When I leave Bam, I first look for a gas station, as I do every day. I usually only come across a few on my routes and I like the feeling of not having to look for petrol for 400 km. You'd say it's full of gas stations because the country has so much oil wealth, but it's not. And usually they are not on main roads but somewhat hidden in an industrial area.
It's busy, there are 4 rows waiting next to each other and I join neatly. Before it's my turn, several pictures of my bike and me have already been taken.
And it was a good thing that I had refueled, because during the 300 km that I then drive through the desert towards the Pakistani border, I don't come across any more. When I arrive in Zahedan I see a gas station where 50 cars are waiting in the street that leads to it. I realize that gasoline is very scarce here and immediately fill up. Closing at the back with 32 degrees in full sun doesn't seem like a good plan to me and I ask at the front if I can go ahead, but they point me to the other side of the gas station. There appears to be a separate pump for the Iranian engines. Shielded with gates so that cars cannot reach it. It's my turn immediately and I see 10 clandestine petrol sellers in the street, who sell petrol from large jerry cans and plastic bottles. So indeed scarcity. Fortunately I can now drive 400 km into Pakistan and hope that petrol is better available there.
In terms of feeling, it seems as if I have already crossed the border: people here only wear traditional clothing. Women in black cloths and men in puff pants and blouse/dress up to the knees. I think men look nice. The suburbs of the city are also different. Military checkpoints on the road, walled compounds where people live in security, watchtowers with armed guards and hostels that no longer accommodate guests for security reasons.
Not much choice is left. I have to take a hotel in the center of the city. When I walk around there, however, I don't notice any insecurity at all. Everything just goes its way.
A day later, however, that is different. It's Sunday here and commemorations of the mosque attack are planned across the country. An employee of the hotel tells me that she is responsible for the safety of her guests and asks me if I don't want to leave the hotel today. Fortunately I bought fruit and bread yesterday and I can sing it out. From the hotel I don't notice any protests, but from that afternoon the internet is completely flat and in the distance I hear two machine guns. Hopefully they shoot into the air.
The next day nothing seems to be wrong but the internet is still not working. When I arrive at the Pakistani consulate, it turns out to be closed today. Another obligatory night in my overpriced hotel and walks along the many shops and market stalls.
The next morning I arrive at the consulate punctually at opening time, but an Italian who has been traveling around the world on his Vespa scooter for 5 years, is the first to go. He has the same travel route, papers and visa preparation as me so I soon hear that we are not going out with a visa today. Internet has been down in Zahedan for 3 days because it has been labeled an unsafe city. Without internet they won't be able to process our eVisa, but we're both told we can leave as soon as internet is back and we have the confirmation email. Very frustrating because I want to get out of Zahedan and the overpriced hotel as soon as possible. There is nothing to do but wait patiently.
