Moving slightly Easter.

Large

9.

As I got in the old taxi at the bus station in Yazd the sun came through the window and rekindled the heat it had blasted at me on the four hour bus journey from Esfahan. The driver fiddled with a small switch under the steering wheel and the engine wheezed into action. The fumes of cheap petrol, the likes of which you see hanging over every city in Iran, issued through the dashboard.

-"Silk Road Hotel?"

-"Silk Road Hotel".

10.

Crossing the road here takes some skill.

You can forget zebra crossings for a start, they might as well stand for speed-up as far as the driver is concerned. So, confronted by a busy road you have two choices: a) you wait for a gap in the traffic (that will never happen, how else do you think they managed to get all that smog up there?) b) you start to slowly step out onto the road. You have to aim for the gaps between the lanes of traffic, they're the safe bits. Once you get to the middle of the road you can take a quick break, gather oneself. Then it's round two.

A key tactic I use is to spot a local who also wishes to get to the other side, and shadow them across. Also, if you did get hit by a car in Iran, the driver is always legally obliged to pay compensation, no matter whose fault it is. Compensation I could put towards a new lens?

When I think of it like that crossing the road becomes a lot less scary.