I passed by a small town in the evening. Many men on moterbikes said hallo to me. One man stopped and asked in broken English where I was going to stay at night. I pointed at the beach. Then he said it was not a good idea, some bad guys might come at night and steal my things. He then called somewhere on his moblie phone, and told me to stay in "buleece". That's for free.
Buleece? Does it mean his house? I wondered but followed him.
It was a police station where he took me. He himself was a policeman. (Only guards were in uniform. Everybody else were in casual clothes, like him.)
After they made a simple document about me, they let me use a room. Not a cell, though actual cells with prisoners were right by.
He then took me to a restaurant on his moterbike, waited till I finished eating and took me back. I appreciated him a lot and asked for his mail address. He laughed and said there was no mail service except in big cities. No mail but a mobile phone. It's strange in a way.
I had a peaceful night. But I was watched by a guard with a rifle everytime when I went to a toilet. A little embarrassing it was.
11 Mar 2009, Yemen, 16244km
