San Cristobel de Casa...

For some strange reason today has exposed me to more bad driving than the rest of Mexico put together. For the first time I've used the toll roads, almost exclusively. I felt a real need to reach San Cristobel, my last stop before hightailing it straight across Guatemala, I hope to get that over with in a day! So all I've done today is to hack down their version of a motorway, some is hardly up to the standard of our average farm track; and I kid you not. It isn't so much the Quality of the road you pay for, simply to avoid the multitude of towns on routes; particularly in well populated areas. Handy though, it takes so long each time you hit a town, with ten million sleeping policemen to contend with, it takes an eternity.

In many ways the driving on the toll roads is a bit better, if there is only one lane and the shoulder, the average driver will move over and allow you to pass. This changes when there is a bit of a queue behind a large vehicle, then it's every man for himself. The driving is as bad as that in Turkey, people will pull out from the other direction and expect a motorcycle to move out their way. As in Turkey, the only bikes most people get to see here are Chinese 125cc heaps of crap. There are a few small Honda's and Yamaha's, for the affluent; actually these are more normal to be delivery bikes for business'.

There is enough to contend with here, without the tank slapper I got thrown into yesterday! On a lovely smooth stretch of highway, which lasted for miles, I was cruising along at over 80mph, enjoying the view. A groove appeared suddenly, over an inch wide, and only as deep. It wouldn't really have been a problem, but then it suddenly veered off to one side; taking my nice grippy front tyre with it. The result a high speed wobble; they are virtually uncontrollable! Your front wheel and handlebars flip from side to side, often bringing you off immediately; if you fight it, you'll be off without doubt, braking will have the same result! You can only really relax and ride it out, unless you carefully try easing off or rolling on the throttle. I´ve heard so much different advice, all different! I've experienced this a few times, on different bikes, each one behaved different; none managed to get me off though. Gently easing off only seemed to worsen this one, so I tried the other way round! Accelerating up to 90mph with a wobble is frightening to say the least, but it was only 5mph or so difference. It's a situation which allows an unbelievably clear mind, everything slows down, thoughts are precise and complete calmness reigns supreme. And ain't I glad about that! Only after does the shock really hit you, then you can stop and have a cigarette; and change you're underwear if you need to.

Yesterday I realised my attempts to ride at a faster pace were out of frustration, not for the thrill. Such realisations are good, that type of riding is treacherous; it takes your mind off the ride, you focus on the idiots who frustrate you instead. It was such a change from the day before, then I was so in touch with everything around me, including my head and heart. Then I admired everything around me, noticed all the little subtleties. I could smell the tropical greenery, how lush it smelt; even the tang of oranges as I passed the orange groves. I noticed how extensive the groves were, how they stood; regimented, rank after rank, marching up the hillside. Oh, how the Grand Old Duke would have been proud of them!

So things change, from day to day. And we must be aware of how they are, stay in touch with the here and now. Self awareness is our chance to change ourselves, to be how we'd prefer to be; or allow you the chance not to be someone you are ashamed of. I owe it to myself to be a better person! In who's eyes? Why my own of course, but I also have a brilliant example in my son. If I can become more like he was, I can feel proud of myself; or should that be more proud of myself? Despite being a cynical old git, I do feel you can change and improve the person you are, no matter how old, or set in your ways you have become.

High Plains Drifter

Phew, I've missed my virtual lifeline! What a week, from droll and grumpy to the heights of pleasure. From Durango I've wiggled a wobbley line eastwards, ending up at the coast of the Gulf of Mexico. I rode straight to Frisnillo, southwest of Durango, and then the route gets complicated. For two and a half days I rode only on small secondary roads, zig-zagging across the Sierra Madres Occidental. I first went to Hidalgo, just below Frisnillo and ran out of road; a series of enormously deep sink holes and ruts, not forgetting a couple of small jumps, took me to Torbio, which isn´t on my map. By way of compass, I found my way back onto the map at Sangietillo, proceeded to Banon and made it to Villa de Cos for the night. The following day I carried in a general eastern direction passing through Santa Domingo, Arista and stopping near Cerritos. Finally I came out the high plains at Rio Verde, headed to CD Calles and followed more noted routes to Tampico and down the coast, heading south.

