This is gooooood

After my 32 hour odyssey on the ferry, I arrived in Sumba well after dark.  A stop at a gas station where the attendant waived over a local to direct me to a hotel had me in a dreamless sleep before my bike had even started to warm up properly.  The morning came early (like 4:30 am early!) when the mosque next door played their call to prayer.  After getting back to sleep, I finally got myself in gear and looked out the window.

The scene was perfect!  Just what I had been missing- that crazyness.  That world full of unregulated life.  Sure, I was still tired, sure I would have enjoyed a shower that wasn’t just a bucket of water I could pour over myself.  Sure.  But, really- it was the last thing I wanted.

Back on the twisty roads I was rediscovering my ride, a book too long left unopened and ready to be engage me again.  Everything felt new and fresh.  The weariness of endless kilometers passing by without thought was washed away by the joy of savoring every meter.

New houses built in the old style, with old ones still standing…

To old tomes along the side of the road…

To cheeky kids in the street who would wave me down to take their photo…

To the near painful green of the land.

It wasn’t a ‘breath of fresh air’.  No ‘lightening of my soul’.  It scraped away the furry plaque of a big night out from my mouth and left the smooth white sheen of the ride behind.



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