for C & W music that I can think of is British soap operas, the only reason to watch these god awful things is to remind yourself that some people have worse lives than your own, same with C & W.  Karaoke C & W in a bar where only the men sing and not one of them can hold a note is past depressing, it's truly nauseating, I had a couple of beers and returned to my van.

I headed off from San Felipe pretty early on, just in case I got stuck driving in the dark again.  I was again stopped by the army on the way up to Mexacalli, my last stop in Mexico.  This time they wanted to do a thorough search of the van.  The van was a wreck inside, the Mexican roads had not been good to the girl, the treacherous potholes and dirt roads had not only caused most of the contents of the cupboards to come crashing onto the floor but they had obliterated the sock drawer and wardrobe, I'll sort it out when I'm off of Mexican roads. 

This time the army seemed less intimidating, in fact despite feeling the need to search my van they were very friendly and in spite the detailed inspection they failed to find the Mexican family who'd paid me to smuggle them over the border.

I got stopped again by the police 15 miles up the road, not in the traditional police chase sense, more the cop standing in the middle of the road with a gun sense, we exchanged pleasantries and he let me by unimpeded, I wasn't sure what that was about!  Further down the road I got my first distasteful sight of Mexico, a body lay face down by the side of the the highway, given his pose I sincerely doubt that he was having a siesta.  The good part of me wanted to stop and check if he was okay, the survivalist in me told me that it could be a trap and that if he was dead, there was little I could do about it, hopefully some civic minded Mexican did what I couldn't bring myself to do and checked if the guy was okay.  Fifteen miles up from that, another body, this one had a large spike through it.

Mexicalli is the capital of Baja and has been since the Mexican revolution, unlike the other towns that I've visited in Mexico, it is not a tourist trap, few of the people I met here spoke English so I struggled along with my broken Spanish.  I've nothing much to say about the place other than it's nice to see a Mexican city that does not rely on the tourist trade, I'm just using it as a stop-off and I spend the night in my hotel room with my book.   

Generally a hangover does not consist of searing pain in your shoulders and abs from the kayaking the day before.  Usually a hangover does not involve the sound of a massive drill (think oil rig) waking you up and banging continuously ever three seconds, each thump like a small explosion and normally you have the sense to drink a lot of water before you go to bed, but wait, it's Mexico, you can't drink the water and I didn't have the sense to get bottled water for the room.

I feel rough and need to get away from the continuous banging, In my drunken state I didn't even get the Maestro's email address, so if by any chance you end up reading this, you have a place to stay in San Fran if you're ever down that way. 

For the first time since I arrived, I explore the town, it's a nice little place, excluding the surrounding homes, you could probably walk the entire place in half and hour.  I find myself a nice Mexican restaurant, have a nice meal and the screaming pain in my head recedes a little, I find a nice wall by the side of the beach and lay down for a while.

In the evening I toy with the idea of going back the bar that I was in and getting there early enough for the pool tournament, I kind of fancied my chances, the class of player there last night was pretty dire.  I walk passed the bar and peer into the window, the bar is full of 60 something American's playing pool, good sense gets the better of me and I go back to my hotel room and curl up with a book.

The Maestro, arrives at my hotel at around 10:00 and we head off in his rental 4x4 to find a place where we can kayak, the directions he was given over the phone were way off, they took us to the home of the people who own the kayak centre rather than their place of business, a guy who we'd obviously awoken from his siesta was kind enough to put us on the right road.

The last (and first time) I was in a kayak, I was 19 years old and it was on a lake in South Wales, and I sucked big time, all I could do was go around in circles so I was a little daunted by the prospect of going onto the open sea with no instruction and where there was no rescue boat in sight.  It was fun though, after 5 of 10 minutes I was happily paddling away, although I couldn't keep up with the Maestro but he was kind enough to stop every so often to allow me to catch up, all in all we must have paddled for 2 -3 hours, it was good fun although my shoulders and abs were not best pleased with me.