I´ve not got as far as I wanted, but it´s nothing new for me to be dissatisfied with my performance! So far a total of 1,400 miles have been covered, on small windy roads, which is pretty good going really. OK, it´s not the most direct, or quickest route; but hey, it is me we're talking about! Whatever the miles, or the speed at which they've been done, the ride has been beautiful. Me and Mike went out seperate ways at Frisnillo, he went to ride the majoy highways; I wanted to see some of the real Mexico, and by golly didn´t I just. And what an amazing difference there has been, although the people have all been so friendly and all beautiful in their own way, the countryside has gone through so many changes it´s impossible to describe it all.

The Sierra Madre was flat plains as for as my aging eyes could see, or squint with the glaring sun. I can see why the Mexicans have become so invaluable to the farming communities of America, they sure know how to grow things. Doesn´t matter what the environment, the crop or the growing medium, they seem to have it cracked. Hard working, they turn the most hostile wilderness into a productive land, growing what is best suited for their survival. There were vast areas of Maize under cultivation, these seemed nearest their villages, no point travelling too far to work eh? There was also a large number of Prickly Pear being grown, near the village it would be more tidily cultivated, further away is was larger and interspersed with trees. This land was scrub , which also served to graze goats or cattle. I wondered why they didn´t turn more of this into more cultivated land, then realised the trees were very important; what other source of fuel did they have?

All the villages were dusty, quiet places. There were few signs of wealth, just a lot of hard working, but happy, people. Most buildings were adobe or concrete block, some looked ancient. As I passed through everyone seemed amazed at my presence, this certainly was no tourist trail! Cai heard about the feeling of riding through such villages in Turkey last year, he was amazed. That was the sort of journey he was desperate to enjoy, to experience the real world, not the one spoilt by the flippant wealth of the western world. Being here and doing it was the best tonic I could have hoped for. Riding along the high plains, experiencing all this made me feel so close to Cai; it couldn't have gotten better! Or so I thought!

After Cerritos the land lost a bit of height, the variety of crops changed a bit, not too much though. There were a better vatiety of trees, more broadleaves, and as well as Prickly Pear Aloe Vera became more evident. The latter gradually became the dominent of the two, always grown in a more uniform manner as well; tidy rows, forming large areas, with nothing amongst them. Cows became more numerous too, the fast outnumbered the goats as the grass became more verdant. I was buzzing with all this, didn't give a damn about time, I was happy with Cai strongly in my heart and on my mind. Hey, it didn´t even make me cry; not one tear during the riding of those days. I felt so in touch, and so positive about being there and sharing it with him.

When the change came next it was drastic! Rio verde to Cuidad Valles was a true tropical paradise, in fact that type of environment has stayed with my virtually all the way since then; but the roads havn´t been as awe inspiring as this section. This wasn't as long as the road to Durango, the bends weren't as numerous, or consist of series of bends visible right through; allowing a gorgeous little hip wiggle and flip of the bike, knowing exactly what was coming up next. But I didn´t have company! And I realised why the Tropic of Cancer had upset me, not only that Cai wasn't at that point with me, he wasn't the one riding with me. I wouldn´t have had to hang back, riding slower than desired, Cai loved to ride the way I do on those sort of mountain roads, hard and pretty fast. And this time time I was off the leash, only Cai to keep me company, and we had a great time.

There really is something special about riding round a constantly windy road, it isn't a need for speed, it's purely the thrill of feeling in tune; with the bike, the road and everything else that's going on. It's a magic feeling, approaching a bend lined up just right, easing off the throttle, but keeping the revs up, the engine on the boil; not wanting to take it too far too soon! Building up the speed as you get closer to the exit, easing off if need be; not wanting to bring it all to an end, but when the end is in sight open it up, with all you´ve got. A climatic ending, joy and bliss, and then line up for the next one. Ahhh, it's just like sex! And if your's isn´t, it should be!

