In a world increasingly preoccupied with throwaway materialistic things; where people are constantly busy earning money to pay for those things, or so their children can have those things;
This is the story of my dreams of travelling the world by bicycle. Because it's there. And because I dont want to die without experiencing the truly important things in life .

A sense of wonder and a sense of adventure.

Monday, 28 November 2011

Sweet & Sour Tonight.

Day 8.

Today was probably the easiest of the whole trip. The weather was predicted to be wet but for most of the day I had sun and tail winds. By lunch time the winds were strong enough for me to probably reach Wellington by dark if I had wanted to camp at the ferry terminal a day early. But I knew where the camp ground was in Levin so I decided to stay here and then cruise easily to the ferry tomorrow since I had already booked the passage. The wind that I had today is the predominate wind on this coast and it just goes to show how much it was holding me up on the way up to Taupo.

The Sign Says it All. Tail Wind!

Nothing remarkable happened today except that on arriving here in the rain I apparently put the Two Gay Girls in the wrong place and the camp superintendent asked me to shift it. I later saw signs in the kitchen and TV lounge advising cyclists that bikes in rooms would not be tolerated due to past experiences with grease on things. If only this camp hillbilly could be made aware of some of the prestigious hotels in Europe that my Mercian has resided in over the years and that most cycle tourists contrary to popular belief are not short of a few dollars. They are just usually more careful where they spend the dosh.

Anyway I do recall last time I was here leaving quite a bit of grease in the shower and environs but never in a room. Might book one next time and have a good bike cleaning session.

That’s better I can hear myself think again. Two Dutch people talking in the kitchen and the whole room was reverberating. I don’t know who would be louder two Dutch people or three teenage girls.

The Manawatu. Cow Country.

I’m having Chinese tonight all though it took a bit of getting. I pointed at no.11 and said “that one thanks”. To which the Chinese man rattled off a sentence I really couldn’t make one word of. Then the Chinese woman rattled off another sentence I couldn’t understand although I think they were speaking English. She then came over and pointed at the menu and I once again pointed to no. 11 and said “that one thanks”. I really didn’t care anyway they could have given me anything and it all cost the same. I’m not even out of the country yet and some things are a struggle!

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