After kayaking I needed food, usually I eat late anyway but with the amount of exercise I'd just had, I needed food badly.  We found this nice little Mexican place that serves tiny portions of food for each course, I lost count of the amount courses of quesadillas I went through, much to the amusement of the maestro, after the food and several drinks we hit the town to see where the action lay, the answer, nowhere!  Looking for a pool table, bar number one had a pool table but was full of 'snowbirds', think OAP community escaping the cold weather to warmer climes, they had two pool tables apparently hosting a tournament which we were too late for.  Bar two had a pool table but we were virtually the only people there.  The third bar we went to had no pool table, but it did have some action.  Within two minutes of getting in there, there was a very cute Mexican girl sitting on my lap who had a strange habit of exposing one of her breasts ever few minutes, feeling herself up and trying to put my hand down her pants.  We'd found the town's strip club.

Now these places come at a price for the tourists, as my Tijuana experience indicates, in the case of this place it was to supply the lady in question with $10 drinks for the night, a vile concoction of lager, tomato juice and what tasted like Tabasco sauce.  She managed to get three out of myself and the Maestro that night.  Both me and my partner in crime for the evening only spoke an embarrassingly small amount of Spanish, and the lady of the night spoke no English save 'fucky fucky'.  The night progressed swiftly and I turned down the young dears offer to go into the back room and after an hour at the club, the strippers came on stage.  They were somewhat different to the strip routines that I'd seen in the past in England and the States, the show was far more erotic, far more dance and much less showing their bits in the most graphic manner that they can.  The Maestro was struggling a bit, I had to feel a little sorry for him, it turned out this was his first strip show but I'm not sure he saw much of it.  He has pretty bad eyesight and all he had with him was his prescription sunglasses and the club was pretty dark, he spent most of the show switching between blurry with some light or focused blackout.  The lady leaves up temporarily, to put on her show, all credit to her, I thought she was very good.  By this time we'd moved from the bar to a table that had a better view of the dance floor, the lady joins us again and we chat in the way that two people who have absolutely no understanding of each others language do and she asks me for a dance, quite aware that I was making a prick of myself I get onstage with her an we boogie for a few minutes and I try my hand at pole dancing, it's fun!

After the last dancer comes on for the evening I say the immortal words 'lo siento, soy no mas dinero', in two shakes of a strippers tail, she's gone for the evening, it's funny how telling a girl you have no more money has that effect sometimes.

We finish our drinks off and head back to the bar that was hosting the 'pool tournament', it's over and most of the old Americans have left for the evening.  We settle into a few games of pool with the Mexicans on the far pool table.  Each country has it's own little quirky rules as far as pool is concerned, Mexican pool is basically American rules pool with the exception that you have to pot the black into the pocket that you sank your last ball into.  This frustrated the hell out of me as I'd had enough drinks that night to be at the short term memory loss stage, every game I forgot this, still myself and the Maestro held our own for the night, he sensibly went onto water for his last couple of drinks, sadly I didn't.  The Maestro, left to go back to his hotel and I finished a couple more beers with our Mexican friends and said goodnight. 

I got back to the hotel room and fell asleep.

I took Mex 3 which took me into the mountains of Baja, the road wasn't what I expected, it's a single lane highway that cuts across Baja, this meant that every large truck slowed down traffic to a crawl going up the hills, it was a wonderfully scenic drive though going from the most lush green mountainsides to the west of Baja turning into deserts in the East.

My 'lonely planet' was kind enough to inform me that highway robbery still happens in Mexico but generally it's safe during the day, but not to travel at night.  As sunset approached I was still on the mountain road, nowhere near San Felipe, the highway was now virtually deserted save for a few cars coming in the opposite direction.  I start to get a bit para as I'm driving, convincing myself more and more as I go on that I'm going to end up the love slave of some Mexican gang or at least shot and robbed, I stick my foot to the floor and hope for the best, now flooring it in any other vehicle doesn't quite mean the same thing, in this beast a lead foot will get you 65 at best, and that's downhill.  As it turns out this is a good thing, as I'm going over the brow of a hill, I notice something on the road, worried that it's the banditos I hesitate before slowing, quickly I realize it's something else, it's a herd of cows in the middle of the road, now 60 - 0 going down a hill in this beast is the least impressive thing you'll ever witness, in fact on occasion it's proved to be frankly dangerous, I slam on the brakes and come to very slow grinding stop, finishing off with a skid for good measure, stopping only a metre from said cows.  My paranoia now changes faces slightly, now I'm worried about having a car wreck in the middle of nowhere, then being robbed, used as a sex slave, then shot.  I temper my speed a little and drop it to 55mph.

