The Scooter Diaries
So last Tuesday, after recovering from the bike ride (solid 11 hour sleep) I was ready to resume my destiny with kitesurfing lessons, only it wasn´t very windy in the morning. At noon I met with Natalie and she thought it wasn´t such a great day and we should wait to see if the wind picks up by 3pm. I don´t feel like waiting around though so we decide to wait till tomorrow. Time to explore. I rent a motorbike and head east on C5 towards Playa Grande, which everyone says is the best beach of the bunch within an hour or so. This is THE way to see this coast. Insert helmet cam footage here, there is simply too much to tell. To the south, cows and horses milling about in flat green fields with occasional clusters of lanky white-skinned palms, green mountains rolling in the hazy distance. Tiny pueblos here and there, just a few tin-roofed wooden shacks, mere feet from the road, doors open and people lounging in doorways and on porches. Tables set up right next to the road where domino games are intensely played and watched, two men sitting down hacking coconuts with machetes, a baby playing with a doll right on the edge of the road as motorcycles and buses and trucks speed by. Clotheslines intersecting everywhere outside of concrete shanties, chickens aimlessly jerking about, a turquoise shack with pink plastic chairs out front. An old man who has clearly seen everything that there is to see leans back in his chair just watching whatever is to watch, whatever passes by. I have the feeling this man can teach me everything, but my Spanish isn´t so hot so I don´t stop. Young kids selling fresh fish, strange people trying to flag me down to buy…hmm, whatever. A dusty concrete fishing town with more motorbike exhaust than air. Motorbikes everywhere, honk to be noticed, blinkers are for dorks, these are the rules, chaos is the rule. I stop at various beaches along the way, untouched beaches with seaweed and driftwood, crystal blue waters, and not a soul in sight. I am further now, past Rio San Juan. A baseball game on a ragged diamond. Baseball is huge here. Half finished cinderblock hotels with steel rods like toothpicks sticking out everywhere. I realize that cinderblocks are the the universal building blocks of the world. Can you invest in cinder blocks? This seems wise. Everywhere I am met with smiles, holas, curious eyes, indifference, propositions, skepticism. It is a sweeping panorama to take in, and at least a million bugs try to enter my mouth along the way. I´m a mouth breather so I have to make it a point to keep the thing shut. A man and woman on a motorcycle pull up next me and start talking. My spanish proves worthy of the exchange. Hola. No I’m just going to the beach, I don’t need a girl, thanks anyway. She keeps smiling at me. Yes, yes it is nice to have a girl at the beach, and she´s lovely, but no thanks. I pass them. I realize that this is perhaps the first time I have had a transaction, in spanish, with a pimp, while riding a motorbike.
Playa Grande is a beautiful azul and palm cliffed, with strong waves and absolutely schizo riptides. I go for a quick swim and then head to some shacks at the end of the beach where you can get one of those fried fish plates, head, fins and all, with plantains, avocado and slaw.