Full circle.....where now?

Playing croquet in the park, life goes round full circle; or so it seems! The way I felt on Wednesday, made it seem so. Did I really think I'd come so far in the last seven months? Cai's birth date made it all too clear, the depth of devastation will not go away; it sits there, awaiting the next chance to rear it's ugly head. Let it flow, don't resist, it's good for you! In all honesty, being totally overcome by grief in no way feels good. Frightening, desperate, inconsolable, yes! Not good; though indisputably, it helps in the long run. How bloody long? That's all I'd like to know!

Maybe the rain and cold detract from my return, maybe my addiction to vitamin D is too acute to deal with life in temperate zones. Isn't a lack of it supposed make us susceptable to depression? Isn't is peculiar, so much shit and my mind ponders whether I'm happier in the sun. I guess distraction serves it purpose! The more important questions have no answers, they depend on my head space once home. Strange, I've never been the sort of guy to get hung up on the boring and mundane! So what makes me feel ready to deal with it now? Bugger all really, home represents friends and family. Decisions have been based on dealing with the emotions and memories associated with being at home, there ain't any desires to tackle life full on again. Give me a way to survive without giving myself over to everyday existence, I'll be your willing participant. I don't want to wear myself out in the pursuit of financing my life, of paying for a house devoid of emotional reward.

I still wish I could curl up in a corner and ignore everything! What a pity I'm not made that way, it would certainly take away the pressure. I can run, but I can't hide; 16000 miles and seven months on the road have proved that. Did I really expect to miraculously shrug off my loss and regain normality? If I did I'm a fool! That wasn't the case though, my only thoughts suggested a life time of turmoil. "Normal" never really described my lifestyle, why should it be now? Without arguement, this will change my life forever. Does it need to change my philosophy on life too? Of course, now I should become the devoted worker, the grateful employee; pleased when gratified, overwhelmed at promotion! Cai would be appalled with me, as I would myself!

Here in Ojai the kids have a weeks holiday, family life, normality! I'm numb, can't imagine feeling free enough to participate fully in such things. Now the determination to keep travelling has gone, I've not found anything to replace this preoccupation. I'm in limbo, neither here nor there, and I don't expect a return home to instantly change this. I've accepted life must go on, but I have no enthusiasm for it! Determination doesn't come into it, it's more like resignation; gone are the feelings of purpose! Its nothing new though, as I progressed through Central America I settled into a dogged refusal to give up. The wonders I beheld were experienced with an empty heart, without the awe I'd been filled with through the Rockies. Despite the sun and gorgeous beaches I lost my momentum, my drive. In the Rockies the natural wonder of my surroundings was awesome, it moved me to such heights. Somewhere between Guatemala and Panama my drive diminished, my sense of purpose shifted. I began to question my blinkered view of this trip, mind you I questioned everything. I had no answers to any questions, the more I thought the more confused I became! My mental faculties were incapable of confronting the onslaught, I needed to deal with my emotions, not a barrage of conflicting thoughts. Barriers have gently, subtly engulfed me, cushioning me emotionally. There is a gentle, caring side to us all, mine has been busy tending to it's own needs. Thankfully!

Life, love and emotions don't just stop; how nice it would be if they did. To step off the edge of the world and succumb to the void, is that giving up and selling yourself short. I remember being so afraid of the eternal void that filled views of the future, am I now welcoming it, waiting to throw myself over the precipice? To find something to give new meaning to life would be great, not that it could so simple. A shame that! so, empty, devoid of emotion I return home. There is a lot to do, even if there's little I wish to bother with. Maybe, somewhere down the line something will initiate a new sense of purpose; I hope so! Life will be what we make of it, or so I'm told; but it isn't only up to ourselves. Much is dependant on those we interact with, unless we care not! However much I might wish to continue with no regard to others, this is not my approach to life. I may wish to remain self obsessed; actually no I don't! I wish I could find new meanings in life, I hope I can be open to the opportunities presented by life. If I wilt and droop kick me up the arse, don't let me become a person who would cause concern for my son. Don't let me give up, I deserve better than that!

