I woke up with a smile, a great sleep and now I was ready for a great breakfast. I wandered down to find an empty restaurant area. This didn't faze me as I'm used to breakfast alone. There were two waitresses sat talking and in standard African fashion it took a while for me to grab their attention and for them to get off their J-Lo booty's and actually serve me.
I asked what was on the breakfast menu and they looked at me as if I had just poo'd in their kettle. They had no clue and they just nervously laughed at my ever frustrated accent after the third time of not understanding "what is there for breakfast?"
They eventually went and got the chef, not the start of the day I was hoping for but maybe the chef could save it. "Hey bro, what is there for breakfast?" I clearly and eloquently asked. "Hey man, I CAN understand English you know!" He said. We laughed until he said, "yeah, this is what you get for breakfast but its going to be about half an hour as I'm pretty tired you know" then I stopped laughing and very disappointedly walked back to my room. Not a problem chef, it's not like I have 100 miles to cycle today and need an early start etc, you go ahead and take your time!
When I arrived back at the table I was provided with probably the worst breakfast to date. One piece of bacon, one slice of toast, half a tomato and a sausage that didn't even register on my tongue it was that small. To say I started the day annoyed and still hungry is an understatement.
I shook off the disappointment of the morning and got my head down as I knew I had some miles to do. Unlike yesterday, where I didn't think about finishing at all, my mind wandered into thoughts of what I've been through. I thought about how i would answer people when they undoubtedly asked me about my experiences. It's very easy to focus on the negatives in life and think about all the hard times but surely it's much more worthwhile to see how I've overcome the hard times and praise the people that have got me through those times.
I thought of the illness I experienced throughout Europe, the time in Sudan with no food or water for 3 days, the hostility between rival tribes over Christmas, the shattered collarbone in Kenya and the constant breakages to Nigel I had to fix. All this combined with other situations can make my ride seem a very dark, dangerous and hellish journey. However, I also thought of the immense generosity I received from absolute strangers in Europe, the Guest House manager in Sudan that saved me financially, Team Norway that housed me for 6 weeks and made my ride possible and the protection and understanding I received from two separate Kenyan Police units. I feel i could write two completely contrasting books and tell two completely contrasting stories but the truth is that the positive acts of kindness far out weigh and are far greater in magnitude than the negatives and as I realised this I began to get very emotional.
As I was deep in thought throughout most the morning, before I knew it, it was lunch time. This came not before not before an annoyingly close shave with a car that could've easily been avoided if the driver had just waited a couple more seconds. Instead he chose to overtake wildly on a corner and put me in a bad mood. Time continued to fly after lunch and I amazingly got to my planned destination at 2pm. Seeing as my planned destination didn't look to appealing and it was only 2pm, I decide to carry on until either I found somewhere nicer or my legs gave way.
I ended up cycling to a place called Bothaville. After having a bit of "Botha" myself with yet more close shaves and idiotic drivers I decided to call it a day and preserve my life for another day at least.
Dangerous drivers can really tarnish a days ride but I was happy to be safe and another day closer to Lesotho!
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