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I’ve Got Boobs, I’ve Got A Bike
(an article written for the IWD 2014 website)
“Solita? A woman alone?” The middle aged Chilean man asks. His faded denim shirt buttons barely hold back his protruding belly. The ‘mute button’ on my natural wit switches on, smothering a half dozen wise ass remarks in response to a question that has become as repetitive as a chronic case of travelers’ diarrhea.
“WHY, are you alone?” He raises his left hand to rub his shiny wrinkly forehead. His scratched wedding ring clashes with the gold plate of his bucked front tooth. I have decided to call him Bucky.
“I am cycling around the world alone, at night I sleep in my tent, estoy viaje para bicyclete a totos mondo, a la noches me dormir en me carpa” I say to Bucky.
The early morning breeze ricochets through the bakery’s wooden shutters, cooling the smoke from the red brick oven. His wife stands silently by his side. Her modern designer black leather purse is strung over her delicate shoulder.
I really do prefer my ‘lone women are unsafe especially if travelling by bike’ lectures after my coffee. I only stopped my bicycle at this bakery because I wanted some delicious Chilean flat bread. It reminds me of the bread in Sudan and I don’t even have to wear a headscarf to eat it. While pedaling across Africa, The Middle East, Asia, Oceania and The Americas, I’ ve often wondered if I have been cycling forward or backward in time.
“WHY are you alone?” Bucky the Belligerent man persists with his interrogation. The sarcasm starts shaking my torso, erupting through my muted laughter. I can no longer stop myself. It escapes.
“Herpes” I say and then chuckle.
“I have big problems down there, mucha grande problema” I grin as I point my cycling gloved hand to the rusty safety pin on the zipper of my well warn ‘nomad’ ex-officio grey cargo shorts.
“It’s not safe to travel solo! You sleep alone IN A TENT?” Bucky’s face appears to twist into a sexist spasm. The smell of fresh bread permeates the bakery’s newly painted Kermit green walls.
“Well, other than my ovaries keep getting caught in the zipper of my tent door, things work out ok. My only complaint is these damn tits keep knocking me off balance when I cycle. You would think at age 41 after cycling solo across 5 continents I would have the hang of it by now.”
I utter almost laughing at how ballsy my estrogen is this morning before coffee. His wife laughs, Bucky The Belligerent does not. The energy behind his wife’s smile, an international sisterhood, speaks my language. Her modern black designer purse brushes her husband’s over-sized shadow as she steps forward and says,
“Felicitaciones, Congratulations!”
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Way to go, Retta!
Your photos are truly breathtaking.
Thanks for sharing pictures of beautiful brave women from around the globe…in the hidden places of the world!
Me too, always they asking questions like "why are you travel alone". They transferred their fear out. But we are not their sparring.
Truly gorgeous photo of the two ladies laughing. Love it.
Your blog gives me a pleasant chuckle and I vicariously share a taste of your freedom and adventure spiritual nourishment in the dead drear winter-of-a-spring here in Ontario.
Amazing picture of the two beautiful ladies…made me smile n hope am as lucky when am their age : )