Wednesday, June 2, 2010

Lost in Transition: First Day Back Home

humid air holds me close. sweet flora washed. bbq smoke with no where to go. nastalgia sets in. I am comfortable, disoriented, but comfortable. I do not have to think, to figure out my surroundings, or what the strangers are saying. with family, I am home.

a fresh start.

Tuesday, June 1, 2010

Florianoplis: 3rd and final round

The bike was secure at the bottom floor of a Puerto Madero apartment building in Buenos Aires. Everything I came with, and then some, was crammed into my four bags. Moto gear, cameras, camping stuff, gifts, sunscreen, trinkets etc. I left BA and flew back to Florianopolis for the last time of the trip, to spend a few days with my pal, decompress and get my head straight for my life back home.

Anyone feeding me fresh Acai has my heart.

Daniel and I grabbing breakfast.

We went into the center of Florianopolis, on the other side of the island to pick up some things before I left Brasil. This mannequin did just the opposite of what most are designed to do. Strange indeed!

Heavy rains were hard to avoid in Florianopolis and staying out in the jungle meant crossing flooded, muddy roads just to get out to the main road.

I rented the cheapest vehicle I could find and was anything but gentle when plowing through knee high muddy water! play time.

the lagoon.

There happened to be a 6 Star International surf contest taking place at Praia Mole, which is the beach that my buddy works on, and where I spent the majority of my time during my summer days. Spotty weather, but a fun last day in of a 5 month trip!

Aritz Aranburu takes first place, and a big cardboard check.

Adios amigo! Obrigado para tudo!

22 hrs after leaving Pura Vida Florianopolis, Brasil I arrived in Raleigh, North Carolina to be greeted by my lovely mother and youngest sister! This moment, the instant when I get to hug my family, came across my mind many times while riding through questionable weather, terrain and situations. I just had to get home to see my little sister graduate from High School. Just get home. The thought of this moment kept me cool when I was wound up or overwhelmed, when I was nervous or doubtful. I pulled it off, and if feel so good.

Friday, May 28, 2010

Buenos Aires, back to Colonia, Uruguay and back to BA again...

I crossed from Colonia, Uruguay to Buenos Aires via the Buquebus ferry without my moto, which was securely parked across the water. I met back up with my buddy who I stayed with while in BA during February.

More of the usual BA events, wine, steak and more tom foolery with the boys at my favorite spot, Miranda.

But the next day I was informed by my buddy in Uruguay that I was given the wrong paper when I entered the the country only allowing me 90 days for storage for the moto. I was told be every official I asked if I could leave it for 1 year and was told yes. However, Arnaldo suggested that I come back to UY and either ride to another border (300 or 600km away) to get new papers, or beg a plead for new ones through the customs office in Colonia. Mind you, this is two days before my flight leaves for Brasil. So I try to get some information from the Argentine side, with no success leaving a not so cheap physical trip back across the water to Uruguay.

I arrive in Colonia around 10am and Arnaldo meets me shortly after. We go to the customs office looking for the boss. He casually strolls in 30 minutes later and Arnaldo does some talking. he says he will call the Rio Branco office (where I entered from Brasil) in a hour to see if they can fax us another paper giving me one year. So we kill some time...

Colonia is an absolutely stunning historical town dating back to 1680 when the Portuguese established a colony. The Spanish and Portuguese fought for control for the next 150 years.

After we met the boss in customs and he made his calls we learned that for NO apparent reason the border through which I entered does not issue one year temporary vehicle permits. FOR NO REASON. So latin. Oh and the closest border 150 km away was closed for no apparent reason. This meant that with the remaining 6 hours before my ferry left I had to either ride 300km to another border and get new papers and return back to catch my ferry. This MIGHT work, if absolutely everything goes according to plan. However, with the luck of things it didn't seem feasible. So I sent an email to my friend in BA asking him to ask his boss if I could store the bike in his apt. building garage. As last resort, but desperate times call for desperate measures. It was on, and I decided to cross back to Argentina with the bike and deal with whatever it cost to pay for parking in the garage, but hoping it would go unnoticed.

Back in BA after a crazy day it was time for Whiskey Wednesday and another visit to Miranda for some outstanding cuts of meat and vino tinto with the supper club.