Nightfall comes, I lost my glasses in San Diego I think and without them my night vision is awful, my paranoia is too strong  to pull over and spend the night on a deserted highway so I plod on relentlessly. 

About 20 miles on from the cow incident I spot another group in the middle of the road, I consider putting my foot down but as I get closer I realize that my little van is no match for the thirty guys up ahead armed with machine guns, eeek, it's all coming true.  After a quick talk to one of the army guys he lets me through, only to be asked to stop again 20 metres later, again I'm let through and they point me towards San Felipe.

This does little to quell the beast inside crying, you're gonna die!  I become convinced that the army was a trap for unsuspecting tourists, a pick-up truck overtakes me, sitting in back  looking straight at me are two Mexican's, I can't tell whether or not they're armed, I drop back a little bit, but not so far as would give them time to pull over, block the road and get out.  A few other vehicles overtake me and I don't feel so worried about the Mexicans in the pick-up.  Still no San Felipe or any signposts for San Felipe!  I approach some roadwork's so slow down, I follow the car ahead in the hope that he can see where he's going, apparently he can, the road disappears and turns into a dirt track, this is it, this is the trap thinks me!  There's nowhere to go but follow this guy and hope for the best but he's doing speeds in his little saloon car which the van just can't do over rough terrain.  I do my best to keep up but the bumps in the road are wrecking the van, I can hear everything in the back falling out of the cupboards onto the floor, the crashing sounds going on are thundering.

After the longest half a mile in my life the road returns to a regular shabbily tarmaced Mexican road and I hit a town, after finding the nearest hotel, I check in and only then realise that the town is San Felipe, I made it.  I lay down for 1/2 hour, take a shower and head out to eat.  

I found a nice little Mexican on the other side of town from the hotel.  I thought I was out of luck, the door was so badly crafted that I had trouble opening it, I thought it was locked, a kind American sitting at a table on his own was good enough to open it for me.  It was around 7:00 and in my haste to leave Ensanada on time (and not get caught driving in the dark), I hadn't eaten yet.

I was seated in a room with a crowd of very rowdy and frankly rude American, all between 50 and 80 years old.  I sat and read a book after ordering my food and wanted nothing more than a nice quiet atmosphere where I could relax after my journey and wind down a little.  The Americans at the next table start shouting at the waiter, telling him to bring their food 'now' or they would go somewhere else.  Now the pace of things in Mexico is a little slower than the States (thankfully) and the eating experience is supposed to be a little more prolonged, sit down, relax with friends, make an evening of it.  Not so with these guys, they wanted their food yesterday, one of them went so far as to go into the kitchen and start mouthing off at the chefs.  I only hope they spat in their food, or worse, I've never encountered a group that deserved it more.  Within minutes their food was served and there mood changed into a faux happy.  They started trying to laugh and joke with the waiters, the look of scorn on the waiter's faces was priceless.  Whilst the piglets were chomping away, the strangest set of blokes I've seen for quite a while walk in, I guess they could have been brothers on reflection, I'm not sure, they were three very overweight white guys, all with shaved heads and each once sporting a baby face.  With one exception other than ordering their food for the night, they said nothing to each other, the exception being that when the obnoxious group left ine of them said 'they're having too much fun', this was the extent of their conversation for the night'.  The guy who opened the door for me on the way in was still there as I was leaving, I figured I'd chance my arm and see if he fancied a drink, he was well up for it.

We found a bar across from the restaurant, had a couple of drinks, chatted for a while and went back to our respective hotels after arranging to go kayaking the next day.

Again, I meant to leave today, the rain was horrendous, all the roads around Ensanada resembled rivers, I was reticent to walk the roads never mind drive.  By 2:00 the rain had cleared and I saw my first lick of sunshine since I got to Mexico, I headed for the highest point in the town for to take some photos.

