To the dentist

After not visiting a dentist for 8 years, I decided to make an appointment in Melaka. The medical standard is the same as in Europe, but the prices are much lower. Besides, I have plenty of time to go. The only possible problem might be that I do not wake up early enough for the appointment. As I do not have any machine that tells me the time anymore, both my camera and telephone have died, I might get up to late. When I wake up on Saturday I go into the street to ask someone the time, it only is 8 o'clock so I can go back to bed for an hour. At 9:30 sharp I arrive at the dentist to find out my appointment is only one hour later. After losing an hour I return. The dentist is a beautiful woman, who speaks impaccable English. She is assisted by a another beautiful woman. May be I should have gone more often to the dentist. The damage in my mouth turns out to be not to bad. One new cavity and some work on an old filling, with some general cleaning at the end. The work takes about 3 quarters of an hour and I am only charged 25 euro's. Next year I will try to come back here.

Afterwards I go to my regular morning coffeeshop, where I bump into Marko who already is enjoying his third coffee. Without having to order, I am served my coffee, by the woman who never smiles. Today is a good day again, like all the days. I do not mind staying here another 2 weeks.

Sama sama

After staying an extra day in Duri I cycle to Dumai, the last destination in Indonesia. I buy a ticket to Melaka, Malaysia for the ferry for the next day. When I am in an internet cafe, a girl invites me to come with her to the school where see follows an English course. After chatting with some teenagers I am put for a class of 14 year olds to entertain them for one and half hours. Afterwards the teacher and older students present, convince me to return the next day and delay my ferry crossing to Malaysia with one day. At night I watch a concert of a band from Medan in the street of my hotel. When watching I meet a brother of the girls I stayed with in Duri, it is a small world. Before I go to sleep I recheck my Indonesian visa to be sure I do not overstay, with staying an extra night. To my surprise I find out I have to leave the next day, so I will not return to school the next day.

The boatride to Melaka is fast and as the rooms are usually airconned to refrigorator temperatures, it is now quite bearable. In the port I wait till everybody has disembarked before I go ashore. I feel a bit embarrased when the officials direct me to the front of the queue straight through border control. From there I cycle to the Sama sama guesthouse which was recommended by Marko, who I met in Maninjau. The guesthouse is full, but because Marko already is there and has forewarned my arrival I am allowed to stay and sleep in the communal room.

The guesthouse is tiny, it only has 7 rooms, but it contains interesting and nice people and is in the middle of the old town. I won't mind staying here for a while. Soon the biggest decisions in the day, become when and where to eat. There is a lot of variety in restaurants. I can choose between Indian, Chinese, Indonesian and Malay food. I am fortunate that I have very inefficient digestion so every day I can eat at all the cuisines, without growing a big belly, although I would not mind getting on a bit more weight.

The day that I will return to the Europe is set now, as I buy a plane ticket to Frankfurt for the 8th of April. I have not decided what I will do until then. Most likely I will spend most of my time eating.

Earthquake

On the 5th I reluctantly leave Bukit Tinggi. My visa runs out on the 10th and it at least is 400 km to Dumai from where I wish to take a ferry to Malacca. As this ferry leaves at 8:00AM I have to be there the nineth and to not feel rushed I have to leave. First the road predominatly goes down and I can race with the minibusses, but not far after Payakumbu the road goes up. After a delicious descent, racing a black Honda car all the way down, it becomes tough. The hills are very short and steep, 200 m steep down and right after up. This drains my power especially with the sun blistering the road. When I am at a restaurant to drink some tea to rest I am invited to put my bike on a truck and go with them for the next 40 km. I am very happy with the invitation and hunp on. The big cement truck is probably slower than my bike, but I at least do not have to cycle. After an hour we are surprised by a big bang only to discover that one of the tyres is blown. The delay is an hour, but I am not in a hurry, so who cares? I spend the night in Bankinang, from where I leave early the next morning. Around noon I take a rest in a palmoil plantation, when the earth starts shaking. I check if I am not under a coconut tree and wait till the earth settles down again.
I have been told that the next town with a hotel is Duri. This is still a considerable amount of km away so I do not hang around to long. Against usual practise I continue cycling when the night falls, because I expect Duri to come in sight any moment. The last km are hard, because I no longer can see the potholes, but without many problems I manage to reach Duri. When I walk through the streets to search for fruit and dinner, I am invited by a girl to visit her house and some of her friends. Having nothing better to do I join her. It is not after 5 minutes she tells me I smell bad. She of course is right, but I am surprised she tells me. I tell her I just had a shower, but the combination of heat and dirty clothes do not improve my body odour. I am still welcome to her friends houses, but they keep their distance, which does not stop them to have me invited to marry some girls. After travelling a while I am now pretty much accustomed to these questions and I can politely decline.

Cita cita

After more than a month at Lili's homestay I finally take the incredible steep road to Bukit Tinggi. To my surprise I am able to digest the 44 hairpins quite easily. I just take the outside of the corner which saves me 10% of incline. Only corner 25 and 30 are a bit hard. My new bike's lightest gear is much lighter than the old one, which also helps. When climbing out the canyon near Bukit Tinggi Herman, Lili's owner overtakes me and invites me to put my stuff in the van and join him to Orie, the bass-player in the Cita cita band. I already met a few of the band members and at Orie's place I see Teddy the singer and Mande, guitarist and singer again. Also Marko, the German I spent most of my days hanging out with in Bayur. In the evening the band was to play at an art gallery, but in the end they play in a cafe. Afterwards most of us go to Orie's place, his parents have a huge house. The next day we tour around the countryside in Orie's van. It is very nice to hangout with the band members and I hope I will see them again in a not so distant future.

A lazy month at the lake

Februari 1 I cycle to lake Maninjau, to do some resting. In Bukit Tinggi I got a bit of feever and I intend not to leave before I am feeling 100%. In Lili's homestay, which is more like a guesthouse, I find just what I need. At the lake, nice people and an amazing scenery. In the cupboard I find "It" of Stephen King and I am all set to do some resting.

Teaching them

After leaving Tuktuk January 24th I head south in the direction of Bukit Tinggi. After a few km it becomes clear I should have stayed longer on Samosir, I have no idea how to sit comfortably. Stuborn as I am, I ofcourse continue. Still the enthousiastic cheers and greetings make me sometimes forget I have a row with my saddle. In the afternoon it starts raining, hard. After a short break to put on my raincape I proceed. I always like cycling in the rain, only today it is sometimes hard to look in front of me as the rain comes into my eyes. Around 16:00 still in heavy rain I reach Tarutung. Although the small city has quite a few hotels, I cannot find a place that suits my wallet. At 17:00 finally I find a room I think is cheap enough. The fungus is on the wall and it is rather dark, but I can park my bike in the room and hang my wet clothes to dry. I really like these small towns, the people are not that used to white people and everywhere I go I am spoken to. I am invited by a couple of old guys to share their can of tuak. A nice company, two christians, two muslims and one who is neither. Although one of them speaks a litle bit English, it becomes more interesting when the daughter of one of them, Mona Lisa, joins us. She loves to watch football and is beautiful as well, sounds like the ideal woman. Two days later I stop in Penyabungan to spend the night. I am eating some food to wait for the rain to stop, when a beautiful girl invites me to come to her house. Although it is still raining I do not mind following her. It turns out that she takes me to a school where they teach English to highschool kids. After a brief introduction by the teacher I take over the class and tell about me and answer questions. 15 minutes after I have started, I am invited to take my class to the other room, as the other students want to talk/listen to me too. The class ends after 1.5 hours but I stay a while longer to talk with the teachers and other people who have come in. I am in vited by the father of the beautiful girl to have dinner at their home, but I decline, I am tired and I feel a throatpain coming up.

