This blog's for ME

Almost 25 years old, asking my parents if I can sleep in their bed with them. I had thought I was going to be the 25th Prime Minister of Canada. Things had changed. 10 years later, I was still a scared little boy. The time had come to slap myself awake. One Saturday morning, November 19th, 2009, I declared to the world I would be riding my 10 year-old motorcycle from Vancouver, BC Canada to Rio de Janeiro, Brasil, and back.

The official departure was August 28th, 2010. A group of well-wishers saw me off at 8:03 am.

I arrived in Rio de Janeiro around 6 pm March 1st, 2011.



My return to Vancouver came on July 5th, 2011 about 2:00 pm.

Drug & alcohol abuse, ADD, social anxiety, health, chronic pain, night terrors.

So many concerns. But I am far more interested in this question: Do I have the capacity to make this trip despite all my shortcomings?

My mission: To inspire myself to face my fears, enlighten myself on how all living things can peacefully co-exist, enjoy every moment, and see the world as plentiful and generous.

Go ahead. Call me crazy. Call me anything you like.

I'm out to save my world.



I LOVE YOU ALL



Questions, comments, concerns, threats? Contact me: jason.chapman99@gmail.com


El Barco (The Boat)

I just had a feeling there was going to be problems at the ferry. Pichilingue, the Northern Port of Departure from La Paz is 18 km away from El Centro. No problem, as I got there around 1 pm. I had read they suggest you get there at least 2 hours before the boat leaves, which was 3 pm, so I was doing ok. I would have been earlier, but I thought it a wise choice to buy a ticket in town, and as there was another office for the motorcycle importation, some much needed info as to it´s whereabouts. They wouldn´t sell me a ticket until I had the importation documents so this was a big waste of time. Both offices were out in Pichilingue, so off I went. One of my blue bags was falling off again, but I ignored it in the hopes of fixing it again on the boat, and not wasting any valuable time.

A man motions me towards the gate, and I ask him where to park for the importation documents. He directs his finger past the toll booth and gate, and I gladly thank him. I run over the office being aware of the time, and realize one of my necessary documents (temporary visa) was back at the bike, although I already had passport, drivers license and bike registration. So now I´m sweating in the 38 degree heat with a full suit of leather and a brisk run to the bike. My frustration is now building as a guy is now in the lineup with a large stack of papers, and the lady is talking on the phone for what seems an hour. Long story short, I end up yelling at the worker that I just want to get on the boat, and at 230 I finally do.

1 comment:

  1. I am touched, moved and inspired by who you are. Thank you for sharing your journey with me. We miss you here!
    Naz

    ReplyDelete