Happy Birthday Cai!!

A more glorious time has never been spent, than the years since Cai came into my life! It's little doubt today would be awash with emotions, but it's like being back at day one again. Life must go on though! Why? I couldn't tell you! Some part of me keeps digging deeper, finding sources of strength I wouldn't have thought I had. Stomach knotting surges of emotions are hard to release, gentle tears one minute, wracking sobs the next. Jesus, I thought I'd passed through all this, thought I'd come out the other side. Naa, just another level!


However hard it might be, I've got to look at Cai's life as a positive thing; not concentrate on the pain of my loss. When Cai was born I was delighted, willing to wait my turn to bond. It was hard to compete with a full breast, I envied Gabrielle her closeness to our new born son; yet was quite chuffed there was little I could do to placate a hungry young lad in the middle of the night. All I can say is our bond grew stronger and stronger, for the rest of his days. How could I not treasure those years, they were the best I ever had; whatever distractions swept through my life at times.


I'm proud to have been able to father a son like Cai, I've never had as close a friend. As he grew, so did I! It was a delight to share the early learning curve with him, fun to help decipher his early attempts at logic. It always amazed me the meticulous way he worked things out, always perfectly logical, if only there wasn't that simple little flaw. As often as not his bedtime stories bore such titles as, "101 Scientific Facts", but balanced with a good dose of, "Horrid History". His preschool years were great, we had all the time in the world! Swimming, hours of walks, friends to visit,there was always plenty to do. I can remember the effect of his dimples had on the women in countries we visited they would really mollycoddle him; making gooey mothering noises at him, whilst stroking his dimples. He used to get so embarrassed by it!


It was like a second shildhood for me, I got to do all the exciting things I couldn't as a child, and share all the stupid things kids aren't normally allowed to do. Swimming, sledging, blading, diving, climbing, travelling, kiting, buggying, playing with fire poi, making napalm, blowing up various toys; it was great fun, I guess I was most parents nightmare with kids! I still maintain kids should be free to experiment, to push the limits a bit; it's the only way to learn. Mishaps are a fact of life, the further you push your boundaries, the narrower the margins of safety. There's too much life out there to protect kids from, they need to learn how to cope with it themselves. Even down to the toddlers wielding machetes in Central America, or their slightly older siblings lobbing firecrackers everywhere, kids need to learn for themselves. They are then better equipped to make informed decisions, especially as they grow into their teens, when their decisions often concern sex, drugs, street violence etc.


To me, Cai had the world at his fingertips, everything going for him! Of course I'd think that though! It means a lot to know there are many people who are truly touched by knowing Cai, and I know he doesn't go forgotten. Being such a glowing example for many, our relationship can live on. If people use us as an obtainable, ideal, father son relationship I would be honoured. Personally, I would like to look back without petty guilt feelings; damn, if I could only have reached perfection! I can't change anything though, no point in being miserable at how I wish I'd acted. This trip has shown me many marvels, given untold experiences, and done so with an empty heart! Would you sell your soul to the devil? I happily would, I'd instantly swap for Cai's life! Unfortunately that isn't the way it's done. Stiff upper lip, pretend you're fine and carry on as normal. Bollocks, let it out; if it means that much too you, wear it with pride!


I look into the future with a great deal of uncertainty, but at least I look into it now! Life can never be the same, or mean as much, but it does continue for me. Wasting my life away in a constant state of emotional upheaval will achieve nothing, for anyone. So whether it is with relish, or pain, I need to venture once more into the unknown. Whatever thoughts and ideas I had previously seem moot points, none were envisaged to include losing Cai, though all are still possible! Only time will tell, it's already helped tremendously, I pray it will continue to do so. Of course, that is only a figure of speach; I don't want to give you the wrong idea here! Thank you for sharing some thoughts with me today!
HAPPY BIRTHDAY CAI......wherever you are!

Homeward bound, for better or worse...

