My heart sank. I wanted something more than day-long excursions. I gently explored for other explanations. That his wife was having second thoughts entrusting her husband to a foreigner. That, at forty-five, he had rightfully outgrown second-hand bicycles. Or perhaps my initial offer of salary and expenses was a shade too low.

He shook his head indignantly. "I'm not an official guide," he explained, "I was already arrested once for taking a foreigner into the countryside." Another arrest at this delicate stage of his application process could prove disastrous. One phone call from a provincial police chief to the right department and he would lose his place on the list with the stroke of a pen...

"But I gave you my word that I would help you," he added quickly. "I just don't know any other guides that I would trust as I do myself." Nevertheless, he promised to try to find an official guide who could procure the proper papers. An older man, perhaps, with family and integrity. The permits could be readied in a matter of weeks.