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Border Crossing
Peter and Philip whom we met on the bus from Van. It seemed they were cycling across most of Turkey and Iran (Respect!) Having loaded their bikes into the luggage compartment for this leg, they intended to cycle the last 50k across the border and into Oromiyhe (hoping it would all be down hill). Border Crossing
After the previous day’s disappointment and a poor night’s sleep we were up early; 7.30am saw us at a modern bus office, awaiting our bus to Oromiyhe. Come 9.00am and three different bus offices later (each one progressively more dingy) we finally boarded the bus.
The journey through south east Turkey and into Iran was a joy; winding through stunningly beautiful mountains and over high, snow covered passes. It’s a Kurdish area and whilst we felt safe, apparently local people will not use the route other than during the day, thus explaining the number of military checkpoints we had to pass through for the tourists’ protection. Later we heard that there had been some trouble in the area sadly resulting in deaths on both sides but every effort is made to keep tourists safe.
We were pleased to see two fellow westerners on the bus. Philip and Peter from Germany and Austria. On the journey we also met a lovely couple, Medhi and Ayrsu (sorry if your name is spelt incorrectly), who very kindly invited us all to spend the night with Medhi’s father Mohamed in Oromiyhe. Iranian hospitality and friendliness would be
Oromihye In Mohamed’s Garden
We’d had a lovely time as Mohamed and Mehdi’s guests, they were so generous and Arsu had just given me a scarf (and a lesson in scarf tying not sure its the best look I’ve ever had!) a recurring theme during our stay in Iran.
Crossing the Iranian border was so much less hassle than we had been led to believe. It took about twenty minutes; the officials were friendly especially on the Iranian side with jokes being made about our lack of Farsi.
Touch Down in Iran
Our arrival at Oromiyhe bus station was bewildering and overwhelming; especially for Christine who, even though she’d donned a headscarf at the border, was stared at by every passer by (she wondered if they were mistaking her for Kylie!)
Once off the bus we were immediately surrounded by locals offering help (in Farsi) which, even with much hand waving and pointing we couldn’t understand. To our rescue came an English speaking student and soon we were in a taxi and off to a money exchange (feeling a little proud that we’d managed to resist being coerced, by touts, into accepting the poor exchange rates at the border, even though we‘d arrive with no Rials) then onto Mohamed’s house near Lake Oromiyhe.
Great thanks to Mohamed, Medhi and Arsu who were excellent hosts. We all spent an entertaining evening, culminating in watching
Tehran’s Traffic
Traffic lights count down the seconds until the lights change, even so many vehicles take their chances at 5 seconds to go. Further mayhem is ensured by cars and bikes often driving on the wrong side of the road and by pedestrians just stepping out to cross roads wherever and whenever they want, fully expecting cars to give way. In return motorbikes make full use of the pavements. Not sure what the RTA stats are like but staggeringly it all seems to work and the traffic keeps flowing. the Chelsea v Liverpool football match at midnight. (Chelsea won)
Moving On
It would have been lovely to spend more time at Mohamed’s but we only had two weeks in Iran before we had to be in Uzbekistan and we wanted to visit not only Tehran, Esfahan, and Shiraz/Persepolis but also Kashan at Mehdi’s recommendation. So in the morning we took a taxi to Tabriz, for an overnight stay and then a 9hr bus onto Tehran.
Tehran Tehran, whilst set against the attractive back drop of the snow covered Elborz Mountains, is a massive, sprawling and badly polluted capital city. It has grown enormously in the last few years and had so many people, so many cars and so many motor bikes but so little space.
Petrol’s cheap at less than twenty five pence a litre (diesel is even cheaper) but there are queues at petrol stations and many cars use LPG. Finding an LPG tank in the boot of Taxis was a surprise when we tried to squash two “largish” bags in.
There’s an excellent Metro system, which is quick, air conditioned (!) and easy to use. The
Soltan Amir Ahmad’s Bathouse
Chris and Pete have been teasing us with pictures of their new bathroom but this restored Bath House has the added bonus of being a Tea House. Tea and biscuits all round Hooray! trains have a women only carriage at the front, unlike buses which have a women only section at the back. Some women me included, however, travel in the other sections.
