Las Bicimaquinas de Guatemala

Tourists ride "pedi cabs" and "bicycle taxis" in cities all over the world. People spin pedals in boats that are shaped like Disney characters and almost everything else imaginable.  Pizzas are delivered in contraptions that are part-bike, part-cart.  And cyclist Bryan Allen pedaled a gossamer across the English Channel in 1979.




It seems that pedal power has been used to propel humans and objects across time and space ever in just about every way imaginable. (Cycling to Mars, anyone?)  So, it's a bit surprising that more people haven't thought about other ways of using the energy people generate when they spin their feet.  

An organization called Maya Pedal has been doing just that.  Founded in 1997 as a collaboration between Guatemalan bicycle mechanic Carlos Marroquin and Canadian organization, Maya Pedal has created several "bicimaquinas" fashioned from various combinations of used bicycles and parts, wood, concrete and metal.  Each machine is handcrafted, unique and costs about $40. 



One example is this bicycle mill, fitted to a hand-powered  grinding mill or corn thresher. It can grind three pounds of any type of grain--typically yellow maize (corn), soybeans or coffee--per minute. 




Another bicimaquina looks like a stationary bicycle with a blender above its front wheel.  Actually, that's what it is. But, attached to the wheel is a rotor that substitutes for the electric motor found in the blenders most Americans use.  The faster you pedal, the faster the mixer blade--which can attain speeds of 6400 RPM--spins.

Other Bicimaquinas include  water pumps, coffee depulpers, generators, washing machines and even juicers nut shellers.  That last has proved a real boon to a women's cooperative that makes peanut butter near Sololá .  "Shelling the peanuts used to be the most labor intensive part of the business," says Maya Pedal coordinator Johanna Mesa Montuba.  "Now they just load them up in the machine and it takes a quarter of the time."  And the juicers, she says, are convenient because the women can take them to soccer games and other public events, where they can sell fresh juice.

Bicimaquinas have become popular in the Guatemalan countryside because they are cheap and easy to maintain:  no small consideration in remote areas where supplies are difficult to find and bring in.  And, if someone can't pay the full price of the machine up front, Maya Pedal will allow that person to purchase it in installments.  This is a real help to those, especially women, who want to start their own small businesses but have little or no money.

Really, what better way is there to use old bikes and parts? And to think that  I used to be so proud of myself for building "parts bin bikes"!

Some Recommendations For When You're In Montreal

This is how I said "au revoir" to Montreal

or, perhaps how the city said "au revoir" to me.

I discovered Le Cafe des Chats while walking down rue St. Denis, trying to delay getting on the bus to the airport for as long as I could. It was raining but still agreeably mild; I found myself wishing I had a bike.  I know, I could have taken a pair of Bixi's wheels, but I didn't want to deal with the terminals.  

Cats are, to me, the most agreeable rainy-day companions. The ones who inhabit Le Cafe were rescued from local shelters. Management has a list of ground rules, which include not picking up the cats or disturbing their sleep. But, other than those sensible guidelines, the cafe has no restrictions; they'll let you come in and take a look, but if you want to sit down, they'll ask you to buy something eat or drink.  I ordered--naturally--a "Meow-cacino".

If Le Cafe des Chats was a great way to leave Montreal, the Auberge Manoir Ville Marie made me feel very welcome and at-home from the moment I arrived.  

It's a few minutes from the center of downtown, in a working-class French-speaking neighborhood that may be showing early signs of gentrification.  One nice thing about its location is that it's very quiet: It's the sort of neighborhood in which most people are in bed by eleven or midnight because they're going to work in the morning. The ones I encountered were friendly and helpful when I asked for directions or was carrying my bags from the bus. 

The hotel itself isn't merely self-consciously charming; it feels like a very, very human space.  Much of that has to do with the proprietess, Shahrzad, who is also one of the most truly stylish people I have met in a long time. You can feel her enthusiasm for life; she talked excitedly about some of the artists who have stayed there--and whose exhibits she attended.  I mentioned that I write and was happy that I could talk (however superficially, I later thought) about Rumi and other Persian poets.

She carved this most welcoming of spaces out of an old post office building. Some work is still being done on the sidewalk in front of it, but inside, you'll can bask in the glow of your day's adventures and get a good nights' sleep.

(P.S.  The hotel's staff let me keep the bike I rented in a storeroom.)

Another establishment I highly recommend is Velo Urbain.  One thing I found very interesting is that the shop repairs and sells used bikes; they don't sell new bikes, but all of their rentals--including mine--are new.  As the owner, Phillipe, explained to me, there are "moins des problemes" in doing so.  

He and I spoke--and, before I arrived, exchanged e-mails--in French.  However, one of his employees, Thomas, is thoroughly bilingual in English and French.  Both are very helpful; in fact, Thomas realized, in fitting the bike to me, that I have rather long legs for my height and moved me to a larger-size frame than the one he'd normally recommend for a person of my height.

Even if the Norco I rode weren't brand-new, it still would have been better than most other rented bikes.  The icing on the cake was this:  $50 CAD for three full days.  (At current exchange rates, that's a bit less than $40 USD.) They ask only that you leave some form of ID (I left my New York State non-drivers' ID, issued by the Department of Motor Vehicles) and that if you're renting for a full day, weekend or week, that you return the bike before they close (7pm; they open at 11 am).  You don't need a reservation; you can just show up and ask to rent.

