Phew!  After passing through the literal, Internet and alcohol deserts of Iran and Baluchistan, I have arrived here, in Quetta, Southwestern Pakistan.

The bus trip from Taftan, at the Iranian border, to here is worthy of a page on its own.  Suffice to say that the 622 km journey took 22 hours, included 5 punctures and 10 army checkpoints, at which our bus driver had to bribe the relevant official; the legroom was fit for a midget, there was a family of four occupying the two seats next to mine, there was neither food nor water, the shock absorbers were hors de combat, the air conditioning non-existent, and the temperature was 38.7°C.

I am travelling with a group of four other backpackers at the moment.  After crossing the Pakistani border we had the obligatory burning of robes and headscarves.  We did think of dancing round the fire singing ‘Down with Khomeini’ or something like that, but the heat got the better of us.  And besides, we do like to pretend we’re adults, even if we don’t have houses or jobs to go home to.

Despite eating at recommended restaurants and drinking only bottled water – the latter in two litre bottles, sealed, purified and certified bacteria free – a few of us, myself included, have been suffering from stomach cramps since arriving in Pakistan.  Now we suspect that we may have been reading the label wrong and that it is the water, which costs 20 Rupees and the bacteria, you get for free.

Two and a half weeks into the trip and I still haven’t had the guts to wash my bum with my left hand and water like you are meant to with these Asian squat loos.  Thus far I have been adopting a bring-my-own attitude with regards to loo paper, but my problem is – one of them anyway, the other being cramp – is that there is nowhere to leave the loo paper when I have finished.  I don’t suppose it would matter if these were shitty (sorry) toilets-at-the-bottom-of-the-garden, but almost without exception, they have been spotless, tiled, colour-coordinated and scrupulously attended.  With nowhere to leave your paper!

The strategy I have been employing is waiting until I am about to leave a particular place, say a bus station, before going to the loo.  When I have popped the potatoes, I wipe my bum and leave the loo paper in a corner – all neatly folded with the crap on the inside, mind – as inconspicuously as possible.  I then make a hasty exit and hopefully board my bus before someone discovers me, or worse, before some over-eager lavatory attendant comes trotting after me, toilet paper in hand, shouting ‘Hey Meester! Meester, you forget thees!’

Thank you all very much for the e-mails I have been receiving, wherever possible, please refrain from sending attachments.  We pay between five and seven dollars per hour of Internet use and downloading anything larger than a kilobyte takes, well, let’s just say it leaves me time for chai (tea Captain, but not as we know it) and a chat about the cricket.