The
Long
Way East
Italy
to Hong Kong by Motorbike
It will take you twelve hours by plane – departing on a sunny
afternoon from Rome, leaving Saint Peter’s dome, the Mediterranean
Sea and its colorful coasts to land on Lantau Island, in the early morning.
Gripped by the monochromatic concrete of a metropolis, by the beauty
of Victoria Harbor, stunned in a chaotic street market, an amalgam of
shining colors, intense smells, strange melodies of languages. Instead,
we took eight months, forty thousand kilometers by road, on two motorbikes
to arrive Hong Kong on time for our job commitments.
We set out for our journey from Tuscany, headed east across Europe,
Slovenia, Croatia, Serbia, Bulgaria, Greece, Turkey, Syria, Iran, Pakistan,
India, Nepal, Indochina and Australia with the intention of getting
as near as possible to our final destination, fully understanding that
it would have been difficult to accomplish our goal, due to social and
political instability in many countries along the route.
We
felt the tension near the Pakistan-Afghan border as we crossed the Baluchestan
desert, we were stuck overnight on mountains controlled by local tribes
and their AK 47s. A cold shiver ran down our back in Nepal when a technical
problem forced us to travel during a curfew where we were suddenly bumped
into a group of Maoist rebels. We felt the frustration of psychological
and physical constraints driving through the chaotic traffic in India.
The worst disappointment came, however, from the political reasons that
shut the border gates between China and Vietnam from motorcyclists,
forcing us to beat a retreat and renounce the original plan, veering
toward Australia, which we crossed from Perth to Sydney, and arriving
Hong Kong by air.
We
maintain memories of each country and each event, as they brought us
to experience pristine landscapes and beautiful people. We traveled
across deserts at 49?C and under heavy monsoons; we slept under millions
of stars and in gasoline stations; we shared delicious home made food
with families in Iran, a dish of rice and lentils with Pasthun tribesmen
in Pakistan, as well as a hot soup (whose ingredients are fortunately
still not (?)unknown to us) with Cambodian border guards.
Our
final destination became less and less important and the travel itself
took a pre-eminent role, each scenery provoking an emotion, each encounter
leaving a trace, and each difficulty leading to strength, the unusual
was becoming our daily life. The trip was and will always be part of
our lives.
-Valeria Milani
