Himalayas

Sarita arrived yesterday. She managed to fly first class. And she thinks going on a motorbike into the mountains is a better option. So we have a motorbike. An Enfield 350. We have it for thirty days. We also have two new helmets.

The Enfield is quite a tricky piece of machinery to ride. The gears are all the wrong way round and crunchy. With an extra lever for finding neutral, which doesn't always work. But sometimes it does. So there's a lot of footwork going on, and mental arithmetic. And my thumb keeps on searching for the hooter. And hooters all around me. So many controls.

I already have flashbacks to Africa, where I had a 250 that took me down from Uganda to South Africa. In the heat, and the sweat pouring down, and hands always oily, and flies everywhere, and sandals almost breaking off during endless kickstarting, with a whole group of curious onlookers in some god-forsaken petrol station, and that damn bike just not starting, and unscrewing the sparkplug, undoing the fuel line and filling a capful of petrol, and pouring it into whatever and re-inserting the sparkplug, and then trying to kickstart again, and then it finally starts in that baking sun, and my body soaked underneath the black leather jacket, and then stalling on take-off, and climbing off and taking my wheelspanner and repeatedly hitting the tarmac with the steel, and everybody taking a step back and nervously giggling, and the flies around my face, and sandals already slippery because of the sweat.

Anyway - I can sense I could land in that same space, when already I have to kickstart the bike a few times, and then all those clutch levers, and leaning over, and sunglasses dropping onto the ground, and the bike all of a sudden ten times heavier when trying to pick up the glasses.

But it's cool. It's all cool.

Tomorrow morning 5am we're off. Not sure yet where to. Maybe Shimla.

P.S. Met a guy who's buying jewellery to sell on Portobello Road Market. That was my home ...