Be Ride Back

08/05/2026

What the Heck is “Bo-Khan-Ga-les”?

Dodging the toll roads on our way out of Miami meant that we needed to make a long detour out of town, but despite heavy traffic, it was mostly flowing all the way to the i95. The battery in Asi’s Cardo was flat, perhaps we forgot to charge it after the last time it was used, so we were communicating through hand gestures until it had enough charge for us to stop behaving like two Neanderthals discussing the best strategy to hunt a Mammoth. Not ideal, but it worked. The weather was hot and humid, but at least it wasn’t raining, and despite being tired, we were very happy to be back on the bikes. It felt weird to ride in the USA again and surrounded by brand new cars on a freshly paved 5-lanes road, but the main difference was, by far, not having to worry about the pavement giving way to mounds of gravel around every corner we took.

We have now also changed our GPSs’ settings to show the speed and distance in Miles instead of kilometers, constantly reminding ourselves that obeying the speed limit is not merely a recommendation here, and although we were riding at freeway speed most of the time, it seemed like those miles take a lot longer to be ridden. We were grateful for the rest areas scattered along the route, an opportunity to stretch our legs and drink some water, but there was a specific rest area I was looking for the most: Buc-ee’s, which, for some reason, makes me unreasonably happy. By the time we got to Buc-ee’s, it was already 9pm; we left Miami at 2pm and now it was completely dark, and thanks to the high humidity, it was also cold and sticky; we had a brisket sandwich that was sweet enough to be considered a dessert in some countries, but since we had nothing else to eat all day, it was good enough.

At around 10pm we arrived to St. Augustine. We pulled over at a gas station to fuel the bikes, and on our way to Morris’ house we passed by a Bojangles, and Asi, brain fogged and already so used to reading Spanish, asked me if I know what “Bo-khan-ga-les” means; I almost choked laughing, and with happy tears in our eyes we rode the rest of the way to Morris’ house. We were tired, our everything was hurting, and the light Cold that I caught after our last hot-cold trip to Miami was now a pounding headache with clogged sinuses, but none of it mattered – our kids were back and we were safe and happy.

We woke up the following morning feeling like we were hit by a truck; the last two weeks were intense, both physically and mentally, and it was the first time that we could finally relax and take some pressure off; my Cold was getting worse and Asi’s ankle was sore, but we had nothing planned for the day, so except for some laundry and tying some admin loose ends, we didn’t do much. It was Passover night, and since we weren’t really up for doing much cooking, we decided to order some pizza and chicken wings for dinner, not your obvious traditional choice, but still good, so I am sure that counts.

Having a rest day was great, and the following morning we woke up with new energy, motivated by the sight of a pressure washer in Morris’ garage; we took all the panniers off the bikes and gave them a decent wash, slowly peeling off layers of dust, mud and bugs that we were probably carrying with us since Guatemala; we even peeled off the duct tape I had used to cover the BMW logos when we arrived in Mexico, which astonishingly still had the “don’t worry, be happy” visible on it, which I wrote hoping it’ll bring me good karma and deter thieves. We ordered online new bike covers to replace ours that by now had more holes and duct tape than fabric, new rain jackets, new gloves for Asi and some more bits and bobs for the bikes, including our favourite moto-wash spray that would allow us to clean all the nooks and crannies that we couldn’t get to with the pressure washer. We then went to buy some groceries, shocked by how expensive everything is, and not just when compared to Central and South America, but even when compared to the prices here, in the USA, just two years ago. We barbecued 2 beautiful ribeye steaks for dinner, this time skipping the side of chips as we’re trying to lose our newly acquired ‘muffin tops’, that weren’t half as cute as they sound.

After spending a few days in Morris’ house, Morris finally came back from his trip, and it was fantastic to see him and his partner, Tammy; it has been almost 2 years since we left Morris’ house with our panniers loaded with goodies after our last visit, and we sure missed him and his dog Lily, but now we also had a bonus – Tammy’s dog Oscar, a clever little Jack Russell Terrier, who I have fallen in love with at first sight.