Phew, that tired me out just writing about it. I got so carried away with the riding I plain forgot about the views, not that I wasn't aware of them at the time; just forgot to stop, admire them closer, take some photos. I wouldn´t have dreamt of Mexico as a tropical paradise, but it rates amongst some of the nicest tropical countrysides I've seen. I entered the hills and meandered downward, amazed at how lush it instantly became. Rolling hills that put anything in the UK to shame, and truly green, green grass; but the whole vegetation changed! First palm trees were seen, then I noticed the Papaya, Casava, Bananas, Oranges and plenty I couldn´t identify. The grazing cattle only occupied pockets between the hills, but it was lovely to see the Mexican cowboys riding amongst them; strange how all those on horseback tend to notice me ride past, more often than not waving.

For two days now I´ve tried to pick up the pace, cover more miles. It's so hard, I want to spend longer here, but I´d prefer Christmas in Honduras. I can't have it all ways, so mile crunching it must be. Yesterday it starting lashing it down, just in time for me to stop for breakfast, and reduce the amount I got lost in Tampico. If there's one thing about rain, it's best to hunker down on the bike and ride through it. Such a shame the bike decided this would be the time to cause its first problem, it could have been worse; it cut out 500m from a gas station. Though it could have been better, it was up a very steep hill. At first I thought it had run out of fuel, due to syphoning tealeafs; luckily not, coz the garage had run out themselves. After ten minutes it started without any interference, shit, not the solution I wanted; so I took out the air filter, which made it run a bit cleaner. Simple, clean the filter, re-lube it and put it all back together again. And off I went, to cut out again in the next really heavy downpour! Down hill this time, nice and easy, coast along, and along, and along...For over a mile in fact, now and again I'd try bumping it; to no avail. Not until a stream of traffic appeared behind me, and pop, off it went; and we both rode off into the sunset. Some hope, though it was the intake, and now I believe it's sorted; only time will tell!

Someone told me this coast was very touristy, well I´ll be buggered! Vera Cruz is the only place that has any modern sign of multi-storied tourism. The rest is quiet and old fashioned, I guess there would be many more around in the height of season, but it has more of a low key approach to it. But shush, if you want modern comvenience DO NOT COME TO THE GULF OF MEXICO! The Pacific coast is where most people will feel more at home, but shoot, I´ve been paying $10-15 per night for hotels; why bother camping? The delight is, there are miles and miles of deserted beach with no accomadation anywhere in sight, in fact nowhere for miles. If only I could get my bike onto it easily, not that I´ve wasted time trying!

The knee! I´m damned glad there was an eager assistant to push the bike up the hill, it was steep and I don't know if I'd have made it alone. But it did hold out, and it is so much better. OK, so it still looks twice the size of the other, but it bends well enough to get on the bike normally. I no longer have to hop up to the bike with my leg held out sideways, almost straight. I haven´t been able to wear the knee support, it cuts off the circulation whilst riding, not very comfortable!

Mad in the mainland....

Back on the road at last, it was a fifteen hour ferry journey but the time passed fast enough, it´s amazing how a belly of beer can help you settle down and sleep on such a boring journey. There was doubt about getting a ticket, I didn´t worry; very few ships are too short on room to fit in a motorcycle. I only had to wait for six hours at the ferry port, a good lesson in patience! Why is it that whenever I leave my camera packed I see something great to photo. As we pulled out of port I missed a superb chance! An Osprey swooped down, grabbed a fish and shook itself free of water in midair, a bit like your friendly Labrador. It then flew within two metres of where I stood on deck! How lovely was that?

The ride from Mazatlan was tremendous, incredible gain in altitude, and phenomenal numbers of bends. OK, so the road is called the road of 1000 bends, that really is an understatement. I fail to believe there is only an average of three bends per kilometre, it was a wonderful ride. The bike is as good as ever, my enjoyment riding has not diminished in the slightest, not that I expected it to! I meet up with another rider, on a 1200cc BMW, shame his big heavy beast meant the ride was a touch slower than I would have liked. I felt sorry for Mike having to heave the beast around, I definitely feel I´ve got the perfect bike for me. I couldn't pick up anything heavier, and couldn't afford anything else new!

