First light. On the road. The final push towards Hong Kong. Penultimate day. Thumbs up from a few early morning joggers. Bit between my teeth. Focused riding. Paced, steady. Achilles stable. Sweeping south. The chill early morning air soon replaced with a pleasant warmth.
A late morning stop drew a man and a young boy out of their house. Grandson I thought. They were curious. A cup of hot green tea appeared. And then a bank note. German. 1922. 100,000 Marks. By all accounts almost worthless. How the family came to have it in their possession I couldn’t fathom. Not as if the Germans had invaded. They’d left that to the Japanese.
Leave a Reply