Welcome to the “Piss Club”

It all started as planned the evening yesterday in the Saltycrax bar, when Franky, Shane (suspected to wear a diaper), Matthew and Mick gathered around the table to join the 100 Club. If you take a look at the wall in the bar at Saltycrax you can see all the visitors who made it into the club.

The rules are:
1 You have to drink one 25 ml shot of beer every minute for 100 minutes (2.5 liters in all).
2: You are not allowed to leave the table.
3: You are not allowed to eat while doing this.
4 YOU ARE NOT ALLOWED TO PISS YOUR PANTS OR PISS ON THE FLOOR (which none of us knew)

I was doing good, very good - normally my bladder doesn’t have the capabilities to hold more than 2-3 beers, but this evening I was on number 6 beer before I noticed Franky an ex-Jugoslavian making sounds and move around on the bench in front of me. He was on the edge to let go on all he had,on the edge of exploding. Before I noticed it the floor around us had changed into a running river of Franky’s urine. And Simone our time keeper was more than chocked. It was for sure not what she had expected of us guys when she agreed to keep time on our wet drinking game. Who was the next to follow?
Not exactly a great thing to do, when Simone was around (a Danish girl working as volunteer in SA). Simone took it with a laugh to start with. Later she thought we were nasty as hell. Soon Matthew was heading the same way as Franky, the bench was leaking and the floor underneath the table was full of used beer. Now with two guys sitting and enjoying the feeling after a good piss (can it be better than sex?) I was on the edge to leave the table and the 100 Club or go the same way as Franky and Matt. I didn’t care that Simone was sitting right next to me, I’ll probably never see her or the other guys again, so I pulled down my pants, undies and felt a great relief right away. I think I must have been taking a leak for a couple of minutes, the liquid underneath our table was flushing all across the room and trying to invade the bar desk and the people hanging around to follow our stupid game. Now that we all sat there doing the same I felt much better untill the sad news came from the other side of the bar. “YOU ARE NOT ALLOWED TO PISS DURING THE 100 CLUB GAME!” Shit. All this effort for nothing. I could forget everything about the 100 Club, instead we were now members of the Piss Club. With the task of cleaning the floor, and try to make Mark’s (bar man) mood good again. Both Simone and Mark went out of the room, saying words I do not want to recall the day after.
I might give it another shot on Thursday, trying not to get disqualified for something stupid like pissing my pants! The Piss Club will return…  Sorry to all involved last evening! But we had a Jol time. Greetings Team Urinate…

Soundtrack: manic Manic Street Preachers – Ready For Drowning

Well, could you guess it. The dude is still hanging around to empty the last bottles of beer before Buenos Aires. I have found me a great place here in Milnerton at Saltycrax backpackers.
 I managed to get Tiger Wheel & Tyre in cape Town to change my rear tyre for free, the bad news was they found a dent and crack in my rear wheel. Luckily they repaired it temporarily.
The VFR has gone a re-serviced damper on and feels much better. I still need to get the damper replaced to a 200 kg’s instead of the 180 I have on. But after a visit to MP Custom Valve things are now sorted out as good as possible, untill I can replace the spring.
Thanks to Martin Paetzold for letting me work on the bike and for lending me your scooter.
I also managed to get my GPS bracket welded for free at Maniac Products. Got my alu box fixed after the crash in 2009 in Morocco. I was getting pissed off when things inside got wet due to a leaking top lid. Thanks to “Dent’s and All” for helping me out.
 I have managed to get a phone number through Noleen (crazy woman) from Nissan at Koeberg Road here in Milnerton. It is a guy who is able to get a crate for my bike for 100 ZAR, so I can save the 250 Euros FCL wanted. Furthermore I can modify the crate in his workshop which is just splendid.
Tonight I am trying to join the 100 club by staying on my chair for a 100 minutes to drink a 100 shots of beer or red wine. Worst thing is my small bladder, will it be able to contain 2.5 liters? The dudes down here are great company, Nick, Shane, Matt, Mark and Danish Simone.
I will tell you more about how it went!
To be earnest I do not have the slightest clue on when I will be ready to ship the bike, I hope it will be during the week, but as always I take a day at a time. What will tomorrow bring other than headache?