After Baja the mainland feels massively different, no hot desert so far for a start. High, lush hills with deep verdant valleys abound. The amount of domestic agriculture is considerably more than I ever witnessed riding through Baja. The only domestic planting I saw there was plantations of Cacti, I believe these were for consumption, they looked like prickly pear. But the people here are as friendly as ever, forever smiling, wishing us well. whenever parked up the passing drivers would be waving out their windows, big smiles and lovely attitudes. It made us feel like celebrities! I have to admit though, the city of Durango is a nightmare riding around at least compared to La Paz. It took ages to find a hotel, the first few were auto hotels. But with names like Viagra we thought they were not your run of the mill hotels, really did look more like knocking shops too. Oh well, it worked out fine eventually! We got a nice hotel, secure parking and twin beds; phew!

So far all the roads have been in good condition, well tarmaced and not overcrowded, except the city, of course. In fact we ended riding off road round some squalid part of the city, trying to find our way back onto the road we´d arrived on. I know I wasn´t going to ride off road yet, but felt obliged to follow the other guy, he had GPS and was leading the way. They do tend to make you lazy though, push a button and rely on that. It got us lost in Mazatlan, not badly though, and I also got us lost; or did I just find our way back to the dock? So in the end common sense prevailed and we followed the coast until finding the correct road sign. It was only a short spell trying to orientate ourselves, and it was all done in good humour. I felt glad to be riding again, it would have been difficult to feel otherwise.

I quickly found myself in a relaxed mood, content, relieved even; I was surprised not to be overly excited! The feeling pervaded almost straight away, which is why I didn´t mind getting lost in the city. Each time I stopped, I felt relieved, peaceful; the only time I felt really buzzing was reaching the Tropic of Cancer. This brought out a bubbling enthusiasm, a photo session at the sign ensued, a sense of achievement flooded through me. And when we pulled away, I was awash with grief! Cai should have been here to share this, that would have made it right. I don´t think there was any guilt at feeling full of excitement, it was purely how deeply I would have liked to share this with him. I cried for miles, couldn´t stop myself, didn´t want to! It feels the depth of grief will never go away, not that I want such deep feelings for Cai to diminish, in fact I don´t know what I want. It means so much to feel the depth of grief I have, isn't it purely a mark of the love I hold for Cai!

But my mood has taken a nose dive, I lost the power supply for my laptop, so this is using the last 20% of available power. I'm going to be lost without it, I've grown so used to it in my weeks on confinement. It's been a lifeline to everyone, and now I feel so distant, so isolated. I keep reminding myself that I'd planned the trip without a computer, that I'd intended to use Internet cafes. Another lesson in how much you take things for granted, only when you lose it do you really appreciate what you had. So take heed, cherish those things that bring you joy, don't take them for granted. And I course it's obvious, I don't really mean material possessions; it was the contact with all those who mean so much to me.

Natty dreadlocks.....a phase in the life of Cai!

Nothing is permanent, not life, not incarceration, and not my injury! I do feel as though I’ve been shut up here, against my will, forced to relax and take life slow. Maybe I needed to, I sure as hell didn’t want to, but bide my time I did; with grace and patience. But that is about to come to an end, I now have a reconstructed rack for my bike and the new parts from the states. Phew, about bloody time! Is it Murphy’s Law that dictates when you arrange an alternative to compensate for one screw up, they will both come good together? A bit like three buses turning up after there’s been none for hours! And so, I now have a new rack and an old repaired version. Can you guess which I’ll use?

And so my departure is imminent, my bike ready for completion and myself raring to go. I took the bike out yesterday, for my first ride since my accident. The trial ride went well enough, maybe the engine felt somewhat lumpy, maybe that was just me. More than likely it was getting used to the new gearing I’ve fitted. I’ve geared it up to give more efficient fuel economy, about 500rpm less at cruising speed, hopefully it will give 10% better economy. I ended up stripping many parts to ensure there were no further problems, I suspected bent forks or handlebars so took them off to check, they seemed fine! Still, when riding, something doesn’t line up straight, tough, it’ll have to do; it doesn’t seem to affect the handling.

