Clay-like blotch takes you to the Sky

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As the province of Kerman is close to the borders of Afghanistan and Pakistan, it has continued to play a vital part in the opium (or basically any other drug) trade. Although illegal, it's cheap and sexily abundant. In order to deal with it, roadside patrol checkpoints stop cars extremely often, to the point that a few days' there trains you to be the ideal passenger. According to my driver, here are the following rules for the female tourist:

"No English, they will not understand and think you are saying blasphemous things.
No Persian! They will be suspicious...you are spy in Iran?
No writing in your notebook. Very puzzling. (probably meaning no scribbly smiley marks either)
No sleeping - you are drugged and happy in the sky? yes?
No foreign guidebooks. They worry.
No earphones. What are you listening to? George Michael???"

Until a few years ago, it was quite a taboo for an unmarried man and woman to be sitting together in a car. I guess that idea still came in the way, as my driver explained on numerous occasions that "they think we are married? Ha ha ha neverrrrr, why i marry little japanese girl when i am war veteran?". Um...compliment or not?;-)

Approaching each stop, i rushedly extinguished my cigarette, hid my ipod, books, cigs and tucked up my headscarf. Cops surrounded our little sedan. Having read that smiling at men wasn't a great option, i decided to stare down as a submissive woman while occasionally looking at the men outside to acknowledge them. My eyes hurt. The car was parked at the side of the road as they insoected my passport, asked my driver if we were married and what the status of our relationship was.

The event would usually lead to me grasping a handful of japanese sweets while my driver spoke about my trip...and stops would end in smiles and waves as i looked back at the mirror to make sure we were far enough from the checkpoint to light a cigarette and watch my driver check into his stash of pot and fruit, while we listened to some forbidden western tapes.

The city of Kerman was a 9 hour drive from Shiraz. It is a large city, famous for its carpets and also for being the main stopover for the famous sites of Bam and Rayen. Stopping in a few towns on the way, my driver continued to seek new stashes of pot by asking locals, but to no avail until he suddenly stopped the car beside a car repairs store stating that he defintinely smelt something in the air. Proving to be true, a bunch of young guys had a fair bit of stash. My driver placed it into his pipe alongside some tabacco leaves rather masterly while we winded up some roads alongside a bloody cliff, inspecting nomadic tribes in their tents at the base of the mountain.

I inspected the stuff. It was a black clay-like substance marked with red tape for its strength, the size and appearance of a bean. Soon the car was wreaking of the scent, and I passed out listening to my jolly ipod; i admire how the Gladiator and Lawrence of Arabia theme takes you to sleep.

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