wedding guest

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So finally, finally, finally, after all this time, we were on the road again, the Caboose and I. We took a sort of highway out of Mashhad:

Then it turned into a country highway in the outskirts:

I took a lunch break next to a waterpark:

And then I ran into this guy:

Poor dude was sweating more than I was:

For some reason there were a lot of cyclists on the road today:

I counted at least fifty.

When it got dark, I started looking for a place to stay. I figured a mosque would be a good place to start. I had made a pact with myself to take the whole walking thing easy at first and grow into it.

I’m often reminded of Batman when I see these black shapes on the road:

Anyway, I went to this little village and found the mosque, but there was nobody there. A shopkeeper told me I wouldn’t be able to sleep there. So I shook the dust off my feet and left:

The Caboose enjoyed the narrow village alleys, though:

They reminded her of Bukhara

I eventually ended up running into this gentleman:

Reza, a Iranian Canadian motorbike enthusiast, helped set me up at a local wedding parlour, where I would spend the night with a crew of construction workers. This was going to be my corner:

It was at the end of a long, empty hall:

I hung out there for a little while, but then I got bored and went outside to the entry of the wedding parlour:

There was a wedding party going on, and they immediately took me in as a guest:

I took a photo with a bunch of guys whom I internally referred to as the “beard crew”:

I danced a little with the others:

And then the groom came in:

When the wedding party was over, I had not seen a woman. It had been an all-male thing in this part of the wedding parlour. The women were in another section. The dancing had been great, though.

I went back to my night-quarters. The workers were already there:

Their names were Hassan, Hussein, and Mohammed. And they had made tea.

Video of the day:

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And here’s a 360 degree video from the road:

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Not a bad first day after five months.