Text 1: May I suggest carrying a barrel of burning
butimastic heavy hydrocarbon residue on the front mudguard of your
motorcycle. In this way, erratic local drivers will mistake you
for a sulphurous brimstone-belching demon and do their best to avoid
you. Furthermore, as you heat up, you will become less dense, and
therefore you will tend to float in air, thus avoiding damage from
major potholes. An added benefit will be that should your sub frame
develop fatal cracks once more, a judiciously direct fart ignited
by said barrel will act as a handy portable oxyacetylene torch,
thus enabling you to complete infield repairs as well as creating
stunning skids in your undies.
Text 2: Well actually. It was bus
ride from hell actually. 17 hours standing in the driver's compartment;
the driver chewing coca leaves, getting hyper stressed, driving,
driving, brum, brum. I desperately needed a pee. I said to the driver
'Señor, I must pee!' 'Later later around the next corner'.
'How far is the next corner?'. 'Half an hour'. '2 hours later'.
I cried. I was hysterical..... (Text repeated n-times where
n > infinity, when she realises nobody in the pub is listening.)
Text 3: .....because the only people
for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk,
mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones
who never yawn or say commonplace things, but burn burn burn.......
Text 4: Actually that's nothing.
My bus journey was 58 hours and I single-handedly had to lift the
bus with one hand while changing the flat tyre with the other, all
while fending off a herd of psychopathic llamas chanting 'Why why
Well actually, I buy exclusively Calvin Klein. I go to the biggest
department store and buy stuff for everyone. I even have complete
strangers emailing me to buy it and send it to them in England.
All sorts; lurid colours are in...
No, in England, it is only black and white that
Well actually, in the States everybody wears all
sorts of weird stuff. Yellow and see-through green and well... You
wouldn't buy crochless panties...
Well you wouldn't buy that in a department store.
No, of course not. But you shouldn't be ashamed
to shop for underwear.....
Oh yeh, I nearly forgot. Since I last wrote, I paid
12 bucks for 5 hours welding of the old goats bum (the 'ex' is now
called 'goat'), zoomed across the Salar de Uyuni, bought some dynamite
in Potosi, inspected dinosaur footprints and cruising here and there
I also steered the goat through a snowstorm and
down (and up again) the allegedly 'Most dangerous road in the world'
into the Yungas(according to the less than worldly 'Looney Planot'
guidebook/bike sidestand stuck in the mud support). It is as dangerous
as any other road: Every road is perfectly safe as long as you don't
decide to suddenly decelerate or leave it (Having tried both options
- see Kenya/Ecuador - I recommend neither!).
Since the day before yesterday, we are back in the
capital of Inca/Tourist land, namely Cusco. The Peruvians are (a.)
Much more friendly than the Bolivians (although they weren't bad:
just a bit miserable) and (b.) Still haven't learnt how to drive:
as somebody may have commented in the past: Nearly every Peruvian
drives like a P*** Poor Driving W***er.
I hope to stay in the sierra and head for Ayacucho,
Huancayo, Huaraz etc. and then take several boats via Iquitos, Manaus,
Belem to the Atlantic. Brazil meets TheBrightStuff? How will they