With the bikes parked up outside, loaded and ready for the off, I gently tapped on the door hoping to find Nico and Alex up and ready. Alex was still lying on the mattress on the floor. We were going nowhere today. After a quick chat it turned out that the poor guy had been up all night vomiting and was truly sick. Desperate as we are to reach Islamabad before Christmas to apply for our visa’s, leaving Alex here alone wasn’t an option.
An hour later we’d returned all our gear to the room and had jumped in the back of the police truck in the hope of heading into town to find money, and a pharmacy.
We got a little more than we bargained for. Money and drugs sorted, one of the officers took us to his cousin’s metal shop…well you would wouldn’t you!??!?
And there we sat chatting and taking photos of the passers by, metal workers, welders and anyone else who happened to walk into shot. What a stark contrast to the semi-hostile, resentful attitude thrown at us by the Iranian cops.
By early afternoon we filled a camera card and convinced the officers that we really needed to head back to check on Alex. We ended up scrounging a flash drive and handing over a copy of al the photos we’d shot of the police.
I’m now tying away trying to concentrate but failing horribly as I’m also now feeling off with waves of nausea. Shit, I don’t want to be ill again.