[h1]Kazakhstan[/h1] The motorbike peeled over dry empty Steppe tracing the river bank. It snaked on through the flat breathless expanse slow and shimmering bright. The water glittered with silver pieces. Its presence contrasted against the dry emptiness of the Kazakh steppe like a blemmish. After several hours, the pair came to a stop by some rocks. Their stomachs grumbling from hunger. Pulling to the side they came up to an area of broken ground were the exposed boulders, jutting out black and dark cast shadows from the mid-evening sun. Immediately off to their side the river's bank lapped against gravel and rock as the water flowed past. Dismounting the bikes, Guo was the first to step out, his shoes grinding in the gravel. He groaned languidly as he twisted his back this way and that, his spine cracking at every twist. “We should probably fill it up.” he said. “We can do that later.” Chao said, lifting himself out of the side guard. He walked to the bike's saddle bags and begin searching for the food. “How long has it been since we've seen another person?” Guo asked stepping to the river bank. He came up to where the water was just before his toes. “Why do you ask?” responded Chao Guo combed his fingers through his shaggy beard, “It's strange.” he said, “How many days has it been? We haven't really ever seen a single soul. Not since the town, but we never hung around to talk to anyone. What's going on in this country? Is there anything going on?” he wondered. “I don't know. Perhaps it's one of those places.” Chao said back, producing some pieces of paper-wrapped food, stale bread and dry rice. “Come on, let's get something read to eat.” he beckoned, heading off towards the rocks. “Fill the pot with water too and we'll see if we can get something to eat.” he added. Guo begrudgingly did as he was asked. The pot was kept in the bag on the opposite side of the side-car. It was banged up and dented, the finish was beginning to wear and its luster was fading or straight up gone along the edges, leaving a dull rough spot. He dunked it in the water and scoured when the water he pulled up was muddy with a faint tan tint to it. But it would have to do. He carried it over to Chao who was beginning clearing a space in the dry grass. Pulling up the dry blades and piling it up with small twigs to make the beginnings of a small fire. Guo put down the pot and went over to the bike for more kindling and pulled out some odd bits of wood they had held onto for the purpose of a fire. With the piece of wood set down, Chao struck a flint and lit the fire. It crackled and popped nervously before slowly growing to take up the grass. The pieces of wood were gentle placed in, and the fire caught. Over it, the pot was placed and the rice poured in. The pot wasn't very large, and it made Guo's stomach growl to look at it. But now it was on the fire and on its way to boiling he joined Chao by the rocks, where he was unwrapping one of the pieces of stale flat bread. “Not much, but oh well.” Chao said handing over a piece. Guo sighed. A part of him felt defeated, like a prisoner. Only taking the patterns to stay alive. He missed the moments of hearty meal. As he gnawed on his stale bread he looked over at Chao who looked content leaning against the dark boulder. “How can you take it?” he asked. He looked over at him, a brow half cocked questioningly. “Excuse me?” he asked. “How can you take this? The stale bread, the road to no where. Chao, do you even know where we are? How far we are from home?” Chao considered the question for a moment. And between bites sighed, “I really don't know.” he took another bite and thought about the questions as he chewed. We're somewhere in the middle of no where. Maybe a thousand miles from home. But somehow I just feel... free.” “You're going to tell me you're free, here?” Chao nodded, “Look at this way, and I've been thinking about this on our way out here: We've freed ourselves from tradition, from the expectation of our communities. With only ourselves, we're fully responsible for what we're doing. We are free right now. This is what the Unionist Party wants.” Guo shook his head, “I don't think you get it. We need those people. Chao, we're not free right now. We're in danger.” “And we'll take it in stride.” “How much food do we have?” asked Guo. “Enough.” responded Chao. “Enough? And how much is enough. I don't think we have enough fucking fuel for another fire! We're going to be eating our rice dry from here on out soon!” protested Guo. “Has it hurt anyone before?” Chao asked Guo and Guo threw up his hands shouting. “For fucks sakes, you're taking this all too comfortably, aren't you?” he asked, “We don't have any reason to be out here!” Chao looked over at his companion and laughed, “And here you are too.” he reminded him. “For fucks sake.” he groaned. Chao laughed. “By the way, have you seen the boulder?” Chao said after a moment of silence. “What about it?” Guo asked, still bitter. He looked over to Chao pointing at the boulder sticking out of the raised ground behind him. In the fire light cast through the shadow he could see what looked like scratchings in the rock. He looked over at his companion and asked, “What about it?” “Look closer” he said. So Guo did. Faintly carved into the bare stone faint images of men and animals could be seen etched into the barren rock. Wind and erosion had softened the figures, but the stone underneath the surface was subtly cleaner, lighter. By only a few shades there was a difference between light and dark that made images in the course dark stone. He looked up and around them, all across the exposed surface of the rock there were more images, many more. “What the hell?” wondered Guo, aloud. “I noticed them when we first stopped.” Chao said, “I wondered if you would notice. Over here too.” he said standing up. He lead Guo across to another set of outcropped rock, dark and brown. They passed the rice, which was beginning to steam and bubble on a low flame. Here too were images of animals and stick figure men, accompanied by some script, unreadable and ancient. “Where are we?” asked Guo as he stood before the rocks. “I don't know, I wanted to check it out before the sun set completely.” Chao said. “I should have a flash light. At least I think I do.” Guo responded. He had to admit, he was all of a little fascinated all of a sudden looking at the simple