The 27th I expect to have a long cycling day as no big towns are en route until Lubuk Sikaping. I do not know if it is the beautiful surroundings, green paddi's with coconut (kelapa) trees dotted around them and low green hills on the back, but my ever complaining ass keeps rather quiet. Unfortunately it starts raining again, this time I do not stop, maybe my clothes get clean this way. I have just bought a pancake (mertabak) with black rice in it, when I am overtaken by two boys on a scooter with the request to stop. I ask them why and I keep up my nice pace. The driver, Johan, tells me his mother saw me passing by and had told him to invite me to stay with them. This is an offer I like and I quickly turn around and cycle 5km back with them. When entering the house I bump my head to the doorpost, not for the last time. When I enter 20 people follow, all want to see this strange white fellow with his big nose. The halfparalyzed father indicates that the people who have no business here have to leave the house. Unfortunately for them they can not take their place outside at one of the windows, because they already have been taken. Also bothered by the people peeping in, the father has the curtains shut. Johans brother who has braindamage since his birth is very happy with my presence and climbs in a coconut tree to ge me a young coconut, the milk tastes delicious. After that, I play football on a rocky patch of ground. I get several little wounds on my feet, but I ofcourse am a representer of all Dutch football players so I can not forsake, I leave a good impression I think. After bath (mandi), throwing scoops of cold water over me, dinner is ready. Johans uncle is an English teacher and I am going to his huge place after. There I am expected to have dinner again. Fortunately I have a big appetite and without a problem I eat all that is offered me. The uncle invites me to come along to his school the next day on Sunday. To the disappointment of Johans mother I am already picked up when I am just starting my breakfast. The uncle asks me if I do not have any other (more decent) clothes, with a big smile I deny.

As these are not the first classes I visit I get a bit more experienced in it. I do not tell to much about me, because half of the time they will not understand anyway, I let them come up with the questions. Sooner or later the question is asked if I am married and when I answer a lot of noise comes from the class. Next questions usually are if I would like to have a girl from this country, what religion I am and if a girl of different religion would be a problem. In the second class a girl even asks me to be her boy friend. Trying to be careful with her feelings I say, that if she has a bike she is invited to join me. Later when I ask someone to write an Indonesion word on the board for me she is fighting with another girl over the marker, she looses. After the third class, my last for the day, I am taken in to a photoshoot and autograph session. The whole class, well especcially the girls, want to be in a picture with me. Even the headmaster wants to be in a picture with me. In Rao Johan is already awaiting me and he and his friends take me to a nearby village to get Rambutan and play in the river. At night we play chess. First I beat Johan, without much effort, then I am invited to play against a kid who can not be older than twelve. I should have been warned. I am not and underestimate the little fellow and am kicked off the board in no time, a big blow for my ego. Later we watch Italian footbal on tv. This night I put autan on, so that I can sleep, the previous night I have not slept a wink.

After a big breakfast I leave the hospitality of Johans place and head for Lubuk Sikaping. In the evening I stop at a coffeeshop to have a tea and talk with the father, daughter and the other guests all night. The next morning I have a huge breakfast here too and am not allowed to pay. Then only a short trip to Bukit Tinggy the tourist centre of Sumatra. I do not really like it, to many tourists.

Tuktuk

The 21st I cycle to Lake Toba. Because it is Sunday and this area is predominantly Christian I pass a lot of long lines of beautifully dressed people going to church. As usual all people are very enthousiastic when I pass. The first 15 km I go lightning fast, slightly downhill and wind in the back. The mini-busses cannot keep up with me. Until I reach the lake cycling goes smooth and fast, after the road goes up and down and I am glad when I reach Parabat, where I can take the ferry to the island in the lake. The ferry drops me at the place I want to stay. I get a nice little bungalow with view over the lake and it costs me only 25,000 IDR. At the reception I find a book of Dan Brown to spend some relaxing hours reading. When I am eating a banana pancake in a restaurant overlooking the lake I see Tom cycling by. Apparently he has rented a bike. I stop him and invite him to join me. He told me he had seen me cycling yesterday. I find out it took me only 2 hours more to do the 100 km by bicycle than he by bus. The rest of the day I spend reading in a restaurant in the middle of nowhere, now and then ordering "the manis" and food. At night when I take shelter for the rain in a restaurant I am persuaded to take some snake soup. The snake tastes a bit like chicken but is more tender and the meat has a slightly different texture. It is nice to see what the bone structure is like as well.

The next morning I have a pancake at the same restaurant just outside tuktuk as yesterday. Here I meet Tom again, who prefers the cooking of this woman to that of his hotel. After that I head of north by bike to do a little of touring on Samosir island. This was not a smart idea, my ass has not recovered and by this little trip I open the old wounds. In the evening it rains hard again. It is a beautiful sight to see the rain coming in over the lake. Later I visit the python restaurant again for another soup. This time the owners oldest son is around and he plays the guitar and sings with it all night. The womans sister is living in Delft in the Netherlands and she asks me to take some letters home with me for her, although no problem for me, it is probably better to post them as they than will arrive faster in Delft.

On the 24th at 8:00 I am picked up from my hotel by the ferry to cross the lake again, I will head south.

Fotoshoot

The first thing I do in Berastagi is to buy a screwdriver to open my camera. The unfortunate thing is that every time I (un)screw the screws of my camera the screwdrivers head gets screwed. Then I open the camera and see that water has entered the camera and some parts on the circuit board (?) are slightly corroded. I try to clean them and think I do a good job, but in the process a strip that connects 2 parts gets torn. I give up project revive camera and throw it into the dustbin. The next morning, January 20 I climb the nearby volcano. At the top I meet Tom, an Englishman I had met they before. Again I am not sure his name is really Tom, but I did not dare to ask anymore after so much time together. Together we descend on the steep path down. In the valley we drink a couple of The manis before we set back to the town, which to our surprise is 15 km away. Fortunately I manage to convice a family to take us with them in their car. After I wander a while through the town. It is always fun to do this as the people are so friendly and curious. I read in a comment book some people hate all the attention, I love it. I talk to everybody who addresses me and greet (almost) everybody. One of three girls, after greeting them for the second time, finds the nerve to talk to me and we go to the same internet cafe. When I leave, they leave and we end up having a drink at a mobile KFC of all places. In their view KFC is cool I guess. All I know it is bloody expensive and the food awful. They want to have a picture of me, but have no camera, I confess I have none either. They decide they will buy some film and borrow a camera. The first place they want to have our picture taken is in a horse carriage, but I refuse to go with them in a horse carriage through town. Maybe only a picture on the spot, but no tour. In the end the girls sit on horses and I am in between them. After that to the park. When it gets dark I have to say goodbye to the three nurses as I am going to have dinner with Tom. When I have finished dinner with Tom, I try to find the girls hotel, but to no avail.

