Day 104 (Iran): rest day in Tehran II (whatever that may mean - I am tired)

It is Sunday - back to work. The plan is this. From an Austrian biker who has had a terrible accident on the way out of Tehran (a stark reminder of what can happen, she was hit by a car and had to undergo surgery and is still recovering after three weeks), I received an outline on what I need to do. This assumes that the steps that I need to take are the same of course. Austria - Germany, close enough (or so I hope). I need a letter from the German embassy saying that I am German. Surprised you are? So am I. The Uzbek consulate wants this. Not that my passport already says so, but they really want this nothingness of paper. The German embassy staff is helpful, I get in without having to wait after flashing my ID (my passport is still somewhere in Tehran) and the lady says: “Sure, we can give you the letter, but it makes no sense to us.” It costs big time and so I decide to try it without it.

Once at the Uzbek consulate (on the other end of town, close to Ali’s and Ghazal’s place as it turns out and after a lot of hassle with the cab drivers that get me there), I discover that there is some kind of holiday, they don’t work today. Bummer. An Australian motorcyclist is intensely frustrated about them and the two cyclists that I saw on my way in weren’t happy either. Bad karma?  Tomorrow is another day I decide and head back to the German embassy to get a hold of the letter. Seems like I really need it.

The long lines in front of the embassy make me hopeful that I can get the letter today still (it is now early afternoon and I am hopeful because the lines mean that they are open) - which I can. I pay my 25 EUR for the paper (a rip-off I think, thank you German government - France gives these out for free, Austrians pay EUR 45 though I hear) and set out to scour the bazar area. Here I find some screws that I need from an extremely helpful store owner (whom I found with the help of another store owner and his clerk). He says that he was in England once (in Farsi though) and wants none of my money after I tell him (by drawing a bike) that I am on my way from Germany to China.

By chance I call Frau Lotfi and she says: “Your passport is here, you have a 35-day extension.” WOW! I have no idea how she did it, but Frau Lotfi is pure gold. So with a much better feeling and no need to rush back and forth to Isfahan I head back to the office, picking up a prinout of a picture and some sweets on the way in an attempt to somehow show my appreciation. Things will be good I am sure.

I get back together with Ali after a heartfelt goodbye from Frau Lotfi and being accompanied by Salumeh (and a very interesting conversation during our ride to what used to be the Goethe-Institute and what has been renamed the Language Institute of the German Embassy). It was my time to cook dinner tonight and I can only hope that what I cooked was at least a bit tasty. More conversations about religion round out the day.