allowed to ride

Again, the highway:

One thing that is remarkable about the coastal areas here is that women are apparently allowed to ride bicycles by themselves:

From what I understand this is forbidden in most other parts of the country, where women must always have a male companion present when they’re riding a bike.

Why, though?

Either way I still hated the highway:

And still the most recurring images I saw were people selling clothes on the roadside:

And still the local houses were either massive villas…

…or they looked like they were about to be overgrown:

I found a little bit of joy in inspecting some of the parked trucks:

But when they were thundering down the road next to me, I hated them:

It was around the 25k-mark that I was finally able to leave the highway and take a little road through the outskirts of Chalus. Someone had drawn a sad Mohamad K:

Who was Mohamad K, and why was he so sad? I would never know.

What I did know, though, was that this little road was helping to slowly restore some of my sanity:

There were even moments when it was absolutely quiet:

When I reached the center of Chalus, the Caboose broke down and I had to change the tire. But I wasn’t angry about it. I walked slowly past a bazaar and some people selling melons:

And I felt nothing but tiredness.

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