The next few days were spent mostly doing maintenance on the bikes; Woolly and Elsa were given fresh oil and had new oil filters installed, Woolly also had his driveshaft oil and Coolant changed and Asi changed fork oil in both bikes, while I admired his work and made sure that every part that he is taking off the bike is getting a thorough cleanup with our magic moto-wash spray. We cleaned up Elsa’s chain and all the gunk that accumulated around it and Asi found an innovative way to fix her pannier that was still carrying an old injury from the time she fell into the water in Colombia. We took Woolly, who seemed to be much happier with the fuel in the USA, to the dealership in Jacksonville to have his valve clearance checked, and once he’ll be done, Elsa will see the Ducati doctors, too, to have her valves looked at and her timing belts changed. It felt so good to finally be able to give our bikes the love and attention they so deserve after all that they’ve been through.

I had the best time cooking and baking with Morris, Asi’s foot was getting better by the day and so was my cold, and we were excited that our USA trip V2.0 is about to commence; we spoke with our mate, Paul, who also arrived back at the USA just a short while before us, and made plans to get together at some point when we get to the west.

Happy Days.

01/05/2026

Christmas on Steroids.

Getting out of Miami at rush hour was painful, but once we were on the i95 it was an open road all the way to St. Augustine. We stopped at a supermarket to find something to eat, and after munching on some grilled chicken in the car like two starving Hyenas, we were on the road again with a bag of pretzels and a cold Coke for the road. Outside, it was hot and humid, and inside the car the aircon was freezing our ears off, and our bodies were struggling to climatise; it was windy and cloudy, and while some of the miles we covered were completely dry, others felt like we were caught in a storm and the rain was pouring so hard, to the point that we had to slow down to see where we’re going.

At around 2am we have arrived at Morris’ home in St. Augustine, tired, but happy.

The following day was all about running errands; we bought 2 local sim cards, insurance policies for the bikes and some groceries, including Publix’ famous gigantic chicken sandwich that we were fantasizing about since last time we were here, and was our breakfast, lunch and dinner that day; we now also had information about Woolly and Elsa’s flight and ETA, so we sorted the cargo payment and coordinated a pickup with the airline, excited for the great reunion. Initially, we planned to drive back to Miami overnight, release the bikes from cargo and customs in the morning, ride them just outside of Miami, spend a night somewhere and then ride the remaining distance to St. Augustine on the following day, but eventually we decided that it’ll be easier for us to drive there a day earlier in the afternoon, spend the night at a hotel close to the cargo area, release the bikes from cargo and customs in the morning and ride back all the way to St. Augustine, and so we did.

We arrived at Miami at 8pm, went straight to the airline office to get the bikes’ air waybills and sign the release documents, had some chicken wings and Philly cheesesteak sandwich at the hotel’s bar and went to sleep; it was raining and humid and sticky, and we hoped that tomorrow’s weather would be as nice as the forecast predicts, and that our ride to St. Augustine would be nice and dry.

The following morning we went straight to customs office, on the other side of the airport; we were warned ahead of time that other travelers in similar situation to ours had issues releasing their bikes from Miami customs and were forced to hire a broker, but we did plenty of research and consulted with a broker, and we knew that all we needed was a bunch of documents that we printed, filled and signed, a letter of approval from the EPA, which we have obtained weeks ago, our original identification and registration documents and that’s it – there was no legal requirement to hire a broker and spend an extra 1,000 USD for something we could do ourselves.

But research is one thing and reality is another.

