Pedro

It's a common thing in Morocco, not really the pasta and ships in the same dish but trying hard to please people of whom they know nothing of their taste, so end up being lost in their wish to please.

Friday the 25th November, I woke up before sunrise. Turns out Morocco doesn't switch hours for the Winter, so while the previous times I visited the Casablanca clock was the same hour as Lisbon, now it's the same hour as Spain, this means a late sunrise at around 8:00. It felt weird, I woke up at 6 or 7 and it was too cold to get up, I was awake looking at the ceiling wondering what to do, and made a decision to not be a pussy. I'm not going to escape discomfort by turning this into a 1500km ride to revisit pain and suffering to then ride back and regret not riding the bike and adventuring. I had wished for a proper ride before in the year and might as well quit my sobbing and get on with it. Having made that decision I sprung out of bed, had a shower, and fucked off out of that unpleasant room. The previous day I had asked for a bottle of water to be handed over a plastic bottle of Evian, filthy, with a bottle cap still half open from refilling it, and the water looking murky as hell. This is not a common practice in Morocco and in all my travels was the first time it happened. Because of that, though, I decided to avoid breakfast and just rode off and reported the bottle issue to booking.com Avoid: https://goo.gl/maps/pGX9VWKarwuHTFcD8 I like to start the day with a full tank of fuel, on the GS in Morocco that is enough for more than a day of country roads. I only fuel up on three fuel brands, Afriquia and Shell in most places and Total now also commonly available. My previous experiences with others didn't feel right on this bike and you can find Afriquia everywhere, so stopped on the first one out of town. The ride is on and getting out of that fuel station felt great, I was back on and feeling like myself! These are all familiar roads, and I rode to Chefchaouen for breakfast, the road from Tangier to Chefchaouen is in my opinion the most dangerous in all Morocco, it's currently a national road with two lanes each way in most places, the tarmac is smooth but so slippery, in the picture above you can see how the morning light reflects on it like it's glass. You get this in summer heat and cold morning mist just the same, it feels dangerous to me. Rode past Tetouan and it's smelly outskirts, the amount of trash surrounding that town is getting to scary levels, don't know what Morocco will do once they start collecting all the plastic littering the hills around small cities or towns. Tetouan outskirts always have this haze of unpleasant smoke that smells like a mix of open sewers burnt plastic, it's a nice place though An hour and a half later, stopped for breakfast. Had a nice weird sort of croissant thing and an amazing orange juice. It was cold and that was interesting as I had never been cold here before. Then went on a little walk to buy a water bottle to take with me, and maybe a snack as it's always nice to be able to stop somewhere with a view for lunch. The water bottle was a success but the roasted dry fruit stand I like wasn't yet open, and being low season there weren't many tourists around. All the touts concentrated their undiluted efforts on me and tried to strike a conversation to ply their "mountain price" hashish, "police doesn't check tourists", "you smoke?", "is mountain price", I hate the hassle in the north, so get on the bike and go. Take the N2 south again, now stopped for a phone call, not a bad way to work: I was quite happy to recognize a lot of it and to not need navigation for most of it, quickly got on the main road and went through hashish country, broken roads now more of my thing. Stopped for a drink of water and realized my bottle was lost, so instead ate a portuguese apple that came from the Algarve. It provided moisture and tasted great. Not a bad lunch. The roads here remembering me why I like to have rugged tires when coming to Morocco. Even if you do not plan on doing proper offroad, they provide your wheels with protection on my kind of roads: Pointed the bike to Fes, and again very happy to only look at the phone's navigation a couple of times. Recognized this area as I once spent an entire afternoon and evening stranded here with a non functioning R1150GS waiting for a tow truck. Made a wrong turn and did 20 or 30km more than I expected, but the small villages I rode through were nice and completely non touristy, no pictures of that though as I find stopping to take a picture of someone's front door very disrespectful, nobody likes feeling like they're on a zoo being watched by tourists, not sticking a camera in people's faces is the best way to not be treated like an idiot. I never drink Coca Cola at home, but here I do, temperatures went all the way to a surprising 29ºC and it felt great to stop a a countryside roadside shop for cold refreshment. Donkeys are cool, sadly most are tied down and left to graze with a 2 meter rope of two legs tied so they don't wander far. Stopped in Fes but didn't really feel like staying there, I needed somewhere new and a luxurious bed for a proper night's sleep. From Fes went on booking and booked a room in Sophia Village and Spa, an expensive place by the road from Fes to Ifran. I got there just before sunset, days in the end of November being MUCH shorter than I am used to when touring here. Also, from the 29ºC from before it went down to 4 or 5º during the night, it feels like 10 or 15º immediately drop as soon as the sun starts to go down. I was happy to have the bike in a closed parking and finding a great comfy bed with a view waiting for me Had a proper hot