Travel Reference
In-Depth Information
'Just one,' he said solemnly, as he handed me the biggest shot of vodka I'd ever
seen.
I gulped and looked helplessly at Tim, who was staring with dismay at his own
glass. There was nothing for it. The crowd were chanting encouragement and wait-
ing.
I licked my dry lips nervously, steeled my nerves and braced my body. Then,
with a feeling of resignation, I poured the long draught of deathly liquid down my
throat.
It hit my stomach like a car wreck and I instantly felt as though my chest had
just been carved open with a red-hot butterknife. The backs of my eyelids pinged
painfully with a billion multi-coloured stars and there was a sound like an endless,
crashing wave in my ears. I staggered around a bit and shook my head to clear my
brain. Tim was leaning on his bike, clutching his empty glass and looking ill. Our
short friend was standing serenely nearby, an imbecilic smile spreading across his
face.
We hopped back on our bikes and pedalled away as fast as possible. We were
only wobbling slightly.
We rode out of town that afternoon with a raging tailwind, and blasted a further
sixty kilometres on a rough and corrugated dirt track. Along the way, we passed a
white felt
ger
with a satellite dish outside the door. Buddhist nomad culture, un-
changed in centuries, meets western technology.
We made camp in a wind so strong that we had to lie Tim's bike down and tie
ropes to it to anchor the tent. Tim was still suffering badly with a stomach bug
and after a little experimenting had found that the only things that he could keep
down were plain oats and water, or macaroni. I cooked up my own delicious meal
of steaming borsch soup and ate it as he sat gnawing on a crust of bread and shiv-
ering in the icy wind. I thought back to the hotel room in Omsk, where I'd been in
a similar condition and he'd come back from the market with a bag of hot potato
pies.
With a grin, I offered him some of my soup. 'Mmmm. Jeez, this is really deli-
cious. It really warms up the insides. Are you absolutely sure you don't want some?
Just before I finish the lot, see.'
Tim scowled at me. 'Piss off, ya mean bastard. I'm feeling terrible.'
Next morning the wind was blowing as strong as ever. The only difference was
that it had turned during the night and was now coming from the opposite direction.
The anchor line tied to Tim's bike was useless and the tent was flapping crazily
