A familiar tale.

20.

Today was the second time I lived today, if you know what I mean. Which I’m sure you don’t. Perhaps I should have said that today’s events almost exactly mirrored those of another day I had in Van, Turkish Kurdistan.

In Van I had to check out of my grubby hotel at midday, to be cast out onto the street until my night bus left at 9.30. This night-bus didn’t even take me to my desired destination (Mardin) so instead I had to go to Diyarbakir first and then take a really early bus to get where I wanted.

In Sanandaj I had to check out of my grubby hotel at midday, to be cast out onto the streets until my night bus left at 9.30. This bus doesn’t even take me to my desired destination (Tabriz) so instead I have to go to Orumiyeh first, and then take a really early bus to get where I want to go.

To occupy myself in Van I hopped from teahouse to teahouse, trying to kill time. I half-heartedly checked out the touristy bits, but ended up strolling down endless street after endless street. I headed back to the hotel earlier than I would have liked meaning I had to sit awkwardly, perusing Facebook.

Facebook isn’t an option here, though.

So instead I’m back at the grubby hotel, slightly earlier than I’d have liked, with sore legs after walking up and down endless streets, searching for teahouses and half-heartedly walking around a museum. The guy in the reception is watching wrestling but has adjusted his position to accommodate my peripheral presence.

Better get used to it, pal. My bus doesn’t leave for another three hours.