Agustín the returned illegal immigrant

If it isn't already, the village of Santa Ana will soon be absorbed into Mexico City. It overlooks the metropolis from a hillside above what by night becomes a terrestrial galaxy pooled on the floor of the Valle de Mexico, lapping at the foothills around the patches of darkness that betray the high places. Agustín Melo lives… Continue reading Agustín the returned illegal immigrant

Tehachapi – San Diego: Detour to the Desert

Kilometres: 5783 New states: 2 Countries ridden from end to end: 0.9999999999 I've neglected this blog for a while, so I apologise in advance. This is going to be a long'n. For a while I'd been kind of obsessed with the idea of riding through a desert to chase vague visions of heat, dust and… Continue reading Tehachapi – San Diego: Detour to the Desert

San Francisco – Tehachapi: From the City to the Sierra to the South

Kilometres: circa. 3500 Average meals per day: 6-ish Likelihood of having diabetes: high Pretty proud of that title. Just look at the alliteration! Last I wrote I'd just arrived in: San Francisco In San Francisco, I ate. I arrived at Christian's place in Emeryville, on the eastern edge of the San Francisco Bay and wedged between… Continue reading San Francisco – Tehachapi: From the City to the Sierra to the South

Penticton – Randle: A full plate in Washington state

Kilometres: One thousand and something! "Evergreen State"s crossed: not quite one. Star-spangled flags spotted: about 7.3 per person. As I pedalled out of Nicholson Street after a few days with some family friends, I thought "Well, I'm a cyclist again". I left Penticton full, happy, excited and, well, in pouring rain and into a driving… Continue reading Penticton – Randle: A full plate in Washington state

Nu Yawk, Nu Yawk

I was sitting in an airport in Orlando, not long after publishing a post predicting how hard it was going to be to leave the unforgettable people and the crazy times I'd known and had in Bogota. I was sweating in jeans, a remnant of Bogota's pre-dawn chill unsuited to Florida in summer, let alone… Continue reading Nu Yawk, Nu Yawk

The Vegas Adventure

"So when I was sitting next to you guys on the plane, I thought you were Mormons," confesses our new friend Junior,  a young Colombian guy, as we sat waiting for connecting flights in Fort Lauderdale, Florida. We laugh, but Junior is peculiarly stone faced. "No, I'm serious." Several weeks earlier, my housemate (who I'll… Continue reading The Vegas Adventure