I don't know about riots, but the demonstrations seem intimidating enough! Just being on the street while it goes by felt dodgey, probably not as risky as it felt though. Those on the edges of the crowd were scawling along the pavement, looking for what, I don't know. My camera stayed in it's bag, that much I can assure you. The Policia kept well away, apparently they shot someone a couple of days before; which is what lead to the first riot. Construction workers have been lobbing bricks and stuff off part constructed high rises, dodging the tear gas, enthusiastically provided by the Police.

A clip on the news showed police firing up at the buildings with automatic weapons, during the demonstration it was less foreboding weaponry they were toting. We are talking about a city where cops ride two up, machine gun carried on the back. So, I guess a ninja cop loitering on a street corner is nothing, really. Hey, our local traffic cops go around in flak jackets, side arms strapped on; Same type of people, where ever you go! Some people just need to intimidate, they need to be on a power trip! It's obvious we need protectors in our modern society, but why do we pick such knob heads to do the job?

Without the energy to do much, a couple of lazy days have been spent before leaving the city. It didn't stop me trying for a few photos around the streets. With a flight booked to LA, there was nothing else to do once the bike was picked up. Seeing the bike being driven away was a touch sad, my constant companion for many months. To think, I won't see it for another six weeks, poor thing. And I found out why it's been cutting out in the heavy rain, it only needs a very simple adjustment to a pipe coming off the carburetor. Brilliant, I wasn't looking forward to riding at home, much too much rain for the way it's been behaving.

Using a booking agent has made the paperwork for export easy, not quick, but easy! All I had to do was follow their car around the city, stopping at the appropriate offices; waiting for the necessary beaurocracy was the hard bit. When I lost my guide the fun could have started, instead I stopped and waited, they found me! No doubt about it, navigating around the city is the hard part, with a vehicle to follow it's a breeze! An initial visit to a any new city is awful, no idea where you are, where you want to be, or how to get there! My usual way is to find a place, that isn't too daunting, get off the bike and ask a few people. I guess you get a feel for such things, I've never really gone too far wrong that way.

Only in the most touristy of areas have I seen Panama hats for sale, and then with signs forbidding taking photos. I was stunned, they all displayed the same notice; it must be a common desire. What a great excuse for not bothering, they're not the type of hat I'd like wearing, it just isn't me! Each to their own though, and this guy is welcome to his own! In fairness though, it suits him and his style of dress so much more than it would me; Oh woe, I'm beside myself!! Maybe I should rush out and buy one after all!

But now I'm back in the reletive calm of Ojai, California. Ensconsed back into the bosom of Coyne family life, a welcome relief, albeit a cold one! The present climate is like a warm UK sping, nice and sunny during the day, frosty at night. However, the feeling of snuggling up into as pile of soft blankets is a welcome one. It ain't hot enough for exposing myself to those rays though, the tan will just have to fade from now on, can I bear being lilly white again? Strangely it isn't one of my prime concerns right now, there's something called life which needs my attention! Not so much the physical aspects, there's a whole host of opportunities there. I need to integrate life and emotions, hopefully in a positive, constructive manner. Since making the decision to return home I seem to have initiated a new wave of emotions. But I'm ready for it now, stronger, refreshed, more capable to think about a future.

Old and new, where is the beginnning and end?

This city really has been pretty boring, though this may well be changing pretty quick. There is growing civil unrest, after 50 deaths within the construction industry in two months, the workers are protesting. Big hotels have been rushed and mayhem caused inside, ambulances have been burned and the police have proved completely ineffective; at least they have not opened fire yet! So the Gringo penchant for financial investment into poverty stricken countries meets some resistanc.,Could it be a kickback from days gone past, albeit nearly 500 years too late. I'm surprised the workers have the energy to fight back in this humidity! The thought of the Conquistadors, in full armour, battling through this humidity in the jungle; no wonder they were so barbaric to the indigenous peoples. Jeez, I’d be pissed off after days of such travel, and that’s without being eaten alive by mosquitoes!