As soon as we gave our documents to the customs officer, and before he even looked at them, he asked us if we have a broker and if we deposited a bond, two questions that we answered with a ‘no’; from that moment onward, and for about 45 minutes, he kept saying that we have to have both and we insisted that we don’t, and then he just so happened to have a list of brokers that we should contact to help us. At that point I was starting to lose my patience, not something you should be doing when facing an official in the USA, so we took the list and went outside to plan our next steps, without the risk of spending the night at Guantánamo Bay. It wasn’t just about being right, but it was also about not wanting to spend an extra 2,000 USD on bike storage, hotel, car rental and a broker for no good reason.

After calling 2 brokers from the list we were given and doing some more research online, I was even more confident that we were right, only now I was also able to pinpoint it on the CBP website where it says that if you are a nonresident, temporary importing your bike to the USA for personal use and you intend to export it out within 1 year, you do not need a bond and it is up to you to decide whether you want to hire a broker; armed with proof I went back to the office and showed it the officer who reluctantly called the manager, hoping that he’ll be able to put some sense in me, but instead, the manager, who was kind and patient immediately agreed with me, went back to his office, and after 5 minutes came back with a piece of paper he asked me to fill in. With all the paperwork now done, we came back to the first officer who processed the paperwork for us, but only after he mentioned a few more times that he thinks we are wrong and that he’s only doing it because his boss insisted, to which we politely responded with a smile and a nod, thanking him multiple time for his trouble, and hoping he won’t intentionally sabotage our records. Funnily enough, while he was busy stamping our papers and we were standing there silently waiting for the last signature, we noticed a huge sign, right next to his window, saying that having a broker is not a legal requirement and anyone can complete the process on their own.

Sigh.

With our papers finally signed and stamped, we drove back to the airline’s office to release the bikes, and I was grateful to know just enough Spanish to have a decent conversation, because the team there hardly knew any English; after some back and forth we were finally directed to hangars 41-50 to collect Woolly and Elsa and 10 minutes later, after another Spanglish chitchat, Woolly was making his way towards us on a forklift, followed by Elsa.

It was like Christmas on steroids.

We unwrapped our gifts, untied them, reinstalled their screens and mirrors, reconnected their batteries and rolled them off the pallets with some help from the kind guys working in the warehouse; overall, the bikes were in great condition, except for one of Woolly’s stickers that was pealed as it was rubbing against the cling wrap, and we sure weren’t happy to see that our screens were not wrapped before they were packed, despite a promise that it’ll happen. We thanked the warehouse team and rode the bikes to a shaded area outside the hanger, wobbling all the way there as the team that packed the bikes deflated the tyres to the bare minimum.

We organized the bikes, added some air to their tyres and when everything was ready, Asi took the car back to the rental office while I stayed guard; when he was back, the “lunch truck” was conveniently parked right next to us, so we bough some cold drinks, wore our riding gear, set our GPSs, fueled the bikes and were on the road again, hot, sticky, tired, but oh, so happy.

28/04/2026

*** Cañon del Pato ***

You do not want to miss this one! Episode 8 of our crazy South American adventure is now live on YouTube!!

In episode 8 of our South American adventure we tick off one of the biggest items on our bucket-list and ride the challenging, though magnificent, Cañon del Pato.
We traverse the narrow, broken road, ride through countless, unlit, hand-carved tunnels and try to ignore the shear drop-offs from the edge of the cliff as we ride the tight, dirt twisties.
The road is treacherous, but the scenery is breathtaking, and leaves us with an experience that we would never forget.

1 like. "Be Ride Back | South America Ep8 | Peru - Cañon del Pato"

24/04/2026

Did We Take the Wrong Flight?!

We woke up bright and early, just as the first rays of the sun started peaking behind the trees, slowly drying the dew away; we drank our coffee, loaded the bikes and rode the short distance to the customs area at Ezeiza Airport, where we met Javier and Sandra from Dakar Motos, the couple responsible for shipping our bikes from Argentina to Miami. The ride was quick and easy thanks to Asi’s excellent navigation skill, and after signing a bunch of paperwork, we made our way to the warehouse where we prepped the bikes for the custom officers’ inspection, human and furry alike. We took off our riding gear and packed it to be sent with the bikes, and once Asi loaded both bikes on the pallets with much grace, they were strapped tight, and we took the panniers off the bikes and organised them neatly in front of the bikes, open, and ready for the dogs.

