I am now in Pakistan - there is something invigorating about a new country - drinking tea with money changers who are taking me for all I have. Everone has to make a living. I object when one of them tries to sell me two bus tickets on account of no man can sit next to me. True in Iran but not in Pakistan. I do not see this as my problem and flatly refuse more than one ticket. 600 rupees is enough. To my joy, at this point, Andy the English cyclist crosses the border and decides to chuck his bike on the bus and ride into Dodge.
With enormous good fortune we are allocated seat 39 and 40 on the back seat which we later we defend against all comers and take turns lying down across the seats. He is a man but now no one cares who sits next to me. he bus bounces. In fact, for the next twelve hours we bounce. No let up. Sometimes we are nearly flung out of our seats. It is really bad abd gets worse when, during the nicht, the road becomes unpaved, Several times. luying on the back seat, I am flung completely into the air.
Andy and I find all this hilarious. We have the most fun enjoying every moment and lurch and boing of this insanely uncomfortable journey.