Soundtrack: Kings Of Leon – Sex On Fire

… and see you abroad for more adventures and curvy roads.
I can’t say I’m the fastest rabbit in town but today I really shocked myself.
You might have noticed the amount of time it took me to get from Denmark to South Africa. But I have to tell that the shipping arrangement of the bike seems to be going very fast. After a 30 minutes meeting with Michelle at the local FCL (they did Ewan and Charlies bike when they had to ship them back home) office in Cape Town just a stone throw from the backpacker place on Long Street in center of town where I am currently staying (2Oceans - not gready compared to other places during the World Cup). It seems like I am already sorted out and ready to deliver the bike in during the week and step on a plane to Buenos Aires. But first I have to get some things done, hopefully get a new passport order from Denmark by visiting the Danish embassy here in Cape Town. Further more I need to get a new spring on my Hyperpro damper, it is too soft and the tool to adjust it is damaged. After that it is a trip down to the local tyre shop, but you can read about that further down this post.
Down to the shipping details for shipping a bike from Cape Town (Durban) to Buenos Aires, Argentina to those who could have the interest.

Facts about shipping a bike abroad
1: It is all calculated on dimensions and not weight as I first thought.
2: Will take 14 days to arrive by ship.
3: You can chose to build your own crate or by one from the shipper (they get them made on the dimensions you supply them).
4: Gasoline need to be drained from the vehicle and battery disconnected (It is not necessary to drain the oil).

The estimated price for my bike was: 6030 ZAR (incl. crate)
I will tell you the final price the next following days. 1 Euro is roughly 10 ZAR.

The price for a crate is: 2500 ZAR and is built on the dimensions of your vehicle.

If you wish to build your own crate it will cost you a fee of 150 ZAR for them to disinfect it before shipment.

Untill now I am most up on renting a crate as it also take time to build one, and the accommodation prices down here are sky high during the world cup. I will try and give the local Honda dealer a visit tomorrow to see if they should have a crate they get the new bikes in to save the 2500 ZAR.

If everything goes after plan I will say farewell to my bike on Thursday 17th of June and jump on my plane to visit Argentina the 20th of June. Right now I only have troubles looking for a ticket abroad at a reasonable price. 

Important: Ask you shipper if there is any hidden fees in the shipment. Customs that have to be paid in each end of the shipment at departure or upon arrival. You might end up with a more expensive shipment than you expected.

I will come up with more info once I have tried my first shipment across sea with a motorcycle!

FCL Shipping (PTY) Ltd
Riebeek Street 8
Southern Life Building on 3rd floor
Cape Town, South Africa
M: +27 79 675 9417
T: +27 21 425 1234
F: +27 21 421 2221
Email: michelle@fcl.co.za
Web: www.fcl.co.za

If you find any of the above information given, please consider helping a motorcycle traveller – See info under page “Support” on how you can help.

And a little story from today
What do you do when you have to measure you bikes dimensions and you are not willing to spend 2 Euro on a cheap measurement tape. Well you walk to a clothing store on Long Street and try your best. If that is not a success you ask JR at the Back Packer place called 2Oceans and he will help you out. Thanks ridicules name by the way!
Before leaving the World Cup town in 2010 I will get my rear tyre changed, today after strolling down the center of the city I manage to find a tyre shop, that would do it for 5 Euros, they might even do it for free as the owner is a motorcycle rider himself. I might also look into doing an oil change if I can manage to find a descent price on oil. Otherwise it is enjoying the good football atmosphere, walking around  town, speak with my English friend John (thanks for telling me about the shipper) over a beer at the Ethiopian place with dancing and singing girls (They miss you Bea, hello from them). I already have seen most of the places worth to visit here with Bea, while she flew in for a week, the Table Mountains (long walk up to the cable car), Robben Island (where Nelson Mandela served 27 years and other political activist’s were imprisoned - and not Nissan Mail Dealer, Ian), The V&A Waterfront, Stellenbosch and Franschhoek. To be frankly honest, I am not a city kind of type. I feel bad of staying here, mostly because of the prices they charge you, and of course my not so good financial situation, I might be looking out for a job i South America if they can use my terrible skills?… ;oP