carvings. “I think this, this is why I wanted to get out. Wasn't this your reason too when we set out?” Chao asked. “Well I... I don't know. I never expected to cross the border though!” Guo said. “What was it Hou said, all men are family?” “I mean sure, but what does that mean for us?” asked Guo. “I don't think we ever truly left China, I don't think we left anywhere.” Guo sat down to ponder. Chao followed suit. Both took either side of the fire and sat quietly as the rest of the water boiled away or was absorbed by the rice, what was left of the water was left as a starchy film that bubbled from the packed and wet rice at the bottom. By this point, the fire had died away and was a weak glowing pile of coals. Chao threw a few odd rocks and debris onto the hot coals. As the water boiled off in the pot they let it cool. The sun was setting and the light that spilled out over the world was deep and purple. The air became cooler, and towards the light of their smoldering fire silver-white moths fluttered in close. Before all the light could fade however, Chao stood up and walked to the bike and rummaged through the bags and took out a flashlight. After some fighting, the weak amber glow of the bulb flickered on and he returned to the low fire. “Want to walk and eat for a little?” he asked. “Why?” Guo asked. “I wanted to check this out further. Come on.” he said, waving the flash light. Guo stuttered and finally rose to his feet and snatched the pot by its bent handles. Together they walked off into the darkening wilderness. Flashlight beam scanning the rocks and the outcroppings of rock jutting from the ground they looked over bands of ancient writing carved into the rock, accompanied by animal and human carvings. As they went, both dove their hands into the pot and took out clumps of lukewarm rice in their fists and ate. Stopping to look up at the glistening bands of carved rock in the beam of their flashlight. Coming to a jumble of wayward stones and boulders on the ground they stopped and looked down on living accurate, finely details images of the Buddha with halo. They hung the light on the sleepy image of the ancient prince with his hand raised in a gesture of blessing. “What do you think about when we're on the move?” Chao asked Guo as they stood there. Guo, mid-bite took a moment to answer. “What do I think about? Home, mostly. I think. I think about the smell of morning tea, and not gasoline fumes. I think about a warm bath, and not being so full of dirt and grime, or naked dips in cold ponds. Mom's dumplings, father's stories, and my cousin's jokes.” Chao nodded. “Is this what you were talking about earlier?” Guo asked. Chao shrugged, “I think so.” he said. “You think so?” Guo asked. “Yeah, but... Listen, you ever had a thought but didn't know how to talk about it?” Chao asked. “Back in university, on every other essay.” laughed Guo. Chao also laughed. “But, why limit ourselves?” Chao asked. “Limit ourselves to what?” “Limit ourselves, to home. To where we were. What makes staying in the same place so important.” “Because we were born there, our parents were too. And we owe our parents reverence.” Guo chimed in, “It's where we're meant to be, where we were raised. We're made for where we're born. Here: what do we know about here.” “But is the world too not just one large home for all everyone?” Chao responded, “So why stay where we were born. We do disrespect to our family if we do not return.” “And will we? Will you?” Guo asked. “I intend to.” Chao answered his question, squatting down in front of the largest rock with the largest Buddha. “Alright, if you insist. But come on. Let's go back.” [h1]Dragon Diaries[/h1] [i]Li Chao July 9th, 2916. The year of the metal rat. [/i] An unusual find on the road. I don't think we expected it. We were following this river down stream in the hopes of finding a crossing. The travel was harsh and difficult, we're mostly off road and both of our assess have been hurting. But I think we're able to bear the sores. We've been trading places far more often because of it. This has slowed us down. I don't think we made a quarter of what we would normally have done. But we stopped at a place of outcroppings in the middle of the steppe. Some valley area, but I don't think that would do valleys justice. But settling down to boil that night's ration of rice I noticed the carvings on the rocks. Guo and I had an argument over what we were doing before I pointed them out. He must have been as struck by them as I, because he stopped. By the time the food was ready the sun was pretty low and the hour late, but I dug out the old flashlight and we walked off into the valley eating rice with our hands. It's quite the wonder. It reminds me of a few places in China I've heard about and Guo doesn't seem to have heard of the thing. There's all sorts of images here, and I doubt we've seen them all before we headed back into camp. But there were carvings of the Buddha on some of the rocks, which has me thinking and comparing our trip to another. I went to bed thinking about the Journey to the West and comparing ourselves to the Monkey King. Our worn green bike is like the White Dragon Horse, and we are like Sun Wukong. However, we are going much further west than those ancient characters, and we are not in search of any sage wisdom, or Buddhism. But my thoughts on waking now give me cause to reconsider our path to Africa. We might be able to roughly retrace Wukong's route to India if we turn south and head into that direction. Except instead of passing into the country itself as the final destination we might find a way to sail to Ethiopia and meet my sister. It would simplify the journey, and we would otherwise have to cross Persia and Iraq and through Egypt south. No, I think finding a boat somewhere in India or Persia would be the best bet. I will need to take it up with Guo. We have plenty of road ahead, so I don't think I will just yet. At some point I'll broach it with him, perhaps when we cross out of the country. I'm getting the idea he doesn't have much faith in the adventure (for lack of a better word) and would rather be home. But the fact he is preserving and hasn't abandoned me to the foreign world so far tells me he'll stick around. Now, if only he won't pick up complaining then we will be in the clear. But the future is ahead of us now, and all we have to do is press ahead.