First let me apologise. Many of you have tried to contact us asking how we are doing and why we do not update our blog. Well the reasons are pretty straight forward: Iran is restrictive with usage of the internet, so e.g. www.blogger.com is blocked and only via workarounds accessible. Further we did not want to post in Iran, since it probably would not have been a good idea to post the text below, while being in Iran; we just dislike self-censorship. And last ut not least, there were just too many things to write down and that took a while...
Before we pass the border to Iran (end of August) we stay another day literally
next to the fence of the Armenian-Iranian border at a construction site. The
kids play around with the remnants of old machinery, the guard gives us fruits
from his garden and in the evening he – being actually a cook – even invites me
for an excellent hand-brewed coffee (he put the coffee powder on the stove
until it starts to smell and then adds water to boil it for only a minute –
awesome taste!) and eventually for a self-distilled fig-Vodka. Both are delicious,
although the two little glasses of 70% (!) distillate hit me pretty hard. We enjoy
this day off, which allows us to digest our impressions.
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| Armenian-Iranian border area:That does not look safe. |
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Armenian-Iranian border area: Converting everything into a playground.
Mountain in background are already on Iranian territory. |
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| Armenian-Iranian border area: Converting everything into a playground. |
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| Armenian-Iranian border area: Converting everything into a playground. |
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Armenian-Iranian border area: This friendly guard (actually a cook) showed me
how to make delicious coffee and offered me the best Vodka I ever had . |
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| Armenian-Iranian border area: this time only few stones are needed to level Emma |
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Armenian-Iranian border area: These friendly fellows helped us filling up our water tank.
Thanks guys! You really helped us out! |
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| Armenian-Iranian border area: The landscape is really impressive. |
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Johann eating a thin sheet of concentrated and dried fruit mousse.
You can buy them everywhere along the road.
In Iran however they are a lot more souer than in Georgia or Armenia |
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Collection of Armenian mineral water.
Variety of brands and tasts are incredible - unlike the food. |
However we should later
regret the decision of not having left Armenia on this day already ....
When we approach the border our main concern are the Iranian
authorities, but already the Armenian official spots in one of our documents
that we have exceeded the defined period in the customs documents by 12 hours
and that we would need to pay a fine. The document is written in beautiful
Armenian and was filled in during the chaotic border crossing three
weeks earlier, so we were not even aware of any limitation.
In the customs terminal I am told that they would need to
calculate the amount which we would need to pay for the delay. After a while a lady
from the back office shows up and presents the result: $1.200! … ehmmm, pardon?
As we are not willing to pay that fine, from here on a bureaucratic marathon
starts. With the whole family we show up at the head of the border checkpoint,
who explains us that our customs document is registered in the computer system
and that ‘no one in the world would be able to help us’. When explaining that
we do not have the money, the friendly person tells us that we would need to go
back to the corresponding ministry in Yerevan (remember the 400 km of mostly
challenging hair pin turns from our last post?) and that he rates our chances
at around 5% to get a discount on the calculated fine. At this point we are
really fed up, all our arguments and excuses seem to be of little value. We
eventually decide to start a parallel track to find a solution for our problem:
calling the German embassy in Yerevan. What a dead end road. I am forwarded to a
friendly German staff member and explain our difficult situation of having a
customs paper in Armenian, where a date is filled which we haven’t asked for
and that we are now supposed to pay this incredible amount because of the
exceeded deadline. My counterpart listens and then explains me that he cannot
do anything for us, that also the embassy staff is only guest in the country
and all people are supposed to respect the law. Before I am able to tell him,
that we were not aware of breaking the law and nobody explained us the
consequences he ends the call. Needless to say that information posted on the
web site of the German embassy was updated last in 2013… Unbelievable, how
these guys drop a family in difficult situations in the middle of nowhere asking
for help. I surely did not expect that. So, we are on our own again.
In the meantime most of the staff (amongst them obviously
some women being mothers themselves and feeling with us) from the Customs
service become aware of our case and apparently some of them feel with us and
push for pragmatic solutions. We are now around four hours in the border
district. It is going to be a long day. We know that borders can be
complicated, so we always prepare: we always have an empty toilet in the car,
we always carry a lot of drinking water and easy to prepare food. The Armenian
officials are friendly and let us eat in the car. We draw pictures of the
trucks leaving the border for Pauli and have time to do a lot of people
watching. It is not only people we watch, but also corruption going on. There
is a last gate before leaving the border area that is opened for every car
separately. The man who opens the gate is accompanied by a uniformed official.
They are a very nice team, one controls the passports, the other takes the
nicely folded bills that are handed out of the car windows and puts them in his
pocket. Every car driver hands over money. I can tell, we had a lot of time to
watch. Torsten didn’t pay.
In the meantime in the administration: Phone calls are made,
workarounds discussed and many internal discussions follow. We are asked to be
patient and that different people try to find a solution. After a couple of
hours a form arrives via fax from the ministry in Yerevan, which we have to
fill in with the help of an assistant – again in Armenian. We are asked to wait
in our car until further notice. After around 6 hours I am asked into the
chief’s office and they explain that they managed to sort it out in a way that they
register a new document for us and that we need to pay another 37 Dollar. This
unexpected turn of our situation causes a lot of joy among the travellers ;) A
member of the customs staff, who apparently sketched out the solution for us in
the background accompanies me to the cashier. While waiting she explains that
she and all her colleagues are fed up with the ‘new law’ which is in place
since 01.01.2015. Asking further she explains the details: Before 2015
exceeding the date in the custom document cost a minor registration fee. Since
Armenia joined the customs union with Russia (just like Kazakhstan and
Kirghistan) they were imposed by Russia to settle the new law against
foreigners. Nice example how big politics and specifically the animosity of
East and West can hit you as a traveller.
Needless to say that this background information did not help to calm my
emotions for the German embassy: although carefully reading the details on
their website before we entered the country, we did not find a single word
about this important change in legislation even 8 months after its enforcement.
