Baku We never figured out his name, the burly young man with gold teeth and a thick, dark stubble, who stopped for us on the highway from Baku. It had been a day of misadventures. We had pedalled out of Baku’s old town at eleven in the morning, planning to spend the first night at a hotel twenty-five km out of town. We made enquiries up and down the gravel paths of its suburban address, but no one had heard of it.
It was wonderful. Beautifully written. But sir, you could have posted a photo of you in the frame as well. This is an inspiration for us 20 year olds. Hat's off to you sir. Thank you very much for sharing this journey with us. Looking forward to regular posts now...
This was a wonderful read. If I ever bump into you in Delhi, let me buy you a coffee and pick your brain. You are full of life in a way that not many people are. I look forward to hear more from you soon.
It was wonderful. Beautifully written. But sir, you could have posted a photo of you in the frame as well. This is an inspiration for us 20 year olds. Hat's off to you sir. Thank you very much for sharing this journey with us. Looking forward to regular posts now...
Thanks, Ritik.
People of my generation are not into selfies!
But, point taken
Mo,
This was a wonderful read. If I ever bump into you in Delhi, let me buy you a coffee and pick your brain. You are full of life in a way that not many people are. I look forward to hear more from you soon.
Cheers!
If you're in Delhi, ping me!
Most enjoyable read. I wonder what happend to goldtooth for his excellent gesture of riding you along with the bikes.