Red

Trip Start Feb 20, 2012
1
21
126
Trip End Oct 22, 2012


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Flag of Lao Peoples Dem Rep  , Champasak,
Tuesday, March 27, 2012

Waking up early, going to the waterfall, just few minutes with the feet in the water and then back on the street. We stop at a cross road for a breakfast and after seeing it walking from one table to the other still in the shape of a pork, we decide to drink the coffee and leave. It is not that we are afraid about the hygiene, simply we don't have much time, just few minutes, the way is long today, 100 km, may be.

Don't laugh, 70 of them are just crazy dirt road full of bumps. Everything is red. The mask we use to protect our breath is red, the hair in the helmet is red and each km more similar to a sculpture, our cloths are red. Up and down, up and down, up and down, one crater after the other, strategically piled to create a slope. There is not way to escape even one of them, and my back knows it. The few times the road comes closer to its name trucks going in the opposite direction shape red dusty clouds for us. Then slowly, the road becomes more flat, still a dirt road, but at least i can change my position on the seat. We are just at 17 km from were we plan to stop for the night. Cows. Usually they move quietly on the boarder of the street, but this time a sudden movement, breaks, pain. Few seconds after our accident, while we are still on the ground trying to understand which is the horizon and what part of the body is screaming louder, a crowd. The motorbike is already vertical. I need to ask to leave me there couple of seconds more, sorry. Need time. Kids all around, everybody speaks and point fingers: us, the bike, the road. The cows are disappeared. Ok I'm ready, let's stand up. Need to stop the people that want to put the  motorbike on a truck and take us to the hospital. No, thank you. Check the cuts, wash them, smile around. Smile bit more, it is fine, we can make it, 17 km.

While finding again my place on the seat I think back to what my uncle was always saying me "Doesn't matter if you are going 200 or 30 km/h, falling always hurt" You knew it quite well, Marco. I guess you are laughing now. While checking again the cuts, I see the bracelet, the one our guest house lady tided at our wrist in the morning, wishing us good luck for the trip. Did it helped? Or was actually a spell? The question is washed away by the next 17 km, that luckily are not as tricky as the worst part of the day.

At the hospital of Pakxong I think about my hepatitis vaccines while the nurse/doctor medicates me. I'm just glad to the fact that she didn't had to use any of the forceps and tweezers directly on me. The second thought, let's hope that will not get infected. The night is nervous, partially because of the shock of the fall and partially because of some news from Italy.
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