Remains the question what they are actually doing and why the German consular
law of 1973, which obliges the embassy staff to help German citizens in these
kinds of situations is not respected.
Sun is setting and we finally reach the last post in the
Armenian border control and … they spot a missing entry stamp in my passport.
After another half an hour this has been also sorted out and we can cross the
bridge over the river Aras separating Armenia from Iran including change of
time zone by half an hour (whole Iran is 2,5 hours ahead of Brussels/Berlin
time).
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Armenian-Iranian border: passing this fence was supposed to cost us $1200
because we are some hours late. |
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Armenian-Iranian border: Susanne is drawing the trucks
they see during long hours of waiting for a solution. |
(Susanne)
“Welcome to Iran.” These are the first words I hear after we
pass the big bridge at the border between Armenia and Iran. It is already after
sunset and we pass several controls in the border administration buildings. We
get our Visa stamped, I have to spell “Hans-Jochen” (the name of my father) for
one of the border administrators, because the name of the father of each
foreigner coming to the country is noted and we go a long journey to get our ‘Carnet
de Passage’ for the car stamped. On a truck parking
Torsten (with Pauli on his arm – his cuteness usually helps in these
situations) hunts for the only and most wanted person, who can stamp us the car papers. Around nine in the evening it is his turn and they enter the already
closed customs terminal where our ‘Carnet de Passage‘ is manually registered in
a huge book. All of this happens in a
very friendly and calm way. At the money exchange we look for the first time at
bills of millions of Rial, Ayatollah Khomeini smiling at us. Around 33000 Iranian
Rials being one Dollar. Later I hear sometimes vendors count “10000 Khomeini”
instead of “10000 Rials”. The Iranian banking system is cut off from the rest
of the world (not connected to SWIFT), so none of our credit cards will work, we will have to exchange
cash, best Dollars all the time. It gets very late that night and we are really
really tired after that long and exciting day.
Advancing 500 m on the map, but passing two worlds in between.
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| Iranian Rials: Also called Khomeinis |
Some 30 km further we find a place to park in a little
village next to a playground. There is even a little store still open and we
can buy some food and eat before we fall asleep.
From now on I am trying to get used to wear a headscarf
every day and not to forget, before I get out of the car.
Not “Hello, hello!”
as we have heard in other countries, but “Welcome to Iran.” is what we
are greeted with every time we meet someone. Or: “Be our guests.” Sometimes
followed by a little bow with the hand on the heart. Very impressive and proud.
The next day is the first of September, the first school
day. I think Johann is really happy to wake up that day in Iran and not in
Brussels… ;) Antonia is very excited and has already made plans, what should be studied
when. While we sit down to check all schoolbooks, count the pages and make a
plan what should be done when during our travel year someone knocks on our
door. Police, Border Police and ‘Special Service’
welcome us to Iran. ;-) Very friendly they ask where we are from, check
passports and so on, something we will experience from now more often,
sometimes even three to four times a day. Besides the friendliness that way we
don’t forget where we are… ;-)
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Just behind the Armenian-Iranian border: at daylight we discover,
that we parked next to a playground |
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Not too many choices on the playground,
but Pauli loves it anyway! |
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| New country - new money: Iranian Rials. |
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| First day in Iran - First day of school: kids getting ready! |
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| First day of school: Scheduling the work for the next months. |
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Just behind the border: First control by Iranian police - shouldn't be the last one.
It became daily business and ALWAYS very friendly. |
We drive on next to the border of Nakchivan, the Azerbaijanian
enclave next to Armenia.
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| View over the border from Iran to Nakchivan |
Here we see for the last time cars with foreign license
plates, some Azeri trucks pass by to bring goods to Nakchivan. From now on we are “alone” among
Iranian cars.
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| Kids doing their school work during a long drive. |
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| New co-pilot in Iran: Susanne needs to cover her hair |
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Along the road: dried fruit and thin sheets of concentrated fruit mousse.
Unlike Georgia or Armenia, they are pretty souer in Iran. |
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Since we hadn't yet chained our storage boxes one of it flipped over.
Luckily we noticed it immidiately. |
[… start Torstens insert …]
Apropos Iranian Cars: this is worth
a dedicated chapter. It seems that cars cannot be easily imported to Iran so a
domestic car manufacturing industry with own brands was set up. The majority of
the cars you will not find anywhere else in the world like the legendary Paykan
(engl.: arrow). For other cars Iran bought the license to build them. Most
famous among them is probably the Peugeot 405 and some models from Kia. And
this underlines the environmental problem: the cars built nowadays in Iran are
mostly equipped with outdated technology and combination with low quality carburant
they pollute the cities. Talking about outdated technology and pollution we
should not forget the trucks. The Mercedes star dominates here the traffic, but
not recent models as we are used to but models (for experts: the legendary and
very esthetically looking ‘Rundhauber’) which had been mass-produced in Germany
until 1977! After a while you’ll even spot brand new produced trucks of this
old model, which is not surprising since they are manufactured close to Tehran even
nowadays. In the meantime they fulfill Euro3 norm, which is quite an
improvement to 1977, but still far from today’s European or American standards.
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Emma next to the legendary Mercedes Rundhauber.
In Iran they are still produced. |
[… end Torstens insert …]
We do some shopping and look out for diesel. As soon as we
park and enter a shop we are surrounded by people asking us if they can help,
giving us milk for Paul as a present, escorting us to a gas station that sells
diesel (not that easy to find, since most cars drive on CNG gas here)… It is really an amazing first experience. Compared
to Armenia we see wealth and newer cars, wide new streets and new apartment
buildings, what a difference. For the next weeks we
will also see heroic portraits of young men and also woman in cities and next
to the road. We later find out that these pictures show the counterfeit of local
people who died in the Iran-Iraq war some 30 years ago.