There’s been concern about the fitness of my knee, is it ready for travel? Getting on and off the bike is a bit uncomfortable, it doesn’t bend quite how I’d like. Using due caution and it shouldn’t be a problem; as long as I don’t need to dismount quickly I’ll be fine. Applying the rear brake gave a twinge of pain, it was only for the initial few attempts; afterwards it seemed to ease off. I’m content this will rapidly improve, stiffness can be worked out every hour or so whilst riding. When lurching over a large lump in the road there was no pain at all, that’s a relief! Hey, I’ll not tackle any off road sections until fully fit, easy!

With me and the bike sorted, its full steam ahead; Honduras next stop. An estimated 3,000 miles before Christmas; it only sounds a lot. I rode about 800 miles, in little more than ten hours, from the Grand Canyon back to Ojai. I have about 18 days to get to Utila, off the Honduran coast; so in my uniquely blasé manner, no sweat! I’ll most likely bypass the flooded area of Tabasco, to save time and a mud bath. And I’m not going to spend any time in Guatemala, a swift ride through, only stopping at the border, to view the Mayan ruins at Copan.

Re-reading emails brought me to this poem, I don’t know who wrote it, it was sent by a friend when Cai died. It struck a chord, it sums up so succinctly how my mind and emotions have been through my ordeal. I realise physically I’ve ostracised myself from you all, but in my heart you’ve all been with me, through the written word. Don’t ever let anyone kid you otherwise, facing such loss is unbearably confusing. Please don’t forget though, life goes on! It may take a long time for those closest to Cai’s heart. Support and understanding shouldn’t be a flash in the pan, and I don’t state that on my own behalf! Consider how close to their hearts some keep their grief, not wanting to seem unable to cope, keeping a brave face, a facade!



Hold me close and go away
Please visit me and please don't stay
Talk to me but please don't speak
I need you now - come back next week.

Emotions muddled, needs unknown
To be with others, or on my own?
To scream out loud? To rant and shout?
Or hideaway and push you out?

I smile at you - "he's not that bad"
I shout at you "he's going mad"
I speak to you - "What do I say"
I show my tears - "quick walk away"

It’s not catching, the grief I feel
I can't pretend that it’s not real
I carry on as best I know
But this pain inside just won't go.

So, true friends, please accept the lot
I shout, I cry, I lose the plot
I don't know what I need today
So hold me close and go away.



I’d like to share photos of the natty dread kid with you this time, it was so nice to see Cai rise to the bait and grow dreads. A delight to see him put to shame those around him, who so desperately wanted to grow them naturally. I personally thought they’d be frowned upon by the idiots at American immigration, and bless him, he combed them out before we left home. How I wish I could still be disgusted by picking his mankey hair out the bath plug hole. And ain’t I ever glad I never bothered him about it! Such is life, and such are the memories we can smile at.

Action Man!

Aha, news on the saga of the missing bike parts! I’ve been chasing them each day at the post office, never any more information than they left San Francisco on the 19th November. It got to the point I wasn’t going to gracefully accept a brush off, I needed to be more insistent. So in my best Spanish I stood my ground and kept asking where they were, if they’d left eleven days ago where had they gone? And in their simplest Spanish, they shrugged their shoulders! I persisted as far as I could without playing the angry Gringo, but they had me stumped when they asked where in Mexico had they been sent. The American postal service hadn’t included that in their dispatch report. Bloody hell, back to square one!

Funnily enough everyone, especially the Mexicans I’d spoken to, assumed it was a Mexican cock up. Not so, the USPS couldn’t tell me where it had been dispatched to; they couldn’t even say by what means it had been sent, could have been bloody donkey for all they knew! I was livid!!! But very pleased with myself, hey, I didn’t even get angry with them; I checked my pulse and took my temperature, no I wasn’t ill! Seems the city of peace has taken effect on me, either that or I’m getting too decrepit to raise a storm. No, I had to accept it and get on with repairs to the last of the bits. A bit of fabrication, for new fixing brackets, and reforming of the side rack will have to do. At least it’s left me with a sense of nearing a departure from La Paz, I just want to get to Honduras for Christmas.

