Finally..I'm back..on the blog.I could describe this month as insane, colorful, intense, intention albeit slightly drunken..but let me tell you about our little journeys, some of the best parts of the month.
The first was a mad weekend dash to the coast. Saddled on two grumbling Minsks four of us hit the road, hangovers in hand and hammocks in packs to meet a pair of friends.
The trip was uneventful bar running out of petrol..twice, one minor breakdown, losing a bike (the wait nicely soothed by roadside beers and pappadums) and the ride blanketed by green countryside, speeding highway trucks, waves and smiles at as our growling minkas left motorists in clouds of pollution...culminating in spotting our beautiful friends magically on a roadside that evening.
After a happy reunion, seafood dinner and purchasing a few highly toxic alcoholic coconuts we headed away from the town and onto winding roads towards a destination...somewhere beautiful.
There were six. Frederique a dreadlocked Indian feminist anarchist, her lover, Stix, a spindly German intellectual. Cedric, a soulsy French activist, Lan Anh, my earth child, a bearded Quebecan cat called Felix and me.
Now, at this point we either got lost, or didn't have a direction in the first place (more the case), but in the dark of night the road we were driving on dipped suddenly down towards the ocean and...ended.. abruptly.. at a jetty. Surrounded by towering freighters and not to be deterred, we asked where the mammoth ships were headed..South Africa was the reply.
Now, this has to be said, there was a moment of hesitation as the destination was seriously considered. But then, one of the ladies said if we got onto a little boat, she would take us to an island. So three huge motorbikes balanced precariously and Western asses on a tin boat...we chugged towards black outlines in the distance.
Darkened foliage silhouetted islands ahead of us, but it was pitch black. Land was a welcome sight, bikes off the boat and onto solid ground, and rumbling off again towards mountains...
Now... I could say we made it to a beautiful beach, found a suitable place to camp, put our hammocks up in an respectable way and lit a campfire to play guitar around..
But somewhere along the way, an important piece of someone's motorbike fell off...and the journey deeper into the hills was cut short. And once the first nasty little coconut was cracked, there was nothing else to do but enjoy the unexpected stop, find trees for the hammocks, drink more coconut, light fire poi and generally degenerate into giggling alcoholics..then sleep.
The next morning, six slightly intoxicated travellers squinting in the hot morning sun fixed the broken bike magically and scooted to the left. Just in time to dip in the pollution filled ocean, munch prawns, breathe in the scattered beauty of dotted islands... and make our merry way home.. after 5 hours on a bike, in the dark, totally assless...
,,,but having no ass at the end of a beautiful weekend is better than sitting on a fat ass at home.
