Posts from — July 2008

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. 

It was visa renewal time. Or at least an attempt to do that. So, after a good night’s sleep, Ali and I set out, he drops me off very close to the place that I need to go to (Argentine Square for those in the know) and I am trying to figure out where the office of Andreas’ company is. Frau Lotfi is not there yet, but in the elevator I meet Salumeh, her co-worker who is extremely kind and set me up with tea and Iranian newspapers (in English). These are - despite the sometimes rather serious things reported on - not without humor, though it is certainly not meant to be. The spin that is being put on the news is simply amazing and at the very least it is comical to read.

Frau Lotfi arrives and all I can say is that just after meeting her I have the feeling that she is one of the kindest human beings that I have ever met in my life. She is confident that the problem will be solved and says that it will not take longer than two days. Wow. Maybe even tomorrow. The passport goes into an envelope which is driven by the company’s driver to the office where it needs to go. Wherever that may be. After a while of explaining how I have met Andreas and Isabelle and what I am doing to start with I leave and set out to explore Tehran. It is Saturday, the German embassy from which I need a letter is closed and so there is nothing that I must do today.

I wander around, slightly amazed at what the stores offer despite the economic sanctions. You can pretty much get anything you want - as long as you’re willing to pay for it. And I mean anything. Here is a selection:

After a long internet session (during which I again meet up with the Iranian [fire]wall, but am helped greatly by the internet cafe’s owner in order to get my pictures online; the conversation is conspiratorial and things are clear without much being spoken), I meet up with Ali and we head home to have a late lunch. This is 5pm, which can still be considered lunchtime here. I am trying to put some more weight on my body here, let’s see whether it works.

We have dinner some time later at the relatives of Ghazal. Mohsen is the representative of a German software company and the conversations are again extremely interesting. His perspective as an Iranian who has lived in Germany for 20 years and has now moved back some years ago is eye-opening in a lot of respects.

The food we are enjoying is superb to say the least. And again I wonder why the Iranian restaurants don’t cook the same meals instead of the usual kebabs … I will never know.

daily distance: 58km
total distance: 7048km
riding time: 4h

Note for everyone: I am fine and have had issues with blocking of my flickr site here in Iran - hence the delay in posting. I am also not part of the group of Germans that were abducted in Turkey (that is kind of obvious as I am posting this, but I have received a few emails about this; I did pass the area a few weeks back though)

For everyone celebrating: Happy 4th of July (although it is a week late as I am posting this)

Starting your day with an argument about the hotel price is not the way to go. It of course went nowhere, but was a good way to get the hormones flowing. It was Friday and I was supposed to be in Tehran today. Ali and Ghazal, a couchsurfing couple, were expecting me today. So I set out with a huge strong wind literally pushing me into Tehran. The same wind that had blown so fiercely in my face allowed me to coast into Tehran at high speed. On the way, I saw a great number of road bikers, all of which in shorts. Biking shorts. In the future and on long stretches, I will consider doing the same in Iran, keeping the long pants ready if need be. We shall see. Just was I was about to get into Tehran proper (or what I take it to be), a man honks at me , waves frantically and tells me to stop. I do so reluctantly. But with a big smile he hands me a freshly baked bread. It smeels and tastes delicious and since everything was still closed when I left Karaj, this is the breakfast that I will have.

The traffic got busier than I thought for a Friday, but I am glad I ddn’t enter the city another day, from what I hear it would have been sheer madness. It already was. Largely empty at first, traffic became more and more dense as I entered the city. Here is a picture which I meant to entitle with “Welcome to Tehran”

but this one appears more apt.

The taxi drivers help me get my bearings and stand like a solid wall behind me when some young guys try to pick and pull at the bike. They pretty much tell them to take a hike in no uncertain terms. Fun stuff …

They also let me make a phonecall to Ali who is expecting me. The cabbies tell me it’s about 10km from where I am to Ali’s place. They are so wrong. Try 20km and 350m in altitude - plus Tehran city traffic and blocked off streets around Tehran University. In the non-picturesque city center I fill up with banana milk and set out to work on the uphill. It was slow going in the traffic and I keep in touch with Ali a few times over the course of the next two hours. People are extremely kind and eventually - after using a bit of highway - Ali and I meet up. It was a wonderful welcome in their home in Northern Tehran. They are wonderful hosts, Ali himself is a former biker. We start with what turns out to be a wonderful meal (after the shower that is) and good conversations that are to deepen considerably over the next few days. Yummy food abounds for the remainder of the day and I am glad to have reached the second major waypoint on my trek to the Yellow Sea. I will be taking a break as I need to organize the Turkmenistan and Uzbekistand visas in the next days, hoping that it will go through without a hitch. We shall see. I also plan to visit Isfahan and Yazd during that time. Plus, I want/need to extend my visa in the next days. But all that depends on the timing of the visas and the overcoming of bureaucratic hurdles.

daily distance: 108km
total distance: 6988km
riding time: 6h

I can sort of make this short: it was a battle of a day, every km was hard-fought it seems. The wind was fiercely coming into my face, the landscape could have been nice if it wasn’t so strangely hazy, it was hot, there was lots of traffic and I didn’t really feel like biking.

Apart from that the hotel staff annoyed me to the point where I will write the Lonely Planet about them. The guy had an air of nonchalance about him, it was quite impressive. He told me last night that he would find out the details about the police station for my visa extension. With a smug grin on his face he told me that he couldn’t find out and all of a sudden claimed to no longer speak English. I just don’t like that kind of stuff.

