- ODO 5781km
- Location Digor
- Weather 11-29 Light showers
Having stones thrown at you isn’t fun. I’d just stopped st a small town petrol station to top up my water bottles and chatted in my few words of Turkish and there’s of English. Pointing at the map and wondering if the border crossing I’d chosen would be open. Descending from the petrol station fast out of the town there were a group of boys. I’d seen a few other waiting in smart green football kits in the pervious town so I assumed these were similar. As they saw me coming they spread out across the road. I hadn’t thought much of this thinking they were wanting me to stop. As I sped through the small gap they left I was pelted with gravel from the road. All hitting my legs, shorts and bouncing off my solar panel and rear panniers.
I was at once shocked and angry. I’d had a couple of similar stones tossed my way. But this was a real team game. The board Sunday activity of a bunch of boys. My mind flashed to throwing the bike down and grabbing the ring leader in a headlock. Or dragging him by his ear to his parents. I’ve accepted I’m so different – an alien to most I meet this far from Europe – but this makes me feel like dirt. I’m not their entertainment for a Sunday morning.
I imagine their lives though. Week on week in the fields with their family. Manure bricks on the field. Perhaps school. Football. The nearest town had a gaming centre but that was 90km behind me. What a life for the pains and urges of the young. I wonder what I signify to them. I’ve already been asked for cash and a Rolex by passing kids. They can barely imaging the opportunities I’ve had. So I cycle on.