shower, and went to dinner. The shower felt great and made me realize how exhausted I was from the previous days' stress. On the in house restaurant I challenged myself with their citron trout. It was interesting as I had seen people eat that before but never had it. It wasn't awful but I won't go for it again either. That night, a friday night, they had a party in the bar. It was a proper party too, with music and dancing, I was trying to sleep but the levels of music they were listening to making it very hard well into the night. I didn't know if to laugh or be upset, but eventually my comfy bed won over and I slept until sunrise. My plan was to get up early and have breakfast by 8 but it was 9:00 before I had my luggage packed and on the bike and sat down to the best breakfast pancake there is, "Msmen", eaten by hand with a smudge of honey or orange jam, that's the stuff. With a warm and happy stomach, I put my neck roll on and rode off to Ifran and Azrou, Ifrane or Ifran is a mountain town that you can easily mistake for an Austrian town if you stop and ignore the cars and people's skin color. It's houses, trees, streets, etc, resemble an Alpine location. Of course, rest assured you are in Morocco Riding around the royal palace I got lost and did it twice, by the second time the armed guards that stand every 50 or 100 meters were giving me weird looks and touching their automatic weapons, not the place to stop for a picture it seems, so I didn't. Azrou went past and I stopped to visit the moneys there, right where I get off the N13 and into the Cedar Forrest. This time I wasn't happy to stop, I was the only tourist stopping, and having no bus full of retired older people the touts focused solely on me. I did manage to say hello to a few monkeys. Now this left a bitter sweet feeling, these monkeys are coached by people to provide a tourist attraction, they are kept around with treats being handed out, so they are no longer afraid of humans and will sit by you while being handed whatever you want, be it peanuts or pieces of fruit that the touts will happily sell to you, or whatever you bring. Out of nowhere this cool monkey came and sat on my bike, and was happily munching on a few dried nuts, while the other bigger one on the ground wasn´t happy at all with the arrangement and snarled at the little guy, who in a panic jumped and knocked my helmet into the ground. I wasn't happy to see 350€ of Schuberth bouncing off some sharp looking rocks either Monkeys, being monkeys, will happily snatch what food you have in your hands including all kinds of plastic and wrapper papers, it is quite apparent that nobody cleans that piece of forest either, as it's a mess of trash all around. This is a small area and as soon as you move 200 meters away suddenly there's no more people trying to sell you slices of banana to feed them or monkeys asking for food, but it did leave me with a sad feeling to how those little guys live. I did manage to loose all my madeleines to these little guys, too, I'm a sucker for puppy eyes: Now, feeling disappointed from that moment with the monkey "handlers" I got off the N13 and onto proper roads. These were broken last time I was here, and since then they have been purely ignored, which along with the extreme weather they get here what you get is roads with plenty of character, you might think those are gravel roads but look again and you'll see remains of the tarmac that used to cover them completely not so long ago. The cedars are amazing trees to see too, and if you take the time to stop and look around you'll see that there's a healthy population of monkeys that are not trained of interested in tourists, instead they keep their distance and lazily munch of stuff they're constantly picking off the ground, no idea what. I was quite happy to see they couldn't give two fucks about me or the few cashews I munched on. This is the P7217 through Ifrane National Park, my kind of road: Give the next picture a closer look and you'll see plenty of monkey business going on amongst the trees: Made a small detour to visit a special place, a lake that I have never seen with water on it: As I was contemplating and thinking of when I was there before with Maria and Rui, who has passed in 2018 from a suspected suicide, a herd of sheep casually roams towards me The shepherd is one of many bedouins who live in those mountains. They roam between higher altitudes in the summer and lower in the winter, they move "house" according to season in what seems like quite a hard life to lead, with very little comforts. He noticed I took a few pictures and came over to salute me and respectfully ask that I shoot none of him, making clear that I take pictures of anything I want except not himself. I don't really know why most Moroccans is adverse to pictures taken of themselves, but the fact is most are. We had a short conversation with neither understanding any of it, and he walked away to lead his flock away, one of his dogs, however, stuck by me clearly making sure I kept on my best behavior: And with that, I was off: What I did a few kms further on was quite silly, I spotted this immaculate dirt road leading away from the road I was on, checked on google maps and it led to somewhere called Hawaiian Waterfall! Being nowhere near the pacific this roused my interest and I decided to explore. It started quite amazing, for a short number of kms it was the dirt road that everyone dreams about, then it turned quite rocky, and then it started to turn quite steep and diving to the depths of that valley. It started getting steeper and steeper, and rockier. I was starting to not be too happy about that situation as the GS is quite a beast with a full tank of fuel, which