Rene if you read this. WTF are you? I would like to get a beer with you before I am leaving. Rene contacted me on my way down the west coast. He found out about me after a visit at the Zebra Bar in Senegal, when he spoke to a German woman staying there. I have never seen the dude, only spoken with him by sms.
To Noel and Reka I met in Namibia, thanks for a great evening and even greater braii, nice to get some real food again…
And last for Tom (currently travelling up the west coast after a trip on the east coast). Hope you are doing good up there. You made Angola more durable for Ian and me when we spend a night with you at the Portuguese bar north of Lobito. Hope to see you in Canada… BTW: Where are the nice girls you spoke about, it’s all fat American’s here in CT.

Soundtrack: Shakira – This time For Africa

Instead of taking a short tour down and visit Ghana, Ian my fellow travel mate and I decided to check out some more things about Togo and Benin which would mean skipping Ghana.
Got to go to  Togo og go to jail?
It would have been a pretty dull stay in Togo if it hadn’t been for the stay in a local village, Ian dropping one of his panniers in the middle of the dirt road and the top of the cream, my effort to try and mess with the president and his police convoy. While Ian was busy with his daily shopping of bad yoghurt and nasty soft drinks I was doing some light camera action outside the little shop. When Ian lost his luggage box I was riding behind him and had space “left” on my bike to carry on and finally hook up with him further down the road. Otherwise he might not have had it today?
“Back to the most funny part”:
As the president’s convoy came rushing by me while I was doing what the Japanese tourist’s are best known for - stealing some memories, in this case of Togo.
This “sad” incident quickly resulted in an angry police officer grapping Ian’s camera out of my hands and a visit to the local police station down town. At the police station an officer asked me why I was there. I told him about the situation and that I without knowing it had taken a picture while the president came by in his convoy, which was a bit of a lie. I didn’t exactly make a new friend by telling that. The officer started to shout at me, telling me that I smelled “bad”, very bad. He might have been right about that due to a couple of days without showers. I knew now that the situation I had put myself in, was not the best. Togo was no longer a nice and laid back country to stay in. Camera and passport was confiscated and I stood back with two options. Jail or  pay my way out of the situation? I was certainly not able to leave without my passport, the camera could be replaced, but not our pictures. I was not gonna let them get away so easy. Instead of paying my way out, I asked into the conditions if taking a night in the jail. I wonder if they served good food? They didn’t! After some talking, and the chief looking at my video, which he thought was just a picture, I ended up leaving with Ian’s camera and my passport in my pocket without paying a single CFA. Instead I got the police chief to pose on my VFR while I was busy doing the light camera action again. We said goodbye as good friends and I even got the chiefs business card if I should get into more trouble before  leaving Togo.
On to another thing! I’m starting to feel sorry for the old VFR, the steering head- and wheel bearings are taking some seriously beatings on the African dirt and pothole roads, though I still haven’t felt any damage to the bearings.
To all you people telling it is all tarmac down the west coast. Forget it, no matter what route you take down west, your butt and nuts are taking some serious damage. You might be lucky on the east coast which is said to be tarmac all the way down, except for 1.000 km in Kenya. If you wait a couple of years it might be tarmac all the way, both the east and west coast. And why is that? I can tell you know, what I didn’t knew before. The Chinese people have invaded a big part of the African continent, if not the whole. They are building the infrastructure in a lots of countries, possibly to get a big piece of the cake, minerals, yep they are eager to get their hands on oil etc. And possibly Africa is the continent where the market is still growing, while the eastern world has stopped due to the crisis. There are more Chinese on the roads than African’s!
