Rehab

The telltale signs of motor addiction hit today. A little softer in the midsection, a little weaker in the legs, a little more winded while stepping up into a bus. The image looking back at me in the mirror, while not quite a shadow of its former self, wasn't smiling. Today was a quick 50km ride on the northern shore of Panang Island. Beginning the ride in Georgetown was a treat as I wound through the crowded twisting streets as the sun glinted off the crumbling, peeling colonial buildings. The breeze in my face and the beautiful city was like the Betty Ford Center for Motor Junkies. I was back! I'm OK! I love my bike! Georgtown has a huge Chinatown that butts up against a little India and the mixture of cultures is exciting. Smells of curried rice waft over the sweet and sour pork, and smoke filled Hindu temples lie within chanting distance from incense filled Budhist temples. Just when you think you know which neighborhood your'e in a group of minarets will stab at the sky calling the faithful to prayer and reminding you that this is Malaysia baby...a crazy mix of cultures and religions and smells and tastes and it really doesn't matter what neighborhood your'e in. It's all good.
The ride was sweet and I didn't have to wait in line or pay money to go...I just rode. I rode down whatever street I wanted to and stopped wherever I wanted. So I get it. I again (and probably not for the last time) have learned the lesson of balance. Yin/Yang, fast/slow, exercise/rest, dripping in sweat/cool and dry, bicycle/bus-train-whatever. It's all the same thing of course just opposite sides of the same coin. Neither is better and it's good to just get to wherever it is you're going and enjoy the ride. But really, if your'e going to call it a bicycle adventure...
So during the ride I found "The Beach". The one you see in brochures but never in real life. Beautiful and totally deserted with white sand, warm water and lapping waves and..."hey where you from?" came the voice from behind. That usually leads to the ever thrilling conversation detailing home countries, destinations, distances ridden and for some reason the cost of my bike. This was no different and before I passed out from sheer boredom I needed an escape plan. But then the conversation went suddenly in a whole new direction. "I watch sex movies" was a sentence I hadn't heard before here in Malaysia (why did I ever tell this guy I was from the U.S.? Canada dammit, remember that!). I can sadly say that now I have. It's not really a bad sentence in and of itself, but how does one respond? He kept looking nervously over his shoulder which wasn't helping my anxiety level either as I wondered at that moment why deserted beaches are so coveted. "Hmm, OK, yeah" was my resoponse. Safe and non-commital. Also, it doesn't need a lot of brain power as I was using most of it to think of a way out of there. Being rude is not in my nature and it seems so, well, rude. But when he got more weird and finally got to his point (which was to ask me how big my um, better half is) I told him off as I got to my bike and rode in whatever direction he wasn't going. It was a powerful motivator and I rode fast and well and feel really good about my cycling average speed for the day. One more form of motorized coming up, a ferry, and I think I can handle it. But if you don't hear from me for a week or so...