And so… a man decides to take a walk. A long walk. From England to India.
But wait, that would be way too easy. What say we do it… without money. Yeh, let’s travel from village to village, depending on the kindness of strangers. He didn’t get far.
Language barrier scuppers walker:
A man who planned to walk from Bristol to India without any money has quit, after getting as far as Calais, France.
Mark Boyle, 28, who set out four weeks ago with only T-shirts, a bandage and sandals, hoped to rely on the kindness of strangers for food and lodging.
But, because he could not speak French, people thought he was free-loading or an asylum seeker.
Sandals and t-shirts. And a frackin’ bandage.
In my travels here and there, I’ve had to rely on the kindness of strangers. Once or twice. On my first trip off continent, in rural Thailand (somewhere around Sukothai) I got myself into a bit of a pickle. In the photo below are the wife and son of the mechanic who saved my butt.
Here’s the back story. In a moment reminiscent of Easy Rider, I rented a motorcycle. 150 ccs of utter and complete power.
Anyhow, I took said monster out on the back roads of Thailand, visiting ruins and wats, and enjoying the countryside. There really is something magnificent about an empty road, rolling sideways and up and down. In the tropical heat, I could feel the temperature change from the crests of the hills to the hollows below.
All on 150 ccs I might add.
And then, the feeling of hot oil dripping down my legs. Seems I blew a main engine gasket, and was bleeding cubic centimetres of power along with oil. I was probably down to 50 or so of volume when (swear to his Noodly Appendage) when I roll (literally roll) into the front yard of a guy working with a lawn mower.
Not knowing much Thai (except for “sawadi kap”, which is “thanks”, and a few numbers), all I could do is point helplessly at the motor between my legs.
Long story short, I spent three hours with the family. The main floors of Thai houses usually house the garage, storage, and work areas of the household. This one also had a sitting area of rattan and pillows, which is where I was directed while the husband worked on my moto.
Yes, I had pulled up to a motorcycle repair shop. Likely the only one in… kilometers. Quite amazing, if you consider the odds.
While I waited, many things happened. First, the husband totally disassembled my moto, parts strewn on cardboard all over the driveway. After a while, he hops aboard his own moto and rides off into the countryside. Wife, in the meantime, brings down cold water and glasses. And more pillows, and then a fan. Her kid and I giggled at each other.
All without communicating a word.
Shorter version made shorter still, after three hours of lounging around and watching a stranger play Blokus with my moto, he starts it up, and motions me over. Fixed, as good as new. Total price? 150 Baht. Less than four dollars.
True story.