The Zarmalouloux and the end for Superbike

Superbike limped into Pakse, I believed it to be mortally wounded from the mileage I’d put it through. I checked my emails in an internet cafe, had lunch in the Indian restaurant next door then crossed the road. There was a tap on my shoulder. A grin the size of Manhattan beamed at me. Jan, the gentleman I’d shared breakfast with a few days before introduced me to the rest of his bicycle buddies, Yanouch, Arthur and Cyrell (pronounced Surreal). Collectively they are known as Zarmalouloux (zarmablog.blogspot.com). Jan kindly saved Superbike's life with a few adjustments here and there, I decided to get a guest house as my brother hadn’t replied to my previous email and Zarmalouloux came up to the balcony for an impromptu sing song. The energy and passion they have for music is astounding. They left to visit a waterfall the following day; I lounged around, ate at an Indian restaurant five times in less than 2 days then joined Zarmalouloux when they returned to Pakse. They played at every restaurant in town that night, making a decent profit then we camped by the Mekong.

 Zarmalouloux earning a living.

 The Mekong at sunrise.

We spent the next 3 days cycling to the 4000 Islands on the border of Cambodia where I’d meet my brother. It was really good having company on the road. Their personalities complement each other well; they have a real sense of solidarity. They share everything with each other and in the short time I spent with them they treated me like a member of their family.  

They have a different rhythm to me. I’m asleep not long after sunset, I get up at sunrise, I’m cycling within half an hour but I’ll take several breaks before the sun gets too hot to pedal. Zarmalouloux casually get up when they feel like it after a night of singing and chatting around the campfire. They juggle, meditate, do lots of stretching, light another fire for coffee and don’t leave until mid-morning. They pedal for a few hours without a break. They carry more weight than me and although they go slightly slower than what I was used to I found it hard going on the back muscles to cycle without breaks. Even if I wasn’t planning on meeting my brother and going to Shanghai I would have found it difficult cycling with them in the long term as they make their way slowly back to France.

On our third night of camping the police came with an interpreter asking us to go to the monastery. They were plain clothed unarmed officers with no identification to show who they were. They did not want us camping in the field because if anything happened to us they would be liable. They initially claimed it was because of the danger of wild animals but after a bit of interrogation from Jan they confirmed what we had suspected. After a quick phone call to the police chief they allowed us to camp so long as we put water over the fire at the end of the night. I'm assuming it was the police who came to my tent a few nights previously.

 Jan truly does live in a Superworld

4000 Islands

The whole of Laos has a slow pace; Dondet (one of the 4000 Islands) is that one notch slower. It’s possibly the most relaxed place in the planet. Zarmalouloux and my good self entered the island and camped on the field in the middle of the island amongst the buffaloes and cows. Kids gathered around to watch the juggling and hear the music. I met up with Alasdair and we spent most of the time lounging around, chatting and playing football with the locals as sunset approached. After two nights Zarmalouloux continued their journey south. I opted to stay with my brother. It was sad to wave goodbye to Zarmalouloux. They shared everything they had with me in the handful of days I travelled with them, they made me feel 100% welcome throughout. The sound of the songs they played rang through my ears for several days after, Colombia Tierra Querida and Rue De Paname.

 Zarmalouloux preparing to head out to Don Det.

 The buffaloes got a free concert.

Later that evening, I sold Super Bike for 6 beers, two vindaloos and a big bowl of spring rolls. I could have got more but myself and my brother were both full. I like the ending. I sold my bicycle for curry and beer which I shared with my bro. Superbike was phenomenal. I met other people who bought bicycles in Asia and it appears that I did get a bargain; I was in the right place at the right time. Nevertheless it was still a scrap piece of metal. The people in the bike shop laughed when I said I was going to Laos. They did not realize I was taking a huge detour from the quickest route. I not only made it to Laos, I only had 10km to go until I’d cycled the whole length of the country. I’ve lost count of the amount of times I thought Superbike was on its last legs but with a small adjustment here and there, it kept on going. It creaked and cranked its way south, its wheels misaligned, its brakes falling apart, the chain slipping every time I climbed a hill. It was a piece of shit and the further it got the more I liked it. Superbike defied the odds, it was an overachiever. When I bought it I was asked what kind of bike it was, my response was that I didn’t know, it had stickers but I hadn’t bothered to read them. It was only after a month or so that I realized its main sticker said Super Bike and it had a smaller one along the back saying Super World. It’s fitting. It really is a Superbike in a Superworld. I felt a bit sad after giving it away. I missed my morning ritual of packing my bag in the morning and tying it to the back of the bike. Pulling the bungee ropes as tightly as I could toned my whole upper body and was the perfect start to the day. I missed the freedom it gave me, I've seen possibly 50,000 smiles whilst on Superbikes dented old seat travelling through Asia, Superbike has given me so many phenomenal memories.

 4000 Islands.

 Sunset on Don Det.

Me and Superbike shortly before we parted ways, sad times.