Posts from — July 2008

Quick update - went to the Turkmenistan embassy today and dropped off my application which I wasn’t able to do yesterday. It really was only handing over a copy of my passport and a copy of the Uzbek visa. Nothing else. I am hoping for seven days, but am expecting no more than five. Really, that was it for the day … internet, pool and much-needed downtime.

So, this is the day of … what now? The day of reckoning maybe, the day my trip will take a sharp turn (meaning going back to Azerbaijan and try my luck there) or the day I finally get my 30 day Uzbekistan visa. The way it should be - not difficult as the last week or so have been.

I head back for the fifth time - I should have been there no more than twice really. There is a long line of people in front of the consulate, so I sign up my name on the slip of paper that I know so well (this is all a self-made way of organizing things by the people waiting outside, the consulate staff couldn’t care less I feel). Then I just plunk myself down, doing the good old waiting game. Eventually I talk to a girl who is waiting in line behind me and we get into this conversation about the dating game in parts of Iran. Her case is interesting to say the least. She tells me about her suitor who happens to be German-Iranian. She was approached by family members and ultimately refused. Not really my idea of romance, but hey … She felt that she should get to know the person better and that it was difficult to do so over the web. No kidding. There was lots of talk about Germans and Germany with all the stereotypes you can imagine (funny stuff that I hear about the serious Germans who never smile and the like).

Then it’s my turn … I take those darn steps again. Nervousness galore. The nice secretary takes my passport, I am trying to stay out of view of the consul as long as I can. Don’t give him any ideas. This is of course silly. Then he yells my name. No happy thoughts on my end, but I just give a neutral “Yes”. Then he asks for $75 (the legit price) and asks for the entrance and exit dates. Punches everything into the computer and out comes my visa. The guy taking my money pulls out his calculator and hammers 100-75 in several times. Not sure how often you do this dude, but it is 25. He was getting on my nerves … the frayed nerves that is. Move things along. I just want my passport back so that the consul can’t do anything with it … I fear he will take it back and laugh a sardonic laugh … yes, strange visions.

I get my passport and have … no feelings. I am not elated, just sort of glad that things worked out in the end. Then it’s something between this gladness and a slight hint at “gotcha”, but that passes quickly.

I must move on to the Turkmen embassy, which is of course closed by now. Darn, losing yet another day. My Iranian visa days are running short sort of. I meet Bastien there again, he is ready to pick up his visa and will head out of Tehran to explore central Iran (a bit too hot he and I think).

Spend the rest of the day just laying low and not doing much. Internet (until the power goes down as it does so often here in the country - in some places with detailed schedules to conserve power; some say that it is because of lack of spare parts, some because of bad management, yet others are conspiracy buffs claiming that the government literally likes to keep people in the dark [and not only in this regard]), swimming pool, good food. Just trying to calm down … it’s so darn necessary.

Note: No pictures today - didn’t really feel like it and there wasn’t anything interesting to take pictures of. But as always, there are plenty of pictures on the flickr site.

And: Happy holiday to the French - this is a bit late as I am posting this, I know. But it’s the thought that counts (or something like that).

The night train should be that … you get to sleep. The guy in the bunk across from me didn’t think so. He wasn’t too happy that I almost fell asleep at 11:30pm last night (meaning the other passengers put their bunks down, too) and now woke up at 4 am to chat with one of them. That would have been fine, had it not been 2 ft from my ears. I tried to plead with him and said please at first. He just looked at me, said that I was crazy and continued on in his deep voice. Sure, I am crazy - I won’t object to this. After all the biking trip is a case in point. But when he talked for five more minutes I thought “OK … that was it”. We are still 4 hours away from Tehran and I want to sleep. We have a slight dispute and I try to convey to him that he should take a hike. He does eventually after two more people complain. Needless to say though I was the only one whose hands he didn’t shake when we all got off. I sort of feel bad about this, I don’t want to do any of this - but I really wanted to sleep. After all this not-so-fun-stuff going on with the consulate, I don’t need any of this. I am tired of fighting on these fronts.

I made my way back to the consulate. Had to change Euros into $ on the way, not sure whether was given fake bills or not. No matter or so I hope. When I arrive at the consulate I am nervous yet again, uncertain of what to expect. I slowly climb the stairs and the nice secretary raises her hands and says: “The consul is not here today, you have to come back tomorrow!” Ouch … he said Monday, now he’s not here and I continue to be in the limbo until tomorrow. No matter really … sure matter. It sucks. I just want to know. And again, I can do exactly nothing.

The saving grace are Isabelle and Andreas. They are super kind, invite me over and so I can hunker down for a few days until I have my visa situation sorted out. After a nap in the afternoon and some great food I am happy to slumber off somewhat more peacefully. There’ll be another day tomorrow.

