Foreward

Thursday, 2 February 2012

Arrival in Busheir


Feeling at ease again, we drove on for a few more hours and then we began to see the high land we had been driving on starting to fall away, as we descended down the mountains into Busheir.
Winding down the mountain road, which was very similar to the Swiss Alps, we came across an overturned lorry, which was full of cartons of new TV sets, all spread across the road. Bob pointed out they were using a mechanical shovel to push the broken boxes over the edge of the mountain to clear the road. I was too busy trying not to crash into anything and we did a quick slalom through the cardboard cartons and continued into Busheir as night fell.
We had arrived in Busheir and our trip had taken exactly five days! We were hot, smelly, hungry and in need of a hot shower, food and real bed to sleep in. We soon discovered there was only one hotel, so we parked up and went inside and checked into our rooms. After taking a long shower, a change of clothes, Bob and I met in the reception to go in search of the restaurant. We had finally sat down ordered a couple of Pepsi Cola’s with ice and lemon and just started to relax for the first time in days. We were feeling very content and really felt like we had achieved something and gained an enormous amount of experience. We ordered some food and another couple of drinks.
Half way through our meal a silver haired man came over to talk to us. He was a British professor from England and he was out helping the locals with some scheme or other. He was something out of a novel and represented the typical mad professor, which we later nicknamed him. The restaurant looked across the Persian Gulf and although it was dark outside, the lights picked out the sea and top of the waves through the windows. The professor was rambling on about bring all the old folks out here instead of Southend or Bournemouth, or perhaps setting up an exchange deal for old people. It was good to talk to someone else in English, but this guy was potty and we had a terrible job getting rid of him.
The next morning fully refreshed we headed off to find the Ro-Ro ferry terminal to arrange transport to Bahrain. Well guess what, there was no such ferry or Ro-Ro service as explained to us by the Iranian Tourist Board in Regent Street only the local wooden Dhow boats!

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