My knee continues to get better, more mobility every day. I’ve still got it strapped during the day, and it still swells a bit over night. The main point is that I feel more confident it will continue to improve whilst I’m travelling, as long as I’m not stupid with it. So I don’t think there’ll be any off road riding for the immediate future, but no reason to deprive myself of those lovely mountain roads on the mainland. Guatemala will be a quick ride just to get through and out the other side, time’s running out before the festivities and I don’t want to be stuck anywhere unpleasant for that. A lovely beach, gorgeous sun and rich marine life to blow my mind. That should do the job!

Sometimes it’s good to sit down and slug back a few beers; of course there are those times when it exacerbates a bad situation. At the moment I can never tell which will be the case, it’s a game of Russian roulette! Recently I’ve been reviewing photos of Cai, and the events I’ve written about in my blog. My accident has given me the time to allow myself this luxury; if it can be referred to in this manner. I felt I needed to open up, to allow myself to express my grief, to release the pain and get on with life. For some stupid reason I thought I could do this in a controlled way, but how can such raw emotion be controlled? How could I expect to turn it on when desired, and remain impassive at inconvenient times?

I’d be worried if it all just stopped though, it would make me feel strange, as though the memory of Cai meant nothing. And right now, one of my biggest pleasures is sharing his photos; whether they upset me or not. Amazingly this cycle of realisation has turned completely since starting to write this entry. To begin with I lost it, had to stop for a considerable time and compose myself. Am I surprised? No, and yes! Not the change occurring, but I didn’t see writing as such a quick tool to my emotional state, I had only recognised the longer term benefits.

True enough, I’ve allowed myself the opportunity to bring the pain out into the open, but there is no way of predicting when, or how strong, this will be. A random photo of Cai on my screen saver can send me into wracking sobs, whilst uploading a batch onto my blog can be a joyous occasion. Last week saw me smiling, so happy to share the images of Cai with the world; since then I’ve barely been able to view a single photo without breaking down. I ended up in tears watching a Cuban Salsa band play last night, I felt happy watching the people dancing and then the floodgates opened! I was stone cold sober. Tonight I thought a drink might numb me more, no such luck, I was worse. Time heals, I wish it would hurry up a bit more. Just when I feel I’m making progress, BAMM, it returns with a vengeance!

Dressed to thrill....

Only now does the time start to drag on, I'm not going to make predictions of when I can make a start again; that is in the hands of the Mexican god, servicio correo (postal services). He's a bit of a cantankerous old fart, doesn't like to be rushed and simply refuses to give any information about where he is, or likely to be at any given time. Despite being electronically tagged he vanishes for days, even weeks, at a time. With never the slightest chance of apology, or hint of his where abouts, he miraculously appears with gay aplomb.

Of course, there is also the slight concern about the knee, known in medical circles as a bit of a complicated little swine, which I can't discount having further problems with. Three days of relative rest and ice packs has taken the swelling away. I’ve left it strapped up, but I’ve had a few quite painful twinges if sideways pressure is exerted. This is the knee which gave me occasional problems anyway, of exactly this nature. I think it’s merely aggravated it, something I was once told by a specialist could be sorted by physio; in other words, appropriate exercise. It’s always possible to strap it up, ride sparingly, then gently exercise and rest in the evenings and night time. No, don’t send in your concerns, please! I am here to do a journey, I’m not going to live forever, and sometimes you have to take a few chances to achieve the things that matter to you. This journey matters to me, a lot; if I didn’t think I could manage on a weakened knee......Well I’d probably bloody try anyway! It’s not as if there will be any shortage of doctors, and hey, they all love an injured Gringo!

To pass the time away, I've taken to hiding around town and shooting innocent bystanders. Being stuck in a city, however nice a city, makes the people a very interesting factor. They really can make or break a destination, in La Paz (meaning Peace) they make it a reasonable place to stay. And that's a real compliment from me, I hate cities! But it is tranquilo aqui, pleasant to sit for a while and watch the world go by. A polite and cheery Hola, or Buenos Dias, is invariably greeted with a smile and reciprocal greeting. Though my command of Spanish is so bad they could be telling me to get stuffed, with a smile.

