Asheville to Argentina

This ones for Gabe and all you other grillin’ Ashevillans

Corn on Stick Mexico City style

You’ll need:

• Grilled corn
• Mayonnaise (yes, you can sub butter, but then it really wouldn’t be Mexico City Style™, and if you do, use a lot. It’s gotta make the crumbled cheese stick)
• Crumbled up Mexican crumbling cheese (I’ve seen it in most grocery stores)
• A smokey chili powder. I’d recommend either using Gabes home made version (link), or at least pulverizing some dry chipotles and adding that to your favorite commercial chili powder for some extra snap and smoke
• Limes

First, put your corn on a stick. I’d think that goes without saying, but this for my brother-in-law Gabe, so I better error on the side of caution.

Next, paint that grilled ear with a thin coat of mayonnaise.

Spoon tons of the crumbled cheese onto the corn. Do this over the bowl so all of it that doesn’t stick can be reused. (Its a BBQ, who cares!)

Shake a healthy dusting of the chili powder over it

And finally, squeeze a lime over it.

There you have it, Mexico City corn on a stick. For some reason I see the kids licking it like a cheese lolly-pop and going back for more…

More time in the historic center. We took a tour of the bell tower in the cathedral and I got a little artsy with the camera.

And in the Viceroys  old palace they house this little gem. General Antonio López de Santa Anna’s wodden leg:

Click for the full gallery of photos including the bells.

I’ve been in Mexico City for about a day and a half and the its been a pleasant surprise. I think I expected urban squalor, and I’m sure I could find it if I looked, but instead I’ve found a great public transport system, interesting museums and a historic center that wowed me as I came up out of the subway.

I’ve split the photos into two groups, sculptures that I’ve found interesting

and photos from around the city.

ENJOY!

This boat is just floating in the harbor. My spanish isn’t great, but I think Pedro said it’s the one taking the bikes to Mexico.

Killing time in the hostel while the the strikers strike. Over Mikes shoulder you can see the docks. At about 2 pm I gave up and cracked a beer. As the foam settled, I looked over the top of the glass and saw a crane moving on the dock! The strike had ended. And to his credit, about a half hour later, Dishonest Pedro called and told us to be at the dock at 3.

And we were at the dock on time. And we stood around waiting for about three hours for permission to load the bikes. Once we had the OK, we started pulling them into the container and sorting things out. I could piss and moan about how Perdos team only had one strap per bike and couldn’t tie a knot to save their lives, or about how he kept looking at his watch like we were taking too much if his after he’s kept us here for something like ten days. But I’m going to rise about that urge and just say that I’m glad the container is packed and that I was there to tie everything in.

The bikes all packed in the container-

 
Striking dock workers milling around the dock gates

Day before yesterday, at about 6 p.m. we took a taxi over to the lawyers for a little party. Attending were the delicate and bespectacled Ms. Attorney and her assistant, Tattoo’d  Translator, Dishonest Pedro, Simon (surely and smelling of beer), Mike and I. We weren’t at all happy about having to be here and being forced to spread all these schmoleans around, and the tension was thick and cold as yesterdays grits. But this was the way forward and we are ready to get these motorcycles on the boat.

Niceties are exchanged, papers are handed around. I look at my stack and am appalled at the sheer number of words on the pages we’re here to sign. We were asked to pay 500 pesos to the translator and 660 to the attorney, 1160 pesos total ($350 usd). If you divide that by the number of words, including copies, we’re paying about 10 pesos a word. I look over at Tattoo and Ms. Attorney and think that they should be kissing me, because right now they sure were screwing me. But we sign everything and pass out the pesos.

Dishonest Pedro tells us that the next day, Thursday, he’ll go down to customs and get all the documents set. I have no faith in this guy and I want to make sure that the bikes are packed in the container and in customs before I leave this town, so I say “Great, and we’ll pack everything on Friday, right?” Excuses and run-around pour from his mouth like grease off a hot parilla, but after reminding him that he has two working days to write our names on a few papers, he says “Ok, Friday.”(Since I’m a little late in writing this, thats today!) We left the office, glad to have this behind us, but with no confidence that we’ve really made any headway.

