November 19, 2014

Don't let this man near your bananas: Fighting with Alex

On the third day of cycling with Alex all of the tensions and frustrations of being solo long-distance cyclists in China surfaced in dramatic fashion. Things started normally, as we turned onto the small old 218 road that Peter had been raving about. I had really been looking forward to this road but it turned out to be not as good as promised, probably because the amount of traffic had increased since Peter had ridden it a few years ago.

The breakdown of my relationship with Alex began with an early morning conversation about money when he asked me if I knew whether the ATMs in Laos were any good. His plan was to spend the last of his Chinese yuan on the Laos visa at the border, and then enter Laos with no money at all.

"So you won't have any money? Nothing at all?" I asked, "Don't you have any emergency dollars?"

"No, nothing" he replied. To me this seemed a little irresponsible, and I told him so.

"If the ATM doesn't work, I can survive a few days with no money. I will be okay."

"Yes but the problem is Alex that you will be relying on other people won't you? You'll be okay because people will give you food. But people in Laos are poor, and you will be relying on them."

We then had quite a lengthy discussion about all of this, although a large amount of it was spent trying to explain the meaning of the word 'relying'. The reason why I was annoyed with Alex was because he had already done the exact same thing when he entered Iran, where his bank cards didn't work. So he had no money, and had to go back the way he came, and only survived because some kind-hearted Iranian fellow gave him fifty euros. Repeating the same mistake, and relying on the fact that someone will always bail him out, seemed stupid to me.

We were now cycling through areas with many ethnic groups, such as the Thai/Dai ethnic group (which explains the bright colours)

Chickens were even more frequent, the roof designs even more pointier

We cycled past many banana plantations, but all the bananas were hidden in these blue bags. I guessed it was to stop Alex stealing them

The above photo caption was originally intended as a joke, but it became frighteningly prophetic as me and my companion began climbing steeply on the first of two long climbs.

"I wish all these bananas weren't wrapped up like that. It would be good if we could take some bananas" Alex said.

Now, in my life I have come across a number of people who think it is okay to take a little fruit from trees when no one is looking. It is hardly the crime of the century to steal an apple from an orchard, this I know. However, whenever I am with someone who does it, or who wants to do it, I always ask them "Would you steal fruit from a supermarket?" And of course they always say that they would not, and then with an annoyingly smug look I say "Well you should, because if you steal from the supermarket it only hurts the supermarket, but if you steal from the orchard, you hurt the farmer." Usually the criminal will then gaze at me in awe, as if they have been enlightened by my great wisdom, and my place at the head of the morality police is reaffirmed.

So I looked at Alex and asked him if he would steal bananas from a supermarket. He tilted his head from side to side and said "Welllll, with a supermarket it is more difficult."

More difficult! More difficult! But not wrong! Not wrong! I was shocked by this unusual deviation from the normal course of this conversation, but I tried my 'better to steal from the supermarket than the farmer' line anyway. "There are thousands of bananas man, if I take three or four bananas they aren't going to care, it isn't going to make any difference."

"But it is stealing Alex."

"I don't think it's stealing. If I'm hungry I think it's a good way for me to get food."

"It is stealing. These people here are very poor. You come from a developed European country, you have every advantage and opportunity in life. You must understand that your poverty is self-inflicted?"

"Come on man, they aren't going to miss three or four bananas."

"But there are hundreds of people coming along this road every day. What if all of them take three or four bananas?"

"Yeah, okay. I know not everyone can take them. But luckily they don't. Most people are like you, they are not like me. But I am a special one."

Three days and I'd been cycling with Jose Mourinho without noticing it.

The huge banana plantations and the tin pot shacks where people live

Warning: Don't let this man near your bananas

I didn't like Alex much at this moment. I understood that when I cycled with other people we were always going to have our differences, and that I was always going to find things about the other person that I didn't get on with. For example, in Siberia I found Petr's reckless riding style quite concerning, and in Turkmentistan Andreas' fondness for getting butt naked wasn't quite my cup of tea, but I really did have to draw the line at stealing from poor people. I didn't want to ride with him anymore, so with a burst of energy I shot on ahead. Inevitably, he soon caught me up.