Tough roads

I thought I have seen some bad roads, but Indonenesia opens new views on roads. The plan was to go in one day from Bukit Lawang to Berastagi, a town close to a working volcano. The road to Bukit Lawang already was pretty bad, rivers and palmoil trucks have quite a demolishing power, but the road I travel on Januari the 18th is something else. I should have been alarmed when someone on the way told me I could stay at Pammasimeler when I had not enough time left to go all the way. From Simpan Durenmolok to Telagah my ass gets a very serious beating from all the big rocks I have to go over, but at least this road is flat (at the beginning). There is one positive thing in this, it gives me the kick for being faster than motorbikes and cars. The closer I get to Telagah the worse it gets. Asphalt is no longer to be found, just loose rocks and huge holes, it still is possible to cycle though. I thought I had understood that the road would improve after Telagah, so with almost all my energy spent I am relieved I finally reach Telagah. After nasi goreng telur I remount and proceed on my trip. To my horror the road gets even worse, now I am not able to cycle anymore. Pammasimeler is still 40km away. This is most likely going to be a long day. My speed is probably close to 3km an hour, I might have to camp. Then my luck changes, I had misunderstood the person who told me the distance, it is only 4km. Pretty much exhausted I am invited by Udin, a coffee farmer from Pammasimeler to stay at his place. He cooks for me a simple dinner of rice, beans and fish. In the morning I get noodle soup before I head for Berastagi. After been able to cycle about 200m I have to dismount again and push my bike through the road that more resembles a (dry) riverbed. Then just before the top, delight, paved road. Not smooth but, paved. At times incredible steep. I have to keep my body above my handlebar, otherwise I will fall backward but I can cycle. Around 11:00 I climb a little top and find a great panorama, which also contains the volcano in the distance. This place is also inhabited, so I can start greeting and be greeted. For me this is such a joy. All those laughing faces, smiles, enthousiastic cheers, just because I pass by. Although still not flat, once in a while the road dips quickly to a river to go up steeply right after, cycling is easy and around noon I reach Berastagi. I am going to stay here 2 nights to give my ass some well needed rest and to visit the volcano of course. My ass feels like it is one big wound. I did not know how to sit on my saddle anymore, I hope 2 days not cycling is enough.

King in the jungle

In the evening of the 9th I text my brother I want to cycle to a big lake, not far from Medan, but that I do not have a map and consequently no clue in what direction to head. He promptly replies with the directions, fortunately I also find a map of Sumatra in the evening. On this map I see a symbol of an orangutan north of Medan. The next morning before leaving I ask the landlady where I can find this Orangutangs and she tells me I have to go to Stabat. I am already well on my way, when over lunch I talk to some locals I wish to see orangutangs. They convince me I should not go to Stabat, no "jungle man" there, Bukit Lawang is where I should go. I head back and after a 40km over a road of dismal quality I reach the town. Halfway I have met Muhdi and Baba, when taking pictures of a wedding. They want to ride my bike and after lowering the saddle considerably, they are about 1.60m tall, first Muhdi and then Baba have a shot, I ride conveniently on the back of the scooter.

Muhdi manages to convince me to take a jungle tour of 5 days with him. I will be the only tourist, Baba will come as well and Ling completes the group, he will be the cook. In the morning we are not even an hour in the jungle or we spot a Orangutang with it's baby in the next hour I see 5 more. Then we have nasi goreng for lunch with fresh cucumber and tomato with fresh fruit as desert. In the afternoon we only see mosquito's and at 15:00 Muhdi and I arrive at the camp, that Baba and Ling already have setup. Tea is already waiting. I have to do nothing but walk and play card. Ling is a master in the kitchen i.e. campfire. Every day 3 dish dinners, breakfast with club sandwiches and omelets or banana pancakes. The treks are a bit short, consequently we do not get really deep in the jungle, one of the consequences of not plannng the event I guess. Still I manage to see, next to the orangutans, black gibbons, 2 types of hornbill, longtail macaque and monitorlizzard, which is the smaller brother of the komododragon, but still seizable with a length of 2m. Next to the unavoidable musquito's I saw also quite a few leaches, but unfortunately no tigers, I would have gladly swapped the 2 first ones for the latter. On day four I decide to stay 2 more nights in the jungle. Unfortunately on one of these days I break the camera when Muhdi takes pictures of me when showereing under a waterfall. The jungle experience ends with rafting on cartubes over the river back to Bukit Lawang. The river is quite wild because of the hours of rain we have had the last week. So we manage to turn up side down once and break a steering stick, both not big problems, plenty of sticks in the jungle anyway. Although I enjoyed being in the jungle I am a bit disappointed. We were near the civilised world all the time, next time I will try to get really deep into it.

At the destination

When I am waiting for the ferry to depart, I see two similar bicycles to my bike being carried on board. They belong to two girls who have bought them at the same shop as I in Bangkok. In Penang I join them to the hostel they have booked, but when it turns out to be full I head to the one that was recommended to me by Willem and Annette. I stay close to the Indian neighborhood where I can enjoy a lot of nice street food. The next morning I head straight to the Indonesian consulate to arrange a visa. To my relief this seems to be no problem, I can even get 60 days, but I first have to buy a ticket to Indonesia. I rush back to the port to buy a ticket for next Tuesday after which I cycle as fast as I can back to the consulate. I can pick up the passport Monday morning. In the afternoon I wander into a bookshop and find a copy of “The count of Monte Christo” of Alexandre Dumas. It is not so much its fame that makes me buy it but its size. It has over 1400 pages which should keep me busy for a while so I do not have to search for a new one soon. Unfortunately I have not an awful lot to do, so I finish it on Monday. On Sunday I cycled around the island. It was not my intention, I just searched for a nice place to read my book when I ended up at the other side of the island. I decided to go around. I had misjudged the distance so I end up cycling in the dark. I had wind in the back and was going faster than the cars, overtaking them right and left. Exhausted and soaking wet I return at the hostel, but it was good to cycle again.

When I want to pick up my passport I am stopped at the gate of the consulate. To enter, I have to identify myself. I try to make clear that I came to pick up my passport so I cannot show it, only until a superior arrives I am allowed in. The clerk behind the desk recognizes me and swiftly hands me my passport, only after I promise to also visit Bali.

Early in the morning of Jan 9 I take the ferry to Belawan, Indonesia. Halfway, on mid sea and bigwaves, the engine suddenly stops. One of the crew jumps in the water to have a look under water. It is a bit unnerving to be without propulsion when you know recently a ferry sunk in Indonesian waters. After an hour we get going again, something was in the propeller. A few hours later we arrive on Indonesian soil, destination reached. My plan was to stay in Belawan, but I cannot get any money. Two atm’s are empty. This message is not conveyed in the screen though. I go through the whole process and when I am supposed to take the money nothing happens. Inside they tell me not to worry, the machine is empty. At the other bank with ATM, my card is not accepted. I see no other option but to cycle to Medan. I end up at the tollway, but after 5 km I am pulled up. I say it is no problem for me to cycle here and that I do it all the time. Not convinced by my arguments I am directed to another road close by, which also goes to Medan. It is fun to cycle here, people are very enthusiastic when I cycle by, but traffic is much more chaotic than in the previous countries. I constantly have to dodge cars and break hard to avoid bumping into suddenly stopping cars.

