TdA Stage 87. I am the Two Minute Noodle Guy.
92km. Seeheim to Canon Roadside Lodge.
With all of my talk of protecting my EFI, I somehow found myself in the Seeheim Hotel Bar until a few hours past my bedtime, indulging in Jager shots and brandy and coke with one of our support crew and the owner of the bar/hotel/game reserve. And I am now the proud owner of a Zebra pelt. What the heck do they make brandy with, anyway?
I'm sure that it will look great in the house that I haven't found time to live in.
Somewhere along the ride today...maybe at the point at which I was retying Barbie to my helmet, I thought of Ivan. He was the solo rider that we came across when we were in Ethiopia; the crazy one with the two minute noodle wrappers stuck all over his bicycle. It occurred to me that I am not in much of a position to judge Ivan, or anyone, anymore. Between my zebra skin and my hood ornament, I'm not doing much to send out the 'normal' vibe. I AM the two minute noodle wrapper guy.
The route today was awesome. We again rode away from civilization; back into the Namibian abyss. Dirt roads free of traffic or signs of people or development. That is, until we reached our campsite for tonight, which is a surprisingly well appointed lodge, decorated with all sorts or old cars and car related things. I'm sure there's a reasonable explanation for it all, but it really feels like I've stepped into a worm hole and ended up somewhere in middle America. I have nothing against middle America, but can someone please take me back to Namibia!
With all of my talk of protecting my EFI, I somehow found myself in the Seeheim Hotel Bar until a few hours past my bedtime, indulging in Jager shots and brandy and coke with one of our support crew and the owner of the bar/hotel/game reserve. And I am now the proud owner of a Zebra pelt. What the heck do they make brandy with, anyway?
I'm sure that it will look great in the house that I haven't found time to live in.
Somewhere along the ride today...maybe at the point at which I was retying Barbie to my helmet, I thought of Ivan. He was the solo rider that we came across when we were in Ethiopia; the crazy one with the two minute noodle wrappers stuck all over his bicycle. It occurred to me that I am not in much of a position to judge Ivan, or anyone, anymore. Between my zebra skin and my hood ornament, I'm not doing much to send out the 'normal' vibe. I AM the two minute noodle wrapper guy.
The route today was awesome. We again rode away from civilization; back into the Namibian abyss. Dirt roads free of traffic or signs of people or development. That is, until we reached our campsite for tonight, which is a surprisingly well appointed lodge, decorated with all sorts or old cars and car related things. I'm sure there's a reasonable explanation for it all, but it really feels like I've stepped into a worm hole and ended up somewhere in middle America. I have nothing against middle America, but can someone please take me back to Namibia!
posted by tori at
9:18 AM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
Subscribe to Post Comments [Atom]
<< Home