The police station was interesting - and no, I did not get my visa extended. The first guy says to come back tomorrow. Now, tomorrow is Friday, meaning that the country shuts down literally. Certainly none of the offices open up. He said this with a straight face. I laughed. He said it could be done only in three days, so that was a no go.

I biked much more than I had planned and find myself in Karaj, about 40km from Tehran. I meant to camp out but then got sucked into the maelstrom of greater Tehran. Karaj is huge place and also full of hotel owners who want to rip you off big time. I got something that I paid entirely too much for - in the grand scheme of things I shouldn’t care and now I don’t. I am dead tired after clocking 100km after my late noon departure. Will be in Tehran tomorrow … and say this with a grin on my face.

On the way here, I was a) stalked by a weird guy who got entirely too close for comfort - even in the European sense, b) followed by a guy in a car holding up traffic just so he could drive behind me for about 2km until I pulled out and told him to move off and c) met a guy who had a swastika (Hakenkreuz) on his cell phone as a background picture. That wouldn’t shock me as much here as you can find that sign anywhere on buildings. It’s widely used on mosques and stands for eternity (or so I am told). But lording over the swastika was a picture of Hitler and though the guy was really helpful in finding a hotel for the night, it put me off quite a bit. He tried to explain that the world be better if this and this happened - mentioning the Aryan connection between Iranians and Germans that supposedly exists (and really is bunk from what I understand) that I hear so often here.

And here is some more fun … wonder what the other 40% are made of … or maybe I don’t want to know.

daily distance: 121km
total distance: 6880km
riding time: 6h (and some bus time)

The strange world of Iran’s bureaucracy. In my - as it turns out - vain attempt to get my visa extended in Zanjan I set out to get to work on things. Two English students are helpful in trying to find out where to go. So I head to the first place which turns out to be the local passport office. That wasn’t the place to be. The people there are very helpful though. They make phone calls and when they write down the address in Farsi (which tells me exactly nothing) there is a lot of running around. Not sure what happened, but all of a sudden there is a taxi in which I am shuffled, the cab driver speeding off to I don’t know where - a very outlying part of town, that much I can say.

Once there, the officials look at me as if I had come out of a UFO. This is a big police complex of relatively recent origins (why are the ceilings so low then?) and I am handed from one person to the next until I arrive in one office. My showing of my passport brings astonishment into the guy’s face. He swiftly marches police officer # 6 who had brought me here and myself into another office. Three women are having their breakfast, one speaks some English. I try to explain what I am here for. Incomprehending stares. The usual questions - where are you from and so on. Take a look at my passport I am tempted to say. But I am very polite and say my thing. Nothing happens for 20 minutes. I am ready to bag it saying that it will be easier in Isfahan and I already see myself on a bus there at the beginning of next week. Then an elderly gentlemen enters the room and as it turns out he is from South Asia (all these strange references are to protect the people I am talking to, I do know his place of birth) and works in Zanjan (can’t really tell you what line of business he’s into). He translates everything and still we get nowhere. It seemed to me that there is a complete shunning of responsibility and he confirms as much, saying that the person in charge is not here (he himself had been ordered in to see him, it’s a man of course) and so nothing can be done. Ouch … The people are very nice and friendly and my partner in suffering confirms as much as well, saying that they are not encouraged, but rather discouraged from making any decisions. He also tells me that this whole complex has been put up just a year ago - moved away from the city and for him is a symbol of the secret police state that we are in.

I take a taxi back and go about a few more errands and eventually leave the city. It turns out to be one of those days on which biking is not meant to be for me. I stop to have lunch after an hour (only left the city at noon) and things are a bit better, though the wind is pretty powerful in my face. I reach Soltaniyeh and gawk at what is there.

Just after arriving I am approached by an elderly gentleman who turns out to be German. We chat a bit and I tell him about the plan to head to Tehran and Isfahan when he calls out someone. Andreas comes over and again by sheer coincidence I seem to meet someone who could be helping me a lot. First thing, I can leave the bike at their place in Tehran for some time, no problem. Wonderful. Problem solved.

I tell him about the visa issue and after a few phone calls it seems that I have a chance to get a workaround through his secretary and his company. They do this kind of thing all the time and his secretary thinks that it shouldn’t be a problem to get the visa. I have an appointment with her on Saturday (Friday is the day off here) and we will take it from there. It would save me a lot of time and hassle running back and forth from Tehran to Isfahan. Other things are in the making as well it seems and so things are looking a bit brighter. After a farewell I visit the site when the rain sets in. On my way to another little gem not far away I meet Andreas and the others again - and get to eat some of the homemade German bread and other goodies. Great stuff!!! Thanks so much.

On for more km …. until I can’t go any longer if I want to reach Qasvin that night. I have to take a bus. It was unrealistic to think that I would reach it to start with and so I am rather resigned to the thought of not biking the full distance. But because there is another chance in Qasvin to extend my visa and I couldn’t be there before the weekend here, I decide with a heavy heart to do the 60km by bus. I arrive when one is about to leave, the guy tries to screw me about the price - I hate that kind of stuff. All is well though in the end and I arrive in Qasvin only to have the feeling that I am screwed again in the hotel that I am staying. Described as a nice place (which it is) the people in the Hotel Iran are not overly forthcoming and in the end I resolutely carry the bike into the room instead of leaving it on the street. Needless to say that our relationship isn’t the best.

But the food here was amazing - no kebab tonight, but slowly simmered lamb over rice and barberies. Yummy … topped off with banana milk. Cannot complain.