The diesel is unfortunately of
rather bad quality, so Emma starts to smoke pretty heavily. Especially when
releasing the engine break a black cloud leaves our exhaust pipe. Soon one of
our diesel filters turns all black.
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| Our diesel filter: All black! |
To get diesel at a gas station all truck drivers have a
special sort of credit card, which we do not have. One liter of diesel is at
around 7 Eurocent, some 300 Rials. Incredibly cheap. But at each gas station we
have to find someone who lends us his card with his credit of Diesel and we
then pay this person. Sometimes we don’t find someone then we have to ask the
personnel of the gas station to lend us their card. There are always long
discussions about how much we then have to pay, we usually end up paying double
of what Iranians pay.
We drive on to Tabriz on a fast highway and reach the 1.2
million city in the evening. We find a place to park next to a fun park with
roller coasters and other fun stuff (unfortunately no
money left for some rides L and as we will find out exchanging money is sometimes not easy). A lot of people around us camp in tents on the parking, funny
thing all of them use the same kind of pop up tent, apparently the only one
that is being sold in Iran. Weather is nice and cool and Torsten has the idea
to put out the table and chairs to eat next to the car. And a defilé of people welcoming and looking at us starts… The
kids have to get used to be photographed all the time. One young man insists to visit the inside of the
car and as we friendly deny he starts jumping up and down in front of the
windows holding his phone into the windows to catch some views. But most of the
people we meet are very friendly and try all their English (rarely more than a
couple words), since we can’t help with any Persian other than “Salam” or “Merci” (!).
It is a nice quiet evening and we go to bed pretty early. In
the middle of the night we hear suddenly someone knocking hard at our door.
When we go to sleep we always put the steps away so no one can stand directly
in front of our door, but stands on the level of the street. A little safety
measure that safes us a lot of trouble that night. There is a man in a black
suit in front of our door, claiming with police badge in his hand that he is
from civil police and needs to inspect our car. He asks for the passports.
Since we have already experienced civil police without uniform we open the door
and hand over the passports. But he doesn’t even look at them and starts
jelling that he needs to enter the car to see if we have any weapons, he asks
for our bags. Suddenly we are pretty awake and the situation gets pretty ugly.
We try to get rid of him, ask him to show up again with
someone wearing an official uniform and finally decide to call the
police. That is the moment when he and his companion leave the place with kick
start in their car. What a strange experience. Luckily he was not able to enter
the car, because the entrance is so high. Only later we see that a lot of
people are still awake around us, sitting in front of their tents. But since
our entrance pointed to the back side of the parking no one could see what has
happened. We alarm our neighbors and they help us to call the police, that
arrives sometime later. Everyone has told us that Iran would be a very safe
country, well it is not, it is just like every country elsewhere. Bad people have
their ways to get on traveler’s nerves. And scary detail, that man had even
shown us a sort of Police-ID-Card, so I am sure that it was not the first time
that he tried to ripoff people. Police is very
friendly, but cannot do much (we could not recall the
Persian license plate), at least they promise to pass by our car later
the night again, to see if everything is ok. All is ok, we did not lose
anything, but we are still a bit shocked.
The next day – still a bit shaky – we decide to go on and
visit Tabriz. We check out the new Metro, that was opened a week ago (!), but
is only riding for two hours and only a short way. So we park the car at the
bus station and with the help of a friendly Tabrizien we find a taxi and the
way into town. We leave the taxi a little dizzy since the gas tank behind the
back seat was leaking a bit – a common problem in Iranian taxis as we should
find out in the next weeks. The Bazaar we want to visit is listed as World
Heritage and is really impressing. 7 sqkm big, 22 caravanserais inside; over 20
mosques… We change money with the help of the very friendly tourist office,
walk around, visit carpet repairers and enjoy the atmosphere.
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| Tabriz Bazar: the friendly man from the tourist information shows us the way. |
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| Tabriz: These are carpets. |
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| Tabriz: the light comes through little holes in the roof. |
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| Bazar in Tabriz: Carpet repair shop. |
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| Bazar in Tabriz: Johann watching the carpet cutter at their work. |
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| Bazar in Tabriz: Carpet repair shop. |
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| Bazar in Tabriz:Carpet relief cuter. They add 3D to each carpet ;) |
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| Bazar in Tabriz: funny effect from the roof lights. |
Being really tired after the visit we drop in a wonderful traditional Iranian restaurant. After all these positive experiences last night seems far away.
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| Traditional restaurant in Tabriz: Time to rest. |
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| Traditional restaurant in Tabriz: Delicious food! |
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| Traditional restaurant in Tabriz: No left overs! |
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| Traditional restaurant in Tabriz: a place to relax! |
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Traditional restaurant in Tabriz: on the roof of the restaurant.
In the evening they serve also here - great ambience. |
We drive on some km out of town to a little village called
Kandovan. Anyone who has ever been to Cappadocia in Turkey will see the similarities:
the whole village is carved out of the rocks and houses are in caves. A very nice
place, touristy, but still calm in the middle of the week. We meet a young boy
who is happy to try all his English with us, what a lovely and bright guy, we had
a lot of fun talking to him. Equipped with their walky-talky
radio devices Johann and Antonia use the evening to stroll on their own
in the village, they enjoy running up and down the ladders and stairs. They
have learned some English by now and can answer questions about their home
country, name and age.