it had. Turns out it was a fruitless enterprise, I got to 50 meters from the waterfalls supposed location but couldn't see anything except a dead end and a steep climb back to where I had come from. I was huffing and puffing now, so turned the bike around, had a pee and took the previous picture, it obviously looks completely flat and almost motorway smooth, like you expect. Am quite happy to report that I rode up that trail with no stops in first or second gear, my clutch appreciated that and I felt quite good about it too. About now, I stopped to take off my inner jacket, all the workout increased my temperature a bit, since it got so cold in the morning I had a thermal inner thing, a t-shirt, and the puff jacket under the vented jacket I wear, but it was now proving too much. Still the region of the great Cedar forest, I navigated through "P" roads towards Boumia. All around it must have been 60 or 70km of mostly gravel and dirt roads. Not trails, but roads, as those go through villages and houses and you get proper traffic on them. Now feeling even warmer, and since speeds weren't really high either, I stop and after a bit of drinking water and not listening to a soul, I decide to strip down and take my thermal shirt off, as I do so a school transport van filled with kids drives by. My being there topless was a source of great fun to them and they were both cheering and laughing at me You're feeling hardcore when riding your rugged motorcycle on dirt roads, but then you're remembered that that's just a few small children's school route: Trying to keep myself entertained, I posed for a picture: After a bit of dusty roads, coming across this small river, I remembered I had already been there before on that exact route. in 2016 it was much more tarmac, I suppose that Covid negated most of maintenance, and while that road makes it as one of my favorites to ride my bike on, I do feel sorry for the people leaving alongside it, their street has turned from a tarmac road to a proper dusty dirt road over the years. In the winter weather it snows here, it must be quite the challenge to make do with coming and going when the average car isn't exactly a BMW GS. It was obviously a lot easier to ride this road without a passenger, too, and a lot harder at the same time. What came next, as I was properly enjoying my bike on a fast gravel road feeling like a motorcycling hero in fourth gear wrapping along, I exit the forest onto a valley of rocks and tiny bushes, but as I ride along all around me something very weird starts to happen and all the rocks and bushes suddenly move. They're not rocks at all but instead just a huge group of monkeys scattered along with valley probably grazing on whatever and warming up on the sunshine they can't get on the trees, it was a properly great moment. All that was lost and there was no way I would be fast enough to catch them on a picture, so instead rode to the end of the valley and stopped for a picture, mostly to have a register of where it was if I decide to go back. This is a pretty ignored part of Morocco as I think these roads look pretty mundane when you look at them on the map, plus they're away from the Desert so less appealing to tourists, to me they're amazing, and the Cedars are difficult to put into pictures: Sadly, all that's good comes to an end and I'm exiting the forrest, making my way to Boumia and Zaida, where I've already got my shelter for the night picked out. I'm also hungry as gave away all my snacks except a half dozen cashew nuts. Goodbye forrest and hello Atlas... When you first see the first bit of the Atlas mountains in the distance they make you feel small. It doesn't translate into pictures either. Nice roads make progress suddenly fast, too, this was at 16:40 and I want to make it to Zaida before sunset: Got to Zaida and stop at a fruit stand for a couple of apples. Apples go in the luggage and I sit by the cafe next to it for something comforting in the form of food. This has become my favourite thing to eat in Morocco, and it's sardines... you take two opened and boneless small sardines and in between them put a mix of coriander and a spice paste, then shallow fry it, it's fucking amazing. You eat that inside bread with chopped tomatoes and onions, or using your fingers like a boss. I have no problem going full Moroccan and using my fingers and pieces of bread to scoop the salad. Moroccans dig that, too. After my late lunch, I am feeling like just sitting there and watching life go by as the sun sets, but can't, the hotel is 8 or 9km away and I don't want to get cold riding there, so go. I paid my bill of 24 dirhams for that plate, all the bread you can have and a coke and left. Back on the road, now on a proper N road, as the magic hour starts: That night I was to stay in Ksar Timnay, it's a good location, safe parking, comfy bed, nice value where for 40 Euros worth of Dirhams you'll have a warm room with a proper hot shower, plus breakfast and dinner. I had stayed there before and will again for sure. As I unpacked and had my hot shower, outside it got dark and proper cold, after a while I made it to dinner and before 20:00 I had a hot meal in front of me. They cook everything, but having seen so many sheep, goats, chickens, though the day, all of them with babies following along, I went vegetarian and had a vegetable tagine. It was properly spicy and provided me with all the heat I needed, by the time I was done with it I had taken off my jacket That night I slept very well, complete silence, a comfy bed with heavy covers made me feel cozy and I slipped to deep sleep like it was nothing. It was proper cold outside, and tomorrow was going to be a proper riding day, I knew what was ahead.

