Day 5.

Abancay, Peru.
population, 55100.
about 900 kilometers driven.

I am sitting in an internet cafe and its raining outside. Almost everything is closed and I am the only one in the store. On the street outside is everything alive. People are all over, among fire, big rocks and trees, that is spred out in the middle of the road so no one can pass. It remainds me of the raclaim the street I once was a part of, even if the people involved here is anyone between three and eighty years old.

Two days in a village with only a few hundred people in, a mecanic visit and I was once again ready to leave. I had the short cold shower I these days are pretty used to , and jumped on my motorbike.

The last three hours of drive I realiced a straik was going on, and as well as here the road miles long is full of glass splinters and sabotage. It is hard for me to understand what kind of straike it acuallt is but an agrassiv tone is definitly there and the passing trucks had all smasht windows of rocks throun at the them. the petrolstation denyed to sell me petrol.

Its been on for eleven days now. how much longer it will be on for, can no one tell, but I knew that I didnt want to wait. so from advice of people involved, I took my helmet and glasses of and rolled up my sleeves so they could see my pale skin. And from the rocks and shouts, thy are leving the poor gringa alone.

In Guevaras footsteps.

Day 1.

Ica, Peru, Southamerica.
Population, 220 000.
about 80 kilometers driven.

I left Pisco and the place thats been my home for the last five weeks. Sometimes I think leving is the best part of travelling, and even if I had a last look around at the place that felt more
like home then anything els, a feeling inside me was screming its time to leave, and it was with a smile of my face I jumpt on the motorbike.

Matt that helpt the most tied my bag around the back and put the helmet on my head. I knew he thought I was stupid when he shaked hes head and gave me dejected smile. I said, I will be fine.

a tingeling feeling in my stomac was constant. just a movement with my hand and i had the power to control the wind in my face, and my clothes vibration. Around was gigantic sand hills and desert as far as i could see. I was giggeling and once again the feeling of happyness was hitting me.

i reached ica just before the darkness fell. the trafic was busy and I drove around for almost an hour to find a place to stay and park my bike. I sat down for a while and had an orange, when my first meeting with a cop appears.

He was old and had a seriouse look and asked three times about my bike, where i got it from, and where I was going. I pretended not to understand his questions. I repeated what he said, answered yes and smiled. To avoid showing an unexisting driver licens. instead I took up my small map and made him show me where we were, and how I possible could find a hostal and told him that I really liked the music his speakers that was connected to his jacket were playing. I dont think I fooled him, but I think he gave up when I in the end shaked his hand that thanked so much for all his help in my worst spanish.

The note I keep in my poket.
What is the fine, and can I pay it now,
is to be used another time.