Mexico - January

Because of the upcoming hot and humid weather, I decide to buy a hammock in Mexico City. An hammock seems to be more practical than a tent under the upcoming tropical weather conditions. Also, poisonous animals will not stand a chance of crawling into my sleeping bag. Though, the decisive argument for swapping my tent for a my new hammock is probably its amazing looks. Already during the first weeks of the year, the hammock appears to be completely useless. It is not exactly cooler in the hammock and dangerous snakes and scorpions are absent. The only thing tossing and turning in the dense jungles is me. I just can not get myself in the right diagonal angle. But more than anything, it appears pretty difficult to find two opposing trees that are not in public sight.

Costa Rica - April

In Central America, I probably experience the toughest time of this year. Trash, guns and vultures surround me and I feel alone. The euphoria of the first months are tempered and the cycling routine hits in. After having cycled over 7,500 miles (12,000 km), still 14,000 miles (22,000 km) remain. Though, not all is bad. Costa Rica cheers me up when I meet David a the top of Death Mountain. David invites me over to his house in the jungle, where I arrive the day before my birthday. And even though I had told him and his friends about my upcoming birthday, they do not mention it when I wake up the next morning. However when we sit down around the breakfast table, suddenly they all start to sing. I am flabbergasted and super happy.

Colombia – May

Colombia is worldwide known for its exotic wildlife. At the Caribbean coastline, one can spot the most beautiful ladies. And since life in Colombia is all about beer and sex, I immediately feel at home. It also becomes clear that the Colombians have a lot in common with me. With a small group of local smugglers, I take several small motorized ‘lanchas’ from Panama to Colombia. On one of the numerous densely populated Indian islands, I make friends with Diego. We both like rum and we both like to fool around with the San Blas Indians. A week later, I meet Diego again. This time in his shed in one of the poorest slums of Medellin. Soon, I am one of the boys. We drink rum, meet his other wife and bet on roosters. I imagine myself living here; poor and happy. But will I ever climb up that valley hill again?

Venezuela – June

Venezuela is intense. Chavez’ ridiculous social economic policies affect me directly when I enter the country. The official exchange rate is insanely low and I decide to I go back to Colombia to withdraw pockets full of dollars. I meet the famous Venezuelan cyclist Freddy Vargas while hiding for the pouring rain. Together with his wife, we drive back to Colombia to solve my money issues on the black market. Further up in Venezuela, I meet my new friends in Maracay. In Maragay, I experience a warmth and hospitality hardly known to mankind. For over two weeks, I stay at Jaime’s house and eat as many frappe shakes as I can. In the meanwhile, I show up on local television programs and make friends with the cycling community. The bike shop owner Orlando organizes a welcome party. And in the weekend, Eduardo, another cyclist, organizes a cycling tour in honor of me. To my surprise over 100 cyclists show up. All had attributed to organize the tour and, at the end of the day, Eduardo hands over the money that was left over. There I stand. Literally speechless. Aart is hot and Aart feels cool!

Brazil – September

The crossing of the Amazon jungle was never supposed to be fun and, at the end, it indeed appears to be of no fun. For over one month, I am biting dust on the 1,500 mile (2,500 kilometer) long unpaved Trans-Amazonian Highway. Every now and then, I have good times at the billiards and churches along the road. Some jungle people give me weird looks when I pass by, but most are super friendly. In Itaituba, I stay for two days at an open air training center of the police force. We drink, drink and drink. In Apui the party is more orthodox. A ‘German’ Brazilian family invites me over and we sing for hours in the church. Many motor fanatics give me a hand. In Belem, Porto Vehlo and Rio Branco, the local motor mice welcome me with open arms.

Chile – November

Peru and Bolivia are hell on earth. Honking, dollar greedy Indians make me feel like ***. Though, in Chile, I get the 180 I was looking for. Already at the border, I am invited to have dinner. And later, on the deserted vast plains of the Atacama desert, a truck driver stops to give me a bottle of cold water. While climbing to the Jama pass, a police car passes by from the opposite direction. Shortly, the police officer switches on and off his sirens. Car drivers salute me in a gentle and educated way. Some flicker with their head lights and others wave their hands. It is ‘thumbs up for Aart’. My eyes fill with tears when in the middle of nowhere a car stops and a man gets out. While approaching him, he applauds enthusiastically. “Well done boy! Well done!”.

Lessons learnt

Overall, 2012 was filled with sweaty nights and overwhelming hospitality. Were any lessons learnt? Sure, many! For example, if you want to date a Latin girl, you should first pass by her work and don’t forget to bring a little present the next day when you pass by her work again. In case sex is what you are looking for, chances are high you will have to take her to a motel. Her house will definitely not be the place to play a game of backgammon.

Obviously, I also learnt about myself. Apart from being a slightly narcissistic and autistic prick, I also appear to have an ego problem. Sometimes my ego was just too big for the road. Loneliness hit me several times. I think life is not meant to be lived alone on the long run.

