What I really miss (Part 2)

On the back of the previous cycling post, I totally forgot one of the most important element that I really do miss; the people

(I don't know why, but I had vivid memories of the people that I met as I was cycling alone, maybe because the interaction with em involves a great deal of emotions and hardship)

The kindness of the Majlis Daerah Jeli(?) facility keeper(At the moment when he opened the gate to let me in, I really wanted to give him this big hug there and there, but me conscious of my precarious situation, decided not to get myself thrown off the compound by him for giving him an unforgettable cultural shock) with the heart of a gold who let me stay at the abandon swimming/chalet/vacation facility he was guarding before his by-the-book superior reprimanded him and thus, my eviction from the compound and resumption of my search for accommodation for the night in Jeli.

The mindless long wait at the police pondok waiting for the night and the next day with the curious police kids asking weird and unanswerable questions.

The kind enough policemen who came by during nighttime(with machine gun) to check on me while I was in the mode where I was swatting the endless mosquitoes till I'm tired and fall asleep, wake up again, swatted again, ... u know the drill...

The thumbs up given by a passing mini-lorry passenger as I was on the way to Gerik from Jeli.

The little girl who was cycling along me, laughing and calling me crazy as she found out my plan.

The gardener at a nursery in the middle of the Jeli-Gerik route who with good intentions in mind, let me know that my suffering is over and it's gonna be a downhill route for me all the way form then on. (he was wrong, btw... there was another steep hill after the down-hill)

Drop dead and die

If it was ever meant to be a joke, it is totally so fucking tasteless.

What I really miss

Know what I really miss at this very moment?

Cycling.

Yeps.

Miss the simple lifestyle of living a day at a time. Of not needing to care about tomorrow, the next week or the year after simply because there isn't really anything to care about. Just you yourself, the cheapo hut that you're going to stay in and the equally clown-like cheapo friends.

The endless new things to see everyday. The road that stretches through the horizons. The new scenery every time you round a bend. The hot 5-minutes pit stop at anywhere, smelling the asap coming out of the lorry passing you.

The hardship. The physically exhausted body mix with the near euphoric feeling upon arrival at end point. The sweat. The suicidal feeling I have before REALLY embarking on my suicidal trip. The huge beg that leans heavily on my back.

The conversation with friendly strangers(notable interesting ones will be an advice on how by just riding your bicycle parasiting on the slipstream of some super fast car travelling at over 110km/h, you'll be able to reach KL from Ipoh in a zip)

The wolf whistles aimed at the rhino.

The Sometimes Questions

Sometimes, I do wonder, whether I'm that good person that I thought I was before this or all along, I'm just pretending to be good...

Was that smile, the smile of understanding or really, just resigned acceptance?

Ahhh... the dramas.

In fear of offending the "Oh-I'm-so-politically-correct" ones, the original content have been replaced and changed into an almost similar question-like sentence that is so easy to be comprehended that even a mutated turtle with the brain size of a nut(edit : it was meant as a pun, but after further consideration... this could be true) can understand it as well.

All Nokia are handphones.
Does that mean that all handphones are Nokia?

Answer is a toss between a yes and a no and would be overtly obvious.

Well, I guess that's what happens when supposedly sensitive subjects are mixed in with simple common sense. It gets out of hand.

Whop?

You know, if I were to sum up my whole life with a soundtrack, I'll choose The Last of the Mohicans.