Hello, everyone - Today I write to you from a somewhat fancier than usual cafe appealing to the local foreign surfer crowd in the tiny town of Montañita, Ecuador. I stopped drinking my iced coffee after a few sips due to a bittersweet taste I don’t normally associate with ice coffee… or anything…

Apparently riding alone from America to Patagonia on a motorcycle wasn’t hard enough. …

Stuck in Medellin… Not 3 days after successfully entering this beautiful country, someone in a small customs office in Cartagena, Colombia decided to prematurely terminate my temporary vehicle permit for my motorcycle. I imagine the terrible act being done with a slight hesitation before an absurdly unrealisticly large stamp was slammed down with…

#1. Hide your cash I got robbed in the mountains of Guatemala by some men with angry, dirty faces. They surrounded my motorcycle and wouldn’t let me leave. Lesson 1: always keep your cash and valuables spread out between different pockets. It was a day just like any other, riding along some road in…

Back on the bike Spending a week in Panama city without the bike, waiting another week in Cartagena Colombia for it to arrive, and then the several-day process of processing the bike and paperwork and port bureaucracy to finally have the bike back between my legs and…

Prostitutes and sweat. Cartagena, Colombia, a city full of prostitutes, tourists, and humidity. Every taxi driver (I have to take taxis because I am without my wheels…) asks me if I like Cartagena, this seaside, port town known for its constant flow of tourists (both national and international) as well as its endless…

a tiny cafe down the street. I’m finally in Colombia. I never thought I would say that. I never thought I would get this far. I never thought I could do I. I didn’t think it was in me. Part of me hoped. Part of me wished. Part of me knew that we often don’t know…

In an instant, everything changed. From peaceful and smiling, to stunned and sick to my stomach. The crunching sound of his motorcycle tumbling down the slope echoing in both our ears. Panama City, Panama I write to you from a freezing cold Starbucks in Panama City, Panama that has not received…

I wish I were a little bit taller, a baller, maybe not so stuck in mental squalor. *drops mic* *looks around to see if anyone sees the glow coming off this scruffy, smelly, motorcycling lyrical genius* If I can’t love myself, who can? Antigua, Guatemala I write to you from an…