It’s a weird concept, a long ago conquered nation (or should that be culture) which now celebrates those who persecuted them. Statues abound of the figureheads of the conquest, the perpetrators of so many atrocities! Do the present day population actually identify with these figures as heroes? Are they proud of them? I can’t see how they can be; unless their perception of themselves is as descendants of the glorious Spanish. Of course that ignores completely their other ancestors who were beaten, raped and enslaved. Surely today’s Latinos aren’t stupid enough to think their genes are of pure Spanish stock, if they do it must be the largest self deceit of a sub-continent. Where does the sense of national identity lie? Of the people I've spoken to, a fair few have proudly declared themselves American-Panamanian!

There is no such deceipt for the indigenous peoples, they remain clearly distinguished. The flamboyance of their dress is wonderful to see, it's not worn through poverty, nor simplicity. The colours betray a richness not evident in their financial wealth, it is more elaborate then the western style clothes they could otherwise wear. Their presence is not overly obvious in the city, a shame it inevitably coincides with street stalls selling the ubiquitous tourist trophies. At least they have an advantage, their wares include rich woven fabrics, hot off the home loom. These people still have their pride, not for them the pretense at being descended from the butchers of their nation. Could these fine folk really be the true elven race?

Populations are always divided; there is often a noticeable divide between ethnic groups. Here, the most squalid areas are predominantly black, the beggars and street folk also. Similar to Nicaragua, the past is ever present, a group originally brought in as slaves have found it harder to rise into higher levels of society. I would not be so outrageous to suggest none of African descent have gained favourable positions in society here, but it is predominantly a Latino privilege. Maybe I’m a bit touchy on this subject, but when I see a black waitress dressed like an old fashioned serving wench, it smacks of ingrained bigotry. However, my views on this may simply show my own bigotry! Do I see prejudice and degradation where innocent commercialism is the reality? Or can the imagery used, from the days of slavery, ever be classed as innocent?

Latin America has a reputation for there being a large number of fire arms stockpiled. This is in a different way to the USA, or so the media would have us believe. The manner in which they are seen is different, I can’t imagine a normal sort of guy giving me an AK47 or .308 assault rifle to shoot off a couple of hundred rounds. Weapons kept in the home as items for enjoyment may be the American way, it’s not what it’s about down here. Every bank has at least one armed guard, and I don’t mean a fat old guy with a side arm. Shotguns and automatic rifles are common place on the street, any number of properties have a hired gun in attendance at all times; even clinics and dentists! So it would be no surprise to see the police patrolling, two up on a motorbike, with fully automatic weapons brandished by the passenger. Well, now I know the term riding shotgun has more than a ring of truth surrounding it. These motorcycle cops look more like deadly assassins, en route to dastardly deeds.

In the old part of the city stand the old colonial buildings, ornate facades hiding the power of old and new. The Presidential Palace can be found here, a maze of narrow streets punctuated by heavily armed militia. Well guarded maybe, but such lovely manners! You don’t get past without showing you have nothing of any threat hidden inside your shorts or T-Shirt. Actually I was only asked to show what was inside my case, why a camera of course sir! I was always brought up to be polite to strangers bearing machine guns; I thanked the man in true British style, only to be thanked more profusely by the guard. And no those are not stuffed birds, though I’m not sure how marble flooring reacts to birdshit.

On the approach to the city I was disgruntled at crossing the Panama canal, there was nowhere to stop and snap the impressive ironwork of the bridge. I merely chugged over the span of the canal, marvelling at how narrow the passage was. Unfortunately there were no freighters passing through at the time, such a shame; I’m lead to believe such a sight brings the canal’s true spirit to light. Huge ships almost scraping through an impossibly narrow passage, there were plenty anchored offshore, waiting their turn; alas none up anchored and to delight me as I crossed. From a distance the bridge is not so impressive, but still makes for a nice view. Surely much nicer than looking down onto the shoreline, sewage outflows and discarded truck tyres just don’t hold the same appeal for me.