Regarding fuel, first of all, where there are no fuel stations, you can buy the liquid in the villages. They sell it in old liquor bottles for 450 CFA per liter which is a better bargain than at the station’s. You do get all sorts of things in the fuel, it will probably contain everything from sand to goldfish. Because of that it is an advantage to go for the carburetor instead of injection models. Less technology, less things to go wrong and more easy to fix once things actually do go wrong. Remember, there might not be a BMW dealer in the nearest neighbourhood, and believe me, you need one if you chose such an “expensive” machine. That is my experience on the way down by meeting others! Regarding the fuel in Africa, remember to take a look at your fuel filter more often than when riding back home, clean or replace if necessary.
While your bike needs gasoline, you need another sort of liquid to hydrate. It must be the most sold, best marketed product in the world if not the most spoken word. Coke – “Coca  Cola”. You see advertising everywhere, even in the smallest and most remote villages you find a sign saying “Coca Cola Ici”. Ici means here. And believe me, I drank liters of this every day. Funny when thinking that I would never do it back home, at least not without Brugal rum in it.
Togo was not bad at all if you avoid thinking of my experience with the police and the circus in the cities when two spacemen appears. People and especially the kids go crazy, and I must admit, one get fed up by it after several weeks.
 At the last day Ian and I managed to find a place off the road without too many people. It can be pretty hard to find in Africa as there are people everywhere, even where they shouldn’t be! We manage to cook some food and settle  down just before some locals showed up and started dancing in  front of us. There was no excuse, we were invited to stay with them and we quickly accepted their kindly offer and spend the night in the little village Naboulpiou in the middle of no where. That evening is best explained by being an actor in a movie. YOU are the entertainment and they are watching every move you make, even when you go to sleep. It was a funny experience, though it didn’t mean much sleep for both Ian and me. When we arrived to the village, the family slaughtered and  prepared a chicken for us. The rest of the evening consisted of Ian telling funny stories in bad French and looking on a map of the world (a map is always good entertainment, especially when people speak different languages). I later found myself on a carpet in front of the mud huts with the whole African family looking at me. But best of all was the view of the stars on the African night sky accompanied by pigs running around sniffing to my toes. After  all, this was a perfect day and I suddenly forgot all about the episode with the police and the president of Togo. Instead I slowly fell asleep to Ian making girlie noises as he always does when he sleeps.
Next day before leaving leaving Togo I ran into my friend from Lagos, Nigeria, Inyang. I was suppose to visit him in his home town but because of bad timing he was on his own trip with his mates. But it sure was nice to stumble into him on the road. The world is small and Benin is near…
Just before heading into Benin something wonderful happened, it started to rain. Normally I never miss rain but now at this very moment it came on the right spot after riding in 40 + degrees celsius for what seemed like years. It came like a blessing.
Kisses to Bea for visiting me in Cape Town, to my Spanish and Danish family, good luck to Ian, who is now returned home to UK…