We’d heard how good the Iranian food is but finding a restaurant was a challenge, they all seemed to be hidden. Honestly, it took us six days and three towns before we found anything other than the ubiquitous kebab/pizza/burger joints. Restaurants don’t have any signage and seem to be hidden round the back of, or down the stairs from somewhere not remotely connected with food. Once found, however, the food was delicious.
Not so the coffee. Our guide book promised that “coffee was king” in Iran - it lied. If food is close to impossible to find, a decent cup of coffee is even worse. Even in main hotels it’s just weak Nescafe - and if really unlucky it’s a 3-in-1 coffee mix- which is coffee-mate and sugar with a subtle hint of coffee in the background - Uugh. It was hard for a girl to give up espresso and alcohol simultaneously!
Sanctions posed us problems. The Iranian banking system has been severed from the rest of
Kashan - Tabatabayee Merchant house
Thanks to Medhi we added Kashan to our trip. These old Houses - now mostly restored were a real treat. the world banks, hence no ATMs (well at least non that would take western plastic). So we had to take all the spending the money we’d need for our stay in cash. It was not a comfortable feeling knowing that if we lost our “stash” we couldn’t just stroll along to a bank to top up. Once there we also realised that the credit cards used from an Iranian IP address are blocked. No phone top ups or e booking of accommodation.
Talking of money, there are 18,000 Rials to the pound, so very quickly prices reach into millions of Rials, demanding stringent mental gymnastics. Arithmetic nightmares aside, the money also takes up so much space. When changing £150 into Rials Terry was given most of it in 10,000 Rial notes (each worth 50 pence); a veritable house brick of paper notes needing to be wedged into every free pocket.
Despite it being a buzzing capital we quickly realised that Tehran’s not a city to hang around in and once we’d bought our plane tickets from Shiraz to Uzbekistan (we had to fly as we’d messed up the dates on our Uzbek visa and were running out of
Esfahan - Emam Mosque, Emir Square
The Mosque forms one end of a very large public square, the atmosphere in which made it a special place. time) we were on the bus to Kashan just 3 hours south of Tehran.
Kashan Our spirits lifted when we reached Kashan. It’s a fairly small town but well worth a visit and its historic merchants’ houses were very impressive.
On our daily restaurant hunt we walked much further than intended, ending up way off our limited map on a very hot evening. Retracing our steps we were trying to work out how to catch a bus and clearly looking every bit as lost as we were, when a car pulled up offering a lift. The couple inside were excited at having picked up two “Englanders” and pointed us out to all around at every set of traffic lights. We could only wave and smile for the crowds and were then whisked off gratefully to a restaurant.
Esfahan Esfahan is a city four hours south of Kashan and everybody had said how beautiful it is; we were not disappointed. We found restaurants, tea houses and comfortable hotels never mind that the town itself is stunning. If anyone passes through here we’d strongly recommend the Hotel Iran. Its central, reasonably priced, very
Esfahan Kaju Bridge
There are two old bridges across the Esfahan’s river. Every Friday morning on the Kaju bridge there’s a singing “competition” as men from the town congregate under one of the arches to sing traditional songs to one another.
clean and Sam its owner who’s just returned after spending 27years in Toronto is a local tourist office on legs.
The public spaces and parks were always full of people and in the evenings families would congregate in them, bringing barbecues, blankets and gas cookers and often staying until the small hours. The atmosphere was really friendly and we were constantly approached, asking “Where are you from? Welcome to my city” and “Where do you like best in Iran?” Esfahan of course!
Persepolis. To be honest we hadn’t realised how much of it is no longer there
The grand staircase was impressive, in that all the steps are uniform and very low, hence permitting regal movements both up and down, but also allowing for easy conversation. Very classy.