Whilst feeling refreshed, even relieved, at the prospect of returning home it also brings a new wave of emotion. Obviously my thoughts have been directed at life in North Wales without a son, dealing with a life I never imagined. Yeah, this is the new future! This is what I have to deal with, what I felt I was ready for. I don’t doubt my readiness, but I realise it will be another stage of grief; more tears, more insecurity! But I am ready for it, I know the timing is right. I could travel for an eternity, it wouldn’t achieve what returning home will. Seven months, 16,000 miles and a sore butt have allowed me to deal with the initial devastation of Cai’s death. I’ve pictured my own, as I headed for the back of a truck in Mexico, but that only gave me strength when I most needed it. If I wanted an excuse to give up that was it, but I didn’t. Now I feel free to do what I want, no need to prove anything to myself, or anyone else. Well, maybe just the mortgage company; that I can meet my monthly payments. Anyone want to buy a house in Tregarth?

Done and dusted, but not busted!

Arriving in Panama City was not too tedious, the hoards were off playing at carnival, little traffic and few people. Having a map of the city should have made it easier, and it would have, if I knew where I wanted to go! I had the name of a hostel, as it turned out the wrong one; there was no hostel by that name in the city. It was hit or miss, and eventually I hit; with the help of a couple of friendly locals. It does make you wonder though, when the locals are warning you about the danger in the city. But I would like to know of any city that doesn’t hold any risk of mugging, pick pocketing or petty theft. Get in the wrong area anywhere and you’re asking for trouble, it’s simply a matter of knowing where not to go. But hey, it’s hard to mug a guy while he’s on his bike. And I ain’t stupid enough to stop and sightsee in a dodgy part of town, whatever country you’re in! it shows just how bad things can be here, there are armed guards everywhere; and I don't mean police or military

Once ensconced in a cheap Pension, I had all the time in the world to wander, in which I took great delight. It was easy to find the less desirable sections, the filth and general degradation made it all too clear. For these initial walks I had no possessions and only a little money, give away money I’d call it, a wallet with $20 and a useless credit card. Of course, carnival doesn’t empty the city of the poor and desperate, of these there was plenty of evidence. With the more affluent members of society playing at carnival, there certainly wasn’t a fair representation across the social spectrum on my arrival. An inordinate number of fat people could be seen; dare I mention they were mainly women, and mainly black! No wonder really, all the food I see is the same, fried or starchy! You’d be very lucky to find a bit of healthy fruit or veg on display in the cafes. And I get the impression, eating ready cooked food is the norm! I assume the more affluent fare slightly better; as in many modern cultures, money buys better education and more insight into dietary health. I think you’ll even find that to be the case in the US of A, home of obesity!

No surprises witnessing homelessness, there is plenty in evidence at home, even a small place like Bangor has its fair share of people sleeping on the streets. I hear tell, even some of the Big Issue sellers are homeless! Go to any of the UK’s or USA’s larger cities and the numbers of homeless are undeniably high, even with the so called welfare system in the UK. It used to be common, for many people at home, to rifle through the skips of major supermarkets. They provided good food, still in its packaging; just reached its sell by date, it was by no means restricted to homeless folk, nor necessarily that poor! Here I’ve been amazed at the regularity I see folks digging into rubbish bags for their next meal. Where ever there are bin bags they are been liberally strewn across the streets, any remains of food plucked out to stave off hunger. And I don’t mean stuff thrown out in packaging, guys scooping out handfuls of cooked rice and eating it out the bin bag; picking up crusts from the ground and stuffing them straight into their mouths. A real dichotomy though, so many new luxurious multi-storey housing stood empty, yet so many homeless.