I had made plans to go to Morocco in late September, but then a few things conspired against it. My brother was working in Croatia and Hungary and I think my parents can use some company to not deal with their health things by themselves, also my mum turning 70 with none of the sons around was a little depressing, to top it up work stuff went chaotic a few days earlier and that meant me having to do a lot of phone calls and emails from over there every day, I didn't want to have to do that as it would take away a lot from the trip. Also, I was a little afraid of how I would cope with arriving in Tangier. The last time I was there my girlfriend passed away and I left her behind after being pressured by family and the embassy to go back home. I never stopped feeling like I did leave her behind and I became anxious just thinking about it. A few weeks after postponing the trip to 2023, most of the work related stress was handled, my brother came to Portugal for what was a longish stay until January, and the weather in Morocco looked like it was going to be pretty much ok. Usually by October some parts of the Atlas get snow or at least heavy rains that compromise roads and pistes, but as I look to the weather forecast the rains that fell in September seemed to give way to sunshine, suddenly my dread and at least partially been replaced with enthusiasm. At the last moment I had the Mitas E07 + tires fitted, and on a rainy Monday morning went past the dealership to change the oil on the bike. My trusted mechanic got sick the previous week and couldn't do it. He works at that same dealership as a consultant trying to improve the mechanical work part of the business, so he came around to give me a hug and wish me a fun trip, he relates to a lot of my feelings as his wife passed away after being victim of a hit and run accident, being left on the scene. On a very rainy Monday I ride down to @Sofia's for a dinner with her and the next day I stop by my place. I spent two nights by myself there putting my head on straight, that wednesday was spent packing my stuff into the bike cases and trying hard to anticipate and solve as much work problems as possible. I also wrote a letter that I left behind on top of my dining table, the last time I was in Tangier I spent considerable time thinking that my life wasn't worth living anymore, with that being a realistic outcome of this trip I tried to not leave loose ends behind, settled a pending matter with Maria's dad, and leaving this letter made me feel more at ease with things. I also concluded I can't pack worth shit! With Maria we used to carry clothing for 4 or 5 days for two, rain overalls for two, etc, now I'm having trouble closing the bags with just my stuff, plus the laptop I didn't use to take, I'm not good at this! I slept very well, to my surprise, and on a dry 24th November morning headed south. I planned to sleep on the way, in Alentejo, as I did absolutely not want to arrive in Tangier at night in the end of the day. I wanted to get out of home and use only tiny country roads to spend the day like that. My plans for small roads was frustrated by the clear very dark skies to the East, so instead I got on the motorway and headed South to the Algarve. As I crossed the bridge over the Tejo River the dark skies to my left made me smile inside my helmet, my rain overalls were in the case and that's where I like them! I rode for a couple of hours always narrowly avoiding the rain while at the same time riding over damp patches of motorway. Arriving at the Algarve with plenty of time to spare before lunch time, I get of the motorway and take the twisty section of the N2 before arriving in Faro, some great twisties over the end of this road that crosses Portugal from North to South, and a chance to carefully scrub a little of the Mitas, they weren't providing much confidence on wet motorways, which fair enough to them makes sense when it's the own manufacturer that states that this "+" compound makes them less ideal to wet and cold. Brief stop for a scenic pee an hour before Faro Made it to Faro beach for a great ham and cheese toasted sandwich Then rode to Faro center, and went to the pharmacy to buy some stuff to take with me on prevention, and a tiny power bank to be able to charge the phone during lunch breaks. Also bought a book that I did not touch through the whole trip! Faro was looking great during winter, as always. My dad sold his place over there so I looked for somewhere to stay, it was still pretty early and hanging around Faro was starting to be weird without the place for my own, so booked somewhere a little closer to Spain and headed that way. Turns out that was a great success, I managed to get a nice price for a place that allowed me to park my bike ride outside my room, went to the supermarket to buy stuff for breakfast and a couple of beers, and worked a little. Early sunsets bug me, you ride all day, sun sets, night comes, and there's still two hours to go till dinner time. Took a walk around and a nice few pictures of the Ria Formosa fishing boat scene Chose a restaurant to have my dinner, the place's name was very promising but to be honest the meal didn't warrant pictures. I was left a little dissatisfied but at least the wine was decent. Thursday the 25th at 07:15 we were off to Spain: Quite happy to keep my rain gear locked in the case, I contemplatively rode to Tarifa without putting a foot down at all through Spain. Stopped there on a lookout just a couple of km before Tarifa, I take a picture of Africa as viewed from Europe and suddenly it hits me that I'm looking at Tangier. I get filled with a feeling of sadness. Just looking at it across the water. On some days it looks very clear