I meet Ali I in the morning at the main square, not far from where I am staying in a hotel. We go to his friend’s office and have one of the most open discussions I could have dreamed of. Hence no real names here, I never wanted to know the lawyer’s real name. He is extremely open about his job and Ali I says not to worry from the start out. We begin withe the usual stuff to sort of break the ice, I am uncertain where this will be heading. I would be happy with answers about the legal system and education (I am geeky I know), but we move beyond this pretty quickly. I ask about his life as a lawyer and some of the difficulties he is facing. He reports about pressure in certain cases he has taken on. Pressure from government officials and others to move a certain way. He has also represented rape victims, a case he knew he would lose for his client. It cannot be won. There were clear evidentiary elements (mole in certain places and the like), but the Sharia didn’t allow a conviction unless four witnesses could testify to that extent. Hard to do in most rape cases I would think. That was his thought also, as well as that of the judge. He couldn’t do anything though. Ali III (let’s call him that for lack of imaginative names on my part) says that the judge was sympathetic, sent the man to a doctor to clarify the location of the mole and to put it into the verdict. But he knew that he couldn’t go further. Any contrary decision would have been certainly overruled. My question as to whether there is any way to change the law in this regard is met with an incredulous smile by Ali I and Ali III. “You have to understand, Markus: if that were to happen the powers would put into question their very raison d’etre. They would never do that. The God-derived laws can’t be changed - and any attempt would be interpreted as a move away from the God-given order, which would lead to the collapse of the whole system.” There are many more questions and Prof. Friedman would have been proud of me (only a slight bit of irony here).

I spend the rest of the day escaping the heat in the Yazd Water Museum (actually more impressive than it sounds as it depicts age old underground irrigation canals covering large distances) and some more internet time at a reasonable connection.

On the way out of my hotel I meet Angie, a Scottish-Australian combo who is not too thrilled with her hotel choice. After a bit of a wander to try to see what one of the water towers looks like from the inside, we discover a really nice hotel at a very reasonable price for her. So while I get my stuff from the reception, she is sneaking into her room to get her belongings out (all within eyesight of the reception). I pull the guy over to a map and ask all sorts of silly questions and she makes it out (she didn’t have to submit her passport yet). The rooms in the hotel were amazing and everything very modern. I somehow get to the train station (bit of a in-and-out of cars) and end up in a compartment with five Iranians who can’t not stare at me. Thank goodness this is a sleeper train and we will be out soon … or so I am hoping at this point.

Yazd is one of those places that are a bit hard to appreciate.

And sometimes you have to get some refreshing coolness down below …

It is oppressively hot, but I knew that I guess. After some much-needed sleep I am up and running through the city. That run is interrupted soon though by meeting two guys - let me call them Ali I and Ali II. I meet them in one of the mosques I am taking a look at and we start to have an interesting discussion. We are joking a lot about some visitors that I would meet countless times again. They were Korean. Ali II says that they are South Korean. I agree, saying that the only North Koreans in the country might be found somewhere else - Ali II says: “Yeah, our nuclear facilities.” This goes on for a while. I mention what I do and when asked whether I want to talk to a lawyer at some point, I agree. This could be interesting. Ali I says to meet him at 9am the next morning after he puts a phone call to his friend.

I continue my stroll through this mud brick city, which is striking in many ways. You try to find shade wherever you go and the way the city is built makes this a not so hard affair.

But as with Esfahan, the place shuts down at 2pm for a few hours. I try to upload some pictures, run into an internet cafe that, while having a good line and grants access to flickr, makes it horribly difficult to actually work on the computers as they block the USB ports and only reluctantly accept my devices to transfer the files. But up they go in the end.

Towards night time I head to what is called the Towers of Silence, a place where the deceased were left by the Zoroastrians so as to not poison the earth (a major aspect of their religion). The place is eerie and the sunset beautiful in its own way (due to the dust in the air it is not as colorful as you may think it is).

I hitch a ride back - and to my surprise a car with women stops. A mother with her daughter. They are clearly liberal, the daughter’s head scarf falling off all the time. The mother speaks some good English, her grandfather is German she says and together we make our way back to the city.

At the end of the day another little episode of meet and greet. I am walking down a busy street. Someone falls into step with me, I get ready for the usual hellos and how are yous. All goes as anticipated. But the guy doesn’t move away from my side. I slow down, he slows down. I speed up a bit, he keeps pace. I stop. He stops. Nothing creepy really. The he says: “Excuse me Mr., what is a fluid?” I had seen an English language study book on him before. But what the hey? So I turn to a little water channel and point out that water is a fluid. So is gasoline and diesel. He says: “Thank you very much, Mr. Goodbye!”