Culiacan

Sinaloa muchachas! In this particular state of Mexico, they have shoulders along the highways, mostly. Leah and I will be riding along, side by side, enjoying the ten feet of luxurious shoulder and talking about the heat, and BAM! no shoulder. Drop off, six inch curb and no pavement. As if they ran out of asfalt. Done for the day, go home, they ran out. Then, a couple kilometers down the way-right back to ten feet of smooth shoulder.

Also in Sinaloa, people love us. I am getting used to waving at people´s cheers and waves and car horns because people love us. I geuss. I hope. It seems.
Last night we peddled into the last and only gas station for kilometers, before Culiacan, and asked about camping. Usually, in the states, the reaction is a pained look of confusion and then a vague explination about trees and maybe a gesture of the hand, shoo-ing. In Mexico, the usual response is, "You can stay here. Do you want a shower? Food? Conversation? My first born?" Quit frankly, I have been taken aback by the compassion and generousity of complete strangers. Por ejemplo:

Cuidad Obrigon, a big city, lots of people bustling around. We spent all day looking for water, a toilet, and a park. The sun was hanging low in the sky and we needed to find a hostel or a very cheap place to stay because we would not be able to make it out of town before dark. Enter random restraunt, Leah asks waitress about a hostel. She says no. Leah asks about camping. She says we can stay with her.
Her name is Lopita and she has the heart of the sun. Her husband and three kids slept in the same room together so that Leah and I could have a private room and a bed to ourselves, the same bed Lopita and her husband tipically sleep in. Complete strangers. Unbelievable generousity.

Los Mochis, a smaller town, still lots of people bustling around. We sit down at the same table as another couple to eat fish tacos. Delicous. We talk a little and they give us directions to a laundrymat. The lady says she will take us the ten blocks and show us exactly were it is. When we get there, she says we can leave our bikes and she will take us to her house, if we want a shower. We have known each other for twenty minutes at this point. Jaw dropping amazing.

Somewhere along the Mexico 15 interstate highway, nobody bustling. Brick building with a couple inside. Do they know of camping? We should camp in their yard. The lady gets us a table and chairs and offers us a bath. We decline, it seemed unneccesary to have two baths in two days. The couple have a brick building with dirt floors. A farmer goes by in a cart pulled by a horse.


Today we woke up at a gas station where the attendent gave us hot water, a grassy place to setup our tent and free bathroom with sink to wash. I shaved my beard. Now we are in a modern city with lots of traffic and people bustling around and internet. It can be tricky to make that shift from dirt floors, horse drawn buggies to cell phone, bumper to bumper. Mexico does it all the time.

Sidenote for anyone who knows an attention-whore: tell them to visit a country where they are the minority. They will receive all the attention they can handle, all the time.

How do rumors start? For all the bad rumors and comments about Mexican drivers I heard before leaving on this trip, they are totally unfounded, so far.
I think part of it is that there are bicycists here. That is to say, people ride bikes here. We see them all the time, on the highways, roads, fields. It is great. I think because it is not so uncommon to have a two wheeled traveler on the roadway, people know what to do. It warms my heart how many times big trucks have slowed down inorder to move into the far lane, just for us.

I love Mexico.