Erzurum, Turkey: I buy a ticket to the border of Iran and spend the day waiting for my bus in the frosty depot. The waiting room is crowded with big bearded men wearing black or dark colored clothing. All are “smoking like Turks”, which means lighting a fresh cigarette from the burning butt of the old one. The air in the room is practically unbreathable. Now and then a small boy appears in the haze carrying a tray of stale bread and a pot of weak coffee—much better than nothing, but the smoke is making me cough and my throat raw.
Late in the afternoon a pretty woman comes in escorted by a very tough-looking, hairy brute of a man. She is the only female in the crowded roomful of men. When her escort leaves for a moment she comes over to tell me she is studying English in Istanbul. It is pleasant to hear a female voice speaking a language I understand, but I hope her man is not the jealous type since I am no match for him and no one is going to be on my side in this off-the-wall dump.
My bus fills with men and I bid farewell to Erzurum, hopefully never to return.
About midnight and still 35 kilometers from the Iranian border, the bus comes to a halt and the driver informs us that this is as far as the bus goes.
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