like this, on some others it looks more distant, it's a 1 hour ferry crossing to get there. The boat leaves at 13:00 and I was early, like I like to be. I sit a little around Tarifa and have a mediocre expresso to kill some time, and make my way to the port to wait for the boat. A pretty cool camper was waiting as well Crossing to Morocco on a bike is great, you get waved to the front of the line, you get there at the same time but it makes me feel like a rockstar to be waved to the front of the line. On board the boat you go through passport control, and fill out a health paper on account of Covid, stating what seat you used and stuff like that. Completely fuss free mostly because since you board the boat first you get there ahead of everyone so there's no line for the passport control. Also, it's low season so not really a lot of people on board. I feel a little numb about the whole thing, like it's someone else that is doing this. The customs entering Morocco are fuss free compared to before, before you had a place for passport, then take your passport to another place for importing the vehicle, than back to the other place, it felt like an adventure, now you step up to a lady with a computer, and 1 minute later she gives you a little piece of paper related to your vehicle and that's it. That efficiency takes away from the feeling of adventure though, it's like you're entering Andorra Tangier also feels sort of European and developed as soon as you exit the port, no longer the smell of decomposing fish and decaying cars, now the beachfront looks like a poorer version of Dubai, I stop to make sure my e-sim actually works in Morocco and it does. I had no plan for the rest of the day, had to buy a sim card for data usage in Morocco, get money off an atm, but instead of doing that I rode the half mile straight out of harbor and stopped right on the hotel I last stayed over there. Parked outside and slowly walked in, to then stand around a lobby that has since been remodeled. It's got different artwork on the walls, different sofas, etc, but felt completely familiar and exactly the same energy that I felt when I was brought back here by the police after interrogated following Maria's passing. I was then left 2 or 3 hours in this lobby while the room was being inspected, cold and broken and in despair. I had called ahead to try and get my previous room available for a visit but unsure if I was able to spend the night. Those calls didn't go very efficiently, communication was not easy, so I just showed up and explained who I was. The hotel manager showed up and we talked a little, she remembers exactly what happened and how I spent a few days there the last time, and she took me up to our room. Room 501 was remodeled like the rest of the hotel, everything looks fresh and more modern, the bathroom completely redone, bed is now comfy and modern, but the space is the same and felt very familiar. I sat on the bed a little and was left alone for a while, and wept silently. It didn't feel sad, it felt familiar, I just wept for a few minutes, and then left. Back on the lobby I was told they were fully booked, I was now feeling completely exhausted and just felt like a comfy bed. A few tears rolled down my face as I rode off, and was tenderly waved away by people that had previously seen me at my lowest. With a fresh data card and money in my pocket I went to have something to eat. Quickly made a friend, interested in pieces of chicken from inside my sandwich, which he quite appreciated. I was depleted of energy, it wasn't late but I couldn't face riding away from Tangier. Also didn't want to pay top money for a beachfront luxury hotel, instead I went on booking and found a place very nearby, maybe one km or even less, with what I needed the most which was a closed secure place for the bike. It looked very typical going in: I did not like that room one bit, but it was just a place to stay for one night. Had a shower and went for a walk, that neighborhood was a typical medium class place in Tangier, feels proper shitty, you get high end condominiums on one side, with Mercedes G-Class and Range Rovers, and on the other side you get destitute people, sheep grazing on empty fields next to luxury hotels and casinos, and in between both is where I stayed. Some areas of Tangier clearly have a stray dog problem, clearly they're fed by some people so one or two protect that doorway like it's their territory, it's a cheap way to have a guard dog without exactly owning an animal. Felt horrible and I hated it. Walked to the beachfront through the park Cheaper way to have a tea by the sea: Right next to the more exclusive option It was a pretty sunset, but all I could see was what I didn't like about it. The hungry cats and dogs, dirty kids begging for a coin, bad smells anywhere not with a tended lawn and polished car badges. Feel the beat of the city, right! It was now cold, and I sat down somewhere completely non interesting and had a pizza. It was just the easiest thing to choose from the menu and not nice at all. Football was on the tv. A short walk back to the riad / hotel, and my bike is safe in it's closed space. I felt sad and regretful of coming. Had a conversation with Sofia and went to bed feeling depressed and miserable. My room had an air conditioning unit that was too loud to have turned on while sleeping, there was a busy road nearby that seemed to have noisily come alive at night, and my bed was a little itchy, later found a long hair on it, and it clearly didn't come from me. I had a cold miserable night, and eventually passed out from exhaustion at 2 or 3 AM, having decided that there was nothing for me here except sadness and to go back the next day.

