The last time we saw Erol and Oost was about 30 kilometers north of Vilanculos in Mozambique. We had all kept in contact and endlessly ripped each other off via text messages and email.
Teasing the boys about their two week stint in Pemba waiting for spares and telling them that it was all lost in the post and will probably be cheaper to look in Pemba market instead of the post office.
We were supposed to meet in Malawi, but as it goes the combustion engine and its mechanical components can keep you waiting long enough in an African country that two boys on bicycles can gain over a thousand kilometers on their trip while you have to drink warm cerveja and count the days.
It was a really brave gesture from Ian and Sarah to put both the Pedal2Peak and Throttle2Bottle teams up for the night. The hospitality was amazing, going out for a few drinks and supper, then landing at their local for a few nightcaps. The locals at the establishment were all watching the Michael Jackson memorial and the atmosphere was slightly sombre. Our large group of teachers, bikers and bicyclists were not in the mood for mourning and the drinks kept coming. The owner wanted to close so take aways were ordered.
With a crate of beers and some big smiles we all sat up till around three in the morning, waking up all the residents, on a school night too.
Waking up and packing was a long affair and having to say goodbye to a hungover Ian while patiently giving class to six year olds was priceless. Having the kids shouting, “Goodbye South Africans!” at the top of their lungs was an experience. They thought Marc was a cowboy with his bush hat on. They are not far off. Clever kids.
After forcing a cup of tea and a chapati down, we hit the road to Chalinze, where Vodacom was going to pick us up and save us from the Dar es Salaam traffic.
Surviving the effects of the over indulgence was only possible by slowly drinking down my last Game sachet while sweating out the toxins. Being frugal with the Game paid off this time round.
We reached Chalinze in time and covered the eighty kilometers in less than four hours. Definitely the best way to get rid of a babalaas. One chapati, a sachet of Game and an eighty kilometer ride.
We both passed out when we were driven in to Dar es Salaam. It was strange to travel a distance in a motorcar, and dreamy to be sleeping while moving.
I woke up to the sound of traffic and exhaust fumes. Bumper to bumper traffic and chaotic road rules are the norm for Dar es Salaam. The traffic lights stay red and it’s a free for all, which somehow seems to flow anyway. We would have been extremely confused and possibly flat if we cycled into Dar!
I drifted back to sleep only to wake up at the Southern Sun Dar es Salaam.