Happy 2013!

Finally, I want to thank you all. Thanks to my mother who supported me in so many ways. Thanks to my friends for providing me with regular music updates and for sharing their lives on Skype. The importance of our friendship has become so much clearer the last year. Thumbs up for all the people that hosted me somewhere along the road. Big up to all the people supporting me via Facebook or email! I feel your warm presence! Last, thanks to my sponsors Giant, Vaude, Keen, Eureka and Sony for sending me new quality stuff every time I need it.

Quechua on the street

The social surrounding does not help either. In the Andes mountains, mainly indigenous people live. The Quechuas are selfish, greedy and extremely close minded. Not one time, I had a pleasant talk with one of them. Especially the old women are a tough deal. Whenever they see an opportunity to make money, they will take it. The other day, I asked whether I would find a good flat spot to camp up the hill. Disguised as a sheep, the wolve jumped up from behind her colorful Inca clothing. ´Plata, plata, plata´, was the only thing that came out of her mouth. It was not even her property for God’s sake!

It happens all the time on the altiplanos. On All Saints’ Days, local bakeries only sell traditional bread with funny puppet faces. In order to have my breakfast ready for next morning, I went to the market and bought two of them. When I took a picture of the remaining puppet faces, an older Quechua women started to mumble. Again, plata was the only word I understood. I exploded.

Quechua on the road

Also on the road, the Quechua people are extremely rude. Only in Nicaragua, I experienced the same drivers´ behavior. All the time they use the claxon. Whether it is to warn me or to get me out of the way, their horn drives me crazy. Whenever I feel something approaching me from behind, I expect a hard penetrating sound. I got to a stage where I immediately throw myself on the middle of the lane when I hear a claxon. I could not care less whether they will kill me or not. In Ayaviri, I desperately entered the small local police office. “Don’t you penalize claxoning without need of emergency?”. I was about to cry when I unraveled my frustration. The agent noded.

Lonely salt flats

Still 7,500 kilometers and 5 months to go until I reach the most Southern city on the American continent, Ushuaia. People have made my trip and will do so in the coming months. Though, the odds are low they will be the cherry on my cake the coming weeks. First, I will have to pass the Uyuni salt flats and enter the Atacama desert before I will be reunited with the typical Latino hospitality. Luckily for me, hardly anyone lifes on the high lands.

Finaly, I cannot really blame the greedy Quechuas. I am convinced you will have a great time with them here in Bolivia, even though the Caribbean coast is objectively a far better deal! These days, I am just so tired. Tired of travelling. Tired of cycling. And recently, also tired of being alone. I need love.

Nothing beats the animal

The battle is on and I am prepared. Even though fresh water is hard to find in the Amazon Basin, I am well equipped for the job carrying eight liters of water. And no chance I will lose my focus. Like Armstrong, I dominate the game. During the first three hours of the day, I climb more than I normally do on tarmac in the mountains. I feel superior. Nothing beats the animal inside of me. Nature gives all, but gets dynamite in return. Then, minimal house, recorded at the Amsterdam Dance Event, enters my ears. The rhythm is upbeat. Now, I even go faster. Determined to destroy the steep sandy hill in front of me, I open my mouth and show my big nasty teeth. My eyes almost pop out when I scream it out. The hollow cry echoes through the forests.

Top of the bill preparation

My preparation reaches luxurious levels these days. Especially on rest days, I feed my body extravagantly. Expensive chocolate, nuts and shakes are on the short list. I fill up the tank with as many calories and carbohydrates as possible. And also on working days, I treat the engine wisely. I supplement my diet with calcium, iron and vitamin pills and keep mosquitoes at distance by taking Vitamin B Complex pills. I don’t have a clue why I do so, but it feels hardcore to the bone.

The new cycling conditions change my eating pattern during the ride as well. The heat makes it hard to digest too much food. Therefore, I don’t eat two cans of beans at once. Instead, I fill my stomach twice a day. And since it is hard to find good burning diesel at gas stations in Brazil, I am on a Diesel diet. Hence, I eat the beans straight out of the can. I spent four weeks in the Amazons now and still have half a bottle of diesel! So far, I managed every day to pitch my tent close to a house where I could cook my spaghetti and wash my clothes. Most of the times, I was myself behind the hut at a river bank. I proudly observe that my preparation and planning is top of the bill.

Winner of the day

At the end of the day, I am running out of water. A truck passes by. Around the corner, I can see him waiting for me and when I pass the truck driver shouts something I don’t understand. His hand movement makes clear what is the matter. He has food for me! Minutes later we eat water melons together. When we say goodbye, he pushes five cigarettes and five Reals in my hands. “In five kilometer you are at kilometer 180 where you can buy a beer”.

Tomorrow I will face more nature. Today, I won on points by climbing 1,800 meters in 100 kilometers.

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