We'd taken the day off in Hengyang with the intent of catching up on our writing and updating our website. That was not to be. Though Connie the Compaq has served us well over the last 17 months enduring all sorts of indignities she finally \"called it quits\". It left us wondering if we'd be making the rest of the journey without a computer. We'd asked the rhetorical question of ourselves many times: \"Is this trip about a computer and website or seeing and experiencing the world?\" I must admit I was saddened by the passing of Connie but happy about the prospect of having the chance to answer this question.
The following morning a terrible cold dogged me and I felt more awful than I could even imagine. My throat felt as though someone made me drink battery acid. Even worse than that we had been fighting a headwind for days and looking out the window this morning I find that the there was a stiff breeze coming from our direction of travel. After we breakfasted on mooncakes (they were luckily my favorite variety, stuffed with dried fruit and nuts) we hit the road. I was so frustrated with the day's journey that would it have had any effect on it I would have actually \"hit\"
the road with my fists. It was a terrible route. There was a massive amount of road construction, leaving us to ride over a variety of surfaces. It was mostly dirty and bumpy with occasional stretches of smooth new concrete. The road was really the least of our worries. More unnerving were the trucks and busses caught in the traffic caused by the construction. When they were stopped they were an obstacle. Honking and trying to sneak up the side, they often blocked our passage. Moving, they menaced us with their horns while passing too closely. After only a few hours I was ready to deem this the absolute worst riding day in Asia.
I was also ready to tell Andrew I'd had it with China and wanted to go to some destination where the riding was rewarding again. I didn't know where I wanted to go, but anywhere but there would do. I hated Hunan, the people there who tried to rip us off, their rotten roads and inconsiderate drivers. The day wasn't entirely without amusement, however. A cottage industry of sorts had sprung up along the roadside. Every kilometer or so in either direction we'd come upon a rather intricately made up young lady wearing a tastelessly revealing outfit, swinging her purse into traffic and trying to get the attention of passing drivers.
Ruby red lipstick, Star Trek eye shadow treatments and huge amounts of rouge made the roadside \"workers\" look like clowns more than streetwalkers. When we realized that they weren't looking for rides of a conventional sort we dubbed them HHHs (Hunan Highway Hookers). Competing with the HHHs for the attentions of the drivers were restaurant workers. Every few hundred meters there was a noodle shop or strip mall store with a few tables all trying to get drivers to stop for a snack. Each establishment dolled up its prettiest employees and sent them out in front to attract people to stop and eat.
It became confusing for me and I found it difficult to tell the HHHs from the waitresses. After seventy kilometers of dirt, dust, whores and honking we'd both had it. We sought a bus to take us the remaining kilometers of the day. We'd grown cranky and no longer tolerated people pawing our bikes and bags while waiting for the bus. Andy dealt swift and moist justice to anyone invading our space with his squirt gun.