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| On our way to Kandovan: New cities build from scratch in the desert. |
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| On our way to Kandovan: New cities built from scratch in the desert. |
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| Kandovan: A village carved into the rocks. |
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| Kandovan: A village carved into the rocks. |
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| Kandovan: discovering an impressive place. |
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| Kandovan: Discovering an impressive place. |
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| Kandovan: Ideal place to chill out. |
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| Kandovan: Iranian tourists visting the village. |
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| Kandovan: Herbs and dried fruits everywhere. |
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| Kandovan: Colorful - dried herbs. |
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| Kandovan: Pauli still needs help with the big steps. |
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| Kandovan: Kids having fun! |
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| Kandovan |
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| Kandovan: People love to take pictures with us. |
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| Kandovan: A young Iranian practicing English. |
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| Kandovan: The two Supreme Leader present wherever you go in Iran.Right: Khomeini (1980-1989) & Left: Ali Khamenei (1989-present) |
Near
Tabriz is Urmia Lake. A huge lake, or at least what is left of it. Here we can
see what Aral Lake probably was like a couple of years ago. High water use (some 47 dams and over 18000 illegal water holes) in
the area has led to a high loss of water and the lake is becoming a salt desert
now. Very impressing but for all scary what mankind can do.
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| Urmia Lake: When approaching salty white shores appear at the horizont. |
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| Urmia Lake: Antonia shows Pauli some salt |
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| Urmia Lake: We need to walk a while over salt until we actually reach water |
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Urmia Lake: Witnesses of the past, when ships were still crossing the lake
or being used for fishing. |
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| Urmia Lake: somewhat unreal. |
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| Urmia Lake: Salt plates floating on the surface |
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| Urmia Lake: Shoes covered with salt after returning. |
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Urmia Lake: People taking a bath (women wearing Tschador).
No shower around. |
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Urmia Lake: The remaining water is shallow.
If nothing happens it wont take long until it entirely disappears. |
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| Urmia Lake: Salt shores. |
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Urmia Lake: Former bay, where ships used to land.
At a certain moment they could leave the place anymore. |
Our itinerary leads us to Bonab, known for its nuclear
research center, biking lanes and the best Kebabs. We pass by the big nuclear
plant north of town and since we are hungry we stop at a nice Kebab Restaurant
in town. It takes the police 30 minutes to find us sitting in the restaurant.
When the policeman insists that Torsten follows him to our car, the owner of
the Restaurant gets really mad and starts jelling at the policeman. And the
policeman leaves and does not come back … Obviously
hospitality to foreigners sometimes ranks higher than official authorities.
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Bonab: Still eating peacefully. It didn't take long that police found us in the restaurant.
Surprisingly the owner of the place managed to chase them off. |
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| Qoshachay: Closing time for mechanics. |
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| Qoshachay: Repair shop at night. |
We are on our way to Teheran and want to visit the temple at Takht-e Soleymān on the way.
This temple has been here for around 2500 years. It is an
old Zoroastrian temple, with an impressing blue and deep artesian lake in the
middle. The driving towards the lake is horrible, streets are in lamentable
state and we are shaken by the time we get to the place.
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| Zendane Soleymān: Climbing the holy mountain. |
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Zendane Soleymān: Antonia sneaking over the edge of the crater
(100m straight down) |
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| Zendane Soleymān: View from the top. |
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| Zendane Soleymān: Johann at the edge of the crater. |
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| Zendane Soleymān: Crater base. |
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| Zendane Soleymān: View to closeby Takht-e Soleymān. |
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| Takht-e Soleymān: Overspilling water running down from the temple. |
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| Takht-e Soleymān: Playing in the water. |
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| Takht-e Soleymān: People ask for taking a picture. |
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| Takht-e Soleymān: Playing in the water inside the temple. |
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| Takht-e Soleymān: View over the deep artesian lake inside the temple. |
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| Takht-e Soleymān: View over the deep artesian lake inside the temple. |
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| Takht-e Soleymān: Exploring the temple. |
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| Takht-e Soleymān: Exploring the temple. |
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| Takht-e Soleymān: Remnants of the temple. |
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| Takht-e Soleymān: Exploring the ruins. |
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| Takht-e Soleymān: Pauli macht den Sassanidenaufstand.. |
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| Takht-e Soleymān: Remnants of the temple. |
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| Takht-e Soleymān: ;) |
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| Takht-e Soleymān: We are not the only ones having fun with the water. |
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| Takht-e Soleymān: View over the temple from a hill top closeby. |
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| Takht-e Soleymān: People keep on asking for pictures. Very friendly and funny iranian kurdish women. |
Still I manage to read to Torsten all about the former
Persian world empires. We are both caught by the stories of old times, amazing
what a rich culture this country has and we try to remember all we learn and
read.
We read about the Achaemenides, old Persians whose world
empire 2500 years ago reached from India to Egypt, with kings as Kurosh and
Dariush who loved to let the size of their empire be carved in stone, so we can
still witness their greatness today. Alexander the Great crossed their way in
333 B.C. (“Drei, drei, drei in Issos Keilerei.” J)
and then ended this empire by burning down golden Persepolis. Machos have been
on this planet forever.
Then around 300 A.C. the next huge Persian Empire, this time
with the kings of the Sassanides. Also big, well organized and at the end
defeated. This time by the Arabs, who came with swords and the Coran. The
swords they eventually took home with them, Islam stayed. That was around 600
A.C. Since then Iran has used the time to become the leader of the Schia, Shiit
Muslims. This said in short words. ;-)
Interesting detail at this point: After our experience with
five-times-a-day-really-loud-Muezzins in Turkey I had expected that it would be
even worse in Iran. But here we learn: Shiits “only” pray three times per day
and my impression is, that not every mosque has the loud speakers, all seems to
go on much calmer than in Turkey.
So, Takht-e Soleiman was important in the time of the
Sassanides, but traces of the Achaemenides have been found here too. It is a
temple to worship fire. During the Sassanides times Zoroasterreligion was the
state religion, a sort blue print religion for the later Christians and
Muslims. 2500 years ago they already talked about heaven and hell, good and
evil, angels and the Last Judgment. Besides they are impressed by the elements
and built temples for fire, water, earth and air. Today there are still some
30000 Zoroastrians living in Iran, worshipping their cult. The same freedom is
given to Christians (most of them Armenians) and Jews, who have several big
communities in Teheran (!). BTW: Both religions have
also a fixed seat for a representative in the parliament. A country full
of contradictions. ;-)
So we visit the old temple and the kids love the water from
the lake in the middle. Of course they cannot jump into
the lake itself but enjoy the water overflowing the edge forming small bourns.
