I could see a storm directly ahead of us, with no option but to plough on through it. Or wait. We stopped at a temple for a while, but I wanted to push on. My knee was stiffening up and I was keen to find the mythical tarmac road we been told about.

The rain wasn’t too bad, it kept me cool and it also helped to keep the sand packed down. Bloody sand! (There’s a reason people dream about riding a horse along the beach. It’s too hard to ride a motorcycle!). When it got to it’s peak we stumbled on a small shack with a food sign. It was a great place to shelter from the rain.

Inside was basic but I didn’t care. There was a pot on the boil over a stove burning dried cow shit. A big pile of shit sat in a pan next to the food, presumably to keep the flies off the food. The logic is sound and it actually worked, mostly. We ordered food, the only thing on the menu. A kind of meat soup with noodles, potatoes and, er, meat of some sort.

The food was good. Unfortunately we’d had the exact same meal for about the last 8 meals, Chip and Ken piked on me and didn’t finish theirs. It’s bland, and best not to think too hard about what’s in it, or how it was prepared.

The two kids were all over us, both with big candles of snot hanging from their noses. They didn’t seem to have any discipline and were filthy. The young lad openly wiping his nose on his hand, followed by his hand on my shirt! Then outside to climb/jump on the bikes etc..

But this is how these people live and it obviously works for them. They seemed fit and well, quite happy and the kids were just playing and amusing themselves – as most kids do. I wouldn’t appreciate people in my home judging my way of life. If my description here seems judgemental, it’s not at all. I’m just trying to accurately describe what I see.