Travel Reference
In-Depth Information
Anna wore a white dress and stared with wide curious eyes, unsure what to
make of this greasy-haired, unwashed westerner. How could she keep such clean,
long-flowing hair and a spotless dress in these trying conditions?
After the meal I asked where the toilet was. Visibly embarrassed, they pointed
me in the direction of the barn.
Inside the barn, I looked for a long drop. Then I realised that there wasn't one.
A terrible stench rose from the floor that was covered in food scraps, cow manure
and human faeces. It made Anna's cleanliness even more staggering. It seemed a
contradiction for such a petite, well-groomed girl to pick her way through the mud
and cow manure to go to the toilet. No doubt, on special occasions, she and her
mother even wore high heels for such forays!
With bread stuffed into my panniers, I prepared to leave. Mikhail held up one
side of the bike and began to push it backwards towards the front gate. Imme-
diately, a grating, clicking sound came from the back wheel. I stopped pushing
and bent over to inspect before going any further. As I did so, Mikhail must have
thought it was his turn to push. By the time I thought to shout, 'Stop!' it was too
late.
There was a loud snapping noise, like a breaking bone. The gear-changer had
snapped clean off and was hanging limp in the chain. The last thing I wanted was
to worry the family. If they exaggerated the gravity of the situation, it would only
make things worse for me. I put the gear-changer back where it should be. Even at
a glance I could tell it was beyond repair.
A wave of blood rushed to my head as I recalled the near-empty shop and the
rusty one-geared bikes the boys had been using. There wouldn't be specialised
Japanese-made parts for thousands of kilometres!
'Mikhail! Mikhail! What have you done!' the woman called out.
'Oh, nothing, everything is fine. I just have to make some small repairs,' I said
calmly, trying to douse the hysteria.
Now, she too was bent over the bike, inspecting the damage. 'You can fix it,
can't you, Mikhail, can't you, Mikhail?' she said, a series of lines cutting across
her forehead.
Suddenly the village wasn't a homely break, but a trap. I had to get out of there
before something else happened.
After wheeling the bike into the backyard, I realised that there was one way of
saving the situation. If I removed the gear-changer, then I could change the chain