18 year old Chinese

The first thing that strikes me upon arrival on Langkawi is the well kept and modern looking terminal. It appears that Malaysia is a richer country than Thailand. The prices here are also considerable higher than in Thailand, but that might also have to do with the fact that I am in a very touristy place. In the terminal I try to retrieve some local currency from the ATM, but I am initially denied for lack of funds. Fortunately I am able to get a lower amount from the machine. With the help of a leaflet with the map of the Island I decide to go the west coast. I find a beautiful beach, but with almost only expensive places to stay. I manage to find a not to expensive room however. On the beach I meet the Thai family again I met earlier on the ferry. I get the impression the woman is trying to match me with her sister, but I can hold that off. She probably wants to flatter me, but in my view does not, when she guesses my age is 18. This is a new record, usually I am guessed to be around 26 or so, although I have a niece I had never seen before who estimated my age 19, but that was 2 years ago. Apart from people judging me much younger I am not infrequently guessed to be (partly) Chinese. Apprantly because of my eyes. So if it were for some people I am to be an 18 year old Chinese.

At night I go to a semi fancy restaurant and order red snapper, for 6Rm per 100gram. When after waiting a very long time I inquire after my meal I am soon presented with a fish. My knowledge of fish is not so great, but the fish seems to me not a red snapper, but I eat it anyway. The big fish tastes good and after finishing I ask for the bill. I am a bit startled when I see it, I am to pay 114 Rm, while I only have 100 on me. It also seems a bit high, it would mean a fish of more than 1.5 kg. Just when I tell them that I do not have enough money with me, my eyes fall on the name of the fish I am supposed to pay for. I turns out I have been eating a bull fish which is twice as expensive. I make clear I had ordered a redsnapper. They had made a mistake in the kitchen, they say, and I get away with half the cost, which is only fair. Still it is expensive enough.

The next day I hike to the top of one of the mountains, but the view at the top is disappointing. It is a bit misty and the trees and brushes on the top prevent a clear sight. I do see that in the northwest of the island is a nice beach and after descending I head there. I had hoped to find a little town, but the only thing I find is two resorts. I go through one of them and park my bike at the beach and go for a swim and do some reading. When the sun is about to set I take my luggage on my back and take up my bike and climb over 100 m of rocks followed by a walk through the rising water to a small island for the coast. Here I set up my mosquito net and gather dry wood. Before it is dark I make some instant cereal for dinner and after that I make my campfire. The only thing missing is some one to share it with, but apart from that it is perfect. The next morning I am only just in time to leave the island before the tide is to high, which would have me confined to the island for a longer period, unless I would have been saved by someone of the resort. The last night on the island I spend on a beach in the northeast. Again I make my campfire and all is well until I lay down under my net. Then I am attacked by dozens of little insects who go straight through the net. Although small they are very capable of biting/stinging. They are easy to kill, but usually the kill comes to late. The next morning I wake with over 40 red spots over my body, it looks like I have the measles. Fortunately the spots do not show long and do not itch much. With the boat of 14:30 I leave Langkawi and go to Penang.

New year

In Phuket I still can find to my surprise accommodation for a decent price. I delay the search for the departure time of the ferry to Ko Lanta till the next day and on this Christmas evening I just roam through the streets, eating and drinking at the various food stalls and cafe's. The next morning I find out that the only boat to Lanta has already left, still I head to the port to see for my self, very often public transport does not leave at it's designated time. After being sent in the wrong direction a couple of times I finally reach the port, with no hope the ferry is still there. All is not lost as at 10:30 another ferry leaves for Ko Pipi from where I can take a ferry to Lanta. The water in Pipi harbour is exceptionally clear, I can see colourful fish and long and pointy snouted ones. After 2 hours I leave for Lanta. Although the beach is beautiful, Lanta seems to be a place predominantly visited by Swedish families and couples. At the same time accommodation is expensive. I find a quiet place on the beach and pitch up my mosquito net. I intend to stay only 1 night but I end up staying 3. The main reason is that I am able to get my hands on some new secondhand books, which I read almost non-stop, only interrupted by a quick dive in the water. The first night I sit in a little restaurant at the beach talking to a couple Australian girls and just when I raise my hand, something sticky falls on my pointing finger. At first I think it is bird dropping, but when I look closer I notice it is a little gecko. When it has recovered from the shock it takes off leaving me behind wondering how it could survive a drop of about 4m.

On the 29th I finally manage to get my lazy ass of the beach. I end up in Trang a reasonable sized town with a nice evening market with again nice snack opportunities. Apart from that, I cannot find anything interesting, so I leave the next day for Thungwa, only about 70 km away, which means a short easy ride. The Belgium couple on a double, that I meet at the beginning of the afternoon, tries to convince me I should cycle another 30 km further to the coast, but I am determinedly lazy and stick to my decision. On the last day of the year I head to Satun where I will say goodbye to 2006 and to Thailand. On the road south I am overtaken by scores of breath taken beautifully dressed beautiful women on scooter, either accompanied by similarly dressed friends or paraded by their proud boyfriends(?). Next to my hotel is a bar where I find a few westerners and locals to celebrate the end of the year and the beginning of the new year with. A couple of French are already wasted at 10 o'clock and fortunately leave. In the end only a Belgium guy, the French bartender and I remain. It could have been a worse night, could have been a lot better also. The next morning I only wake up at 8:22, with the ferry to Langkawi leaving at 9:30. I pack my stuff as fast as I can, cycle the 8 km and go through customs and just make it. Not long after departing I fall a sleep, I am awaken by a passenger as we have arrived on Langkawi, when most already have left the ship.

Beaches everywhere

December 16th I stay in a youth hostel at the beach. Strangely enough dormitory is as expensive as a cabin, although the cabin is more like a hut with a bed and a bench. I decide it is time to have a shave, the few moustache hairs I have start to fall into my mouth once in a while. I have no running water, no mirror and shaving cream. I put the water in my pan and use the soap I bought to clean my clothes in Tunis. After half an hour scraping I get the idea I have finally have rid me of the unwanted hairs. I take a picture to verify the results. At night karaoke is organized and because I have a strong dislike of it I flee to the beach. I finally have rented a place to sleep, I still end up sleeping on the beach. The next morning I try to get my free included breakfast. To my opinion the thing I get is not registered as breakfast, one bad coffee and 2 toasts with jam and butter. Swiftly I check out and head south.