Yesterday we got the call. Pedro wanted to let us know that that evening the dock workers were going on strike and he didn’t know how long it would last. He would vigorously endeavor to get things set so we could load the motos before the strike, but there was a lot of work to be done. He would call us when he had more information he said. Then he hung up the phone and went to the bar.

Today we may be no closer to getting the bikes packed than we were ten days ago when we started this insane process – or maybe we can close the door on the container. Its yet to be seen, but I do feel bit like Bolivar who said of his lifes work “I have plowed the sea”

Ushuaia at night

Ushuaia by day

Now that I’ve hit bottom the idea of riding back to Asheville through the Argentine desert, choosing between crooked cops or weeks of dirt roads in Peru and crossing Central American borders again just isn’t that appealing. Hard to believe, I know. So, I’ve a new plan, subject to change without notice.

The new plan goes something like this: Ship the bikes to Mexico just south of Brownsville, take Spanish classes while I wait for them to arrive, then ride home to beg for a job. Easy, right? Not so fast there Caballero…

Here’s how its been going…

While shipping the bikes around the Darien gap, the impasse between Panama and Colombia, I met Jorge and Salvador, two Mexican riders also heading to Ushuaia. They helped us deal with a little Napoleon in the customs office and we rode together for few days. They reached Tierra Del Fuego about a month ago and secured a container in a ship bound for the Caribbean coast of Mexico. Mike, Simon and I want to put our bikes in the same box and share the costs, but we had no idea how much trouble this would be.

Really, we’re making it harder that it has to be because we don’t want to work with a customs broker. When flying the bikes from Panama all we did was pull up to the airport and ride them into the warehouse. Things are different here.

When we got to Ushuaia we tried to talk with the customs broker Jorge was using. He was on vacation until February so we talked with Pedro, his assistant. Pedro wanted to charge us $100 more than he was charging Jorge – and for doing less. I held my temper and my tongue and politely left.

Then Mike, Simon and I went to the customs office to get the necessary paperwork and do it ourselves. At the office a guy with fire in his eyes angerly told us that we couldn’t have the papers. He said we needed a broker. After a little more conversation, he directed us to another aduana, or customs office. Maybe they’d give us the papers? So off we paraded. We talked with the lady that handles vehicle paperwork, and she directed us to a different desk where the new guy told us… we needed a customs broker to get the papers and fill them out for us. I didn’t understand why and I was getting really mad about it. I can write, I even have my own pen, why can’t I fill out my own paperwork?

In frustration we decided to go visit the shipper and see if they could help. On arriving we asked for the person Jorge talked with… who was on vacation until February. Maria Belen works in the same office and has been the only brite spot in this whole process. After forwarding her a few emails from the head office in Buenos Aires, she’s taken up our cause and told us what we need to do to get the ball rolling.

Which includes… getting a shipping agent. She helped us find one who would do the work for a reasonable price, but when I told her that there would be two agents for the one container, she said that was impossible. Only one per container. So we’re stuck with Dishonest Pedro.

With Jorges help we got Pedros price down to something reasonable and retained him to do the paperwork that we could do ourselves if someone would give it to us. But the bureaucratic wall is too high and my Spanish is too poor…  so we need him. In Pedros office we find out that we need a Notary Public to give him official permission to fill out the paperwork for us. More pesos change hands. Then we find out we need an official translator to translate the contract that the Notary will notarize to give permission to Pedro to fill out the paperwork that we could fill out ourselves if someone would only let us. So more pesos change hands.

Thats about where we are now, but don’t think for a minute thats the end of the story.

Stay tuned….

We’re killing time trying to figure out what we need to do to ship our motorcycles to Mexico. From there I’ll ride back to Asheville and hopefully arrive in late March or early April. The bureaucracy here is just stupid though, and its seems nearly impossible to get the paperwork we need. We’ve spent days going from office to office and it feels like we’ve made no headway at all. Hopefully we’ll know more later today.

Killing time this weekend I rode around. One day alone and the next with Simon, Mike, Melane and Stephan. Here’s some photos from the ride:

A view of the Beagle Canal from the national park

This muralist has a few paintings around town. Above are two of my favorite.

Which way’s the wind blow?

A downed tree on Ruta 40

I don’t know what to say about this one.

On the beach

More trees growing on the windward side of the hill

Our picnic dinner on Ruta J

We stayed a bit late but dinner was good, the company better and the spot very peaceful .