Day 292: Maleganon-Dahivad

Spain won and I was glad that no extra time was played because as it was I only managed to hit the road after ten. but it was a clouded windy day with a bit of rain and I could cycle without any problems. The wind is quite amazing blowing me steadily north - the monsun-express. in Duhle I made a quick stop to restock. The first crowd that gathered was too much in my face and I left swiftly before too many people would block the way. One guy grabbed a a bag and tried to hold me back, I shouted at him: "don't touch" and he let go.
Later I had to pay some prayer taxes, collected by some young men on the street. This way I learned that there are two sai babas, one who lived until the beginnig of last century and who is venerated as god and the one I already knew who died one year ago. The ten rupies were collected in the name of the first holy man.
When I was about to think that there are no metal threads on indian roads I got a puncture in the front tire and a twenty kilometres later I got three punctures in the rear one. What a malicious road... Four metal threads and one thorn. Besides the highway also communicates in short messages; "go smoothly on my curves!" or "stop the accident before it stops you!". On the other hand the "horn ok please" thing, that is written on almost every cargo vehicle and in all possible combination of letters which still allow to understand the meaning, leave me with a big question mark still.
During the entire day people on motorcycles would ride along for a bit and ask the usual question ("what's your good name?") or try to talk to me in hindi or marathi. It ended often with them wishing me a happy journey, which I find really cool, forget about safty, just be happy. Most of the time it was ok but sometimes in traffic situations that needed all my attention, it was a bit too much if somebody wants to talk with you on top of that.
In the eavening I stopped at some place with a hotel sign, but during this day I realized that many places calling themselves hotel were quite different from what I expected. So was this one, it was a restaurant-bar and when I asked for a room they informed me that they don't have any. A guy working there speaking fluent english introduced himself as Bravin and he seemed determined to find a solution for me. He was a nephew of the owner of the place and arrived only two weeks ago to work in the hotel. First I asked if I could camp in the backyard, "no problem" came the answer. While looking for a suitable spot some of the waiter that sleep in the building voiced some concerns about raiders. Then I, was offered the only sleeping room of the building, which I could not accept because the idea of taking the most wanted sleeping spot away from somebody else made me feel very uncomfortable. Finally the manager made a phonecall and organised a place in a nearby village where Bravin stayed himself.
Bravin really went out of his ways, took the night early off so I could sleep at a reasonable hour (for me) and he kept me company when I fixed the holes of the spare air chamber and the ones of the rear tire I overlooked. It's always nice to have someone to talk to after all my conversations were barely more than the answer to the question "where are you from" (country! country?) for the last three days.