We disconnected the bikes’ batteries and took off their mirrors and screens, just in time for a cute, though assertive, labrador to come and sniff our gear, making sure we’re not smuggling any contraband; when he was done and we were cleared, I was also cleared to pet the doggy, after which we signed some more documents and had an emotional (but temporary!) farewell from Woolly and Elsa. With everything now done and dusted, we made our way to the coffee shop with Javier and Sandra and ate one last Argentinian medialuna while waiting for them to finalise the shipping admin.

Getting back to the apartment without Woolly and Elsa felt weird and reminded us of when we shipped them over from Panama to Colombia; it always makes us feel uneasy to not have them next to us, and we were looking forward to being reunited with them in a few days’ time. We spent the afternoon organising our remaining gear, making sure that everything fits in the bag we’ll be taking with us to the airplane, and while we were doing that, we received the dreaded phone call from our family back home, notifying us that Danny, Asi’s mum’s partner, had passed away. We were very sad to receive the news, and it was especially difficult being so far away and unable to be there for her, but we were relieved that now, at least, his suffering had ended.

We had 2 more days left in Buenos Aires before our flight to Miami, and while our original plan was to do some sightseeing and celebrate our “2 years on the road” milestone, we weren’t really in the mood to celebrate, and Asi’s ankle needed some rest, so we settled on a short trip into town and lunch at La Cabrera, a highly recommended steak restaurant downtown, which was good but we weren’t sure it was worth the hype (or the price tag), but either way, we were happy to feel like tourists and unwind for a while.

Our alarm went off at 3am on Saturday morning, and by 3:10am we were already enjoying a hot cup of coffee outside; we were excited for the flight, but we still could not believe that this was our last day in South America and our emotions were mixed - by this time, tomorrow, we’ll be in Florida. At 4:45am our driver was honking to let us know he’s outside, by 5am we were at the airport and by 6:30am we were already enjoying a Whopper with a side of chips at the airport (yes, yes, who eats a burger before sunrise, bla bla), after completing check-in and all the security checks, relieved that no one asked why we have more batteries than underwear in our bags but also slightly worried that my boarding pass was marked for an additional security check.

Our flight was delayed, so we enjoyed one more hour of listening to the spoiled little girl who was sitting with her parents next to us, screaming and crying every time she didn’t get things going her way, and all I could do was keep reminding myself that locking someone else’s child in the bathroom is probably a criminal offence, and pray that their seat is on the other side of the airplane. When we were finally allowed to board the plane, I was relieved to learn that I was only randomly selected for the “extra security check”, and so after a quick frisk through my backpack, I was cleared to board, and we were on our way to Miami, far enough from that little brat to only dimly hear her screams.

The airplane was outdated, the entertainment system was just barely functional, the airline crew were grumpy, and the food was probably some of the worst we’ve ever had on a flight, despite the tempting offering of a “Shepherd's pie” for lunch, which looked nothing like the classic British casserole, but eventually, after 9 hours, 4 seasons of “Everybody Loves Raymond” and 2 lumps pf mashed potatoes mixed with unrecognisable meat, we made it to Miami.

Or did we?

The signs at the airport were in Spanish, the PA system was in Spanish, and it seemed like everyone around us spoke Spanish, too, visitors and employees alike, and for a moment, I was wondering if there’s another “Miami” somewhere in South America and whether we’ve made a mistake when we booked our tickets, but a big “Welcome to Florida” sign reassured us, and honestly speaking, it was kinda nice to still hear Spanish around us, making the transition a bit smoother and our landing softer.

