The next day I got to the second largest city in Kyrgyzstan, Osh, and what a horrible place it was too. The streets heaved with noise and traffic and the heat was continuously oppressive. I checked into a guesthouse and hid there for the best part of 24 hours before deciding the only sensible course of action was to leave. Osh hadn't turned out to be the bicycle-haven I might have wished for and there seemed no hope of fixing anything on my bike so I never tried. Instead I gave it another pep talk:

Me: "Well done bike, you made it through those 700 kilometres that we talked about surprisingly well."

Talking Bicycle: "It was 800 kilometres."

Me: "What?"

Talking Bicycle: "It was 800 kilometres. You made us double back with Ana remember?"

Me: "I thought you weren't talking to me anymore?"

Talking Bicycle: "I'm not."

Me: "Good. Shut up then. And listen. Well done for the last 800 kilometres, but I need you to not fall apart now for another 800 kilometres. We have to keep going until Bishkek. So listen up. Bottom bracket, hold it together for another 800 kilometres okay? Crank arm, don't fall off please? Cheap Chinese rear derailleur, you're doing much better than anyone expected, keep it up! Front mudguard if you could stop falling off that would... wait a minute, where is Front mudguard?"

Talking Bicycle: "You threw him in a dumpster."

Me: "Oh yeah. Well then Rear mudguard, don't you going falling off, will you? You know what will happen!"

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The road onwards was hell with lots of traffic, which would have been okay if any of it knew how to drive. And as if having to avoid cars being driven around by mentalists wasn't enough I also had to try and avoid stones being thrown at me by kids. At one point I noticed a little chubby fat kid pick up a stone and get ready to throw it at me. I stopped and looked at him menacingly. It was a hot day, I was sweating, I was frustrated, I imagine I looked quite menacing. He dropped the stone and ran away stupidly, like a fat kid. You know what I mean, how fat kids run. Stupidly.

Not more than a few minutes later and a rock hit my back spokes as I cycled. I looked around and as I did so I saw another land nearby. I couldn't see any kids around but there was some long grass blocking the view down the other side of the road so I went over and looked behind it. Two young boys were there and they also ran off across the field as my menacing face appeared. I appealed to a man that happened to come walking along the road, pointing the troublesome youths out to him and explaining what they had done using sign language. I suppose I was hoping the man might know who they were and be able to reprimand them in some way. He nodded angrily to show he understood what they had done and then shook his fist at them as they ran away. I suppose that would count as a form of reprimanding. The man invited me to have tea with him but as he smelt rather a lot like he'd just been witness to an explosion in a vodka factory I declined the offer and continued on. But with the heat, the sweat stinging my eyes and the flies a constant nuisance (not to mention the mentalist drivers, stone throwing kids and drunk locals, all of which I think I did mention), Kyrgyzstan was not so much fun now.

26/06/14 - 41km

27/06/14 - 73km