done that

The first impression of Tehran was not good. But I let it be a first impression and was willing to give the city a second chance, started with the Persian language course and got in touch with the local Esperantists. Thereby my program for the weeks to come was set up. Even though I could initially stay at Hamze’s home, and could even have stayed longer, I decided to move my quarter to a reasonably priced hotel near the Emam-Khomeini-Square. This had the advantage that I didn’t have to spend over four hours in metro, bus and walking, but a mere three hours to get to my lessons and back. Accepting the invitations of Esperantists to do sightseeing, to the movies, to private parties or similar, or if I wanted to visit something on my own, I had to add at least another two hours to my daily travel time, even if got a ride by someone. Such is traffic in Tehran.

Anyhow, I did have a good time Tehran, but pretty soon I had enough of the smog, of moving about in the noisy traffic without really getting anywhere. So I took just one more big breath of air – at the tyre shop for my front wheel, which had its first puncture about 130 km before getting into Tehran – and left the dust of Tehran behind me.

From Tehran to Qom there is an autobahn, and beside that there is a highway for all other vehicles. And since there is hardly anything else but desert and a couple of roadhouses between Tehran and Qom, there were hardly any vehicles on that highway, except for trucks, but thereof more than enough, even though it was Friday (=Sunday). The roadhouses were happy to serve me, even though it was Ramadan, as the obligation to fast does not apply to travelers.

At my arrival in Qom the sun, just about to set, reflected its light beautifully in the golden roof of Fatima al Mosume’s tomb. Just after sunset I visited this beautiful complex, which is decorated with colorful tiles and mirrors. Simply fantastic! In and in front of the complex there is a lot of space for pedestrians. I am glad not to be in Tehran anymore.

The following day I reached the city of Kashan after an exhausting ride under the burning sun at the edge of the desert. I strolled around its old bazaar for a while before visiting one of its many mosques, where I sat down to have a rest. Suddenly a man comes up to me, speaking French. We had a little chat, and even though I was not a Moslem I was allowed to stay and was even served a cup of hot milk and a couple of dates, while the Moslems where holding there evening prayer before breaking their fast also with milk and dates. Hereby, Islam proved to me once more, that it can be very tolerant towards people of other faiths. And this in a place, where practically all women walk around completely covered in black clothes and only 100km away from Qom, which is said to be the center of fundamentalist Islam in Iran.

The next morning, I was just packing my bicycle in front of the hotel, when suddenly Patrick and Sophie came around the corner. Two dutch cyclists, with whom I had already cycled into Tabriz a few weeks earlier. They stayed at the hotel next door and were just about to leave. Together we made us on the way. There was only little traffic on the road which took us across a fantastic desert landscape, with mountains on our right and a huge plain on our left. After about 50km, there were suddenly signs prohibiting stopping or taking photos. On both sides of the road, on every little elevation, there were canons pointing into the sky, and a little further along the road there was a big industrial site, where probably the disputed uranium enrichment occurs. Only 30km further and 600m higher we reached Natanz, a beautiful oasis, where we had a cozy self catered dinner on the balcony of our hotel.

Across a pass of 2200m altitude we reached another large desertic plain, where every bunch of grass takes as much space as it wants. I am thinking of the Australian desert, while watching wind columns carrying dust up in the air, until the faded away again. The ride across this plane was absolutely fantastic, until we reached Murcheh Khort, where our road joined a highway overloaded with traffic. On the dusty track that was running parallel to it, I made my way to Esfahan.

It's been ten days now, since I have arrived in Tehran, and still I haven't got around to write a decent report about my way from Tabriz to Tehran. Even though I was taking the fast lane, I quite enjoyed that bit.

Despite a welcoming picknick we were offered by a Iranian family on our arrival in Tabriz (I arrived with two dutch cyclists, Patrick and Sophie), despite meeting by chance some of the mountaineering people from Ararat when getting into the city, despite missing a date (I am sorry!) with Nazanin, who kindly looked after me on the first basecamp of Ararat, and despite a warm welcome of two esperantists lateron, I didn't really get to like the city of Tabriz. There is not much to see, but a lot to hear, meaning it's a very noisy town. So two days later already I flee the traffic congestion together with two german cyclists, knowing exactly, that it wouldn't be much different in other Iranian cities.

For once we left quite late in the afternoon, supposing to be camping nearby a lake about 30km out of Tabriz. The only problem was, that the road was steadily going up, and that there was no lake after 30km, so before getting caught by the night, we decided to camp in the vicinity of a picknick area. After a long and cosy evening, where we exchanging our experiences on the road, we set out the next morning rather late, and 10km further on we eventually found the lake and the campsite we had been looking for.

A little further down the road in Bostanabad, our roads diverged, as I was going straight to Tehran for my language course, and the germans headed for the Caspian Sea. Today the road was suppused to be following a river and steadily going down. Well, it did, but again, the wind was heading right against me, while dark cloud were approaching me from behind me. What could have been a fantastic ride, ended up to be rather a annoying struggle, until 10km before Miyaneh I set up my tent again under some trees a little bit off the road.

On the next day the town of Zanjan could be within reach, if the wind was to be a bit more gentle with me. For a start it wasn't and I just about put up with the idea, not to make it to Zanjan, where the family of the truckdriver lives, that I met on top of a mountain crossing just before Erzincan in Turkey.

However, one of the many melonstands on the side of the road (see fotos), did a good job on me. The melons were really delicious, and the owner offered me a cup tea to go with it. Apparantly the year before, there were also two Swiss cyclists who stopped at the same place. After devouring a whole melon, I grabbed another one for lateron down the road (those melons were defintely delicious!), and when it came to paying, it didn't, because the owner insisted in offering me the lot.

After a little while the wind ceased, which made me catch up a bit, and even though it would be a bit late, I decided to continue to Zanjan.

Arriving in Zanjan, I had a drink in a little shop, that also sold some takeaway food. Having arrived from Switzerland, the shopkeeper insisted, that I also eat something. Ok, fine, it certainly can't do any harm, even though I would like to get a decent bite later on. It definetly didn't do any harm, not even to my wallet, again I was offered everything for free. What a great country!

Just before sunset I decided to try my luck and call that number, Betollah, the truck driver gave me. A woman answered, who didn't speak english. Luckily my farsi knowledge were good enough, to understand, that her son is out, and she is alone at home. Hmm, that's a problem. Suddenly she had an idea, which I did not really understand, but it couldn't mean much else, than that I should wait where I am, until someone comes to pick me up. How long it will be, I asked. Half an hour. Ok, that's fine. Even though it was getting dark, I didn't mind waiting at the little park for a while, and see what will happen. Or was I meant to call again after half an hour?

After half an hour nothing happend, except that it got dark. To my surprise there was not even people coming up to me and ask, where I am from, where I am going, if I am alone, and all the questions Iranians so much like to ask. No, I was for once left alone, in the middle of city with people around. That it is really unusal. When after 45 minutes still nobody turned up, I decided, that I will try to find one of the hotels in my guidebook. Someone was just explaining me how to get there, when Mehdi, the son of the truckdriver turns up and led me to his house, where I spent a nice evening with his family. The day after I was taken around the city, and before I left I was overloaded with food for on the road. Beitollah, thank you very much, the hospitality of your family was wonderful, and I hope I will be able to return it to you one day, when I am back in Europe.

So in the afternoon I continued to Soltaniyeh, again a strong wind was blowing against me. After two nights in my tent and one night in a hotel in Karaj, I finally had the wind from behind, which carried me on a sixlane-road into the centre of Tehran...

> deutsch

> deutsch

> deutsch