Inwi just sent me a text that auto translated to this: Morocco is in the semi-finals! Thank you, black man

Nobody will ever have celebrated as much ever as if Morocco beats France in a few days.

I ended up putting it back in with just a few taps. Will replace it and change the oil soon.

I often go on the garage and tap it on the tank or seat, just so it doesn’t feel lonely.

Is it touching the frame?

Spent the morning washing the bike, twice! then cleaned inside the airbox, sadly I didn’t remember to buy a new air filter so gave the old one a good shake. It’s not bad but desert silt is very fine. Also cleaned inside the ecu box, which needs it after dust and rain. Still doesn’t look properly clean if you look up close though, bastard GSs are a bitch to clean properly! Now out on a short ride to buy some wine and bread and warm the bike up properly. Have my classy leather jacket so feeling very cool

Although our own nurse Slowly might do out of endearment for her favourite carpet makers, it is considered politically incorrect, Bob. You better not unless they’ve personally served in the army and shared horrors with you.

Hey @XTreme, suggestions for two new sections: tech advise, Ian and Ian: could provide computer and internet advice, and sidewalk and driveway advise. Real stuff talk, where people vent about family things, like polish relatives, wives, royal enfields, etc

I have but can’t remember what happened. Harleys are cool though, too big for my type of roads but cool.

Tough crowd Marcel! I think those aren’t seared, but a nice steak is a nice steak, along with a nice bottle of wine and all’s good!

That’s one match I am sorry to ha missed in Morocco, Portugal vs Morocco tomorrow! They’re insane about football do it would be good.

I am tempted to try out a proper Harley like Buckster’s or Marcel’s, see if I can turn it around or ride around just fine, they seem so comfy for long distances.

You would die of stress if you were Portuguese and had to wait anything from 1 week to 5 months I get the sweats when there’s a registered letter from some form of official thing, usually it ends up being property tax or IRC or something like that but I always think “fuck, there goes my driver’s license”

I am very diplomatic, so maybe I should indeed.

Just about to crack open some wine, wondering wether white or comfy red. Food is defreezing near the fire, and will have browns for desert. Tomorrow might be not raining, so I'll do an XTreme and wash my bike. I fear it'll take forever, and be fruitless because rain is forecasted for the next few days too, no bike gets as dirty as a GS Then if it continues to not rain I'll take a short ride to have a coffee and stop by Dainese's Outlet to see if they anything worth my attention, I need a winter jacket.

Just so you know, blackie or darkie aren´t endearing terms to call black people.

Rode about 900/1000 km today, with a long stop in the middle for crossing between continents! The Moroccan part was done in a rain storm on small country roads with no navigation aids. Am now drinking wine!

What did your bike ever did to you to deserve being parked outside when you have a nice covered place for it?

I never had steak tartare, but have a craving to have some. Once in Belgium I was undecided on what to pick for dinner, it was January and really cold so went with hot food. The guy next table had the tartare and I gawked at how it was sliced and prepared right there, what did get to me was the mustard, seems like an obvious choice too, no mustard on yours?

You want someone from here to ring her and tell her to seek an expert? I’ll do it, apparently I sound like Borat to some brits.