An old guy had been sitting on the same park bench for two days, every time I passed he was there; could easily have been merely appreciating the sun. He was unobtrusive in manner, with an intelligent, bright look about him; I’d even say an air of pride! His dress was shabby, too much so to be carelessly dressed; he had the look of a down and out academic, grimy, not just scruffy. On the second day I’d passed a few times already when, as approaching, I saw him with a cup in hand trying to beg off a couple of passersby. This was the first time I’d seen him doing anything but minding his own business; he hit my soft spot, I dug into my pocket. As I approached he was actually shaking with anticipation, his composure cracked, boy was he desperate! Did I imagine it, was there really a look of shame from him? I’ve no doubt there was, this guy was so hungry, yet so proud it hurt him to have to resort to begging for money; I couldn’t imagine him ripping open the bin bags to score a meal, but where do any of our limits lay when starving? I walked away with a lump in my throat and tears in my eyes, not like me with beggars at all; normally I can walk past some of the worst deformities I’ve seen, without giving money.

Bearing this situation in mind it’s easy to see why there are no dogs loose on the streets, which is a weird phenomenon in itself; they would create too much competition for the starving humans. The only reason for the lack of dogs, I assume, is due to an extermination programme. What other reason could there be for a complete absence of them? Once or twice I’ve seen dogs accompanied by their owner, that’s the only time though! Cats are different, whilst not flooding the streets there appears to be a healthy population, it must be so much harder to exterminate cats from the streets. They are also too good at keeping down the rodent population, of which I’ve seen none of either. So no dogs, no rats but plenty of cats and fat people. I was so glad when the population returned to the city from carnival, as well as bringing people more pleasing to the eye, it put things into perspective.

Home of the Panama hat eh? Well I’ll be buggered if I’ve seen a single one, even in the shops! So for requests of me looking cool in a Panama will have to go unfulfilled, sorry folks. Mind you, it’d be real hard for me to look cool here; it is so hot and humid. Coming from a real sun worshipper, that’s saying something. I haven’t let it stop my eternal wanderings, god knows how many miles I’ve traipsed around this place. But hey, I’ve got my laptop sorted. Miraculously I found a universal adapter that fit the damned thing! Such things didn’t exist in US stores, I had to order one specially. Is this the twilight zone, or what? Here I say one store that sold HP laptops, amongst many, and decided to try in there. They only had one universal adapter and I didn’t hold much hope of it fitting, I was hoping I could order a genuine article, as they sold a whole range of lesser HP laptops to mine. BRILLIANT, I didn’t need to! So aren’t I just a happy boy!

Lastly for this entry is the issue of discontinuing my journey, which should come as a surprise for many people; it certainly does for me! Last night, whilst looking at all the pictures of Cai I have on my laptop, it brought on feelings of grief again. Of course it was going to! But it didn’t reduce me to a useless heap, it didn’t see me break down in a flood of tears; I felt and allowed my grief expression. It didn’t last long, it wasn’t a drastic event; but it did make me realise, that will never go away. I slept well last night and awoke refreshed! Something had changed, I had lost the desperate drive to, “complete this trip, no matter what it takes.” There was no feeling of needing to continue or go home, I felt free to decide what I wanted to do, without persecuting myself by insisting I do this for Cai. Cai is not here now; however long I travel, however hard I push myself, he’s not coming back. I’ve stopped putting pressure on myself, it’s profoundly refreshing, I can now look at life and decide how best to proceed with it. There are many things to sort out at home, things I’ve neglected, or left for others to be responsible for. My most important realisation is that I must be responsible for my own life, as must we all! Whether life means to flit around the world endlessly, or be more settled at home; they should be our own choices, our own decisions. Using other people, or bad events to hide behind is no answer in the long run. We must be true to ourselves, our own needs and desires. No longer will I be driven by past events, I must now pay heed to a new life!

Panama city, ghost town!

With mixed blessings I arrived in Panama, a breeze through the border; ever since I've been praying for a breeze, talk about hot and humid! It's carnival week, oh shit I thought! I made for the city with trepidation, how the hell was I to find a room amongst the mayhem? To save myself the hassle I thought I'd stop short, stay out the city, maybe travel in and out as required. I really need a new rear tyre, also to sort out the sailing to Colombia, being within a bus ride would be good. No chance! I tried some areas near the coast, they were horrendously expensive ($55)and gearing up for a full on five days of carnival. That's when I realised the carnival was not just the city, in fact the city was rapidly emptying, everyone wanted to be on the coast to celebrate; and who can blame them! I was delighted, a straight run into the city, plenty of hotel space and deserted streets. Yeeha!

