Things have felt pretty quiet since the last communique, but looking back at the diary, again it'll be hard to squish another ten days down for you.

At the end of the last chapter, it was in the pissing rain leaving Toluca. Eventually the heavens closed up, time to get moving. Turn key, press button ... press button ... all quiet, try the IT solution ... press button ... did I hit the kill switch? nup ... ah bugger. 

Flat battery? Not charging? Dud relay? Water where it shouldn't be? Wiring problem?

Dunno.

... and no kick start on this machine (DRZ400 I miss you).

Nothing to do but roll start it, backwards down the freeway. At least I didn't go A over T jumping on it with all the crap on board. I fully expected the bike as a whole to conk out later in the day if it wasn't charging, but there's been no problem since, probably because I've now bought a multimeter to diagnose any reoccurrence.

¯\_(ツ)_/¯

You've gotta love Google maps. I elected to avoid highways, which showed a delightful wiggly blue line to Mexico City. Beautiful - this will be fun. It sure was.

Many of the wiggles were sharp bends in tiny towns well outside the capital. Still, these paths show sides to Mexico that are invisible from the freeway.

I'd originally planned to avoid cities as at heart I prefer solitude over crowds, but every man and his uncle had urged "You MUST go to Mexico City. It's beautiful!". Shrug, okay, I'll spend a few days there.

This one city has roughly the same population as my whole country. On the way in, all 24 million were on the same road with homicidal intent. It was nerve racking getting across town with the - shall we say - assertive driving. Lane use is somewhat ambiguous. I seriously can't point to road rage, but for sure every road user, whether on scooter/moto/car/bus/truck will take whatever they can get. They're all race drivers.

Parking at the hotel was in the basement. I grabbed too much front brake on rippled wet concrete getting down there and dropped the bastard, wacking a concrete pole. Naturally, helmet and gloves were in the crook of my arm.

A walking tour in the historic Centro was excellent. Guide Laura is a history and politics student; the way she put the features into context of the various eras was clever. 

eg. The "Temple Mayor", the only Aztec temple remaining in the city that the Spanish didn't clobber with buildings their own true god wanted.

and the National Palace, where the president (soon to be presidenta - woo hoo!) resides.

Do you know why Mexico City is situated where it is? The Mexicas (aka Aztecs) left Aztlán in the north at the whim of their god, who instructed them to seek an eagle holding a snake on a cactus.

It took generations, but they eventually found that sign on a lake island. They built a city on that island, dividing into five parts: the four cardinal points, plus the middle, which was obviously the centre of the universe.

By and by the lake was subsumed by today's metropolis. Old buildings are visibly leaning as they gradually sink.

The "free" walking tour was a smart marketing tool - I signed up for a paid tour next day of Teotihuacán, an archeological site an hour out. It was built between 100BC and 600AD, then abandoned in 800AD. Who built it? Why did they leave? What did they call themselves? All unknown. 

It's a massive area, yet only ten percent-ish of the original city, which was for a time likely the largest in Mesoamerica, a trade hub and place of worship.

Teotihuacán could take up a whole chapter by itself, with so many fascinating aspects. 

eg. The ball game, whose winners earned the honour of being sacrificed by having their hearts cut out.

As a follow up, the anthropology museum was recommended. It was excellent for sure, but so much detail hurt the brain. 

For your mental health dear reader, here's Gav's summary of Mexican history:

- indigenous peoples for 13,000 years were spread across what we now call North and Central America

- groups came, went and morphed over the centuries: Olmec, Maya, Zapotec, Toltec, Mixtec, Aztec ...

- lots of religious stuff

- lots of trade

- Spanish arrived in February 1519; using germs and guns by 13th August 1521 they'd conquered the Aztecs, with other civilisations falling soon after

- Independence from Spain in 1821

- in 1848 giving up to the USA 55% of it's territory: California, Nevada, Utah ... et cetera

- Mexican Revolution 1910 to 1917, to free itself from dictatorship

Pride in history shows. Every town has streets named "Constitucion", "Indepencia", or after heroes or significant dates, such as when the revolution started.

After a couple of days, the capital's bustle was all a bit too much, so I headed to a national park to camp. The spot was between dormant volcano Iztaccihuatl

and it's active mate Popocatépetl. Overnight it rained like buggery, but wow! it was beautiful the next morning with new snow on the peaks. Popocatépetl reminded all who was boss by sending steam to the heavens.

Further east again is Puebla with 3.5 million souls. Cholula was recommended as a less populated city, but who writes this stuff? In reality Cholula was just an extension of the Puebla sprawl. Literally it's biggest feature is Tlachihualtepetl. Due to vegetation if just looks like a hill, but it's actually the greatest pyramid in the world by volume. 

This time, the Spanish conquerors didn't pull apart the temple; instead they stuck their own church on top.

Leaving Cholula led to the first altercation with The Law after a convenient but illegal U turn. Down the road a bloke with reds + blues on his bike gave the finger to pull over. I only grabbed a few words, but it was obvious. He mentioned a ticket and I fully expected a demand for cash, given what I've been told. He was on the level though, letting me off with a warning. 

So I kept myself nice, even using indicators for a few minutes afterwards. 

Kinda funny when the locals go everywhere, run red lights at both ends of the cycle, fang it to the max and avoid indicators.