A short shuttle trip later, we were at the car rental office with keys to the car we rented for the next few days, and once we were able to get our phones to connect to the airport Wi-Fi and our GPS to find a satellite, we were ready to go; it was already 6:30pm and we had over 500km to get to Asi’s uncle house at St. Augustine, where we’ll spend the next few days until our bikes arrive; we were tired and hungry, but we were happy to be back in The Land of Opportunities (and Buc-ee’s!), and excited for the next leg of our great adventure.

Bring it on!

17/04/2026

Captain Ahab and Nadia Comăneci.

The ride from Las Grutas to Rio Colorado was all about headwind; our fuel consumption broke new records and our daily budget was also blown by the wind due to the higher-than-usual fuel expenses, but the good news was that we successfully dodged the heavy rain that soaked the Argentinian Pampa that day, and rode slow enough to always be one step behind it, pulling over for a break every time we felt we’re getting too close to the ominous grey clouds ahead, only copping a mild drizzle when we got closer to Rio Colorado, but nothing too significant.

In Rio Colorado, we stayed at the same motel where we stayed on our way south and ate lunch at the same gas station, too; we spent the afternoon doing some more admin for our trip to Miami as well as some laundry that we hoped would dry out despite the heavy humidity outside. Our hope dissipated the following morning when our clothes were even wetter than when we hung them on the lines last night, and so we converted our motel room to a Turkish Hammam, cranked up the air-con to the max, and while they were drying inside, we were outside doing some maintenance on Elsa’s chain and munched on some delicious rice and beef dish at our favourite gas station.

Leaving Rio Colorado marked our exit from Patagonia, and as if by magic, the strong winds subsided and all the Guanacos disappeared, too; we were expecting our ride towards Coronel Pringles to be a wet one, as more rain was predicted, but after reviewing the hourly weather forecast we decided to leave our hotel later than usual, a strategy that proved successful as we were, again, just behind the rain clouds, and arrived at our destination dry and happy.

Asi’s ankle was still sore and I, for some reason, was struggling with some hip pain, so watching the two of us walking the short distance from the motel to the nearby gas station to buy a sandwich, each of us limping in the opposite direction, was quite the scene; we figured that Asi has some sort of inflammation in his foot, perhaps due to the strain on his leg after 2 months of being idle, and so he was back to anti-inflammatory pills, while I was doing some Nadia Comăneci style stretches trying to release my hip pain, only not half as graceful as the Romanian athlete.

The following morning, after playing with naughty little Limon, the residential cat, we had breakfast at the motel (breakfast might be a big word to describe the classic Argentinian breakfast, which usually includes terrible coffee, sweet medialunas, jam, boxed juice and some sugary yoghurt) and left for Azul; unlike the last few days, today the skies were clear, there were no clouds, and though we kept our winter inserts in our riding pants, it was warm enough for us to take our dysfunctional rain jackets off and enjoy some breeze through our vents.

The closer we got to Buenos Aires, the heavier the truck traffic became, and the road had massive ruts all along it from the heavy loads being carried back and forth along the route, but there was hardly any wind and the skies were blue, so we were happy. By the time we arrived at Azul, our destination for the next 2 nights, it was already warm enough for us to get a light tan and a dose of Vitamin D, which we thoroughly enjoyed as we baked outside under the glowing sun.

Our motel at Azul was on the outskirts of town and had nothing around it except for a fuel station, where we bought a couple of cheese toasties for late lunch; it was the same fuel station where we stopped on our way south, easily recognisable by the cool steel statue of Don Quijote it has at the entrance, a place we thought we’ll never see again, let alone spend two nights there. Our second day at Azul was spent unpacking our bikes and taking out everything that cannot be shipped with them on the plane to Miami before repacking them again, knowing that when we get to Buenos Aires, we’ll have limited time to do that before we need to be at the airport; the real challenge wasn’t the unpacking or the packing, though, but rather trying not to tear the bikes’ covers in the process as by now they were full of holes and duct tape, as fragile as an autumn leave, with both bikes’ mirrors poking through the holes like little ears. For late lunch, we walked into town and had some short ribs and chips that made us wonder, again, where’s all this amazing Argentinian BBQ that we keep hearing about.