My 3 weeks of not cycling and differently shaped saddle is taking its toll. My crotch is aching and my left ball has a huge blister on it. I tape it with duck tape in the hope this helps. The 18th I end up cycling to Ranong, much further than planned, but towns before it I did not really like. The next morning I cycle to the port to catch the ferry to ko payam an island recommended by one of my drinking buddies in Bangkok. When I arrive I am welcomed by a fellow cyclist. He turns out to be Dutch and is here with his wife, they have stayed at the same place I had. His name is Willem and his wife’s is Annette and they have been traveling on and off for the last 12 years. When we arrive on the island we promise to have dinner one night. It turns out that I have all my dinners with them and also a few other meals. Willem and Annette are full of stories and it is great to spend the evenings together. Apart from eating and talking with Willem and Annette, I take it easy. I rent a sea kayak for half a day to peddle to the next beach, this turns out harder than expected and when I can see it, I decide I am close enough and turn around. When I return I meet a woman whose husband took the luggage to the hut, but she was not aware where that was. When she and her son arrive at my place the owner affirms that her husband has arrived. But when she checks the cabin, it is empty. Her son has left with the scooter when he heard they had arrived at the right place and said he would return somewhere in the evening. I hope they were reunited later.

December 22nd I leave for the mainland again. I still have a long way to go to Malaysia and my visa will run out the 6th of January. I have my chain cleaned at a place recommended by Willem and then I head to a guesthouse. Here I meet the Israeli who occupied the hut next mine on the island. He has bought a bike and wants to visit the international rainbow festival. We decide to go together the next day. We arrive after dark after climbing rocks on the beach with our gear and bikes. In dark we search for a little spot to set up our stuff, my mosquito net and his hammock. I don’t want to stay, so I leave the next morning. I end up sleeping on the beach again near Takuapa, but now I have the whole beach for me alone. Probably the first Christmas eve I am totally on my own. In stead of having a nice dinner I have forgotten to eat since noon and I don’t feel like leaving the beach, so I end up hungry. I should start traveling with some food on me again. On Christmas day cycling is tough, I guess because I have not properly eaten the previous day. Today I feel I need energy, but I don’t feel like eating anything. I end up buying a lot of bananas and eating them. In the afternoon I start feeling better and when I arrive in Phuket city I am fine again, except for my crotch, which has still not fully recovered.

Bangkok by air

On the morning of the 8th I take a flight to Bangkok. Gisi an Austrian girl is so kind pay for the taxi from the airport to the centre. Dylan from Hawai joins us as well. Dylan knows a cheap guesthouse near Kaosan and we end up there. In the evening we meet Gisi again, who spent most of the day in a swimmingpool, before she flies back tonight. The 9th is dedicated to rhyming, my family celebrates Sinterklaas tonight. All rhymes are finished except the one for Iljoesja, sorry Il! The next few days I use to look for bikes, but not to fanatical if it was not for Vlad a Czech in the same Guesthouse I probably would still be looking. In between my searches I meet Eric, from the beach in Myanmar and with him I go on a trainride to the southeast of Bangkok. The train almost goes through peoples houses and when it stops in town, people go in on one side and leave through the opposite door, because they do not want to wait until it leaves. Just before the end point the train goes through a market. The stalls and the merchandise have to be moved everytime a train passes. Fortunately for them not that often
I also bump into Roger, I met him and Mireile in Kunming and although Mireile is not feeling well we have dinner and a lot of beers (only with Roger). The 14th I finally leave Bangkok with my newly acquired bicycle. On advice of the boys at the guesthouse I have been drinking with the last few days I take the train until Petchaburi. Because of excess alcohol consumption I fail to catch the two trains in the morning so I end up taking the one at 13:00. When I arrive in Petchaburi I cycle 100 meters and then ask for directions to a policeman. At that moment two motorcyclists collide and one ends up in my front wheel. I have in total not cycled 5 km with this bike and already it is ready for repairs. When I remove the front brakes I can still cycle and for the nex hour I follow the policeman around town for someone who can repair the front wheel. The only bikeshop is closed for a few days, because the daughter is getting married. Eventually we find someone who does an excellent job. He does not want any money for it, not even for the coke I took from his shop. It feels good to be cycling again! Later that night I am invited for beers and dinner by a group of boys all working in the same icecreamshop. In the morning finally cycling really begins I end up at a deserted beach, with a restaurant nearby, an ideal combination. Unfortunately to get from my musquito net to the restaurant I get attacked by dozens of musquito's. I can kill most of them, but quite a few managed to get some Bart blood. I had hoped that they would be quiet when I leave the safety of the net for a midnight pee, no such luck. The next morning I am invited to watch some cock boxing fights in a small homemade arena. I watch two fights, but I am not able to see, who wins. On the road top Thap Sakae I loose my map. When I try to buy a new one I meet a man who advises me to go to Ban Kruit, it is about 20km and the man is waiting at every crossroads to direct me in the right direction and at one point he holds a can of coke out when I pass, it feels like I have a support car with me.
I am very lucky with the wind. It is coming from the northeast and blowing with force Bf6. This makes cycling very easy most of the time. When I get lost, because I forgot the name of the city I was supposed to be going to, I have a few less nice stretches of road.

Exit Sambi

On November 20th I reach Magway. A boring town, but fortunately with a bikeshop with a fork for my bike. When I try to fit it on the bike it proves to short. Welding the old tube to the fork is no longer possible, but I get hold of a new tube, and someone to weld it to the fork. I have a bike again! The next day I delay departure to halfway the morning because of stomach problems. Still not feeling great I leave for the beach. Three times I am directed in the wrong direction and when on the right road I am stopped by the police, no entrance for foreigners. I head back to Magway, but do not want stay again in the lousy guesthouse. I set up camp a few km east of the town, not after throwing up after which I feel much better.

Just after lunch I ride through a very small hole, this however is to much for Sambi. Again the fork breaks, now outside the frame, which makes me tumble forward over the handlebar. After a while I get up and check my wounds, nothing serious. At the same places as last time, but this time at the left side, I am in balance again. When I drag the bike to the side of the road I decide I have enough of it and I will leave Sambi behind. I take of my backpack, panniers and the tires, they are still good and when everything is packed I stop a pick-up truck to the next town, taungdwingy. I try to check in to a guesthouse but at both I am not allowed to stay. When I am drinking a soda at a cafe thinking of what to do next I am visited by the immigration police. They want to know all about me. The end of the story is that I am not allowed to stay in the town. When I tell them that there are no places available on the busses, they make a phonecall and all of a sudden there is a place. The 12 hour busride is not a nice re-introduction to public transport. The woman next to me vomits half the busride, when doing so, puts her kid on my lap. The people in the chair in front of me, put it back as far as possible, I have no place to rest my head and as ice on the cake halfway during the night a rat climbs into the bottom part of my trousers, he does not stay long though.

In Yangon I go to the White house hotel where I am allowed to use the breakfast, although I only pay for coming night. Here I bump into Hilton. The both of us stay for the full 2 hours that the well assorted buffet is open and eat almost enough for the rest of the day. When I go outside I see Helen get her luggage out of a taxi. After a brief exchange of news I invite her to join dinner with Hilton and me. At the end of the day we end up having drinking beer with the largest part of the group from Bagan. When we enter a bar I am surprised to hear a local band play to my knowledge an Engnlish version of a Dutch song Suzanne of "VOF de Kunst", but maybe it was originally English. The next morning I find a little package at the reception. Helen has brought some bandages and stuff to clean wounds. It gives a good feeling that someone has thought of my health. Then I head to the busstation to take a bus to the beach on advice of a German couple I met at breakfast. The first night I camp on the beach, but in the morning I am told it is not legal. Later that day I rent a little hut at the beach next to Eric, an American I had met in the bus the day before. Although I have to make rhymes for my family for Sinterklaas I do not find the time to do this, instead I do nothing or play football on the beach with a few locals. We win, but most of my wounds are open again and I even have a new one on my shin. Fortunately I have the stuff from Helen.