During the evening I headed for the bars again, firstly to Mango, Mango, a slightly confusing club that has no cover charge and free beer (granted terrible beer) for the night, in theory one could go there, dance, get drunk and spend nothing during the night?  I left after a couple of beers, I didn't like the feel of the place and headed back to 'Papas and Beer', half in an attempt to emulate two nights ago, half in the hope that I'd see the guys again and be able to set the record straight..  Neither happened, it was a pretty dry night all told so I headed back to the hotel.

On the way back I was approached by a girl who spoke no English yet I got the distinct feeling that she liked me.  This feeling was further enhanced when her hand went down into my pants.  She offered me 'un servicio especial' for only 200 pesos, I declined, within a flash she was on her knees, had unzipped me and had me in her mouth in the middle of the street, sucking for all she was worth, all credit to her, very professionally done.  As pleasurable as this was, I don't pay for sex!  I tried in my best broken Spanish to explain that my wife (a complete lie) was in my hotel room and I loved her too much to cheat on her, after a short walk, a couple more attempted handjobs, $10 and an assurance from me that she was beautiful and that if it wasn't for my (imaginary) wife that I would jump at the chance, she left and I went to bed for the night.

I was woke up by the hotel clerk, I had a stinking hangover and I thought it was one of the guys from last night, it wasn't, I'd missed checkout time, I decided to stay for another night.  After a little reflection I think all the guys were looking for was a place to sleep for the night, I should've offered them a taxi home, I'd meant to but I was drunk and thought that  a pack of cigs would be a nice thank you and all other thoughts went by the wayside, they were drunk too, I think this is why they crossed the line with me, they were just treating me like a close mate, I've done worse to good friends in my time, no harm done. 

After last night I felt like a quiet one, I just wandered for a while and took a couple of photos.  Thankfully no excitement today.

Ensanada is a model of what Mexico should be, Mexico without the poverty or desperation that you see in so many of the Mexican people, it's a beautiful little town that obviously has a great sense of civic pride.

After the obligatory 2 hour exploration of the place and a meal I decided to hit the town.  There was a bar called 'papas and beer' which was playing Mexican techno and Rock, a fairly odd combination.  I found myself a nice little table and after about an hour of being there a band came on, a Mexican rock band with two female leads, both with fantastic voices, although they did play a couple of American rock songs that clearly were being sang by someone that did quite understand all the words, but hell I couldn't come close to doing better.

The band was a godsend, I didn't feel so out of place alone in a bar with the band playing, during which a lovely Senorita asked if she and her friends could sit on the free seats, I got chatting with the group and we ended up drinking much and dancing more, without exception it was the best night out I'd had since I started the trip, these guys were among the most welcoming and fun people I've met, to the point where I've invited them to San Francisco if they're ever up there.  By the end of the evening we'd all run out of cigarettes, this is where the night got a bit screwy, I invited them back to my Hotel room for the sole purpose of getting them a packet of cigs for the night, one of the guys needed to go so I took him up to the room to use the facilities, then went back downstairs with him to say goodbye to the rest of then, we agreed to meet up the next day.  I went back to my room and passed out.

I don't know how much time had passed but the next thing I know, one of the guys and his girlfriend were in my room, they'd managed to get a key of the hotel and let themselves in, this scared the living crap out of me, I thought I was being robbed, I'd woken up to find a couple of people who I'd met just that night had broken into my hotel room, eek!  I ended up throwing them out with a helpful little pointer from the guy that there was a separate lock that I could use so that someone couldn't use a key, bit fucking cheeky.  I barricaded the door and fell asleep. 

I'm in Tijuana, just this side of the Mexican border, what a difference 10 miles makes, this place is a seedy frontier town.  It was poring with rain when I arrived, the streets were flooded, I was surprised that I didn't stall the camper given some of the 'rivers' that I drove through, the roads are in an awful condition, I was expecting the van to fall apart but I made it to the hotel eventually, apparently it's the hotel that invented the Caesar Salad, no prizes for guessing the name of the hotel.  It's in the heart of what is laughingly referred to as the tourist district, as far I can tell that means that it's the only street in the city that's been maintained in the last 10 years.