I managed to get Ian introduced to an even more sick fella than innocent Mr. Max Hardcore, this time it was Mr. Hands who unfortunately passed away some years ago, I wonder what he would have been up for today, if he were still among us? (Look Hands up on Google and also see peoples reactions on YouTube). Ian took it quite well and wasn’t too horrified after seeing the video that is still present out on the Web. I smoked the last Dunston’s today. Ian wanted to smoke one with me as well, but I managed to keep the last one for myself. It is a sad day… In Bobo-Dioulasso I met Kobus (currently stranded in Togo due to a blown up BMW engine), a South African fella in his late thirties. He had shipped his bike to Europe to go down mid Africa through Algeria and Niger before reaching Mali and Burkina Faso. Isn’t the world fucking small? Ian and I had been thinking of Cobus on our way to Bobo-Dioulasso, but guessed he was already way ahead of us, and might be somewhere in Nigeria. It turned out that Kobus had entertained the whole lodge with his freaking story of his way through Algeria where he had faced close contact with the rebel group. In the desert he was suddenly forced to stop due to a group of people in a Land Cruiser that had shot at him with AK-47’s. Luckily he managed to get away and gunned his bike as fast as he could back to the check point, where he waited for the military gunships to escort him next morning.His tout and two other vehicles got taken. We all had a great evening and went out to taste the local beer and take a look at the local birds. On the way out of Bobo- Dioualasso (Burkina Faso) Ian hit a cow in just outside Bobo-Dioulasso which set us us back a couple of hours, his handlebars were twisted due to a bent front fork leg, rear brake pedal and front brake lever was fucked up. I must say if it hadn’t been for Ian’s stunt, it would have been a too dull day.We later got this straightened out as best as we could during our wait on Togo and Benin visas in Ouagoudougou, Burkina Faso. I also managed to get Ian’s radiator fan working again with the help from Scott (UK bloke) over the phone to locate the bloody relay and get a new contact soldered on, the old one had   corroded away, though the bike is only one year old. The day before Ian took his bike to a shop, where he got his rear tyre changed, oil change and rear brake lever straightened out. All in all he came back with pretty bad experience. We are still not sure if they managed to do the oil change correct, as Ian didn’t see them install the packing’s again. The rest of the jobs they simply fucked up. Like when I tried to get my Canon Ixus camera fixed after David’s maid had washed it together with my motorcycle clothes without asking me and without emptying my pockets. All in all she just wanted to be nice, but to be frankly earnest I was a bit pissed off as I needed the camera for my African adventures. David advised me to take it to a photo shop and let them take a look at it, to see if they could clean and dry it. Major mistake, I got my camera back almost in pieces, some of them missing. If it was shit before, it was defiantly totally useless now without any chance of getting it fixed further down.First rule you can’t trust them, second they are only great with a fucking hammer in their hands and a piece of metal to hammer on day long. I have learned after some expensive mistakes that you are better of fixing the things yourself. Furthermore I would never let an African guy put his hands on Ussel Mammut if I wanted to make sure that it would last all the way down.The next few days I helped Ian take his bike apart and got things straightened out for him, so he is ready to hit the road on the Tenere again. The VFR got new chain oil in the reservoir, inspected the engine oil level, cleaned chrome on front shocks, adjusted preload on rear damper and finally I got my mirror welded back on (It fell due to metal fatigue and corrugated dirt roads near Bamako in Mali). The VFR is going strong as a donkey, though it has passed the 100.000 kilometer milestone.We had great luck to find a little local place to eat during the day, I quickly named it Mama’s place as the owner was a midaged woman cocking splendid meals for 100 CFA pr. person. Ian and I hang out there in the mornings and afternoons. Today I went after take-away from Mama’s place while Ian was chilling out back home of course only in his grundies as usual.We rented a house in Ouagoudougou from a landlady who took us out for a drink. We were suppose to go out for another drink with her during the week we stayed in the house but things took a slight change as she came by on an unofficial visit the other evening seeing me in grundies and Ian naked as always. I bet she thought it was Adam and Steve sitting on the porch while the whole compound and half way down the road was flooding in water. We had been washing clothes and I had left the water on for an hour or two to limit the dust in the air. There was one good thing about it, she suddenly spoke very good English and no more French as she used to.Later we calculated the amount of water used during the two hours it had been running from the hose, somewhere between 2000 and 3000 liters had vanished out on the compound and down the road. I guess going out for another beer with her during is out of the question. To our luck she didn’t  come by 10 minutes before when we watch a plastic bottle burn down on the porch in plain boredom or yesterday when we had the Yamaha disassembled with oil all over the porch and Ian’s K&N airfilter soaked in water in the kitchen sink. Everything was decent when we arrived but after a day or two the house looked like an autoshop or bike garage.We will skip Ghana and head straight to Togo and Benin. We would have had to wait untill Tuesday to get the Ghana visa and things are a little hot here due to the water episode and our not so nice landlady anymore. We recon that we will be packed up and ready to go tomorrow morning after an evening we beers and farewell to Burkina Faso.Right now it looks like I will make it all the way on one set of the Avon Storm 2 Ultra tyres. They have provided me with incredible grip on the bad African tarmacs, but what I am more amazed about is the mileage in these tyres. They go on  and on like Duracell Alkaline batteries.Another thing I would like to point out is the emails and tellings I have had about the SPOT GPS unit, you have all told me that it has been working beyond any expectations, I didn’t exactly expect that myself to be earnest.Have fun, and I still hope you enjoy following my new friend Ian and I on the way down, though we have changed the title for this trip on the African continent to the “Gay Way Down”