On the third of December I take the bus back to Yangon. To my surprise Jake, I met him earlier in Tunis and Istanbul, has already arrived, he had told me he would only arrive tomorrow. I manage to fill my days with almost nothing. Every day has the same routine. I have breakfast from 8 till 12 and chat with everybody around, then go out for a while like the market or the famous Shwe Dagon Paya. Have a few snacks, then dinner on the street or in a restaurant and I conclude with a couple of beers. It is nice to take it easy for a while, but I already start missing the bycicle.

Smiling people

November 17, I head into Myanmar. The Chinese side gives me a hard time, because of my visa extension in Shanghai, which seems to be extended 10 days late. After half an hour they finally let me go to the Myanmar side. Here I call the number I received and after a while Mr. Tonka shows up to get me into the country. Once in a while I am asked to sign something and after more than an hour I am in. My bike already was on the roof of the taxi. I only have to pay the absurd amount of 150 euro to the travel agent of which the largest part will go to the regime I am sure. Then a taxi takes me and mr Tonka, who is a small fragile guy, instead of the big bulky association I have with this name. If I want to stop somewhere I have to ask Mr. Tonka and he will decide if we can. At the end of the afternoon I am released from my babysitter when I am dropped off at 1 of the 2 hotels I am allowed to stay in Lashio.

I have not noticed much of the regime, we had 2 checkpoints, but it seemed they could have been avoided if I had wanted to if I had been cycling on my own. I saw a university in the middle of nowhere, Mr. Tonka told me the regime deliberately is placing them there to move students out of the city, as they are the main source of its critics. The next day I am so happy, I sing, hum, whistle and greet people non-stop. The people seem to be happy to see me, before I see them they greet me with “hello”, “good-bye” or “ok” and all are giving me a big smile. Even the group of people working on the side of the road, with 2 guards with semi-automatic watching them, give me a warm welcome. Not far before Hsipaw I cross a bridge with next to it another bridge on the bottom of the river, the truck that probably caused the break still on it. When I try to make a picture I am told to keep on cycling. The guide had told me a nice place to stop was Hsipaw, he pronounced it as “chebor” so when I went trough Hsipaw I did not recognize it. When I ask for directions to Hsipaw 10 miles later the guy thinks I am nuts, I decide cycle 20 miles more for the next town. There I am invited by a kid to sleep at his house. He and his friends take me out with their scooters, to a place where a band plays (very badly) and after that to hot springs.

The next day I pay a visit to Mr. Thapa, the boys’ English teacher when I head in the direction of Mandalay. He is glad to see me again and offers me an instant coffee. Nearly everything is instant in Myanmar. After 15 mile I have to go steep down to the river, I can already see the road up after the river. When going down I can not avoid cycling over a snake that also was going down. It was making big s’s and made a launch for my rear tire but it was to slow, probably injured as well. This reminds me to be careful when I go off the road.

A couple of miles before Pyin Oo Lwin I see a beautifull Paya on the top of a hill. I decide to put in the extra effort and have a closer look. After only 10 meters my rear wheel hits the frame. Initially I think one of the bolts was not tightened enough, but this does not seem the problem. The ax is broken. On foot I cover the last 4 miles, to the city, I decide to skip the visit of the paya. It already is dark when I arrive at the bicycle repairman. A 12 year old kid puts in a new ax. I think he does a lousy job, the owner tells me to return the next morning when it is light and he will do it properly. The first four hotels I visit I am not allowed to stay, because they do not have a permit to accommodate foreigners. The fifth does allow me. In the evening I am invited by a bunch of girls to join their dinner. I get these honours because they think I am handsome and want to be my girlfriend. It is good for the ego, but after a while I get enough of it and leave. When leaving the restaurant I nearly break my knee as I drop one and half meters down in the sewer right outside. Fortunatly only my shoes are covered in shit. One of the cool things of Myanmar is that transportation relies still very much on animals. In the western world you would see this kind of transportation only used by tourists, here it is widely used by the locals.
In Mandalay I manage to play a game of football again with some local kids. We play barefooted on a sandy field covered with rocks. Winner remains on the pitch. After an hour, still undefeated I leave with hurting feet. I book the slow boat to Bagan which leaves the next morning at 5:30AM. In and around Bagan I make a little trip by bike with fellow travelers through to look at some of the thousands of paya’s. At first Hilton, an Aussie, takes us on a route to where we see no paya’s at all. If it had not been for Helen, from Norway we would have cycled a couple of hours without seeing one. Now we turn and go down the hill to places where there are paya’s in spades. Here we are reunited with the English couple we had lost earlier, they knew where they were going. At the end of the afternoon we are racing to get to a paya we can climb to see the sunset from. Now we loose Hilton, but we all meet again in town. Helen is leaving at 4:30AM next morning and decides not to go to sleep before that. Hilton and I decide to keep her company aslong as a couple of beers join the company as well. Before we know it is time to say goodbye. The harder part of travelling. I go to sleep for a couple of hours, before I leave also. Before I can leave I have to try to solve the problem with the middle sprocket. It's tooth seem to worn to grip the chain. Ofcourse I cannot do anything about it and leave anyway. After a few km the largest sprocket goes too, which leaves me only the smallest. In combination with the use of only the 3 lightest ones at the back, makes cycling a maddening experience, especially downhill. At the end of the afternoon I finally find a man who has something lying from an old bike. He puts it on and tests it for me. Considering the options he does a good job, but I am only able to use only the 2 smallest sprockets and the crank is bend, which makes pedalling a bit incoonvenient. Still it beats cycling in the lightest gear all the time. It is already dark when I am invited to stay at someones house. Half the village comes by to have a look at the white guy. Unfortunately also a government oficial comes by and I can see he makes my host uneasy. I decide to leave. It is pitch dark and I do not see anything. I cycle in some potholes before I finally find a sandy spot to put up my musquito net. I am afraid to stop in a grass because of the snakes. The next morning I check my front fork and what I expected is true, broken again. I can still cycle with it, but obviously have to be careful with higher speeds and bumps. I decide not to brake with the front brake. Without much problems I manage to reach Magway.

To Myanmar?

