False hopes

False hopes, or a day that kept on giving


We met a number of Europeans last night; the first since we left, er, Europe. It was less strange than we might have expected, but there is no longer that sense of being a genuine ethnic minority; we have passed peak astonishment, in terms of being Caucasian and in cars older than 15 years, which is the maximum vintage in China. Nellie is complaining she is no longer a commodity. 


The road, we were assured by the resort manager, a nice Frenchman, would be about the same as we experienced yesterday afternoon (not terrible) for two hours and then would improve markedly. 


Wrong. 


The road, after two hours, became The Road From Hell! Squeak and groan went the cars. Crash, bang, wallop howled the chassis. “How can this be?” Mused the drivers. 


It was a classic Rallyist’s Dilemma: pace or preservation?


Neither were achieved effectively. The journey took 7 hours (we expected 4) and the Vauxhall lost its brakes (thankfully on a piece of flat road, rather than the multiple steep descents we crawled along) and Nigel had a flat tyre. All of us are going to check the cars for loose nuts, broken cables, sheared pipes, exhausted bits and bobs (is that it? Can you not think of anything more mechanical? Ed) 


We are now in Luang Prabang. 


The joyous news of the day is that Bumble has rejoined the party. 








 

Comments

  1. AbbyOctober 23, 2025 at 1:36 AM

    Every post elicits a ‘CRIKEY!’ Equal amounts of envy and, nooooo. Excellent commentary from Charlie, and Nellie, I am in awe.

    ReplyDelete

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