Trans Asyan Ekpresi

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Day 18.

The Trans Asyan Ekpresi was waiting at Haydarpasa Sation, two hours before departure, when I arrived. One engine, one seating carriage, one dining and three sleeping. I joined Ali Ekhbar and Faroukh in our four-berth compartment, each us heading for Tehran, where we were due to arrive on Saturday evening. My traveling comrades were both Iranians in their fifties, and both smokers. In their limited English - vastly superior to my three words of Farsi - they asked eagerly if I smoked, and in deference to local custom our non-smoking compartment became a smoking one.

We left at midnight. I was excited that the journey was underway - 68 hours worth of it, changing trains after about 42 hours. I wasn't the only non-Iranian or non-Turkish traveler on board, but seemed to be the only native English speaker. Ali was the talker of our compartment, and spoke enthusiastically until 3am, all the while smoking and cracking open cans of beer - last chance before the alcohol ban of Iran. The open window saw that the smoke wasn't overwhelming, and I was included in the conversation with the odd, "Hello Meester Nick! No worries!" I took an upper bunk - simple fold-down and comfortable, with enough headroom to sit up.

Dawn revealed a beautifully clear desert-like landscape. So much more open than the Balkan scenery, and the few animals I saw were larger varieties: cattle, not goats. Under the warm sun and bright blue sky, the desolate expanse led to distant rounded hills, occasionally giving way to ploughed fields. Almost no towns or even houses until Ankara - the Turkish capital - at 10am. Sprawling industry, plain square houses. Ali slept soundly until 12 noon, awaking quieter, obviously hungover.

Food began to appear. Loaves of bread, hardboiled eggs, tomatoes, cucumbers, fruit cake from Ali and Faroukh. My own feeble contributions of biscuits and nuts. All punctuated with Lark and Prestige cigarettes from Bulgaria. Ali sourced some hot water from the kitchen, and made some black tea in a stylish thermos flask. This we drank through mishapen lumps of sugar held in our mouths. Later I was to see in a bazaar a man chipping lumps of the hard sugar from a massive block, to sell in plastic bags. I hadn't expected to drink so much tea on this trip, and very little coffee.

Dozing through the afternoon, as the landscape changed quickly and yet remained the same. Joined sometimes in our carriage by others who would drink tea and smoke with us. "Salam, Mr Nick." And sometimes, "Mr Nice". Sunset brought orchards, some expensive-looking houses with swimming pools, and a mountain improbably capped with snow. More food, tea, cigarettes, all generously shared, this time with vibrant Iranian music chirping our Faroukh's mobile phone.

Time moved slowly, but it was enjoyably slow, as we kept moving, and all seemed happy.

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Photos

View from window
with Turkish emblem