Went to the beach yesterday, courtesy of our resident artist, Carlos. We listened to a four piece classical set at an environmental conference, interesting; shame I couldn't understand the talks. Also a shame the governor didn't turn up to get slagged off, he's just sold off loads of public land to private developers. The land has an important ecological significance, there are rare wetlands and important habitats for many birds. No-one knows where the money has gone from the sale either. But that's Mexican politicians for you. He did actually turn up, more than two hours late! As we were on our way back, Carlos had stopped for some photos, a huge entourage of vehicles, ten or more, flew past on the way to Balandra, where the conference was. The place was already teeming with police and militia armed with fully automatics, it was incredible, he’s only a bloody regional governor! That's where I meet this tongue slurping, hairless dog.

My pleasure in these photo's of Cai is his own delight in dressing up, a pleasure I share with him, but unfortunately only shared in person a few times. It always brought a smile to my face, seeing him painted and groomed, digging out appropriate pieces of my own own clothes and happy snapping once complete. For this I must thank his college crowd, they brought out this aspect of him. One thing about the guy was the many different aspects to his life, he enjoyed so many things, and brought joy into so many lives.

This photo of an old indian woman, I passed her begging humbly on the street, is lovely. After giving her some money I asked to take her photo, she was delighted, the smile says it all. And the violent woman? Just a mother metering out justice to a kick happy brat! I was touched by the closeness of the young girl and her mother, a gentle touch of reassurance; so nice to see from child to parent. A pleasure I enjoyed myself, on many occasions! How I could envy that woman; but no, she has my blessing. A very lucky woman indeed!

But she told me to exercise!

With my knee seizing up it was imperative to exercise it, to keep mobility. And exercise it I did. At least once an hour, despite it's reluctance to cooperate, I put it through it's paces; bending it backwards and forwards. Pain is relative, more pain, more gain; actually not necessarily! Fate sent a German paramedic to the hotel, he expressed his concern over my knee, bastard! The swelling was coming back, seems to indicate the muscle not healed, maybe re-torn; what, more rest, ice, jeezus christ. Just when I was thinking I'd be out of here in a few days!

If I'd have taken the full advice given by the doctor, my knee may have seen ice in the first place, it may have healed enough to initiate a regime of exercise. Never mind, my bike bits haven't arrived from Mexican customs yet, so I need something to occupy my mind. I've run out of English books, can't get any more, so boredom is kicking in. Being able to concentrate on healing gracefully will keep me busy. As well as random photo's caught on the street outside the hotel.

One thing that's taken a considerable amount of time is looking back at Cai's life, and death. The memories, both good and bad; allowing the grief free reign, giving time to release some pain. One night I went through the entire photobucket selection of his photo's. Boy did it ever make me cry! I can't get Internet in my room, so it happened in the courtyard shelter of the hotel. There were only a few people around, I wouldn't have given a shit anyway; why should I?

For about an hour I cried like a baby teething, nothing could have stopped it; or so I thought. I didn't think I could look at a photo of Cai without breaking down; but then it started happening! Seeing that gorgeous smile, that happy face; who couldn't smile when faced with that miracle. And the tears went, to be replaced with a smile, to bring a happy feeling into my heart. Much as it breaks my heart to have lost such an amazing son, it makes me feel so privileged to have had such an amazing son.

Even though writing this see's me in tears, its no longer purely grief, I've a smile on my face as I cry. If eighteen years was the longest I was to enjoy life with Cai, then I'm eternally grateful to have had that time. To have shared what we had was the most phenomenal experience I could ever have wished for. It brought more joy into my life than I could have imagined. It may well have left a void, beyond my ability to see past; but those precious years mean more than any loss ever could.

And so I leave you with the smile that could have conquered the world, one in millions! He may barely have reached manhood, but what a man. Bright, sensitive, sensible, caring, adventurous, fun, loving; the list is infinite. Its a poor world indeed, that won't get to see this person reach his peak. Yet I have a feeling, actually more than just a feeling, that his memory will bring forward many a good deed. The world will still benefit, it's the legacy left behind, the goodness he filled people with. In his memory, from his family and friends, I hope many will follow suite and help those in need, all over the world. Let Christmas be a time of giving, to those who most need it.