The temple is in the region of Kurdistan in Iran and we meet
a lot of Kurdish people in and around the temple and since it is Friday they
are all dressed in best dresses.
On the parking we have a bit of an unpleasant experience. We
are just back from climbing up the mountain to see the temple from above, as we
see a fight between a woman and a man, the man hitting and tearing at the woman
who is apparently his wife. She is crying and the young son next to them not
giving a sound. We stop and as the situation gets worse we ask people around to
stop the situation, which they later on do. We are a bit puzzled and don’t know
well how to handle the situation, but to go on and pretend not to see anything
was due to the heavy aggressiveness of that man no option. People try to tell
us that there is no problem: “She is wife! No problem!” But when we insisted
they stopped the fighting and someone even called the police. I have to be
honest, I have no idea what would have been a better solution, we feel a bit as
invaders, but at the same time I will never stand watching a man beating up a
woman, nowhere in the world.
Now I have a bit the feeling that there is every day at
least one situation that drives up adrenalin at its peak… Iran, Iran what do
you want to tell me? ;-)
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Next to the road on our way from Takht-e Soleymān:
First time we see a turtle outside a zoo ;) |
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Next to the road on our way from Takht-e Soleymān:
Village in the dessert. |
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On our way from Takht-e Soleymān:
Kids build a booth of blankets. |
We park in a little village on the road to Teheran that
night, the local police points us where to stay. Torsten meets the mayor of the
village and we see two weddings, men and women having their own party separately.
Time is running a bit; since we have to get to Teheran to
get our visa for China and for Turkmenistan and we have no idea how long that
will take. Iran is five times as big as Germany and 50 times bigger than
Belgium and that we see when planning the distances to drive…
The highway to Teheran is in a very good state and for the
first time since entering the country we drive really fast and Teheran comes
closer. Around 100 km before the capital traffic gets dense and heavy. And we
get a first impression of what we will have to cope with the next week: air
pollution. Heavy air pollution. It’s the traffic: the bad diesel, the old cars,
and the tremendous number of vehicles driving around in Teheran. Besides air
pollution traffic in Iran kills also by form of accidents. More than 18000
people of the 77 million population die every
year in traffic accidents (number dropped already from
27000 in 2005). Imagine a small city gets killed on the roads every
year!!! To compare in Belgium we have around 760 people killed in traffic every
year. Iran leads the statistic and we spotted many
candidates to feed the numbers for the next years.
To navigate we use the app mapsme, a very nice offline GPS
program, that leads us through every tricky traffic situation and in Teheran we
would have been totally lost without it. Since we can’t read any Farsi (Arabic
letters) and some signs don’t have English translation it is nice to have the
GPS signal.
[… start Torstens insert …]
So how is it like to drive in Iran
and especially in Tehran? Well there are a lot of horror stories circulating (“worst
city in the world to drive a car”) and yes it seems to be a place without any
rules. Driving our truck without any surround view is certainly not an advantage. Intersections are filled with cars,
motorbikes and pedestrians coming from all directions and circling around each
other. However I have the impression that the key for driving here is to get
into the swing of it and that someone trying should not be afraid of it. So I
don’t want to advise or discourage someone, but I certainly like to demystify Iranian
and especially Tehran’s traffic. If you find the swing, and there it’s
advisable to be rather quick it’s all feasible.
BTW: if you hold a American, British or Canadian passport you cannot move through Iran by yourself anyway. If you are lucky enough to get a visa you need to hire a certified guide, who takes you through the country. Guess why ;)
 |
| Tehran: The true traffic chaos is difficult to capture on a static picture. |
[… end Torstens insert …]
We have long tried to figure out how to plan our stay in
Teheran. It is a 15 million city, with freeways and highways turning the city
map into a chess plan. We know that the city goes uphill in the north and that
pollution is worst south of the city, so we look for a place to stay in the north.
And a nice French couple that we have already met in Armenia has given us the
final hint: go to park at the Tochal Telecabin Station in the north of Teheran,
it is quiet and cool up there! So we do. The Tochal mountain is around 4000 m
rising above the city, the lowest station is at around 2400 m, where we park.
Some days later we take the telecabin up there, passing three stations, having
a great view above Teheran and ending at the last station shivering from the
cold at 4000 m height.
 |
| Tochal Telecabin in Tehran: Escape from the smog. |
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| Tochal Telecabin in Tehran: On top of the mountains, at 4000 m it's freezing cold ... |
 |
| Tochal Telecabin in Tehran: ... I mean realy cold! |
 |
| Tochal Telecabin in Tehran: Station on the hill top. |
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| Tochal Telecabin in Tehran: Going down we dive through the smog ... |
 |
| Tochal Telecabin in Tehran: ... and slowly the city reappears. |
 |
| Tochal Telecabin in Tehran: Almost no facilities at the intermediate stops, ... |
 |
| Tochal Telecabin in Tehran: ... but a great view .. |
 |
| Tochal Telecabin in Tehran: ... over the city. |
The parking gives a great view on the city, but actually today there is not much to see, smog is hiding it.
 |
| Tehran: View at night over the metropolis. smog bit less that night. |
 |
| Tehran: Kids enjoying the taxi ride. |
Sunday is Monday in Iran and all embassies are open again, so we decide to try our luck. First we have to go the German Embassy to get a letter of recommendation for the Chinese and Turkmen Embassies. We are not far from the last station of the metro at Taijrish Square, a taxi brings us there. It is still early in the morning and we enjoy our first taxi ride in Teheran in the cool air of the morning. The metro is a modern thing far underneath the earth. We manage to get tickets and enter a metro that is just about to leave. The doors close, I look around me and realize that there are only men around us. What a strange feeling. I remember that women are allowed to enter the metro wherever they want, but men are not allowed in the first and last wagon. In reality there are almost no women in the other wagons. This gender apartheid goes through whole daily life and is simply annoying.
