Archive for the Tag car

Adiós Mexico!

Comitan (Mexico, Panamericana): People sitting on a jeep
Of course not visiting all the places we planned, and of course much later than we planned – we are leaving Mexico. Surprisingly, without any problem on the Guatemalan border!!  read more »

San Cristobal the Coolest

On the market in San-Christobal de las Casas (Mexico, Chiapas); Photo: Thomas Alboth

Cool, because situated between hills in a small valley. Cool, because very walkable and likable with all the small cafes (first time we felt Berlin’s atmoshpere). Cool, because of all the Maya’s culture in the city. read more »

Buying the car in Mexico – done!

Our new Car, bought in Mexico to drive to Panama: A Crysler Voyager 2001

To become a happy owner of the car in Mexico you must go through four steps: finding a proper car, checking if it is really a proper car, getting money to buy this car, registering the car. And each of those steps can be a fight – especially if you are a foreigner.

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Our car forever in Belgrade

In a car service truck driving into the city of Belgrade (Serbia)

Our car survived with us almost 20 000 kilometers during this trip. In Belgrade it had enough: I’m not driving anywhere anymore, I will stay here! – it said and burned the motor. read more »

Welcome to Azerbaijan

On the Georgian border to Azerbaijan

After super-relaxed Georgia time for empty and dry Azerbaijan with different religion, far to many pictures of the president in each village and hot as bath Caspian Sea. read more »

Russian road police: Shoot back!

The Russian road police (DPS) is knocking on our window

Every morning the same game: Maybe a fast cigarette with shaking, sweating hands before starting?  Shit I don’t smoke anymore. Or a sip of vodka? Bullshit, it’s morning. I feel like puking – have to find to a tree. I am sick. Starting the car means inevitable consequences.

I feel just like in school times before a big mathematics exam. You skipped the last classes, you are not prepared at all, you will fail badly.  I am sick. Leaving the house in the morning, going to school means inevitable consequences.

And still I turn the key and start the car. Driving three minutes and you see him from far away. You go slower, even if it doesn’t help, you see his white blue car behind the trees, his big hat. You see him looking at your car, at your foreign number plate, you see him raising his arm, pointing at you. Your heart is beating into your neck, you swallow not to puke. You hate him and you stop your car. read more »