"I feel good today" he said as he moved alongside me.

"I don't want to cycle with you anymore" I replied sulkily.

"Come on! Don't be child man."

I thought this somewhat oxymoronic statement would be the last I heard from Alex as he once again disappeared up ahead of me on the climb. But the positive upshot of our heated debate into the morality of stealing from poor people was that the anger and frustrations it engendered in me got me up the steep climb without really noticing that I was cycling. With Alex gone my mind became too occupied with my own thoughts. I considered the fact that a lot of long distance solo cyclists seemed to be quite self centred, and I had to include myself in that. Maybe I wasn't stealing from the people struggling with their day-to-day struggles in their tin pot shacks, but I certainly wasn't doing anything to help them either. These were lives born to poverty that could never dream of experiencing the world through my own privileged eyes. I began to question myself more. What was I doing? Why was I doing it? What was the point of my life? I had to admit that this was a selfish endeavor, this whole cycling around the world lark, no question about that. I decided that I had to do more for other people in the future, but I didn't know how. For now I was tired and frustrated, and so I continued to focus on my own pointless goal.

Alex waited for me at the top of the pass and we made up. He changed his tune and told me that he'd never actually stolen a banana, and that he simply meant that it was theoretically okay for someone to take some bananas if they were very hungry and too poor to feed their family. I apologised for over-reacting, and as we carried on together I explained my reasons: "I'm sorry Alex, I'm just very sensitive about banana theft. There was a very nasty incident back in Georgia. A gypsy stole my bananas. Yes, a gypsy. She gave two back, but she kept two. Oh, Alex, it was horrible."

In the afternoon we moved on to the second big climb, but with us being friendly again now the steep slopes seemed much more tiring on weary legs. Our frustrations were set to boil over again. This time it happened at a water spring. I had leaned my bike against a small rock whilst I filled up my water bottle but it wasn't stable and it suddenly toppled over. Alex walked over to pick it up for me. As a rule I don't really like people moving my bike that much, especially when they are known thieves, so I said "Just leave it." But Alex kept walking towards it and so I repeated myself. "Leave it." But he kept going and leaned down to pick it up for me.

Clearly this was intended as a kind act. Clearly there was no need for me to be annoyed that he was picking up my bike for me. I was more annoyed by the fact that he wasn't listening to me. He very rarely did listen to me. In most of our conversations when I said something he ignored me and said something completely different. This, I suppose, had been gradually getting to me, and now here was my tipping point.

" AAAALLLLLLEEEEEXXXXXXX!!!!!!! "

I screamed at the top of my voice. It was very, very, very loud. I think it caused a small landslide. Alex stopped and looked up at me. "Just... leave... it" I said. I had the bottle of water in my hand and I was advancing on him, greatly tempted to throw the water all over him, but controlling myself just enough not to. He left the bike alone, but he was mad now too. "I tell you this only once, you do not raise your voice at me!" he said, raising his voice. And so then we had a completely pointless argument about nothing at all, and each cycled on alone once again.

The anger got us both up the second pass. After a while the road split in two and there was no sign of Alex. I took the road to the left, which kept on climbing, but after two kilometres realised that I was going the wrong way, and backtracked. It was almost dark and I needed to find a place to sleep as I descended down the correct way. Finally I found a good place, an empty plot of land at the side of the road. Well it was almost empty, there was already one tent there. "Hello Alex!" We made friends again. One way or another we were helping each other get to the border, and in that sense we needed one another. The disagreements we had were mostly nonsense. They were simply the culmination of the frustrations caused as a result of the loneliness of months spent cycling alone, of missing people back at home, of the heat and the hills and the endless beeping, of this ridiculous annoying country. Our fights were meaningless. We were both just lost souls, colliding like meteorites in space.

And then God came along and said everything would be alright

Today's ride: 109 km (68 miles)
Total: 33,945 km (21,080 miles)

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