Too much rest?

As you all know when I arrived in San Cristobal de Las Casas last Wednesday I had permanently damaged my sprockets and chain that had been newly installed in San Diego before the trip began. On Thursday I had found a dealer online that shipped parts to foreign countries and rushed back to the hotel to put in a call for the parts and get them sent out ASAP. Just for peace of mind I forwent ordering the parts online because I wanted to physically talk to a live person to ensure that the parts I needed were in stock and that I could also get them sent DHL (from my understanding in the motorcycle world touring community DHL is the fastest and safest option to ship worldwide) so that they could be overnighted... Patient had brought his cell phone for emergency use and was kind enough to offer its use to me in my time of need. When I returned to the hotel he was at his Spanish language class and had left his phone in the room for me to use. He had locked his phone so that if he lost it someone couldn’t start making calls on it and run up his bill. He had also told me the combination to unlock the phone...

Once I returned to the room I hastily picked up the phone and punched in the code so that I could make the call to the shipper. I must have entered the code incorrectly because the phone asked for it again. Again the same message of error popped up after the second attempt to enter the code. The third time I entered the code I looked in my journal where I had written it down and ensure that I was using the correct one so that I could begin the process of getting back on the road. The message of error that popped up this time was one of great disappointment. The phone was now asking for a PUK code, which is entirely different than the regular passcode, in order to continue with unlocking the device. I was distraught. I knew the shop I was calling was about to close and I had not the time to walk back into the zocalo where public phones were available for my use and also knew that the order was going to have to wait another day. When Patient returned to the room I asked him for the PUK code and gave him the abridged story of the lockout... He asked me what code I had been using and we found out that I had incorrectly written down the code thus causing the problem. He had no idea of what a PUK code was and couldn’t unlock his phone either. No biggie he said, and off we went for some grub and beers. He bought me a few shots and told me not to worry because he could just go on the Cingular site and regain a PUK code.

After some tacos, beer and tequila were consumed we went to a cybercafé and he looked into regaining access to his unusable phone and I sent out a few emails to loved ones. The website was very unhelpful and he had to use the customer service email option to contact a Cingular representative directly. Friday came and went with out a response from Cingular and Patient was showing signs of a disturbing manner. I was able to use the public phone via a phone card to get my order in that was supposed to be shipped that day via overnight express. Saturday came and Patient still hadn’t received a response form Cingular and his patience could now be used as thinner to strip the thickest glaze from an antique piece of furniture. Sunday he went for a ride to a nearby canyon and avoided checking his email altogether thinking that he surely wasn’t going to get a response from Cingular on a such a holy day. Monday morning arrived in its usual overcast fashion of the rainforest fog that consumes this place and he had still yet to hear anything about his phone situation. That day he sent three or it might have even been four more emails to Cingular detailing his disgust with their company. Moreover, the last email explained that in the ten years he had been a customer who had never made a late payment and that if his money was all they wanted, they could take it and shove it up their stupid asses and cancel his contract if no response was received by the close of business that day due to their failed efforts to resolve his situation in his time of need. Mind you, I couldn’t feasibly post the real version of his disgust in their company without offending some of you so I transcribed it to you as an abridged ''clean'' version of his hatemail that was sent on that Monday morning. Shortly after this last transmission was sent he finally received a response from their customer service team with the utmost regret that they had offended him so much as to receive such a lengthy and complicated email regarding their services... They also offered him an apology and asked that he remain a loyal customer. The much needed PUK code was also assigned to unlock his phone.

Both Monday and Tuesday came and went without delivery of my overnighted parts. Patient had finished a weeks worth of Spanish classes and we discussed the option of meeting further down the road. I was tracking my package on the website and the last update was showing that it had left San Francisco on Saturday the 14th bound for international delivery. I was now getting worried about the package and this morning Patient and I went out for breakfast before he bailed out of town headed for the beautiful ruins of Palenque, one of the great Mayan cities of the 14th century. I went to a cybercafé to again check on the status of my package while he returned to the hotel to pack. As I was logging unto the website to track the package he comes back to the cafe and says with excitement that it is at the hotel. I close all the browsers I have open and hurriedly walk out of the cafe. In my haste I had forgotten to pay the cafe for their services and had to walk almost forty yards back to it before I could go to the hotel and get my parts.

I checked the package and all the parts were there so I quickly dressed and rode my shrieking moto (the noise from the distraught chain sounded like an abused soul being whipped like a banshee when it was moved) to a nearby Yamaha dealer I had found to install the parts. I could have done the job myself but the hotel we were staying in had no parking and they were kind enough to let us park in their tiled courtyard that I didn't want to mess up with the greasy job. Once I arrived at the Yamaha dealer the mechanic was on a break and the sales rep was unsure when he would return. Maybe an hour, maybe a few hours was the best answer I could get. I then walked to a Chevy dealer and found that they didn't service moto's and was frustrated with having to accept that I was either going to piss off the hotel or do the job in the street; an endeavor I wasn't up to but one I would resort to if I had to wait one to three hours for a mechanic. When I was resigned to this option and ready to ride back to the hotel and do the job myself in the street I notice a Honda dealer a few stores down from the Yamaha shop. I go in there to find that it is only a car dealer but that there is a Honda moto shop a few blocks down the rode. Back on the shrieking banshee with more odd looks from the pedestrians I ride the bike the few blocks to the Honda shop. There, a young mechanic and I discuss the job and I leave it with him and an estimated finishing time around four or five o'clock this afternoon. I walk back to the hotel where Patient was waiting and tell him the news. The ride to Palenque is supposed to take about three and a half hours and leaving that late would surely put me in or near the ruins in the cover of darkness so I decide to stay here for one more night and meet Patient tomorrow. I find a cheaper room in the same hotel and go out for one last walk in this beautiful city. I haven't taken many photos here but will load the few I have later.

Right now I am basking in the happiness of knowing that the red rocket will be all good again in a few hours and the urgency to get moving again is fading with these realizations. The week here was both bad and good in the sense of not knowing how long I would be stranded here and at the same time I was able to slow down and take more culture in. As the many miles of country I have missed blazing the roads south like a banshee myself cannot be relived or discovered again from the eyes and mind of it being a first time experience. It's all part of the grand adventure though and I shall continue on without a plan and see what will come up next as the adventure nears its turning point where I must head north and away from the feelings of freedom that have been pulsating through my veins the further I have gotten away from the consuming America I have been yearning to flee…