It is only a few miles to the border, but we take 6 hours to get out of the modern Iranian border compound. I note that the map of surrounding countries in the passport control building shows Israel as Palestine.
Before we leave the country, we are asked to fill in a questionnaire about our experiences in Iran, which the officials say is part of a university study. We comply, but it is a frustrating addition to the time we take to get through.
The Pakistan border control is a shack, but here reactions to us are more jovial.
We are expecting an armed guard transport through Pakistan, but today we only get as far as the customs compound near the border. Phony Welsh Dave (he doesn’t speak Welsh, he doesn’t sound Welsh…) and Shay, our superficially very serious Irishman, explore the compound. They go to the top of the building opposite to where the truck is parked to find a man making a hash drink, mixed with a small amount of milk. He is holding a machine gun, probably an AK47 and his eyes are very red, having drunk about 8 cups while they were talking to him.
I spend another night sleeping on the truck roof, and this time I sleep quite well, despite the presence of our seriously stoned and seriously armed roof guard.
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