Many Kinds of Madness

There are as many kinds of madness as there are people it would seem.

Some are mad with money, or lust, or greed, or dreams. They are corrupted by the chance to make or have or own. You can feel their grasping when you talk to them - always seeming they want something from you - it is utterly repulsive.

There is a madness of pain, when you are disabled by hurt. Maybe a physical sickness or wound, an emotional trauma or a spiritual loss, that renders you incapable of anything but howling your pain, grief and loss to the world.

There are quiet madness's and violent madness's, passing ones like summer storms, or madness's here to stay like a winter freeze. Gibbering madness's, frothing madness's, raging madness's. Normal everyday not quite right madness's.

Then there is a type of whimsical nonsensical craziness that has you just shaking your head sadly and saying 'Mad, mad, utterly mad'. I met a couple from Hungary that fell into this category today.

As I was having breakfast they came over. 'you drive motorbike? yes? Us too! From Budapest!'

I had heard of many people making this overland trip, but had yet to meet one. 'Really! Wow!' I looked around for their bike, but couldn't see one. 'Where are your bikes?'

'Right there!' The man, a tall rangy, bearded fellow, with pale blue eyes, pointed at what I thought was small car or covered tuktuk. His wife, smaller, round and jolly, with black curly hair and a big smile, nodded too. They looked to be in their early forties.

'That, erm wow'. It could only be loosely called a bike. A bike engine maybe, with a chasis and three wheels and suspension and a cabin and controls like a car. 'We bring this over through Romain, Turkey, Iran, Pakistan, India, now Nepal. We fly it to Thailand, then Cambodia, Vietnam, Laos. Then Malaysia, Singapore, Indonesia. THen Australia. Then Chile, Peru, Bolivia. Then...'

'Hang on... you are doing a World Tour right?'

'Yes, yes everywhere!' He beamed at me.

'In this! Goodness'. Their adventure put mine to shame. 'Do you fancy a drive?' he asked.

'Yes, sure!'

So I was driven at break neck speed round outside the Park where Buddha was born, in a souped up 650cc, motortrike, rattling along at almost 80km a few inches above the ground. '117km and hour, no problem!' My hungarian driver shouted excitedly over the engine. We didn't reach that, but it felt like we were taking off.

Afterwards, we sat, drank coffee and compared adventures. He could only speak a little English, his wife none at all. But we got on like a house on fire. Almost as if we spoke the same language. Almost as if I was as mad as them.

Perhaps I am. I know that some people think that I am a bit touched for wishing to go off, risk body and mind driving round India and Nepal on a motorbike, putting up with extreme cold, discomfort and expense. But would I go away for years to do something like they were?

Although there is a part of me that would love to, and is envious of people that do, there is a bigger part that says no. That is too much for me. I can only take so much.

I drew a map of Nepal for them, they had only just arrived from India, with some of the highlights. They invited me to Hungary next year to go and stay with them.

I didn't catch their names, but If you wish to follow their adventures, www.velorexadventure.com is where they are recording their adventure.