Opa Johan And His Bike-Companion
He is even younger than my sons and came from behind and rode alongside with me in Parung. He asked whether he might ride together wherever I intended to go. I said, that I can’t bike as fast as he could but he didn’t mind it.
I bought on the way two slices fried “ubi” (sweet potato) and shared it with him. We couldn’t talk much as most of the time he was riding behind or in front of me all the way, enjoying the country views to Rumpin, Leuwiliang, then to Bogor some 60 km over a mountainous region.
In Leuwiliang I bought him and myself “es cendol” (sweet iced light coconut milk). We were so thirsty after about three hours of cycling that it was the simplest, cheapest heavenly drink, while he shared with me his little parcel of bread. I taught him how to find his optimum pulse rate and he told me of plants and his pond.
We separated near Bogor. I was going back to the Bogor railway station while he will continue his ride up-hill to Cihideung and return home in the afternoon, still some 70 km.
Having shared the suffering on a heavy road together, we became good friends, dearer, nicer, better than friends usually are. But I couldn’t find his home later to see his pond in Pasar Minggu and he never phoned me either.
It’s that best, just right, though I met, see him only once in my life on my travel. I don’t want it more. I remember his name was Roman or was it Ramon? I wonder when he ever chanced to meet me by reading this.
April 2010
He is even younger than my sons and came from behind and rode alongside with me in Parung. He asked whether he might ride together wherever I intended to go. I said, that I can’t bike as fast as he could but he didn’t mind it.
I bought on the way two slices fried “ubi” (sweet potato) and shared it with him. We couldn’t talk much as most of the time he was riding behind or in front of me all the way, enjoying the country views to Rumpin, Leuwiliang, then to Bogor some 60 km over a mountainous region.
In Leuwiliang I bought him and myself “es cendol” (sweet iced light coconut milk). We were so thirsty after about three hours of cycling that it was the simplest, cheapest heavenly drink, while he shared with me his little parcel of bread. I taught him how to find his optimum pulse rate and he told me of plants and his pond.
We separated near Bogor. I was going back to the Bogor railway station while he will continue his ride up-hill to Cihideung and return home in the afternoon, still some 70 km.
Having shared the suffering on a heavy road together, we became good friends, dearer, nicer, better than friends usually are. But I couldn’t find his home later to see his pond in Pasar Minggu and he never phoned me either.
It’s that best, just right, though I met, see him only once in my life on my travel. I don’t want it more. I remember his name was Roman or was it Ramon? I wonder when he ever chanced to meet me by reading this.
April 2010
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