Velo

I have a bike, finally. Our bikes were caught in customs, I guess, but mine arrived at my door Wednesday evening. A total surprise, brand new, shiny and....pink?!? I've never had a new fancy bike, and this is a nice Trek bike. But it is a girl's bike, a concept I don't really understand. Maybe after biking in a skirt I'll appreciate a "girl's" bike, I'll get back to you on that. Why pink, is my real question? Well, it is more white with pink and grey highlights. I'm already fairly noticeable as one of the few white people around, add in a white bike and a white helmet, and I look completely ridiculous. There is always a fair amount of staring, and surprise when I say hello in Bambaran from the people on the street. Now I have taken ridiculous to a whole new level. Today I couldn't help but laugh at how silly I must look, and I noticed I wasn't the only one laughing. I did convince Rabayah, the other PCV here with me, that we should use our new pink bikes to go the 12 K to the bank and better internet. I had to bribe her with my homemade ginger lime-aid, but it worked. Don't get me wrong, I love Mali public transport. Normally for this journey we would take a bashee. This involves packing 18 or so people (not counting kids sitting on laps) on benches in the back of a truck; get a push start; belch a lot of smoke; probably stop for gas, only enough for the trip; and trying to pay the 275 CFA somewhere in the middle of the trip when we are packed in so tight no one can reach there own pockets, and of course no one has exact change. So as much fun as that is, I decided we should try out or new pink bikes.
As is everything here, our trip was an adventure. It started with a herd of cows in the road, we let them have the right of way. In the middle of the trip we stopped for a lime-aid break, and I was, well, um, sort of in Rabayah's way when she got off the bike and well, she sort of fell down the shoulder of the road..but just a little. I fell horrible, but she was laughing as she rolled in slow motion, down the hill. Luckily she wasn't hurt, but the chain did come off her bike. While I was trying to put it back on two nice guys, both named Ibrahim, stopped and helped us. Hopefully I haven't scarred her for life so that she won't ever want to bike again. Here she is showing of her war wounds.