The following morning we woke up with mixed emotions; on the one hand, we were excited to get to Buenos Aires and to the USA again, but on the other, we were sad to leave South America, which we love very much, and more than anything, we were worried and anxious because Asi’s mum’s partner for many years, Danny, was in the hospital in very bad condition and it was a terrible feeling to not be there for her when she needed us the most. The ride to Buenos Aires was technically an easy ride, the skies were blue and the sun was shining, but our hearts were heavy; this time, each time that we pulled over at a gas station wasn’t to fuel the bikes, as we needed to get them to the airport with tanks almost empty, but rather to call our family and check up on them.

Getting into Buenos Aires was much easier than anticipated; the apartment we rented for the next few days was right next to the airport, so luckily for us we didn’t have to ride downtown, which was a relief. The apartment itself was big, with a big backyard and secure parking for Woolly and Elsa, but it had many personal belongings of the owner lying around, making us feel like we were invading someone’s house, someone, that judging by the stuff in his house, works for Aerolinas Argentina and has unlimited access to their storage warehouses.

It was pretty cool, though, to have a “Fasten seatbelt” sign in the bathroom.

We spent that afternoon cleaning and preparing Elsa and Woolly for shipping, almost in disbelief that tomorrow we’ll drop them off at the airport as they start their journey to Miami; we gave our spare oil, chain maintenance kit and WD40 bottles that we weren’t allowed to take with us to the young delivery guy that brought us our Milanesa de Pollo for dinner, which made both him and us happy, surely happier than the chicken we had for dinner that looked like it was beaten to death.

And on that positive note we went to bed, on a mattress as firm as a giant marshmallow, hoping that in the morning we’d both still have our knees bending the right direction.

14/04/2026

Episode 7 of our South American adventure is now live on YouTube! 🇵🇪🤙

In episode 7 of our South American adventure we continue our Peruvian adventure; we learn about the history and the culture of the area and its people at The Tombs of Sipan museum and from there we continue to explore the fascinating Chan Chan ancient ruins, just before we leave the Pan-American road behind us and venture inland, exploring more remote areas with breathtaking vistas and terrible roads.

Join our adventure and if you like it, then LIKE it 👍and SUBSCRIBE 😁

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VDeUsJ0Obys

In episode 7 of our South American adventure we continue our Peruvian adventure; we learn about the history and the culture of the area and its people at The...

10/04/2026

Muffin Tops, But Not in a Good Way.

The time has come for us to leave Puerto San Julian, and although it is always difficult for us to leave a place after we’ve stayed there for a prolonged period, this time it felt harder than usual, and saying goodbye to our new friends, that by now have become like family to us, was very emotional, and included a lot of hugging as well as some crying, with everyone knowing that the chances we’ll ever meet again are very slim, but hoping that they aren’t zero.

We packed the bikes, cleaned the house and gave Abuela all the groceries we had left, as well as a farewell note and a little gift; Mavis, our wonderful host also came over to say goodbye, and after some more hugging, it was time for us to face the biggest challenge of the day –

Try to get our riding pants on.

It wasn’t easy, and it may or may not have included releasing all the buckles we have tightened before, but eventually they went up, leaving only a muffin-top for us to just barely cover with our jackets; we convinced ourselves that it will all go away within a few days of riding and getting back to our ‘normal’ diet, knowing that otherwise, we’d have to buy a liability insurance for our pants, just in case one of the buttons gets loose and kills someone.