It was awfully surprising the first time a truck came around a blind bend fully on my side of the road while I was descending into a valley. Road markings revealed an unusual arrangement - traffic swaps sides, apparently to allow large trucks extra space in the tight curves.

The smaller roads and towns can be entertaining. To break things up I paused in Tenzonapa. What do you reckon the establishment "Coffe de Nany" would offer? Obvious really - just beer. A pile of stubbies sat in front of the handful of patrons; it was a warm day, after all. Directions to a cafe seemed simple enough, but one friendly drinker INSISTED on leading me there on his cruiser styled 125, all with great theatre. 

Between towns a bench seat in the shade seemed just the ticket for a lunch break. These minor roads are terrible - potholed at best, with stretches completely missing tar, instead being at trail riding level roughness.

Every vehicle slowed to a crawl going past my sandwich spot, always with a look and usually a wave.

One couple stopped their car, curious where this odd looking fellow in the middle of nowhere was headed. We managed introductions, a travel story, smiles and handshakes. 

Two blokes on a tiny bike went past then returned moments later. Some Spanglish and a bit of Google translate gave:

-- Where are you from? headed?

-- (usual travel story)

-- You know it's dangerous here?

-- Really? Why's that?

-- Thugs - we'll take you to a safe town

So these two lead for maybe five km to their home town. 

-- You'll be safe after here

I asked what if they were thugs? :)

but naturally this was a joke - blokes this handsome couldn't be ruffians.

Some local traffic cops ride DR650s!

Highway 175 goes coast to coast from the Gulf of Mexico to the Pacific. The section to Oaxaca is superb. Leaving Tuxtepec is a grind - it's yet another hot, grimy place with tons of traffic. However after only a few kilometres it climbs into a mountain range. Traffic becomes sparse and buildings sparser still. The tar isn't perfect, but the potholes can be dodged pretty easily with a single track. There are no straights - just entertaining curves cut into verdant rainforest. 

I ate lunch next to a cute waterfall. The gentle spray was gorgeous. With negligible traffic, I could have been somewhere in the Victorian high country. Sigh.

That was the only night I've spent so far in Mexico wild camping. I found a wee dead end dirt road where the campsite was hidden. Ok, it had a heap of litter and mossies, but the feeling of freedom was lovely. This is a huge aspect of the USA leg that I miss terribly. 

I did pay for it later with some ripper mossie bites on my rump after a wild #2s. I've shared a photo with Kirsten, but will save you that image. Unless you ask.

Oaxaca (pronounced "wah-hah-kah", sounds Kiwi to me) names both a state and it's capital city. Folk had universally urged me to visit. I'm glad they did. It's alluring. 

Overlooking the city is archeological site Monte Albán, from 500BC onwards. It's size and detail is impressive. 

Oaxaca as a region is diverse culturally and if shows this off in its markets, cuisine et cetera.

The city itself has a vibrant historic Centro. 

The first street parade celebrated the wedding of Lu and Leo. Accompanied by a Banda group (tuba, trombone, trumpet, bass and snare drums) they danced their way to the church, collecting a happy crowd en route. Maybe these young folk have more energy than this old man, but it's difficult to imagine them consummating their marriage after so much dancing. Mucha fiesta.

Same evening, a second street parade. Another Banda group at full blast. Anazing the volume from just the snare drum alone. The two white globes explained it honoured retirees and was sponsored by the Office of Pensions. Ladies in beautiful traditional dress danced and threw lollies to the crowd.

Tonight, a street parade to blow everyone away. I gather it was for a local saint. It exited a cathedral with ribbon decorated posters and headed down the streets. In the whole entourage there were not one, not two, not three but FOUR bands. Yep, quatro tubas, snares, and so on. Each group was turned up to eleven, just a little bit apart. 

Meanwhile, a band played "I Heard It Through The Grapevine", CCR style, on the next block. Some solo busker was singing ... well I dunno, you couldn't hear him. Half a street away an old bloke played fiddle to a backing track. Yep, Mexico loves it's music.

Lest the trip comes across as 100% fun, let me put you straight. At times it's miserable. I've realised that I don't handle not feeling in control well (my family may even concur). When it's late in the day, I'm unsure where I'll be staying, I'm anxious about language and so on, I get a bit upset.

The last week in particular has brought some downer moments. The (literal) path forward hasn't been all that clear. The original plan was to spend maybe six months travelling, with riding the Andes a driving vision. It's now been over four months and crikey, I'm stilĺ only in Mexico. Plenty of fun, yes, but it's easy to be homesick.

Let's finish on a brighter note. As ever, the unexpected little interactions are uplifting:

- a family watching "Nemo" in a cafe, I tell them "Soy de (I am from) Australia!", pointing to the screen, they get it, later there's a fart joke, dad and I smile to each other, universal humour

- chatting with a family from New York, his parents live in a village in Puebla state where they herd goats and barter instead of using money

- meeting Robin in tonight's hostel, a biology student doing an exchange research project who misses home in France, it's too hot here and the food has excess sugar, he offers Chapolines - cooked grasshoppers, a local treat, very salty

A big concert venue on a faraway hill is a bit Myer Music Bowl like.

Tonight I tapped away from the hostel's terrace with some energy food (custard filled doughnut - Robin could be right). 

Even a kilometre away, a concert crowd's roar was easily heard.