The joy of being in Hindustan, finally, reach me: on full blast
There’s a whole lot more cycling through rural area’s. In fact, it’s only cycling through rural landscapes. There’s still not a lot to see, but the info I receive is most uplifting: India is perfectly able to feed her self.
Cycling as a tourist: A route past many temple cities
A puppy is stuck in the sewer, a black, stinking collection of dirt. He is too weak to crawl out by itself. He is howling softly. I walk past him, as do other people, and I think ‘no one is helping this poor little puppy’.
‘Fucking??’ asks a guy who’d followed me from the spot where his friends where loading a truck with sugar cane. I had asked the way and he thought my eyes were asking for his penis. Understandable. So I agree. Sex with a complete stranger never even talked to will be a dream finally fulfilled!
I restart to question the meaning of life, cycling in India in the first place.
Arriving in India is questioning almost everything. Not even the meaning of cycling, no… way further than that. It is suddenly being trowed in an enormous washing tumbler on a dry program. Full speed.
My first impressions
I have reached India, one of my favorite countries. A country I often make comparisons with. Like India is king. India is a country where I have been to many times, so often that I lost count. India seems better after you have been there and not when you are actually there.
Cycling Cindy