I haven't seen anyone for over an hour. Hell, I can barely see. It's pouring rain.
It's just me and the jungle.
Foggy.
Thick trees.
Narrow, broken mountain roads.
Potholes everywhere.
I'm exhausted. Still battling dengue. But I have to keep going.
Yesterday, the locals warned me not to drive here.
"Nooo—alone?"
"On a motorbike?"
"There's a lot of crime."
"The roads are terrible."
"If you need help, no one will come."
And yet, I'm having the time of my life.
Maybe there's a fine line between bliss and raw fear.
Today, I'm riding that line.
And I've learned to chase it.
It's in moments like this—dodging puddles, soaked, wiping warm rain off my visor—that I feel most alive.