Velo Urbain is located on la rue Papineau, near l'Avenue Mont-Royal.  What that means, of course, is that if you want to challenge yourself right away, you turn left on the Avenue and start riding up the Mont.  Or, if you want to ease yourself into riding, you can explore the neighborhood around the avenue, which abounds with cafes, restaurants and stores of just about every type imaginable.   

Cycling In Montreal

Different cities have different "feels" or "vibes".  A musician--Charles Mingus, I believe--once remarked that he could tell, blindfolded, and with his ears plugged, whether he was in San Francisco or New York or Paris or wherever.  

He, or whoever that musician was, also said it was possible to sense the "energy" of a place you're visiting for the first time the moment you step off the plane or train or whatever took you there.  I believe there's something to that:  I recall feeling almost as if I'd developed another sense as I walked through the airport in Istanbul.  Every place I went, whether in the city itself or along the coast or into the Cappadocia countryside, just seemed to pulse with vitality, whether I was marveling at the Blue Mosque, sauntering among the ancient ruins or looking at the almost-otherworldly landsapes--or seeing the mansions along the Bosphrous or the shacks of once-mighty cities whose harbors had silted up.

Likewise, cycling feels different in different cities.  In Boston, it can seem like mano-a-mano combat with drivers; all through Florida (all right, it's not a city, but bear with me), it feels as if you're holding out (I was going to stay "standing your ground", but that seems pretty touchy!) and holding onto pieces of real estate that are miles long and inches wide.  In Prague, you're always climbing or descending a hill, just as I remember San Francisco.  The difference between cycling in Paris and cycling in New York is like the difference between caffeine and Red Bull laced with cocaine:  The former energizes cyclists but doesn't seem to impair their social skills; the latter turns everything into a race--to what, no one seems to know.

As I've mentioned in previous posts, Parisian drivers are courteous and respectful because, I believe, many are--or have recently been--cyclists.  I'm not sure that the bike lanes or Velib made it a more "bike friendly" city, as some have said, although I did see more cyclists on my most recent trip there than I saw on previous trips.  More time elapsed between the Montreal trip I just took and the one before it, but I think it's fair to see that there are more real changes in the city's cycling atmosphere than I've witnessed in any other city.

I certainly saw more cyclists--and, perhaps most important, a wider variety of people cycling--than I did on previous visits.  I rode some routes I'd ridden before and explored areas I'd never before seen.  I was able to do most of my riding on bike paths, although that was not one of my objectives.  I wouldn't say that the paths, which were all but non-existent the last time I was in Montreal, necessarily make cycling safer or even more pleasant than it had been before.  But I have to say that, for the most part, they seem well-planned:  I didn't find myself on "paths to nowhere" or ones that abruptly let cyclists out into dangerous intersections.  

However, I found myself questioning the wisdom of this:

I understand what planners were trying to do:  Provide paths that allow cyclists to ride in an orderly fashion.  And, for whatever reasons, they wanted or had to keep the paths on one side of the street or the other.  The issue wasn't the width of the paths.  One lane in each direction is more or less like one lane in each direction on a road for motorized vehicles:  You follow similar kinds of procedures and etiquette for riding with, behind or in front, of--or passing--other drivers.  It certainly seemed to work well:  I didn't sense conflicts between cyclists over rights-of-way.

On the other hand, there was a problem I found with them:  When you're riding in the right lane, in the opposite direction from the motorized traffic, and you come to an intersection, you have to take extra care, especially if the cross-street is one-way, with the traffic coming from your left.  This is even more true when drivers traveling in the opposite direction on the street your path parallels make right turns.

To be fair, the local cyclists and drivers didn't seem to have any problem.  Perhaps they've grown accustomed to the arrangement.  Were I living in Montreal--or simply cycling there more often--I probably would, too.  

I didn't see any of the confrontations, or any other expressions of hostility, one witnesses--or, perhaps, gets involved in--here in New York.  There seems to be more respect--or, at least, some sort of detente--between motorists and cyclists.  The latter--even the fastest and most competitive ones--come to a full stop at red lights, as do pedestrians. So do the drivers:  They don't try to "gun it" as the light is changing, and there is actually a pause between the light turning green and cars proceeding through it.  In the Big Apple, it seems, drivers have learned how to put their foot on the gas pedal a second or two before the signal changes so their vehicles are in motion even before the light is green.

In brief, the calm atmosphere I experienced while riding in Montreal seems to be a result of people's sense of security about themselves, as motorists and cyclists as well as human beings.  In New York, I am realizing, no matter how well you do, you've only survived the day and, perhaps, survived for another day.  As James Baldwin has noted, when everyone is striving for status, nobody really has any.  Or, as a student of mine remarked last night, "You have to be a shark to survive in this city!"  If that is the case, and Montreal's streets are waterways, one can navigate them as a dolphin.

Plus, you've got to love a place where you can see a sign like this:

I think something was lost in translation.

or a street with a name like this:

Admit it:  You would love to say you live on "Rue Rufus Rockhead"!

just blocks away from this:

In Vieux Montreal, or Old Montreal

or this:

"Farine Five Roses":  I'm not sre of whether it's stranger in French or English!

or where a bridge like the Jacques Cartier would have an underpass like this between the east and west walkways:

 You can't hear the traffic above you, and look at how clean it is!  It was open, even tough the west walkway is closed.

Such a thing never would be built in New York.  (A fair number of bridges, such as the Verrazano Narrows, don't even have bike paths or walkways.)  And if it were, it would always be "closed for repairs", but homeless people or the young and intoxicated would break into it.

All right.  I'll stop whining about what does and doesn't happen in New York and say that Montreal is indeed a fine cycling city.