We arrive at the German Embassy in the city center; some 17 km from Tochal in the north. The entrance is crowded with people, but we are allowed in pretty quick.
 |
| German Embassy in Tehran |
Inside we are helped quickly, one hour later we leave with the letters in our backpack and take the next metro back north, where the Chinese Embassy is located. We are in a good mood, the administration part seems to go better than expected. When we walk into the Chinese Consulate there is not one person in the waiting room and we can leave all our papers to a friendly Chinese administrator in less than half an hour. We can pick the visa up in four days, Thursday. We can’t believe our luck. It is still before noon when we head in a taxi towards the Turkmen Embassy. There we are told to come back Thursday with our Passports and Visa will then be put into them immediately. Ten minutes after 12 we are done with the Embassy journeys. Wow.
 |
| Tehran: Homo Taxi Driver. A very special species. |
To start the nice part of the day we decide to stay in the north of Teheran and visit one of the former Shah Palaces. We are hungry. After some Pizza and some surprisingly expensive tea we enter Saadabad. Saadabad Palace is an old garden with palaces that was used by the last two Shahs. There is a Green Palace and a White Palace and a museum with military stuff and a museum with the cars of the Shahs and we visit them all. The garden is magic, one could easily imagine to enjoy being the Shah here. Suddenly there is fresh air underneath all the trees and besides the different waters running through the garden. The palaces are hidden in the park and reveal 1001 night halls and rooms. The Green Palace was used as a guest house under the last Shah. The last guest was Jimmy Carter, 1978…
 |
| Saadabad Palace: Walk through the park. |
 |
| Saadabad Palace: Military equipment |
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| Saadabad Palace: Green Palace. |
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| Saadabad Palace: Green Palace. |
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| Saadabad Palace: Green Palace. |
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| Saadabad Palace: Green Palace. The Shahs, the last one did not become Shah anymore. |
 |
| Saadabad Palace: Green Palace. |
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| Saadabad Palace: Green Palace. |
 |
| Saadabad Palace: Green Palace. |
We enjoy being here, all is so quiet after the chaos of the city. There is a lovely café and we enjoy quiet time.
 |
| Saadabad Palace: Chill-Out-Time. |
 |
| Saadabad Palace: Chill-Out-Time. |
 |
| Saadabad Palace: We all love shakes ;) |
 |
| Saadabad Palace: Good one! |
 |
| Saadabad Palace: Still no selfie stick! |
 |
| Saadabad Palace: Armored Car Fleet of the Shah. |
 |
| Saadabad Palace: Pauli impressed! Autoooo! |
 |
| Saadabad Palace: Shiny past. |
 |
| Saadabad Palace: 1959 Mercedes SL300 for 'Farah Dibahs personal use' |
 |
| Saadabad Palace: Horse-riding through the park. |
People we see repeat their “Welcome to Iran”, but in general we are much less frequented in Teheran than before. People here seem to be more used to foreign faces than in the north of the country. But poor Pauli is still center of attraction. People want to touch and kiss him all the time, we have a hard time to “safe” him from too much attention. Sometimes he hides behind his sister.
A young man who is apparently on vacation with his family says hallo and then tells me that they are here “to regret our past” and “what we had in the past”. Right after his “hallo”. I am a bit stunned and don’t know what to say. He can’t mean that they want the Shah back? I mean living in Iran today must feel for a lot of young people like an openair prison, but still the time of the Shah was not better for freely thinking people either…
The White Palace even has a sort “Partykeller” of the Shah, a private Cinema in the style of the Seventies, very stylish. The statue of the Shah in front of the building doesn’t exist anymore, they only left his gigantic boots… Revolutionary symbolism at its best.
 |
| Saadabad Palace: Mirror in the White Palace showing us from all sides ;) |
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| Saadabad Palace: White Palace |
 |
| Saadabad Palace: White Palace |
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| Saadabad Palace: White Palace |
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| Saadabad Palace: Another mirror in White Palace |
 |
| Saadabad Palace: White Palace, last dinner her was for Jimmy Carter in 1977. |
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| Saadabad Palace: White Palace |
 |
| Saadabad Palace: Partyroom downstairs in White Palace. |
 |
| Saadabad Palace: What an interior. |
 |
Saadabad Palace: In front of White Palace.
Only the shahs boots remain from the statue. |
Since we haven’t had any internet access for almost a week
now, we feel a bit lost and decide to solve the problem the same evening. With
some asking around we find a mall where we are being helped. It takes some
time, but we have finally IranCell 3G on our pad!!! Of course a lot of sites
are blocked, we can’t reach our blog, but we can read our mails, already
something. ;-)
 |
Mall in Tehran: Bridging time while getting (restricted) mobile internet access..
We try the selfie program and attract attetion... :-) |
 |
Mall in Tehran: Bridging time while getting mobile (restricted) internet access.
computer games, jippieh. |
 |
| Mall in Tehran: Impressions. |
 |
| Mall in Tehran: Impressions. |
Almost all travelers we met and meet say that there is
almost nothing to see in Teheran. Well, it took us still some days to see all
we wanted to visit. We visit for example the wonderful Golestan Palace in the
center of town. An old kings palace full with mirror decoration, gold, silver,
the throne halls of Persia, a copy of the peacock throne, stunning, magic,
breathtaking to be here. On paintings we see former kings of the country and their crown jewels, which we will later see in original in the Jewel museum in the armoured safe of the Central Bank of Iran!