I just went for a walk down the street, it's pretty intense here and I stick out like a big red headed thumb, every shop I pass it's 'come in Senor, we got something nice for you', 'Cuban cigars Senor', 'Pretty naked girls Senor', 'Taxi Senor', I even had one guy run across the road and chase after me down the street, I'm not sure what he wanted, I just walked on saying 'lo siento Senor, quiero nada'.  The place is fairly intimidating for a tourist and given the time of year, I seem to be the only tourist here, it could be fun though, I'll go out tonight around town and see if I can avoid trouble.  BTW the tourist guide says don't go out after dark:-)

___________________________________________

Later that night....

Okay, I didn't manage to avoid trouble in Tijuana;-) Initially I'd decided to stay pretty close to the hotel, there was a club across the road that seemed to have some life, at least from external appearances, the place was loud, there was dry ice pouring off the balcony and they were playing some sort of Mexican techno, it seemed to fit my needs pretty well.  I paid my $10 cover to get into the place, pretty excessive I thought but it did include free drinks for the night so I thought what the hell.  I was escorted up three flights of stairs in this massive club by a very nice hombre, floor one, empty, floor two, empty, floor three, surprise surprise, empty, it was 10:00 on a Friday night and I was the only person in the bloody place, I had 3 bouncers, 4 barman and two waiters all to my self.  On a brighter note it did have a nice balcony from which I could view the main strip, I've never seen so many police cars with sirens wailing in my life, every 2 minutes there was another one (maybe the same one circling).

After a couple of beers I got  bored of the place and left, I felt like writing to the 'lonely planet' and inform them that 'the clubs overflowing with raucous drunken revelers' was a steaming pile of...

Anyway, I got off the tourist strip and headed for the bars that the locals frequent, it was good to get out of the tourist area, far less people harassing you on the street.  I found a quiet little bar with 10 slightly depressed looking Mexican's in it, I got myself a beer and say down to read my book.  it was a nice place, kind of like an 'old man's' pub in England, you know, not much action going on but quite relaxing in it's own way.  Half an hour later I was bored of this place too, as if to alleviate my boredom I was approached by a guy who introduced himself as Michael.  Initially I thought he was an American tourist, I think he'd just lived in America long enough to pick up the accent.  After just 5 minutes talking I got the distinct feeling that he was not to be trusted, I decided at this point not to file my complaint to the 'lonely planet' as they were spot on when they said 'there are plenty of people on the streets of Tijuana who will gladly relieve the unsuspecting tourist of all of his money'.  Despite my gut feeling about this guy, I figured I'd go along with it just for a giggle and run when things go a little too hot.

I dutifully bought him a drink and he suggested that we go down to his favourite club so that's exactly what we did.  At first the place didn't look quite as seedy as I'd thought it might, just a lot of Mexicans dancing and having a good time, although Michael did seem to know everyone that worked in the place, time to figure out an escape strategy thinks I.  We got a nice little seat in the corner and I ordered a 'bucket' of beer for the two of us, $16 for 12 beers, bargain!  I continue chatting to Michael and generally do a bit of people watching, during which one of his waiter friends keeps coming over and asking me whether I like this very pretty Senorita that was sitting at the bar, this seemed to anger Michael somewhat, a reaction that I later put down to the fact that Michael is a pimp and she is not in his stable. 

The night continued and the beer was going down very nicely, thank you very much, I was being careful(ish) about the amount I drank, I'm guessing that Michael is used to American tourists, ergo American drinkers, the ones that can actually get drunk drinking Budweiser (2 percent alcohol in the States).  It's probably worth noting at this point that all I brought out with me was $60 cash, an expired California driving license (you have to carry ID, it's the law) but no credit cards, not even my wallet, Michael had also asked me earlier in the night which hotel I was staying at, I told him the Lafayette, a lie, I was staying at Caesar's. 

