272. Meshed

The few words of Arabic I know astonish and delight my traveling companions. They are all pious Moslems who chant a prayer together every time the bus moves out from a rest stop.


Morning comes as we travel. The landscape is flat and white with snow and soon we arrive in Meshed. 

A cheerful boy riding a new Honda motorbike meets the bus and offers to guide me to a nice hotel. I climb on behind him and am delivered to a clean, cheap “hotel”. He offers to show me the sights of his town in the afternoon and I agree to go with him. Together, we visit a gold and turquoise decorated mosque, several gift shops and his brother’s carpet shop. The whole trip is a merchandising scam, but so pleasant you can’t get annoyed.

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