Back in Bishkek

Today has been a breakdown day.

We camped in the mountains near Bishkek last night so that we could return this morning to organise our Uzbeki visas at the embassy which is closed most of the time.

That took about an hour longer than the hour expected. Then Tash asked Juan if he'd looked under the truck. There had been an ominous BANG while we were drivng and Tash had noticed Asima making a different noise after.

Juan returned looking grim and went straight, to Al. The back leaf spring was broken, less than a week after the front one went.

Initially they hoped it would take four hours to fix. That has been extended to eight.

I am not fussed by a slow day in Bishkek. Partly because I have recovered most of my 'lookonthebrightsideofeverything'-ness that was largely lost during teaching. Partly because I don't read the itinerary, so I have no idea what I'm 'missng'. Partly because of something I find a little odd.

To explain. A few nights ago, a friend commented that she was surprised at how well I was coping, given I don't like change. A little bit that was China, which feels pretty familiar now. Mostly, it's the truck. Asima feels like home. Especially now that  have spent so many nights sleeping in her. Where she goes, there go I. I'm not bothered that we are not going anywhere, because we are not going anywhere together.

She, and the two Johns who started with me in Bangkok, and the drivers, Al and Juan, are my constants. I don't need anything else to feel comfortable and happy.

God help me once we reach Istanbul and I'm on my own again.

For now, I am going to sit in Fatboys, drink cider and wait.