Instead of only having dinner with Susu, I am also joined by two Swiss, Roger and Mireille. We have a nice evening in a restaurant, which ends suddenly when Mireille has an attack of stomach problems. It is time for us to leave anyway, we are the only ones left. On Wednesday morning I walk to the consulate to retrieve my passport, when I return I meet Roger & Mireille on their way out. I quickly get my bag and together we go for a breakfast after which we leave for the bus station. We miss our stop and when walking back I notice someone trying to pickpocket from Mireille's bag with a pair of tweezers. I grab the guy in his neck and make sure he has not stolen anything and push him away. At the bus station we search for a bus to go to the proper Dali and when we have that confirmed we buy the tickets and embark. After four and half hour we are surprised to find out the bus does not go further then the wrong Dali. We try for 15 minutes to have our bus ticket for the rest of the trip paid for by the chauffeur, but of course no results. Mireille even goes to the police, but although our ticket indicates the other Dali, the police officer says we are wrong. So we end up paying for the additional 17 km ride, which is only 1.5 RMB. When the bus arrives I get a very warm and loud welcome, 2 of the 3 girls I met in Lijiang are in the bus. After missing the proper bus stop again we walk to the Old Dali Inn (No. 5) where I have left most of my stuff. When checking in I am surprised by Mart, a Dutch guy I met in Almaty. He has arrived just an hour before me from Lijiang. One of the girls insists of showing her hotel room to me and together with Mart, Mireille and Roger we have look after which we have dinner and drinks together. I had planned to leave the nineth, but at the breakfast I decide I to stay another day. During the day I take it easy, I sew ribbons on the panniers so I can tie them to the bike to prevent them from getting in to my wheels. At night Mart and I walk back to our courtyard and find 2 Japanese and 2 Chinese drinking wine and beer. We are invited to join. Around 2 I go to bed, the plan is still to leave in the morning Mart and a Japanese guy stay out side but soon go to bed when one of the employees gets very angry about the noise we have been making. I thought we were rather quiet, must have been the beer then.In the morning I pack my bags, I then realize I have no clue where I left my only key, the key to my bikelock. I unpack everything to no avail. I repack everything, I wil just have to cut my lock. My eye falls on my wallet, in which I find my key. Sometimes I am more organised than I expect. After breakfast and saying goodbye to the Swiss, Mart and some others I have met, I climb up my bike and ride south. In the wrong Dali I try to exchange some of my Euro travelerscheques into USD. The woman behind the counter is angry with me because the cheques are in such a bad shape, she changes them anyway, not into USD but into RMB. She says that it is not possible, great, could she not have said this before changing? She tells me only a local can change the RMBs into USD. I ask some people in the bank to change it for me and I offer them 50 RMB for it. Eventually I am told not to bother the customers and I leave. I had expected to have some leisurely cycling to Ruili, the town I want to cross the border, this is a slight misconception. I have to take the B-road and this one is not so well maintained and has much more climbs in it than the express way. Most of the second half of the day I am climbing. My frustration is that I am all the time 50 meters below the comb, but I never reach it. I am going up, but the mountains around me also.November 11th is again a tough day. I try to take it more easy though and decide to take a little siesta. The consequence of that and my little unplanned detour, is that I do not reach Baoshan today. I end up in a little village 30 km away of this bigger town. I order a huge meal, 3 dishes plus rice and when I am finished I am glad the owner offers me to stay above the restaurant, I am hardly capable of anything anymore. I do take apart my camera, because it has been acting funny during the day. I think sweat got into it and now it says it cannot read my cards. When I put it back together it is still not working great, but for 2 out of 3 cards it works. The 12th I am totally unmotivated to cycle and I park my bike in Baoshan for the day. Not before my bike is totally covered in mud. I had to go through a mud pool of at least 10 cm deep, so even my shoes are covered.Not far outside Baoshan I have to go down over a wet dirt road. The mud flies all around and on me. Worse is that both my panniers go into the wheel and both need to be repaired. First the thread breaks and on the next stitch the needle breaks. I ask one of the women working on their little water service for trucks if she has a needle for me. I get three and a stronger thread. When I am done sewing I am invited to have dinner with them and when I leave I am offered two mandarins. Although I have only cycled 10 km until 13:00 I manage to do 95 at the end of the day and I had a new speed record, 51 seconds for a km. Not a bad day after all. The intention was to camp but I end up sleeping again in the restaurant I have dinner in. It is a dinner by candle light as there is no power.Finally cycling goes as I like it, more down than up and smooth. When I go off the road to have a quiet lunch break, all of a sudden I can move my handle bar in any direction without the front wheel changing direction. After closer inspection it becomes clear that the tube that connects the fork with the handlebar is broken. I am lucky again that this has not happened when I am going down the mountain with over 60 km an hour. After lunch I walk back to the road and first cycle slowly in the same direction I was going. After a couple of km I find a house and ask if I can weld my fork somewhere. The man tells me I best go back to the last village. In the village I take the front part of my bicycle apart and search for a welder. Soon he is found and on my instructions he repairs the fork. I am happy with the result and put my bike back together and get back to cycling. This night I do camp. I find a nice spot, next to a little stream surrounded by bamboo bushes far from the road.November 15th I finally reach Ruili. The day I arrive I don't do much useful, the next day I intend to arrange my guide to take me through the first 100 km of Myanmar, where I am not allowed to roam freely. To my surprise I cannot find any travelagent that arranges trips into Myanmar. I decide to go to the border in the hope I meet someone who can help me. I see a Jeep with the text "Beauty Myanmar" on it's side. I ask the chauffeur if he is a guide. He says he is not but he has a number for me, I can call when I am at the Myanmar side of the border and then this women will come to guide me. I thank him and cycle back to town. On my way back I am accompanied by a scooterist, who also speaks English. I ask him if he knows any travel agents that go into Myanmar. He brings me to a travel agent, but all they can give me is a number of a woman I can call when at the Birmese side of the border. At least I now have a number coming from two independent sources, it gives a little bit of comfort. After that I pay another visit to the bank of china to get USD. Again the same story, I can get EUR for my RMB. Again I end up asking locals to exchange the money for me. This time the story ends better. A woman calls a friend who is willing to change the money into USD against a decent rate. We make the exchange in the bank building. I hope the notes are not counterfeit. Tomorrow the plan is to go to the border and arrange for a guide (and permit?) there. If I cannot find any guide I might find some nice military people who want to take me through this zone, because I won't be able to go back to China.