For the first time in Latin America I had to travel a long distance on a multi-carriageway road; Ok, so it was only two lanes! It gave me the chance to make good headway, blitz that highway at 80mph, until I meet the policia! I had actually slowed down for the small town I was passing through, a roadsign had declared a 60kph limit, they claimed it was a 40kph limit. After Costa Rica I assumed it was another shake down, I walked back along the road to prove my point. In a way it did, there was no road sign within a half mile anyway. Sometimes I don't know what gets into me, they asked me for my license and I just asked what for, a couple of times! Simple answer, they are the police! Of course, I apologised and gave it them, ready with my wallet. Wow, it wasn't needed, they told me to slow down and continue!

I did, I swear it! Every time I came to a hamlet or town with a restricted speed I slowed down, I also kept a really good eye out for Policia. They were more interested in the hoards of traffic coming form the city, or so I thought. After passing through one place I got stopped again, when I most definately not speeding. I got a lovely welcome of the bike cop, he'd had a radio call form the peublo I'd just passed through. The patrol there thoght I was going too fast, I tried explaining I didn't think so, he only wanted me to understand I must ride slower. I was stunned, so much so that I obeyed the speed limit virtually the whole ride into the city.

And what a ride! There was much more open space than I'm used to on this stage of the journey, many areas of sugar cane plantation; even more for grazing cattle. There were not the enormous plantations or ranches I'd seen in Honduras, there were a lot but they were lower key affairs. I would guess it is smaller scale ownership, but more than a home self sustaining plot. Housing was still of a good quality, modern and well constructed. There was only one area I saw decrepid shacks, they were the exception. The terrain was not so mountainous, more like low undulating plains. Though I did go directly through the centre of the country, it is different in other parts of Panama, much is covered in rain forest. Like Costa Rica there are very few roads, habitation is few and far between away from the main highway.

Unlike the Trans-am highway in CR, this section was boring. At least when it wasn't raining Costa Rica had gorgeous twisty mountain roads, they almost made up for the time I spent in torrential rain. In fact they more than made up for the rain, that's just an occupational hazard. Oops, a Fruadian slip, do I really see my occupation as riding bikes through foreign countries? Not yet, maybe in another life! I do after all need to find another one some day. Anyway, the road to Panama city was all fairly straight, two lanes and pretty much a free for all. Once I'd slowed down I was at their mercy, something I'm not used to. By riding at a higher average speed I generally avoid the congestion, and extremes of crap driving. It only meant not making the city in one go, I had to stop short by about 50km. Golden rule, don't ride at night!

It was a delight arriving in a capital city with few people and virtually no cars, it gave me time to find my way! Where to I didn't actually know, not having a guide book. But this was the idea, no preconceived plans; a map and follow my nose. Both Cai and myself thought this would allow for more surprises, more adventure and profoundly better experiences. It has worked so well, I ride according to which roads look interesting to ride; those with lots of bendy bits are my favourite, especially the thin ones! So far its proved successful, it keeps me off the main tourist routes, leaving me to make the decisions as to direction, not that dictated by a travel guide!

Despite my initial glee at stumbling into a near deserted city, there is a negative side. All the bloody shops are closed for five days! Doh!! Never mind, it's given me the time to walk around and find out where the motorcycle shops are located. I've found seven now. Two only sell Chinese bikes, so I can forget them; like their bikes, the chinese only make poor quality tyres. There are a couple of dealerships who sell similar bikes to mine, I'm sure they have the same tyre size. They advertise themselves as tyre specialists (actually taller specialists), so they should be my best bet. Ooh, I'm getting all excited now, I can buy my bike a new tyre, hopefully get it fitted before my ride through the jungle next week. But that is another story for another day, at least for now I'm safely ensconsed in the city. I've walked for about four hours each day, so know my way round real well. So now I just need to rest my knee, it's just a tad sore!

