Читать книгу From the city of angels to the land of fire. Danny Beer, gringo on tour - Danny Beer - Страница 22

After a restless night you head off down the coast to Los Ayalas. The first twenty km follow the coast along for an idyllic ride. After that you head inland up and down tall hills. But the road is nice and traffic minimal. You even feel safe riding helmetless. At one point the road is blocked by two cowboys, complete with lasso herding cattle.

It rains. Hard. You come to a town and pull up at one of those OXXO stores you like so much. They have stools set against the side. You lean the bike against the wall. You lock the bike. But by the time you step inside the stools are taken by two staff members. You stand dumbfounded just inside the door for a few moments. The staff look at you, wondering what this foreigner in the strange clothes is doing. Then you go. But fret not, a nice restaurant is close at hand for you to wait out the rain.

The rain doesn’t stop so you move on anyway. One, then another truck reinforce the notion that helmets are there for a reason. So you put yours back on. Most of the traffic is very cyclist friendly. It’s the loud minority you need to watch out for.

You make it into town and cruise down the hotel strip looking for a bargain. But none are to be found. You spend over an hour heading up and down the strip but eventually go back to one you found early on. This place looks touristy and fake. San Blas was the place to chill for another day or so. Okay, maybe not THIS day being wet and all but once you found the beach it was alright. There must be a defect in your guidebook. You are best off throwing it away and getting a different brand. It isn’t in sync with where people actually go. Oh well.