 |
| Jewel museum in Iranian Central Bank in Tehran: No pictures allowed inside. |
 |
| Jewel museum in Iranian Central Bank in Tehran: Peacock throne. |
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| Jewel museum in Iranian Central Bank in Tehran: one of the Shahs' crown. |
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| Jewel museum in Tehran: Queens crown. |
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| Jewel museum in Tehran: Globe made of juwelry. |
On our way to the Palace we have some discussions in the
metro with the personnel about our tickets and a young lady helps us with
excellent English. While we are in the metro we keep talking and as we arrive
Atiye and her mother decide to join us visiting Golestan. We are really happy,
she is so friendly and we can ask her all the questions we always wanted to ask
;-) and we have a wonderful time
together!!!
 |
Metro in Tehran: We meet Atiye and her mother,
who help us in adiscussion with the Metro staff. |
 |
| Golestan Palace in Tehran: Mirrors all over the place. |
 |
| Golestan Palace in Tehran: Beautiful preserved tiles. |
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| Golestan Palace in Tehran: Atiye and her mother accompany us. |
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| Golestan Palace in Tehran: We spent a wonderful time together. |
 |
| Golestan Palace in Tehran: Tile Patterns. |
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| Golestan Palace in Tehran: Ornaments. |
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| Golestan Palace in Tehran. |
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| Golestan Palace in Tehran: Carved ornaments. |
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| Golestan Palace in Tehran: Walking up the stairs to the throne hall. |
 |
| Golestan Palace in Tehran:Who is in the mirror? |
 |
Golestan Palace in Tehran: Rooms decorated with
wax figures of the Persian Emperors. |
 |
| Golestan Palace in Tehran: Throne hall with ... |
 |
| Golestan Palace in Tehran: ...copy of the peacock throne. |
 |
Golestan Palace in Tehran: Calander set to 31st of May.
Johann likes that one! |
 |
Golestan Palace in Tehran: Parts in the throne palace
were equipped during Pahlavi era. |
 |
Golestan Palace in Tehran: Leaving the throne palace
being deeply impressed. |
 |
| Golestan Palace in Tehran: Ornaments. |
 |
| Golestan Palace in Tehran: Facade. |
 |
| Golestan Palace in Tehran: ;) |
 |
| Golestan Palace in Tehran: Imagine there would be water. |
We have lunch together in the Bazaar. This market is big, loud, full of people and goods; a real flash for eyes and ears. Atiye and her mother guide us to a little restaurant; we would probably never have found it ourselves.
 |
| Bazaar in Tehran: Lot's of people! |
At the end of the day we decide to stop over at the former
American Embassy. Here we still find the “big satan” pictures, the statue of
Liberty in the form of a skull. And even 37 years after the incidents there is
still tension around the building; we are not allowed to take photos of the
building (which we do anyway) and the guard wants us to leave as soon as
possible. We have a nice chat with a man reading the texts for us written on
the wall.
 |
| Former US-embassy in Tehran: w/o words. |
 |
| Former US-embassy in Tehran: Wall paintings. |
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| Former US-embassy in Tehran: Wall paintings. |
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| Former US-embassy in Tehran: Wall paintings. |
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| Former US-embassy in Tehran: Chat with an Tehranian. |
 |
| Former US-embassy in Tehran: Still 'decorated'. |
 |
| Former US-embassy in Tehran: Visiting times only a few days a year. |
 |
Former US-embassy in Tehran: Sneak view through
the fence to the building. |
 |
| Former US-embassy in Tehran: Wall paintings. |
 |
| Former US-embassy in Tehran: Wall paintings. |
 |
| Former US-embassy in Tehran: Wall paintings. |
Well, this whole American-Iran-relation-thing went off wrong from the
beginning. That Americans couped away the first democratically elected prime
minister of Iran, Mohammed Mossadeqh in the fifties and then helped the Shah to kill off any
democratic movements afterwards is a dark chapter of American foreign politics
and negative emotions about this I can fully understand. Mossadegh had wanted
to nationalize Iranian oil and that was the biggest sin ever in the eyes of
British and Americans… Colonialism at its peak.
What we see today, this extreme Islam in this Islamic
Republic is in the wider sense also a product of what has happened in the
50ties. And I ask myself, what would Iran look like today if that hadn’t
happened? If oil wouldn’t have been more important than democracy?
We need a break. My nights are full with dreams, all we have
seen and experienced constantly flashes through my mind. To find good sleep is
not easy.
We decide to enjoy some days at the Caspian Sea before
heading back to Teheran to pick up the Visa. A look at the map shows us that
there is one road close to Teheran leading to the sea. That should have already
made us suspicious… It is bumper to bumper driving on a mountain road, with
heights up to 2500 m. Two lanes, rocks hanging down, passing little villages,
tunnels, for 190 km we need altogether around 6 hours. What a crazy shi… A
highway is planned, but we didn’t see much road works, so I guess it will still
take a couple of years until the road is ready. Until then it is traffic jam in
the mountains around Teheran. Exhausted people sit on carpets and blankets next
to the street to picknick and stay over night. When we head back to Teheran we
count 50 km of traffic jam, I mean cars standing, not moving anymore, across
the mountains. We sleep overnight in a neighbouring valley and try our luck
again in the morning.
 |
On our way to the Caspean Sea: Access to a side-valley,
where we found a place to stay for the night. |
 |
| On our way to the Caspean Sea: Impression from a side-valley. |
 |
On our way to the Caspean Sea: Great country side.
But difficult to drive. |
 |
| On our way to the Caspean Sea: We need a stop to get some food. |
 |
On our way to the Caspean Sea: Breaks are overheating at one side.
