A day made for cycling

Beloved --
Saturday January 31st was meant for cycling--fresh and cool. We headed off through villages and farms, some rice and surprisingly some corn. We ended up for lunch at a country outdoor picnic/dining spot that seemed to be a favorite of the local police and other government officials. They arrived in their sparkling clean pickups and are warmly and jovially greeted by the staff.
After lunch--I would have enjoyed a nap, we seem always to hike, kayak, or cycle in the heat of the day--I hydrate and press on. After an hour or so of cycling, we are given a choice. It's either an easy road to our next guest house or a more challenging route--a "technical" trail for about 10kms, very rutted and impassible in the rainy season. The technical trail, you guessed, was the route I picked, along with one other cyclist and our Thai mountain biking master, Som. It was a challenge, but we all survived.
After calming down and cooling off from the technical descent, we visited a betel nut chewing village about a kilometer beyond our encampment. These villagers were hard bargainers, but offered some good deals on their geegaws, especially goofy hats and wall hangings, if one should want either of those.
One particularly attractive women followed me through the village shouting, "Buy me, buy me!" which I'm sure was messed up in the translation and not what she meant at all. It was an idea worth considering (he jokes) until she exposed her blood-red, betel nut juice stained teeth. Our guides said that the villagers found the color attractive.
The guest house/facility is used by different trekking/hiking/scouting/student retreat groups. On this particular Saturday night several groups, including ours, gathered round a campfire for a full-tilt, chaotic, multi-lingual hootenany. The campfire was still smouldering at dawn, when I got up to greet the dawn (and survey the remnants). There had also been a wedding party in the village that night, so no one for kilometers around, got a sound sleep for all the singing and village fireworks. What a hoot!
I love you and miss you all,
Jim