Blog 8
Collecting our Iranian visas from the Embassy in Dubai the following day, Niel, Tim and i cruised our usual spots, trying in vain to keep our budget as low as possible in a city of fast cars and expensive malls. In the end we found Dubai had almost become like one giant home for us. We had our usual camping spot (the bedroom), the beach in Jumiera to drink tea, read a book or take a free hot shower and do some laundry (Lounge/bathroom) and for entertainment well, just crossing the street was enough, let alone the giant shopping malls under the worlds tallest building with cinema, free water and light show and massive aquarium which again was free.
Sadly, like all good things this came to an end, after the police on their second time of calling told us to either leave the campsite/wasteland or tomorrow “we will take you to the station”, opps!!. Homeless in a sense for the first time was slightly odd and at 10pm we were left crusing the beach looking for a dark spot to roll out our matts, when we bumped into a young man called Ali. Having himself just come back from a brief bit of backpacking in Australia he seemed eager to help us out. Explaining we were looking for a place to camp and being told we were in the wrong city for that, the best option he explained was that he had a house on the “Palm” where we could put up our tents on the lawn.
Midnight was our ren de vous, so we got our skates on as it seemed luck was on our side. cruising down the beach front of Dubai at night was like an extravagant car show had pulled into town as Mercedes G-Wagons, Lamborghini’s and Ferrari’s all tried their best to beat us off the lights, as we spun away leaving them in a trail of schwalbe smoke. Ali then caught us up and said it might be a better idea for us to stay at his Anti’s place around the corner, too which we agreed.
A brief meeting with Anita (Ali’s Auntie) and a few thankyou’s the three of us in 1 hour had gone from searching for a dark corner on a beach to being showered and sleeping in a bed inside a beautiful family home. The wonders of travelling and Hospitality.
Anita left the following morning for Italy and the three of us were made a nice breakfast by her house maid Hilder before leaving the bikes to spend a day cruising the giant shopping mall, this time to pick up a few useful items like new books ect. Ali came that evening to pick us up for dinner. We ate in our standard district before returning back to the now seemingly vacant house to polish of a bottle of Sake and im not sure how much Gin with our host.
Niel then left us the next day. He had discied a few days prior, after a frustrating time at the Indian Embassy to head to Kathmandu to continue his trip and possibly look for work in India, to which Tim and I kindly accepted his offer to come a stay if he was successful in his hunt or if he wans’t that he should got on the nearest plane and join us again!!!
Feeling slightly fuzzy, Ali took us out to his family’s friday lunch at their farm on the outskirts of Dubai. We were warmly greeted and his enthused relatives kept the questions coming, along with a bit of footie chat. Ali himself had also just turned 25 so i guess the previous nights drinking was also cause for celebration.
With Ali being an Emirate it gave us a good chance to ask about some interesting topics about Dubai and the UAE, such as the rules over land ownership and how had Dubai changed for him over the years. It was pretty crazy and hard to imagine, as he explained whilst driving, that half the city 10 years ago wasnt even there and that him and his family would camp, catch fish, have fires and bbqs on the same beach the three of us had used as our lounge and was now the main tourist beach in Dubai surrounded by houses.
Our last days in Dubai i was slightly dreading as our boat to Iran had been canceled but Ali and his family had been the perfect host’s and we were sure the comfort levels of our nice bedroom would drop as we headed back to camping in Iran.
Heading to Sharjar port we found the ferry and joined the fiasco to load our bikes, along with us onto a ship bound for Band-e-Abbas.
Wedged on a seat i instantly knew sleep was looking doubtful as the crew tried to seat the men and women according to the Islamic laws of Iran, were no man or women are allowed to sit next to each other unless married or relation. It began to look like a big game of musical chairs when Tim and I were ushered, quite forcefully upstairs and away from the pandemonium. Opening the door to a private room the kind gentleman who worked on the ship explained, that we were guests and should enjoy our rest as we had a big day of cycling ahead, i guessed he must have seen the bikes, we didn’t complain!!!.
We awoke after a good nights sleep to the boat arriving in Band e Abbas. The first thing we noticed after hitting the road was the fact that horns were back, as we were tooted along to the main road into town after a four-hour “fingerprint ” “Please wait sir” frustrating time at customs. Gone too were any flashy cars, being replaced instead by Iran’s very own Paykan and Khordro or the odd upmarket Hyundai and KIA. People too were more inquisitive as we searched for a bank to change our money and then grab some food.
Leaving Band e Abbas that evening after not wanting to hang around, we thought we would cruise out of the city and find a nice spot about 20km away. One word summed up the atmosphere as the sun descended into the persian gulf and that was “Apocalyptic” Fumes belched out of power stations, staining the sky with a black smog and old truck yards and rubbish dumps contaminated the sandy earth with black motor oil and garbage.
