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.