A little earlier beginning even than anticipated, when C + A were driven inside by a vicious wind at about 2.30 am. I’d slept reasonably well, despite getting a cold back when Walter, who had been wedged kin next to me, got up sometime in the middle of the night to have a cigarette. And after a cup of tea to get the circulation going, we were off + running. It was bloody bloody cold, but we wrapped around us all the available blankets. As well as it still being the middle of the night, it was obvious that the weather was getting much colder. We were seeing snow-covered landscapes now, snow-covered roads in some places, + drove thro’ a small blizzard or 2. It might have been thought that such weather would keep the Revolutionary Guards indoors in the warm, but they’re a zealous bunch, + every few hrs we would be stopped + asked for our passports. This was when our guide really came into his own, for when we were beckoned to a halt, he would crawl out from beneath his blankets + mediate. Always successfully, for there was never any fuss – sometimes we would be waved thro’ after just a word from him.
All in all, he seemed an estimable fellow. C + A had heard horror stories about various guides, how they could conduct you on a wild goose chase thro’ the country in order for them to visit a relative, cast greedy eyes upon cassettes, cigarettes, etc, + give more than hints about wanting money. In contrast, our chap was a saint. He didn’t smoke, he had no objection, or gave no visible sign of any objection, to the western music blaring more or less non-stop from the cassette player, yet neither did he display of any sign of a more possessive interest. He didn’t always know the way, but was never afraid to ask. He played his part in the preparation of tea, coffee, soup, etc. In restaurants he was helpful in getting us what we wanted, + telling us how much things cost, but scrupulous to a fault in ensuring he always paid for what he had had himself. He never complained, tho’ there was much to complain of. And on a more personal level, he revealed, over the time we were together, both a dry + subtle sense of humour, + a dislike for the ideals + person of the Ayatollah Khomeini. Ironically, we called him Rev, for Revolutionary Guard (Alan began it, + the rest of us fell in easily enough) because we couldn’t fix his real name in our heads – not that we tried very hard.
We passed the day much as we had passed yesterday, only hampered by the additional biting cold. Walter + I played chess, much tea was drunk, biscuits + tangerines (tangerines – the authentic smell of Christmas) were consumed, I read my usual dose of a not very special thriller. But then I seem to be the only one aboard the bus doing any sort of reading at all. Val + I were able to get hold of some Iranian money today by selling some cigarettes – one carton, + 1 pack out of the other carton. This looked to provide us with plenty of money for the trip, even tho’ we did pig out on biscuits, honey, etc. Rev remained discreetly in the van while negotiations were going on – another mark in his favour. The cash also enabled us to repay the dinner we had been bought yesterday, with a kebab meal at around lunchtime. It was much, much better than yesterday’s effort, with rice, salad, pickles, Pepsi, as well as meat + bread – an excellent feed.
Because of the poor driving conditions, we weren’t making good time, yet C + A wanted to push on to in order to keep to their self-imposed + rigorous schedule, so once again we carried on beyond dark. It nearly proved a big mistake, for we nearly were stranded at an ice-locked pass. One truck had already come to grief, + there was a long snake of vehicles edging their way past. We did get thro’, + did push on to the town in question, but it was 9.30 before we stopped, + 10 o’clock before we were all sorted out, if that’s the right phrase. There could be no question of C + A venturing outside the van tonight, but they elected to take the front 2 seats, + try to sleep sitting up. It sounded like nonsense to me, but they weren’t to be dissuaded.
Usual sort of black market activity to generate a little bit of cash. Most remarkable thing was that our guide turned a blind eye to it all. He was a splendid man, a Kurd, who clearly had no love for the regime; no idea how he had managed to be entrusted with what was presumably a pretty sensitive position. And I do very much regret the unintended disrespect to re-christen him when we could not be bothered to learn his name.