After finding a spot perched high in some rocks we set off the next morning towards Shiraz. We tried our best to wave to enthusiastic cars as they went past as the signs of entering the northern hemisphere were apparent everywhere has apple orchard’s and grasses blossomed with the warm spring air.
The roads and distances had also grown and the landscapes and roads were at times vast to say the least, stretching off into the distance twenty or thirty kilometers. We had to gather our food supplies when we could, which would often pull in the town crowd to watch us with offers to help, which was sometimes useful, but at other times quite annoying, especially towards the end of the day when our legs and faces had, had enough sun, wind and kilometers. We would also stop for tea with a few locals along the road and had a good chat on one instance with a young civil Engineer. He sadly reflects a growing number of young Educated Iranian’s who was searching for a more liberal life style and had applied to immigrate to Australia and was expecting to be there in 6 months having been approved by the embassy.
Arriving in Shiraz, once home of the famous wine, we grabbed a much-needed hotel after six nights on the road. Although it may not have the famous wine of yesteryear it is still classed by many as a city of historical poetry and Art (which was probably written under the influence of a glass or two) and on our days exploring the city, we headed to one of the most famous poets tombs, Hafez. He now rests in a small garden and his books of poetry are apparently only second in importance to the Quran and in many cases for a majority of Iranian’s, more so. Walking around the flowers and trees, among what seemed to emulate a liberal, arty crowd we were warmly welcomed with inquisitive questions of our origin. The garden was a pleasant spot to sit for a few hour’s as Iranian couples sat alone in corners, probably getting a little too close for comfort, whilst girls would sit chatting, seamlessly forgetting that their headscarf was slipping ever further back .
50km north, after a two-day rest in Shiraz we arrived in the ancient governmental capital of the Persian Empire, Persepolis. destroyed by Alexander the great on his rampage east, the remains were a bare skeleton of the once great city. The Tombs of Persia’s great leaders were scattered around the cliffs of the surrounding hills, Darius and Xerxes being the most recognisable.
After lunch we headed on an unknown road through the Zagros mountains on our way to Esfahan, opting for the country lanes rather than the 400km highway. Our guide-book also contained no information other than saying ” the route from Esfahan to Shiraz through the Zagroz is breathtaking” we were sold!!. The firsts night’s sunset would have been worth the trip in itself, as we set up camp high above open pastures, watching Sheppard heading home as the sun’s deep red’s , oranges, pinks produced a show unlike anything the two of us had witnessed before.
Through villages the road followed the flowing rivers as they ran down from the snow-capped peaks which sat off into the distance. Upon reaching the village of … we saw a small road on our map, indicated in a minor form which appeared to head off over the mountain to the regional capital of Yasuj. Most locals said we should turn back and take the main road but feeling fresh and up for a small adventure we opted to find this road. A rocky track was all that came of it, as continued questioning of our way was obtained at every opportunities. “Yasuj??” followed by a point, was usually greeted with enthusiasm and an egarness to help.
Following the track, after a few hours we hit tarmac and oh did it feel good, smooth, fast and no loss of momentum. Unfortunately even with tarmac, the road builders hadn’t considered the thought of putting any sort of switch back or sensible gradient and our lowest gears struggled to help us. The scenery was however worth it, open scrub land, ice capped mountains and crispy blue sky’s made the two days up from Persepolis worth the struggle.
After following the minor roads and sort of losing ourselves on our map for two days we made it to some sort of pass (well a high road with lots of snow) and marvelled at our accomplishment. Short of food we asked an old guy who stood next to his trusty paykan where the nearest shop was, “five kilometers or maybe seven”. Thanking the man we set off again, ten minutes later he appeared with wife and son with about two kilo- of bread, tuna and some pistachio nuts, our pleads of refusal were left un answered as we said our thankyou’s before he chugged away.
The following day after a cold night in the mountains we hit Yasuj and were finally back on the map and on sensible roads. Over the next three days we must have had more ups and downs than a mountain stage of the Tour de France as our legs suffered, but finally after a long final day of 136km we rolled into Esfahan literally, with a down hill and tail wind which brought a new top speed of 78kmph.
Arriving in Esfahan we had fallen on the Persian new year celebration’s known as Nu-ruz, which of course in the Islamic republic isn’t really seen as much of a party, but Iranians do their best to picnic and relax on the four days of public holiday. Arriving in Imam square was like walking down Oxford street at Christmas, packed to the rafters with family’s enjoying festive treats. We spoke with a few curious locals who spotted us as tourists asking us what we thought of Iran, “Interesting” being our usual political reply and as for them, again far too many of them wanted to leave but at the same time loved their country.
