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Monday, June 20, 2011
I am back in Chongqing after 102 day on the road. After a sorely needed rest day, I’m back in the familiar apartment I had left not so long ago, eating the same food each day, meeting with the same people at the same places each day, and knowing the series of events that will unfold like clockwork (well, not so clockwork. This Is China, after all)
The past two days I have felt euphoric at being back in the comfort of the city I have spent a year living in in China, meeting friends and sharing city life. However, the extreme change in daily activities will surely be a shock to the system. I’m not really looking forward to teaching English classes or looking forward to sitting in an office all day. That is probably the main thing, and has always been the killer part of the jobs I have had. There’s no contact with the natural world. No windows. No fresh breeze. No watching the colours of the world fly by as the wheels of my bike carried me over the roads of China.
After being able to do what I want when I want for the past 14 weeks, the rigidly scheduled daily grind will be another shock, but it’s a shock that I have been preparing for, and I can’t say I didn’t see it coming. And really, I should be grateful to come back to a job, ready and waiting, so that I can pay off the loan I got to go on this journey in the first place. The realisation of how lucky I have been to do this will help keep the nostalgia to a manageable level.
So I have to do what I have to do. There’s no such thing as a free lunch.
I wish that it wouldn’t have to finish but, as with all things we consider valuable, I know that it has to. All I can do now to get a shadow of the joy I experienced on the bike, is to write about it and relive the moments through words.
I was up and gone early in the morning. I walked to the hostel, with the help of my GPS because it was quite far away, and I was walking around in the dark the previous night. I waited in the room for Lulu to get up and get ready. The hostel owner threw a fit after she finds me in the room and demands that I leave. I grabbed my things and told Lulu I would wait outside.
I waited on the stairs as two police officers walked in and climbed the stairs, presumably there to check the records. I hadn’t been taking their paranoia seriously, but it seems as though the police check the records every day. Or maybe they just check the records of the establishments that arouse suspicion.
We were to meet the convoy guys at a restaurant at Bishan at lunchtime, which wasn’t too far away, so it was a relaxed morning drive. For once, I didn’t mind the slow pace.
The guys had their bikes, about 15 of them, parked up on the footpath beside the restaurant, and gave us a hearty welcome and I was presented with more cigarettes than I could smoke in a week. After lunch we all started over the last couple of ranges to Chongqing, also known as the mountain city (山城). There were dirt-bikes, cruisers, street bikes and even a scooter.
Traveling with the convoy meant I was released from my self-imposed obligation to stick to Lulu like glue in case she has an accident. I drove ahead with the faster bikes, opening up on the mountain roads like I hadn’t done since Huangshan in Anhui.
We all met at the Lifan factory first, where we picked up even more riders.
It was very hot and humid and, there was a bit of rain as the convoy drew nearer to Nanbin Lu, the place where we started our journey 102 days earlier.
We had an interview with a couple of motorcycle magazines after the photos. Half pumped with adrenalin, and half dead from exhaustion, I had a couple of problems answering the questions.
Then, all of a sudden, it was over. Finished. It was like coming home from a rock concert, ears ringing. Although I was thankful to be able to get home and have a shower and a few days of sleep I felt an emptiness where the intense drive to keep driving had been. I would have to wait for the sense of achievement to replace it.