Our first stop after leaving the house was the fill up the bikes at the gas station, an event that usually isn’t very exciting, but when Woolly refused to start after filling up, we were wondering if our time in San Julian just got even longer. After a few futile attempts to start, we pushed Woolly to the car park, did some troubleshooting, and realised that although we had him and Elsa running once a week, his battery was too weak, and it was time for Elsa to reciprocate, and jump start him for a change. Listening to Woolly finally getting back to life was like listening to Vivaldi performing The Four Seasons at the Royal Albert Hall after an excellent steak meal and a generous portion of Tiramisu, and although we love San Julian, we were happy that we can finally hit the road again.

We had about 430 kilometres of riding to get to our destination at Rada Tilly today; it wasn’t a decision we would normally make considering that Asi’s leg is still in recovery, but since there are not many places to stay along Ruta 3 towards Buenos Aires and as we are on tight timeframe to get to Buenos Aires for shipping the bikes to the USA, we decided to push ourselves a bit, only hoping that the wind would be blowing in our direction.

But it wasn’t.

For our entire journey that day we were battling insane winds that threatened to throw us and the bikes off the road, putting a massive strain on our bodies and the bikes; when we arrived at Rada Tilly we were both exhausted, and after using the remaining energy to consume some delicious beef short ribs and a juicy hanger steak (there was some salad, too), we collapsed to bed.

The following day, the winds were even worse, and for about 400 kilometres we were riding either at 45-degree angle, or with intense head winds, slowing us down and increasing our fuel consumption to the maximum; every truck that passed us created strong turbulence and the road that was in very bed condition and had long, deep ruts from all the truck traffic, didn’t leave us much room to escape the fury of those crazy winds. We pulled over at a gas station to fill up and recover and with us there were a few other bikers, and we all exchanged exhausted smiles, with mostly one sentence being repeated over and over again: “mucho Viento, mucho!”.

The town of Trelew was our second stop; we spent the afternoon doing some more admin to sort our the bikes’ shipping and went looking for something to eat, only to remember that in Argentina, if you have missed lunch, you have to wait until 8pm for the restaurants to reopen, and so we compromised on some coffee and cheese toasties before getting back to our room and crashing into bed. If that’s not going to help us get rid of our muffin tops, I don’t know what will.

The trip from Trelew towards Las Grutas was supposed to be a bit calmer, but the winds didn’t get the memo, and for the third day in a row we were fighting the infamous Patagonian winds, fuelling the bikes at every opportunity we had to ensure we don’t get stranded with empty tanks in the middle of Argentinian Pampa; our motel for the night was in the edges of town and there was not much in or around it, so for late lunch we had some chocolates that Mavis gifted us and the last of the pastries that I baked before we left San Julian. We spent the afternoon looking for flights from Buenos Aires to Miami, a task that would normally be quite easy, but since we didn’t know for sure when our bikes would arrive to Miami and be ready for us to pick up, it was a bit of a gamble to decide how long we’ll stay in Buenos Aires, when exactly we fly to Miami and for how long we need to book a hotel in Miami, especially since the accommodation there are insane and we’re still in South America budget mindset. This will take some time to get used to.

After finally setting on a date, we bought the flight tickets and went looking for food; the neighbourhood around the motel didn’t feel so safe and Asi’s leg was hurting, so we decided to buy some bread rolls, Salami, Bondiola and olives at the local deli, and call it a night. The bread rolls were doughy, and the salami had more salt in it than the dead sea, but it was good enough for us, though our stomachs strongly disagreed.

We woke up the following morning to the smell of burning diesel that flooded the hotel when the guy in the room next to us decided to let his truck “warm up” right next to the hotel’s door while he’s having breakfast; on a good day, I am not a morning person, let alone when I am awoken by idiots, and so after sharing my thoughts with him in broken Spanglish, he turned off the engine and we dragged ourselves out to have our coffee, still only tasting diesel in our mouths. We then had a typical Argentinian breakfast at the hotel – medialuna, toast, butter and terrible coffee and left on our way to Rio Colorado, where we will spend the next two days and hopefully get some rest. We are expecting some rain later today, which isn’t ideal since our waterproof jackets are no longer waterproof, but we will deal with everything as it comes.