It was an enjoyable few days among the beauty of Iran’s cultural capital, as we worked our way around the Blue mosaic mosques and endless bazaars, before crashing out with an ice cream on the manicured grass of the Square to watch family’s get together and enjoy each others company, even if grandmar does get tired of makeup talk!!!!.
Leaving Esfahan we had only two roads we could really take, one being the Highway through Qom the Islamic heart of the country and the other being a highway, well, which didn’t really pass anything. After enjoying our mountains and open space we opted for the highway of nothing. Obviously highways are something cyclists normally avoid but for once the two of us enjoyed zooming along at 25-30kmph on a hard shoulder which was wider than the the main lanes and the only hazards being the occasional over enthused driver who wanted to hand us some food or have a chat, forgetting that he was in control of a car and nearly pushing us off the road.
Arriving in Tehran we had two important things to do, the first was to get a visa for Azerbaijan and the second to Extend our current Iranian visa. The first few days though, were spent mainly in the parks and up in Darband, a small city get away in the foot hills of the Alborz mountains due to the end of the No-ruz celebrations. The city itself during this time was dead, and It seemed the whole of Tehran was doing what Iranians do better than anyone in the world and that’s picnic. BBQs wafted the smell of cooked meat as tea and cakes were handed around to family’s who seemed to fill up every available space amongst the city’s parks.
Finally after 2 days, everything opened again, and with the kind help of a man called Eshan (our visa saviour) we hunted down the building of forigne affairs to get our extensions. The lady behind the counter said we could have them the next day, which was a great relief as our guide-book had led us to belive it would take a whole week.
The next day we called up Eshan and headed around the Shah Abad museum complex with his friend Yarsi. The complex belonged to the old Shah before the 1979 revolution took hold and although the houses to which they spent some of their days were impressive the highlight had to be a small museum dedicated to the Omived brothers. The two brothers both from Iran travelled the world in the 1950′s on the back of two British made motorcycles. For more about their travelles visit http://www.omidvar-brothers.com/En/DefaultE.aspx Leaving the palace we headed to Yarsis house to have a bite to eat and a cheeky glass of home-brew before heading to our second warm showers experience.
The couple was Geal from France and Farnaz from Iran. They had met whilst Geal was cycling through to China a few years ago and were now looking to weave through the Iranian buearocrisy in order to get married. We enjoyed hearing about our future destinations such as Tajikistan, as the two of them had walked and cycled there a year or so before.
Iranian visa extended the following day, we headed to the embassy of Azerbaijan to sort out the paperwork for their visa, oh visa’s, visa’s. It took a couple of days of usual running around, ques, plus taxi rides across the city in order to pay the money into a certain bank account but, eventually things came together and we got a one month visa. In this time i had also received a messages from an Iranian girl called Faniz who was on couchsurfing asking if we wanted to meet up for a coffee.
Faniz was a bright, young, arty girl, with a lot of enthusiasm to learn more about the world as we headed to her parents place for lunch. We chatted about our trip and about her travels to Europe and Asia. She then invited us to a few gatherings with her friends over the next couple of days, which naturally even though we had planned to leave, Tim and I said yes too, well!, we hadn’t drunk for over a month. The small gathering was at her friend’s house, a young guy called Lohrasb or to us “Lo” a cool guy, who knew more about current music than we did and upon reaching a house party later that evening (where headscarves definitely weren’t the fashion!!) became a perfect Tehran party guide, after all we’d had two shots within a matter of five minutes of walking in the door, Iranian hospitality!!!. An hour was enough though for our hosts and although they said it wasnt a “good” party, i can safely say Tim and I had a good time.
The next day we got back to a bit of sight seeing visiting the palace, where the shah spent the last ten years of his rule. We went with Faniz, Geal, Farnaz and Fabio a Brazilian stroke Irishman who had also contacted Faniz through couchsurfing. The palace itself was almost like a time warp, a sneak peek back to 1979, when the Islamic revolution forced the king to flee Iran, family portraits still sat in black and white alongside many of the guests who had visited over the years. I couldn’t help feel however, that it was the Queen, Farah Diba which did most of the decorating and designing, which consisted of a very impressive collection or art works from Picasso to Andy Warhol and a few gifts from Britain such as gold-plated hand guns.
Having arrived in Tehran almost 10days ago we never thought we would have stayed this long and although we are looking forward to getting back on our bikes tomorrow, i can say after the people we have met it really is a cool place as long as you make friends.
Now we head up to Azerbaijan to its capital Baku, where we will hunt down more visas for central Asia plus try to book ourselves on a boat up the Caspian sea to Kazakstan.
