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You Can't Ride Around With A Tiger On Your Bike One man-cub, one motorbike. And a tiger-striped poncho, just in case.

The Beginning Of The End

AUSTRALIA | Wednesday, 7 September 2011 | Views [778]

The motorcycle. RAWR! Not MY bike, but same version. Ural Tourist Gear-Up 745cc. Russian military, with side-car, Gobi desert camo, reverse gear, two-wheel drive, comes with jerry can and even a shovel to fend off gypsies.

The motorcycle. RAWR! Not MY bike, but same version. Ural Tourist Gear-Up 745cc. Russian military, with side-car, Gobi desert camo, reverse gear, two-wheel drive, comes with jerry can and even a shovel to fend off gypsies.

The plan is to travel to the UK, jolly olde England, and purchase meself a motorcycle to tour the European countryside with, see some castles and history and shit. Once I run outta dosh, which in my case usually happens sooner than later, I shall sell said motorcycle and fly to India, buy a motorcycle and tour the Indian countryside, see some castes and misery and shit.

The 'original plan' was to travel from England to India overland, but that fell through due to the dreaded F word. Yep, fuck. Haha, nono, it was finances. Finances, and also fear. Fear is good in small manageable doses. I have all confidence I can manage anything Europe and the UK can throw at me, India too, but not Russia. Travelling up north through Russia, Siberia, then down through China, Mongolia and across the Himalayas to India, too much could go wrong. Also it's a bloody boring ride I'd imagine. And another thing, winter is on ze corner. Napoleon lost a war for underestimating the fierce Russki winter. Hitler too. 

The other alternative, riding south through Iran, Afghanistan, then trying to charm my way through the Pakistani border crossing into India, that's also a tad much for timid lil moi. What with the turmoil and politicky stuffs going on, I'm far too busy and important to bother with it.

So here I find myself, packed with only the barest of necessities (only 30kg). Sitting in the back seat of step-dads car (lovely man, terrible driver) with mum (busy texting/crying), on the way to Melbourne International Airport. There ain't no stopping this trip now. The motorcycle has already been purchased, I've got my visa, passport, e-ticket confirmation (lemme just double-check, visa, passport, e-ticket, yep, whew), all that needs be done is get on the plane. Easy.

And it WAS easy, after luggage check-in, money exchange, customs, duty-free shopping, saying bye to ma and step-pa and everything I know and love and GOSH it was hard. But I made it. Yay. Scary scary so much can go wrong I shouldn't be here I miss couch and Scooby Doo pillow and van and my brothers spaghetti bolognaise and staying up til four in the morning drinking green stuff from tiny glasses and REALLY GOOD COFFEE, nervous nervous I don't know what I'm doing here. Thank God for airlines serving wine, that helped with the anxiety. Ahh booze, the cause of, and solution to, all lifes problems :)

 

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