Trip Start Jan 08, 2005
135Trip End Ongoing
We got there about 6ish and one was just driving away. Typical. By 7, Mr Akbar had flagged a bus down and secured four seats, the last, for us and the Czechs. By the time we had sat down the price of our seats had gone up (how surprising), but we knew the correct price, so we all told the bus-boy to bugger off, gave him the amount Mr Akbar had told us and he went away. We had to get to Zahedan and then go to Mirjaveh, the border town.
Once at Zahedan bus station we tried to find out about buses going to the border. We made the mistake of telling a bastard taxi driver that where we were going and of course he immediately said there were no buses. His poo brown shalwar kameez had given him away - he was a complete shit. According to the Lonely Planet, there were frequent buses and also occasional mini buses. So we ignored him, as any person with half a brain would. David went up to the bus counter and yes, there was a bus and it was only a couple of dollars. Cool. But in time it took for him to relay this information to us, the poo-brown bastard taxi driver had had words with the bus people and when David and Leo went over with some dosh for the tickets, they then said there were none. As much as we tried, they stuck to their story and giggled like girls at us, happy in the knowledge that they had made our morning hell. David lost it and told them off in many colourful ways. Even though they couldn't understand what he was saying, I'm sure they got the gist.
Leo, the Czech, and I went outside to try to find a half decent taxi driver or ride of some kind, but everytime we spoke to someone this dirty bastard taxi driver would have words and they would retract everything. The taxi driver started talking to Leo and Leo very calmly told him to f***k off. He kept talking. Leo asked him if he had understood. 'Yes, I understand.' he said, so Leo said, 'Well, f***k off then.' But he stood his ground. Leo looked at him, extended his arm and one finger and told him again to go forth and multiply. This time he took the hint and walked away quickly. But even when we went outside the gates and tried to get a driver the others inside the bus station would come over, babble away and the driver would say no. This went on for a while and eventually we found someone new and willing to take us for 4 Khomeinis (40,000 rials). The right price. We loaded in, all the while telling other drivers to keep away. They were all rattling on to this driver that was taking us and all smiling. We thought we were fine when about 15 mins into the journey the driver says he doesn't have enought petrol and can't take us. I KNEW this would happen!!!! I said, 'This is Iran. You can buy petrol anywhere.' He said nothing. Leo also told him to buy some. I knew he wouldn't take us. We kept on at him but he stopped at the taxi rank on the other side of town and demanded his money, but it was a unanymous 'NO!'. We unloaded and some other dick was trying to tell us it would cost us 120,000 rials for a taxi all the way to the border. The other taxi driver was wanting payment so Leo grabbed him by the shoulders, guided him to his front seat and told him to drive away because he wouldn't be getting any money. We were all in the process of telling them where to stick their price when I spotted a bus. I frantically waved it down and we all jumped on, flicked the bird at the drivers and sat down. By the time the bus-boy had gotten to us, the price had gone up again so we had to do the old we-know-you're-wrong thing again and when he saw the looks on David and Leo's faces he backed down and took what he was given. Smart boy.
We were booted off in Mirjaveh - a right shithole of a place. Dusty and dirty. Thank god we hadn't needed to stay here! We were pointed in the direction of the border and then told by some little boys to wait by the train tracks for a bus. A ute appeared and we negotiated our price. Two Khomenini's for the four of us. Bargain. About 10 minutes later we were paid up and waiting at the border post for our passports to be stamped out. The guard at the gate before the last gate asked for our passports, asked our nationality, thanked us for staying and waved us goodbye. Finally free from the confines of my headscarf I walked through the next gate and into Pakistan. Khoda Hafez! (goodbye in Farsi).