Pedaling from the Black Forest to the Yellow Sea

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.

daily distance: 137km
total distance: 6759km
riding time: 7h

Another long day and not much to write home about. I rode out of Miyaneh relatively late and just clocked miles and miles.

It is all about getting to Tehran right now due to the short visa I got in Istanbul. I am hoping to be able to extend my visa in either Zanjan or Qazvin, two larger cities along the route. I didn’t mean to ride as many miles today, but things were good until the very end when my knee started to act up a bit. Sometimes things are a bit painful I suppose. The road led through a gradually widening valley and it got much warmer along the way. Water consumption was at a high again, though nothing compared to the 12 liters of a few days ago.

I arrvied in Zanjar towards the evening, hoping to extend my visa the next morning. We shall see whether this works out or not. I don’t want to this in Tehran because why you ask? Apparently the most unfriendly, slow and incompetent people, giving you no more than 10 days (all according to the Lonely Planet) and I don’t want to risk that. I have a backup by going to Isfahan, but that would be a less preferable option really. So I am keeping my hopes up. That’s why I am a bit in a hurry.

I found this old German phone in my hotel room - complete with an old German postal office license (sorry that picture I can’t upload due to very slow upload speeds here in Iran).

daily distance: 174km
total distance: 6622km
riding time: 8-9h

I bid farewell to Aydin and his family. It was one of those moments that one the one hand make this trip hard - because it is one of those emotional moments, but at the same time so worthwhile because you have had the good fortune to meet up with wonderful and great people.

Starting at 7am was a good idea - despite having to fight the already heavy city traffic that seemed to be going on and on for miles and miles. Smoke was belching from big trucks and conveniently right into my face for the most part. Not so much fun - plus the city stretches for miles on end it seemed. It was all uphill for the next 40km or so. There was a good amount of friendly honking though I can not for the life of me get used to the loud honking powered by gas horns when the trucks are right next to me.

Still trailing in heavy traffic I eventually reached the top of the pass and headed downhill to a lake and a city by the name of Bostanabad. This was the goal to reach until lunch time. Temperatures had dropped a lot compared to the last days though there was still a heavy headwind that I had to fight.

When I arrived in Bostanabed I took this picture thinking that it was kind of humorous (OK, so this may just be me thinking this is funny, but the light remained the same all the time).

At any rate, I moved on and tried to get my bearings and take a quick break. Next thing I know, there was a police car next to me, signaling me to stop. Alright I thought, you guys are bored, there is a foreigner in town and now we take a look at the passport and then we’ll let him move on. I had been quite successful at avoiding this kind of stuff for a while now by putting on a big smile, yelling some city name that I knew was ahead of me and waiting for the direction being signaled.

The police stopped someone on the street who knew English and he explained to me that there was no problem, but it was clear that he was uncomfortable with the situation so I told him that he should feel free to move on and not worry about me. The police force increased from 2 to 8 rapidly with a similar increase in the position of the officials. In the end, the police chief came, I still had no idea why I was held - someone was waving my passport and no one could give me an answer as to the question why I was being held. Then they said something about a camera. I said, sure I had one and they were welcome to take a look at the pictures. It dawned on me that someone must have informed the police that I had taken this picture. It was the only one that morning. Hm … 10 minutes later they had been there.

Then things became a bit uncomfortable for me. The uniform guys are OK to deal with, but at some point the mood shifted and I noticed a plain clothes officer milling around in the background. Things had changed, the mood of the uniformed guys was extremely referential and I overheard talk about the police station and the foreigner police. That was no good - I figured that it was a good thing that I had the number of the German embassy handy just in case. This was only a contingency, but things become very real all of a sudden. Then the crowd dissipated, I was given my passport back and everyone was gone. I stood there and didn’t quite know what to make of this situation. If this was supposed to be an advertisement for Iran, it didn’t quite work …

I also felt a bit oppressed … hard to say what exactly went on. They never told me, but I felt intimated for sure for a while. Maybe that was the purpose of the exercise. There was nothing in the background of the picture that I could see that would have been problematic. Slight self-censorship followed during the rest of the day …

I had lunch after a power outage stopped me from doing some updating work (these things are rather frequent and some cities there is a schedule for the outages).

When I moved on the wind had changed dramatically. It was fully in my back now and I could fly on at 35km/h and more on the straights. I covered an insane amount of km during the next hour or so until the wind was again in my face for the rest of the day.

The valley I was riding through was gorgeous and because I was lacking some food, I decided to head to Miyaneh knowing that I wouldn’t move from there any more. I covered 174km today in total and I was shot.

When I arrived I was helped by three young guys who saw me asking for directions in a store. They pointed me to a hotel first (way out of my league) and we found another small and happy-cheap one with clean bathrooms and linens. It was great. On the way there I was again approached by two men in a car about prostitution. Seems like it is a common thing. They first asked whether I was interested in women and when I said thanks and moved on whether I was interested in men. Nope, neither. A slight argument followed.

Then out for dinner - it was great fun, including an English lesson for the owner. Again, conversations were extremely enlightening. Thanks so much for the help guys.

This was an unplanned rest day. Aydin and I had talked about me leaving at 6:30 am to escape the heat, but that wasn’t too be. The very yummy blackberry juice took its toll and I hadn’t slept much all night, but instead … no details. It was just stomach cramps though, but I was awake all night. The cramps were pretty fierce so there wasn’t any place I was going to go today. Instead we hung around and I lay low. Updated the website and slept some more in the afternoon. Aydin and I had some more great conversations over the course of the day during which again I learned much about Iran and the its functioning that I otherwise would never have learned I feel.

I also got a haircut (note that they were very proud of the razors) …

and later watched the painful game during which Germany lost to Spain. Deservedly I should say. Though given the 2 1/2 hour time difference I was close to falling asleep during the second half.