I power up the dirt track on a rickety contraption of metal and gears. The path is bright orange in the dense jungle, a groove forged by other cyclists trying to reach the same goal – the hotel pool. The sun beats down, encompassing me in a thick blanket of heat. I am metres away…
The groggy fog of your afternoon nap begins to dissipate. The thundery rumble of an ignored stomach calls you to action, and when the gnawing reaches fever pitch, you know it’s time to go. Of course, because you’re not a local, you don’t know where. The suggestions of a previous traveller, a close friend, ring…