A Day of Departures, Noodles, and Unexpected Encounters
November 6 began with a bittersweet feeling at My Place Hotel. My hair had grown longer, which gave me a small sense of satisfaction, but today was also the day when three cyclists I had met—all staying under the same roof—were setting off on their separate journeys.
Seeing them prepare to leave was an unforgettable sight. For a moment, I wished we could all gather again in the same place, posing for another photo together, as if freezing the memory of this rare meeting of fellow travelers.
Farewells at the Hostel
The first to depart was a cyclist from Norway. His setup was impressive—lightweight, minimal, and efficient. I admired how carefully he had reduced his belongings, making his journey easier.
Next was the traveler from Vietnam. Unlike the Norwegian, he carried a much heavier load, yet he managed to ride over 100 kilometers each day. I couldn’t help but respect him deeply. Personally, I can manage about 70 kilometers on a determined day, but 100? That level of endurance is remarkable.
Then it was my turn. My target for the day was about 80 kilometers. I took a deep breath, feeling both challenged and motivated.
Morning Energy: Choosing a Street Stall
Before setting off, I stopped by a food stall nearby. I have a simple rule when choosing: if the owner meets my eyes and smiles, I step inside. That small moment of connection usually means the food will be good, and rarely have I been disappointed.
This time, it was a noodle stall. I ordered noodles made with Chinese-style egg noodles, and to my surprise, the broth was vinegar-based. It wasn’t quite hot and sour soup, but it had a refreshing tang that was completely new to me. Each bite felt like discovering another side of Thai street food.
Sharing a short moment with the family who ran the stall added to the satisfaction. Their warmth turned an ordinary meal into a happy memory.
A Day of Noodles and Sudden Storms
After about 60 kilometers of riding, I stopped again, this time at another noodle shop. It seemed destined to be a noodle-filled day. The soup came with the familiar meatballs often found in Thailand—simple but always tasty.
But as I ate, I noticed the sky darkening. The clouds looked heavy, the kind that promised more than just a drizzle. Within minutes, the storm broke. Rain poured down in sheets, the kind that leaves no chance to continue cycling.
I found shelter under the roof of a local house. While waiting, the family next door invited me to join them for a meal. Their kindness touched me deeply. As we talked, I noticed a large roasted animal in the background. Curious, I asked what it was, using Google Translate to bridge the language gap. The answer surprised me—it was an armadillo.
I didn’t try it, but just seeing something so unfamiliar reminded me of the endless variety this world holds. Each land has its own flavors and traditions, and even just observing them can feel like a gift.
Hospitality on the Road
As the rain cleared, I pushed on toward the final stretch to the hotel. Not far from my destination, I came across a family drinking together. They invited me to join their celebration.
I couldn’t say no, even though my stomach was already full and I had already had four beers. Their laughter, the lively atmosphere, and their genuine hospitality were impossible to turn away from. Encounters like these, unplanned and spontaneous, are the soul of traveling.
The only thing I was truly grateful for in that moment was how close my hotel was. With so much food and drink in me, I don’t think I could have ridden much farther.
Dogs filled the street around that area, more than I had seen in an entire day’s ride elsewhere. It felt like they were part of the neighborhood’s character, each one adding to the memory.
Arrival at the Hotel
By the time I finally reached the hotel, the night had settled in. The owner welcomed me warmly, full of kindness and friendliness. The place itself was beautiful, and I felt an overwhelming sense of relief and gratitude that I had chosen to stay there.
The only regret was arriving so late. If I had reached earlier, I could have captured photos of the place in daylight. Still, even without the pictures, the memories of the day were already vivid.
November 6 was more than just 80 kilometers of cycling—it was a day of farewells, new tastes, sudden storms, surprising discoveries, and human kindness that made the journey richer.