Kunming

In the morning of the second I left, but not after changing the the tube of the rear tyre and having a dumpling breakfast. After cycling half an hour I arrive at a lake Andre and I had wished to visit, because of local Naxi villages, but could not find. Away from the lake the road goes up steep now and then, but fortunately not for long. The rest of the day it is going up and down, it feels like more up than down, though. At the end of the day I have a tough climb, but get instant reward with a nice descent in which I am faster than the bus. Around 17:30 I stop in village and the place I ask if there is a hotel around, turns out to be one. I carry my bike and luggage to my room and fall lazily on the bed, which I only leave to prepare my noodle soup with the thermo with hot water. The Godfather part 1 is showing on tv and I watch it until a power failure makes everything dark. Soon a generator is started, but I guess the satelite dish is not connected to it, so the screen remains blank. In the morning I try to set my saddle slightly higher, but is to stuck, so I give up. It is not that important, I 've been cycling with this setup for 5 months. The reason I want it higher is that one of my shins hurt and I think it might come from the position of my foot on the pedal. After a 20 km I have breakfast, eggplant and rice. A drawback of cycling on my own is that I can order less dishes. When with two I got more variety in the meals, because we could share. Still breakfast tastes good. At the end of the morning I reach the big lake Dali is lying on. I decide to take the eastern route, the big road goes west around the lake and is much better, but also much busier. The fishermen put their nets on the road full of shrimps (?) to dry. After cycling alongside the lake I see a ferry crossing the lake. I ask if also a ferry sails more south, the man does not seem to understand, at least the only visible reaction he gives is pointing at a sign which shows a few Chinese characters and 10 yuan price. I decide to read the few copied pages of the LP about this region I got of Andre. I find out that there are two Dali's and that I was heading to the wrong one. I already found it strange no ferries would go to this popular destination. I go back to the guy who was so helpfull earlier and try again if the 10 yuan is for crossing the lake. I get the impression it is and carry my bike 50 meters down, only to find out that the crossing is 130 yuan, apparently the 10 was only for entering the park. I say I already I have paid ten and that is all I am going to pay. Of course they do not understand a word I say. I take up my bike to indicate I will walk back up if they do not lower the price. Soon it is down to 50, still much to high but an improvement. We end up at 30, not a bargain, but I can live with it and it saves me a climb up and a 30km ride. Dali is a bit of a disappointment. I am comparing the city with Lijiang and it is in a totally different league. It is accustomed to tourists though, when I sit down on a bench a woman well above 50 in local dress comes to me and asks if I want hashies, a few moments later a slighly younger woman asks me the same. In the guesthouse are a lot of westerners. To one of them I lend my bike the next day. I only leave on Sunday to Kunming and I do not feel like cycling. When I get the bike back the handlebar is very loose again, but I will deal with that when I am back from Kunming. After a five hour bus ride I reach Kunming where I take my stay in the Camellia hotel, I had read the Birmese consulat was there at well and that would save me a lot of walking. Ofcourse the information is not accurate, but with some help of the girl at the reception I am able to easily find it. I find Kunming a rather boring city, but in the hostel I do meet a Swiss girl I was sharing a room with in Dali and we have dinner together monday evening. She has started cycling to Vietnam today. Tonight I will have dinner with a very beautiful Birmese girl. She would prefer I would not visit Birma because of the regime. She and her family are politically active, which has not made their life easier, she had to flee Birma and her father is in jail. Although I feel more guilty now, I still intend to go.

Gorgious Leaping Tiger

We had planned to visit 2 famous lakes not far from Zhongdian on our way south. When we arrive at the gate (!) we find out that we have to pay 180 RMB and we can only go by bus. We do not want to pay the fee and we do not want to go by bus either. Arguments are to no avail, so we turn around and continue cycling. A few km further, in the next valley we try to follow a muddy path that might also take us to the lakes. After half an hour we give up our attempt, the path got worse/disappeared and eventually we would have to climb the surrounding hills and return to the road. Although we end the day at an altitude of 2800 m, we have also climbed 1300 m. The 26th we have a short day to the tiger leaping gorge, with a 20 km long descent. The 45 km which we thought it would be turned out 70 but still the higher temperature and oxygen level because of the lower altitude make it a nice ride. We stay at Sean's Guest House which is packed with cyclists. Two groups made it their stop. They are on a guided tour through Yunnan by bike. Jealously Andre and I watch how their bikes are cleaned and repaired for them. Our bikes would like this treatment as well, but we are just happy we can relax and just put them on the balcony, at least they have a great view on the gorge. Our clothes are more lucky as we decide to give them a short wash. In the evening the guides of the groups organise a quiz, Andre and I join Kristin to form a team. We don't do well, but probably it did not help we lost the paper with the answers of the 1st round.The next day we climb to a waterfall and although the gorge is a popular destination we do not meet any tourists on our climb up. Later we go all the way down to the Jiangtse. From the guest house it looks like a docile little river, but at the water level the power and force become very clear and now it is only carrying half the water is does during the monsoon. The local families have created the path down to the river and want to be compensated. The annoying thing is that when I am almost at the bottom, they come with their claim. Reluctantly I pay 10 RMB. We decide to take a different route up and we are surprised we are stopped for the second time, by a different family with a demand of an extra donation of 10 RMB. We say we already have paid and think that it has been enough. They won't let us pass and we sit down to wait. Of course we can ever win a contest on patience, these people have all the time in the world, so in the end we come to a compromise and pay half. It is not that we cannot miss the money, but I think they should have charged us at the beginning once. Now it could be possible every hundred meters someone asks us for money. Around 11 at night a row starts under our balcony, at first it is just yelling, but when a woman's voice cries out she has been hit I jump out of bed and go down to see to it that there will be no fighting. I am surprised to find the owner of the guesthouse, Sean, with a stick on one side of a table and a woman hiding on the other side. I put myself between Sean and the woman while the shouting goes on. After 10 minutes the danger of any violence seems gone and freezing, I was just in my shorts, I turn back to bed. I should have taken the stick from Sean, but the next day I hear that someone coming from the toilet did, after which the woman went to bed also. The woman turned out to be Sean's wife and said she would report it to the police.A few of the cyclists have warned us for the deep descent to the river for the ferry and advised us to have our stuff to be carried up and down. On the way down we manage to stay in the saddle and roll/cycle down. When taken across, the ferrymen offer to take our luggage on a horse for 20 RMB, leaving us only to push up our bikes. I am glad we were not so stubborn that we insisted on pushing everything up, it was tough enough with just the bike. This was not the hardest of the day, after a few km of dirt road, the road turns in cobbled stones and at the same time goes up from 1900 m to 3500 m. The larger part of the rest of the day we climb, averaging about 5 km an hour. When we finally reach the top and the end of the stones we have a little cheer. Unfortunately the stones turn up again when we go down, spoiling the going down party. When I make a stop to put some human fertilizer on the barren ground I slip and slide down a couple of meters, I manage to get hold of a branch an get some grip with the rest of my body, preventing a 200 m slide down. A bit shaken and scratched I make an other attempt to improve the soil on slightly safer grounds. The plan was to reach Lijiang today but we are both a bit tired and decide to camp. We cycle into a little forest until we are stopped by a little river 10 m below. We are still contemplating if and how we are going to cross over the trunk, when a police car arrives. We both expect to be told to not camp here, but they are just worried about us, and tell us it is a dangerous area. We say we are alright, but get the telephone number of the policeman. We rather had had the telephone number of the beautiful policewoman, which would have made more sense anyway as she was the one speaking English. When the police leaves we carry over our stuff, item by item. At night I put my woolen sweater at my feet to get them a little bit above the cold ground. I hope this prevents me from getting cold feet. The next morning I awake with warm feet, so my little experiment has worked. Unfortunately the trunk over the river is still frozen, so too slippery to cross. We wait half an hour for most of the ice to melt and then move our stuff in a joint action back to the other side. After a short climb it is all the way down to Lijiang. Did it take 7 hours to do 35 km yesterday, now we easily do it within the hour. In Lijiang we find a guest house right in the centre of the old town for decent price. From Lijiang Andre is going to Beijing by plane and I will be going south to Dali, but before it is time to part we stay a few days in the touristic town. I get my extension on my visa in only five minutes, without any requirement of additional information. I also have the fork of my bike repaired, which was almost broken and in the process have the cables on my front break replaced. We also finally find the energy to give the bikes a well deserved cleaning. On November 1 Andre leaves for Beijing, I stay for the night and will depart for Dali the next day.