Much better was the visit to the Tombs of Darius I, Xerxes I, Artaxerxes I and Darius II. They are stupendous. It’s a shame that it is no longer possible to climb up and enter the tombs, broken open and plundered so long ago. It seems some child slipped and fell off the ladder and Iranian H&S insisted that the ladders were removed. Sounds all too
A river runs through it
The Zeyande river in Esfahan. Its hard to believe this river will run dry later in summer. familiar
Shiraz Shiraz was our last city in Iran, from which we’d visited Persepolis and then on to Uzbekistan. We were now a long way south and were surprised by how green the town and surrounding countryside still was. Cypress trees abound in Shiraz, making it a very pretty town.
Iranian Reflections
Iran had been home for 2 weeks or so. Our experience proved to be a bitter sweet mix of the charm of individuals and the circumstances of their daily lives. Females clearly have developed ways of gaining more freedom than I imagined before arriving there but the country’s infrastructure is really poor. Even accepting the impact of the onerous sanctions it’s surprisingly run down for an oil rich country; where does all the money go?
I need to get out of my system how much I hated Hijab and having no choice on dressing “modestly”, with only hands and face on display. Wearing a headscarf at all times is hot and uncomfortable but worse it’s a symbol of the iniquitous treatment and seeing so many women in their black chadors took some getting used to. They looked
a little surreal to our western eyes but that said I had to admire their ability to keep the Chador ( ie a black cloak covering everything but the face) in place, whilst carrying children/shopping, catching buses etc etc. Then whilst I hated the headscarf at least didn’t have to carry a hat or wear sun-cream.
Whilst the girls are covered the boys are something else. They clearly spend an equal measure of time working out in the Gym and in front of a mirror. Talk about hair products! They have adopted a uniform of tight tee-shirt and jeans, with more designer labels than you can shake stick at. Bollywood influence? ( Disney is also really big with the children.)
However, daily life there seemed to be increasingly governed by high inflation and increasingly shortages; development is suffocated by a 20% interest rate on loans, which are only given for a maximum of five years. All banks being government owned. A few individuals were willing to talk about the “Regime” and the problems but any questions of who in the regime is responsible were met with a shoulder shrug and no comment. Friends would warn those who complained
Necropolis.
The tale told to us was that Darius had longed to see inside his tomb but his parents were anxious that for him to enter it alive would be bad Karma (or whatever it was then). So they insisted on inspecting for him. Tragically they were killed during the descent down the mountain side to the tomb’s entrance and so became its first inhabitants. So much for superstition! to us to be careful and we were told that open dissension or protest apparently would result in jail or worse. Something that was surprisingly easy to believe.
Candidates allowed to stand for “election” had to be screened and apparently even the grandson of Ayatollah Khomeni was recently refused as he was considered not radical enough. A decision hastily reversed once the implications were realised!
We were only able to access our blog once and thereafter, the Ayatollah he say No and the site was blocked. Our email was also blocked most of the time. An even stranger event was the jamming of BBC world news during a report on the bombing in Lebanon. A few words into the report Armadinijan’s name was mentioned and the screen went blue and silent, then a few minutes later normal service was resumed.
But the individuals we met seemed to keep separate such issues from their love of their country, Iran. They were all really proud being Iranian and anxious that Tourists/Westerners should know of its beauty and friendliness. And friendly they were; it was impossible to even look lost for a few minutes without offers of help. They extended
Persepolis - Bas-Relief
The visit was a little disappointing even though we had the services of an excellent guide, who brought to life the city of the Festival of Tributes (for tributes read taxes?) Sadly, however, that which Alexander the Great didn’t tear down and burn seems to have been shipped off to various museums, leaving behind only some interesting bas-reliefs and an odd column or so. their kindness and hospitality in so many ways and were always keen to chat and practice their English. Fortunately for us so many could speak some English. In the end it was the people that made it an enjoyable and memorable two weeks.
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Irene Warren
non-member comment
Well done you two.....................
I have to marvel at your bravery in doing what you are doing. I would not be able to keep going - but then I am old aren't I. I don't know about respect to bike riders but I would certainly say respect to you both. Keep Safe and continue to enjoy.