Jackfruit: A Bicycle Adventure Through Latin America
“I don’t know, but we’ll do this together.” She replied.
I watched Karen’s slim figure, dressed in a sweat shirt and short shorts hike up
the dune in the afternoon sun. She had a board in one hand, and a lit cigarette in
the other. I followed behind. At the top, she got on her board, stomach first.
“That one’s for my army friends!” she laughed as she slid down the slope. As
she slid down, she hit a bump, fell off the board, and rolled down the dune. When
she stopped, she burst out laughing.
“Your turn Dave!” She called out.
I didn’t fare much better. I went down, surfer style, hit a bump, and then I went
down head over heels into the soft sand, and tumbled down after Karen. For the
rest of the afternoon, we went up, and surfed down the giant dunes. It wasn’t as fast
as snow, but it had its rewards. I ate sand instead of ice, and the sand was easier to
fall in, as opposed to the packed ice on the slopes in Vermont.
Later that evening, I went out for dinner with Anita. We dined in a chifa, a
Chinese restaurant. Chifa is the Peruvian term for Chinese food. With 150 years
of immigration into Peru from China, about 15% of the population had Chinese
blood or were of Chinese descent. Most of the immigrants were male laborers
from southern China, and historically, they worked the railroads and plantations.
With time, Chinese cuisine fused with the Incan, and pre Incan to form a totally
new Peruvian cuisine.
As we ate, we talked about the events which led up to our journeys.
“Did you notice how everything just led up to making the trip easier?” She said.
“Well, except for the opposition from my parents, yes.”
“That’s obvious. Most parents are like that anyway. But look at the other
things, like your job you resigned from, or how the airline staff helped you with the
bike, and how quick and easy it was to get everything together. Do you know all
the things that came together to get you here?”
“What are you getting at?” I asked.
“You were meant to come here.”
“Aw come on, that was my decision to go.”
“Are you sure? Things could’ve been much harder. You wouldn’t be able to go
if it wasn’t your Fate.”
“I don’t believe in Fate.” I retorted.
“You don’t?”
“I believe that nothing is written unless I choose to write it.”
“Ah,” she said as she mysteriously leaned closer, smiled, and said, “you’ll
I watched Karen’s slim figure, dressed in a sweat shirt and short shorts hike up
the dune in the afternoon sun. She had a board in one hand, and a lit cigarette in
the other. I followed behind. At the top, she got on her board, stomach first.
“That one’s for my army friends!” she laughed as she slid down the slope. As
she slid down, she hit a bump, fell off the board, and rolled down the dune. When
she stopped, she burst out laughing.
“Your turn Dave!” She called out.
I didn’t fare much better. I went down, surfer style, hit a bump, and then I went
down head over heels into the soft sand, and tumbled down after Karen. For the
rest of the afternoon, we went up, and surfed down the giant dunes. It wasn’t as fast
as snow, but it had its rewards. I ate sand instead of ice, and the sand was easier to
fall in, as opposed to the packed ice on the slopes in Vermont.
Later that evening, I went out for dinner with Anita. We dined in a chifa, a
Chinese restaurant. Chifa is the Peruvian term for Chinese food. With 150 years
of immigration into Peru from China, about 15% of the population had Chinese
blood or were of Chinese descent. Most of the immigrants were male laborers
from southern China, and historically, they worked the railroads and plantations.
With time, Chinese cuisine fused with the Incan, and pre Incan to form a totally
new Peruvian cuisine.
As we ate, we talked about the events which led up to our journeys.
“Did you notice how everything just led up to making the trip easier?” She said.
“Well, except for the opposition from my parents, yes.”
“That’s obvious. Most parents are like that anyway. But look at the other
things, like your job you resigned from, or how the airline staff helped you with the
bike, and how quick and easy it was to get everything together. Do you know all
the things that came together to get you here?”
“What are you getting at?” I asked.
“You were meant to come here.”
“Aw come on, that was my decision to go.”
“Are you sure? Things could’ve been much harder. You wouldn’t be able to go
if it wasn’t your Fate.”
“I don’t believe in Fate.” I retorted.
“You don’t?”
“I believe that nothing is written unless I choose to write it.”
“Ah,” she said as she mysteriously leaned closer, smiled, and said, “you’ll