An hour after arriving at the club, the dance floor clears and the 'stripping battle' begins, girls face off in a competition against each other to claim a prize (don't ask me what) for the one who's the best overall stripper / dancer.  Michael asks me which one I think would win, frankly they were all terrible but I don't tell him this, I stump for the girl in the white miniskirt / belt, Michael seems happy that I've chosen a 'friend' of his, 5 minutes later girl in belt is sitting on my lap and I'm asked by one of the waiters if I'd like to buy the lady a drink, hell, sure, why not?  He comes back to the table with an ice bucket containing 4 beers, $25??? I look at him as if he's loco, he says they are 'special' drinks, I offer him $5, he takes three of the beers away and accepts the money.  The lady has her drink!  At this point Michael says that the $25 was a mistake and that his friend the waiter is an idiot, then continues on to say that if I pay for the cocaine, the crystal meth and the hash for the night that he'll sort out the hotel rooms and the girls and we can have fun , $80 was the asking price.  Time to get out! I say okay and ask him how to say to the girl in Spanish that she was the best dancer up there, I've got to appear interested in this tart to buy me a little time, Michael gets up to leave for the first time that night to go get his drugs, I tell the 'lady' occupying my knee that I have to go to the bathroom, luckily the bathroom is conveniently placed by the entrance, I'm outta there.

Now this is where my escape strategy failed, although I'd had the foresight to lie about the hotel I was staying at, I failed to take into account that the hotel I did give was on the way back to my hotel, doh! I should've done one of two things, either got into a taxi or taken a back street home.  By this time everybody on the main strip knew me, seriously, this is how much I stick out, every hombre outside every club knew how many times I had walked by that day and would happily inform me of the fact, it's a bit intimidating in that regard, I felt as if I needed a disguise... 

I bumped into Francis on the walk back to the hotel, a pleasant vagrant who I'd given $1 to earlier in the evening, just because he seemed to be a reasonably nice guy for Tijuana anyway.  I started chatting to him on the way back about nothing in particular, the crappy weather etc. and who should appear but Michael a little out of breath and mightily pissed off, fair enough I guess, he'd been 'working' me for three hours and all he'd got was $10 worth of drinks out of me!  He started going on about how we had a gentleman's agreement and that I owed him $80, I apologized for leaving without saying goodbye, told him I was tired and had to leave before I fell asleep, oddly enough this wasn't good enough for him.  He started putting on his hat and gloves in a manner that was far more intimidating than it sounds.  Now normally I'd square up to him and get ready to fight, however being the only white guy in a shady town in a third world country changes things a bit, Francis to his credit stood by my side throughout the whole thing and ignored Michael's insistence that he go away.  I tell Michael that all I have is $20 (the truth) and he starts insisting that we go to the ATM (cash machine) to get all that is owed to him, of course I don't have my card on me either.  I give him the $20 I have and walk away, he follows for a while continuing to shout insults at me and I return some back to him, eventually he gives up, realizes that nothing else is coming his way that night and gives up the chase.  In a fair and just world I'd rather have given the money to Francis, although I know the only reason he had my back was in the hope of a little cash coming his way which is not something I could not offer him, the bank had been bled dry that night. 

All in all for $60, that includes a meal, it was a very entertaining evening, I'd spend that in a couple of hours in San Francisco, so even though I didn't quite get away scot free from this little con man, I think I got my moneys worth for the evening and avoided a stabbing, which is always nice.

Tijuana was fun, I must go back sometime.    

I'm back home, I had to fly back to sort out my tenant, bummer! 

I'm still not sure if the road-trip will continue, we'll see what the next week has to hold.

I went to San Diego 'old town today', it's a whole 150 years old, hee hee, I've lived in houses older than that.  It's very much a tourist trap rather than an authentic wild west town.  There is one original house from the time that has been maintained and it feels as if the whole tourist attraction has been built around it, i could be wrong, San Diego of 1850 may have consisted of shops that solely sold t-shirts and expensive tokens of your visit to San Diego, what do I know.

I talked at length with the kid last night, I think we managed to right the worlds wrongs, we discussed the link between Buddha, astrology and the comparative colours of pubic hair, much fun.

I had a quiet day doing pretty much nothing, well I did apply for a job as a development manager here, I'm still waiting to see whether I get an interview.  I was exhausted today, I cycled 26 miles yesterday and I woke up feeling like I'd done a marathon.

The tenants have been quiet, I sent them an email and called them (answer machine) yesterday asking for proof of (re)payment by tomorrow, if it doesn't arrive I'll be jumping on a flight back to San Francisco over the next couple of days to sort them out, I'm not sure what I'm going accomplish by this, they were crap with payments when I was there.