Reflections

Here I am in Beijing, reading through past blog entries, trying to relive the Silk Route. Being back in Beijing, life is a little too easy...no job, no responsibilities, no challenges. I feel like my cell phone, plugged into the wall recharging spent batteries.

I think back to that pass in Kyrgyzstan, manically laughing and pedaling downhill into swirly 100km/hour wind. Riding through Xinjiang, I recall the Tian Shan mountains, chameleon-like, shifting colors between rusty reds and majestic purples. During the silence of dusk, the sultry silhouettes disappearing against the night sky, awaiting tomorrow's performance.

The endless desert scape of Turkmenistan I cannot soon forget. My mind repeatedly teasing the possibility of resting in a dilapidated cafe, sipping a warm bottle of soda. Upon reaching the top of a dune and seeing no such outpost, I assure myself it must wait after the crest of the next dune. This game perpetuates until a promising speck in the distance turns out to be camp.

Everyday was an oxymoron, exactly the same but entirely different. The landscape could change in a matter of kilometers with the hubbub of language changing twice as fast. Though the faces of Istanbul contrast greatly with those of China, the gradually changing countenance of Central Asians was a pleasure to witness. We grew accustom to frequent change and sought refuge in the familiar monotony of cycling.

"Small roads bring good people, big roads bring many people." This quotation, one of many, would reverberate in my mind throughout much of the trip. In Tajikistan, I would see a Chinese road building crew and shortly after, my tires would sink into wet tarmac. Mack trucks in Kyrgyzstan, navigated roads our 4-wheel-drive support vehicles had difficulty driving. Large roads brought more children to the street shouting "Tourist, Tourist!" and extending their hand for a gift. On more remote roads, locals would twist their faces in polite confusion, then welcome us to their home for tea and a snack.

So we must continue to find these small roads, as they are where the lost spirit of travel lay. No tour buses, no fanny packs, no strict itinerary are to be found here. It is up to oneself to recognize an opportunity and embrace it. Sometimes the most thrilling moments lay within a modest hut, humble company and a simple cup of tea.

-CB