Quiet Quetta

We arrived into Quetta at about 8pm; 2hrs after nightfall. Everyone we have met both within and outwith Pakistan advises agains foreigners being outside at night-time. We had to find the police, FAST. Luckily the bus station is near to the army section of town, so we were soon on wide roads with armed men either side, who we figured were safe enough looking to ask for directions. Within 20min we found ourselves within a police station.

"Yes" confirmed the policeman who could speak English, "it certainly is advisable for foreigners to remain indoors after dark". Indeed, he was concerned of being shot himself after nightfall and would not walk round alone. A police escort could be arranged to take us to the hotel, but it would have to be a motor cycle. Due to strikes and the 3 days of mourning, none of the petrol station had any petrol, and the police vehicles had run out of fuel. A police escort to the border was not really an option, though it would be safer anyway to travel by bus. Police are a target in Baluchistan, as is the train that runs twice per month. The buses are run by Baluchi people and so were less so.

We arrived safely in our hotel only to discover that the kitchen was closed, but it was possible to go to a restauran around the corner, and the desk clerk reckoned it was safe to go. Having eaten nothing for 12hrs, and not being too enamoured with the prospect of not eating for a further 12hrs, we decided to go against all advice given to us about Quetta and brave it. We had that very day purchased some rather fetching, and incredibly warm, Pakistani shawls, so wrapped ourselve up in those and stepped out into the darkness...

After a very uneventful 20min, we walked back into the light with our stomachs full.


It was possible that we would have to spend 2 days in Quetta. A lack of petrol generally tends to restrict the movement of buses and it was unknown if there would be enough fuel the following day (Monday) when the pumps reopened. As it turns out, there was enough fuel, and buses did run, so by 4pm on Monday we were already to do our final leg in Pakistan.


It consisted of 13hrs packed into a bus travelling at night towards Iran. This was the most dangerous section of the journey and is where most kidnappings occur. Luckily, once again, it proved a very uneventful trip. We arrived in the border town of Taftan at 6.30am on the 1st of the 1st 2008. It has got to be one of the dullest New Year's Eve I have ever spent in my life, and that includes the one where we got flooded in in Mayo, watched Jurassic Park on TV, and went to bed at 11.45pm. Though, I guess it's probably a good thing it wasn't more eventful.

At 10am the border opened and we crossed into Iran.




We don't speak the language, we have no phrase book, we have no guide book, we have finally grasped the exchange rate, we are sure we have been ripped off numerous times already, but we are now in the city of Kerman. It means one thing at the moment: we are out of Baluchistan. We are now in places where we do not need police escorts and are safe to be seen on the streets after night. And so I shall leave it here. For one thing, I need to go buy a guide book!

(Paul, I hope these last 3 blogs go in some way to explaining why we "cheated" and took one or two motorised vehicles [well...6 police vans, 2 buses, 2 minibuses, 2 taxis, 1 truck and 1 comandeered pickup truck])