Costa 'fortune' Rica..Viva corrupcioné!!

Setting off from San Juan del Sur was done in a good frame of mind, no regrets, no desperation; pure equanimity! I was ready, the days of fretting were worth while. I knew I was being true to myself by continuing, but thanks for those who enforced an extra spell of comtemplation. I need those, they allow me to double check my motives and rationale. I shared breakfast with Peitr, got stoned, then set off for the frontera. For all the warnings I've had, about every country I've passed through, Costa Rica was meant to be the least to worry about. As it turned out, the only bloody one to cop me for a bribe. $50 too, if only it had happened before, it would have been much cheaper in another country. Ok, so I was speeding, only by 44kph though, and I paid the bribe not the fine. I won't insult their mother's, they can't help having filthy, currupt coppers as sons!

The ride across Costa Rica was my first time following the TransAmerican highway, there was no other way. So it was purely a matter of riding straight through, barring the odd occasion to chat with the lovely policia! Prices are very high compared to all the other Latin American countries I've visited, $20 for a single room was cheap here. It really has been developed well beyond any of it's neighbours, and the prices reflect that. It was nice to discover the Trans-Am is not a multi lane monstrosity though, in fact through CR it was only a few stretches, through cities, that succumned to any definition of modernity. The journey took me up and over the mountains, riding many hours through the cloud base, and spending almost a whole day constantly wet. The morning session was spent in the clouds, and I mean IN the clouds.

Most of us have experienced that stillness of heavy mist, little apparent movement, unnaturally quiet; a surreal experience! Now, my after market exhaust hardly qualifies for being unnaturally quiet, more like damned raucous; but it didn't detract from the experience, it was strange, eirey! There was no way I could tell I was amongst the mountains, only the constant ascent and the twisty turns gave any indication as to the topography. The clouds were thick and heavy with water, the trees vanished within 3m of their base, nothing could be seen to the sides of the road and mist rose from the surface of the tarmac. I could have been anywhere! From the clouds emerged Bromeliads, hanging down, as though trying to entangle the innocent as they passed below. Day of the triffids, be damned, this was the real thing! I daren't even stop to photograph the worst of it, too dangerous to be still at the edge of the road.

Eventually descending out the cloudbase displayed the type of coutryside I'd been missing, it was similar to the rain forest in Guatemala, but distinct. For one thing there were not the gorgeously dressed indigenous people, nor was there constant signs of abject poverty. The housing appeared reletively new, modern in design with well kept gardens. Note the use of garden here, no longer a plot. Whilst many did grow useful produce, it was not their main purpose. And I am not talking about urban housing here, this was right in the sticks. It smacked of the American influence of many places, fancy iron railings at least two metres high, nice gleaming vehicles parked outside; it didn't seem natural for this part of the world. At least San Jose showed itself to be typical of Central American cities, squalid areas of poverty, heaving traffic all day and night, perpetual smog and asphyxiation!

The roads were good condition generally, no torn up sections, no-one determined to wipe me out. In fact i think I done my fair share of bullying on this ride, I pushed past everyone, overtook on bends and refused to hang around. I was on a mission to get to Pananma and sort out my passage to Colombia, am I really that keen on being kidnapped? Of course not, I'm that convinced there is nothing to worry about at all! Two nights I stayed in Costa Rica, I didn't enjoy the city of Sam Jose, nor the guest house near the border, Las Palmas. They suddenly added another $5 to my bill after they had my money, maybe there is something wrong with me after all, I didn't even bother to argue about it!

Costa Rica is also the only Country so far who would not accept my copy of the bike title, they insisted on the original. A couple of enterprising locals said they could bribe an officer to get over this problem, when they suggested $100 I told them to swivel. I went through the whole process myself, explained I was only passing through and would they please allow me to get to Panama. I had to get a public notary to countersign the copied title and write a letter, stating it was in California for safe keeping. Total cost $30, time consumed 4 hrs; but what a lovely way to spend the morning. And now you can see why CR started on a bad footing! But it's done and dusted, I'm out of there!