A repair shop helps us out. |
 |
| On our way to the Caspean Sea: Pauli loves watching them. |
 |
| On our way to the Caspean Sea: Heavy equipment is being applied. |
 |
| On our way to the Caspean Sea: Overarching rocks getting close to Emmas' roof top. |
 |
| On our way to the Caspean Sea: and sometimes really close. |
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| On our way to the Caspean Sea: Passing with two cars is sometimes getting tight. |
The Caspian Sea awaits us with temperatures around 36
degrees and humidity around 80 %. It feels like hitting a wall of heat. And I
start to hate the clothing rules for women in Iran. I am wearing a head scarf
and a manteau in this heat! I feel the water running down underneath my clothes
and start asking myself if it was such a good idea to come to the Caspian Sea…
And all this bad mood gets its last kick when we arrive at the beach. I mean I
KNEW before we came to Iran, that there would be this “special treatment for
women”, but really SEEING and FEELING it is still a bit a shock. And for some
reason seeing this gender apartheid at the beach is the last drop for me. There
are no women in the water and the ones that are in the water wade with all
their clothing on in the sea. I really have a fed-up-moment now. Johann too, he
refuses to go swimming “when mama has to stand around here and can’t go
swimming with us”. ;-)
 |
| At the Caspean Sea: Antonia checks out first. |
 |
At the Caspean Sea: A little later she enjoys the water,
while the humidity is unbearable. |
 |
| At the Caspean Sea: Pauli loves the water. |
 |
| At the Caspean Sea: Pauli loves the water. |
 |
| At the Caspean Sea: Impressions. |
 |
| At the Caspean Sea: Impressions. |
We have a very nice talk to a young man from south of Iran
though, that cheers me up a bit. He is very bright and has a wonderful laugh,
that I forget being angry for a moment.
 |
| At the Caspean Sea: Chat with an Iranian Tourist. |
There are strong, bright women in this country, all of them
proud muslimas, I admire them and we have met a lot of them. But this gender
apartheid thing is nothing more but disgusting discrimination. The whole
relation between men and women is so strange and oversexualized. A lot of women
wear the Tchador, that is a huge piece of a light black cloth, that is wrapped
over the head and covers the whole body to the ground and leaves the face free.
From what I have seen women hold it with one hand underneath their chin and the
rest is held with the other arm underneath the breast. Apparently there come no
buttons or bands with it. I find that not very handy, since that way there is
no hand free anymore to, for example hold a bag. I have seen several women in Tchador
for example at the side of a street holding a bag, or worse a child in their
hand, then cars pass by, wind comes up, waves up the whole Tchador thing,
paralyzing the poor women that tries to get the black cloth from her face… And
that in the middle of busy traffic.
Women on the streets are constantly adjusting head scarfs,
Tchadors and manteaus. My hair is a mess after half an hour, because when
adjusting the head scarf I constantly push my hair the wrong direction until it
is a filthy something… ;-)
Women of Iran are strong and proud, but still there is that
situation of a man jelling at a woman in the metro and she putting down her
eyes, hanging shoulders, waiting until the jelling is over. Or how many times
have I seen a man approaching for example a young woman working in a shop
asking something in a self-confident-I-know-I-will-get what-I-want-tone and
then these strong and lively women suddenly slide into that
I-put-down-my-eyes-make- me –smaller-than-I-really-am-behaving. It seems that
it is very clear, how roles are defined.
It is interesting to
see how just the dressing rules change myself and my habits. I have started to
feel guilty (!) when a wind accidently blows that head scarf off and shows my
hair. I never thought that my thin-regular-european-brown hair would ever lead
me to the feeling of guilt… Discrimination always works very quickly. And then
we haven’t talked about Iranian laws made differently for men and women
yet… I know I would not survive in this
country; I would never be able to except being worth less than a man.
Enough, I have to change subject now. ;-)
Back in Teheran we pick up all the Visa and are really
happy!
 |
Tehran: All happy! Taking a picture of our
Chinese visa as backup for our cloud drive. |
 |
Tehran: Even more happy! A couple hours later taking a picture of our
Turkmenish visa as backup for our cloud drive. |
I am carrying the passports around as if they were pure gold now… Until
Laos we have all we need, so the next 20 000 km can come… ;-)
There is another palace of the Shah, the one he really lived
in for ten years with his family and we take a look. Niavana Palace was built
in the sixties and that is what it looks like, a huge concrete cube with
aluminium windows, but wait until you hear about the inside! That is quite
spectacular with a huge living-room-hall that uses the whole middle of the
building where the whole flat roof can be opened in warm nights! (by a motor
engine made in Germany… ;-)) This country is full of contradictions: they
chased this Shah out of the country, they hate him that much that no one of his
family ever dared to come back to Iran, but here in this palace for an entrance
fee of 3 dollars you can come to visit a preserved world of the Shah. It seems
as if he had left just an hour ago, all furniture is still there, even the toys
of the children in their rooms, make-up stuff, dishes, Farah Dibas dresses, the
Shahs uniforms, all can be visited. What a strange feeling to visit a king’s
palace that is from the sixities, I have never seen something like that. In
Europe former king’s palaces to visit are much older and have usually no
personal touch. Here the tennis courts in the park are being used by Teheranis
today. We enjoy the museum café with a view on the palace. ;-)
 |
| Niavana Palace in Tehran: 60s style. |
 |
| Niavana Palace in Tehran: playtime. |
 |
Niavana Palace in Tehran: I'm not a lone. So far I was hit by three sticks.
The next one I'll break in pieces. (Torsten) |
 |
| Niavana Palace in Tehran: was Equipped with latest technology. |
 |
| Niavana Palace in Tehran: movable roof. |
 |
| Niavana Palace in Tehran: as if they had left a minute ago. |
 |
| Niavana Palace in Tehran: Perspective. |
 |
| Niavana Palace in Tehran: Impressions. |
 |
| Niavana Palace in Tehran: View from the top. |
 |
| Niavana Palace in Tehran: Childrens' bedroom. |
 |
| Niavana Palace in Tehran: Childrens' bedroom. |
 |
| Niavana Palace in Tehran: Bathroom of one of the children. |
 |
| Niavana Palace in Tehran: Farrah Dibahs room. |
 |
| Niavana Palace in Tehran: Farrah Dibahs desk. |
 |
Niavana Palace in Tehran: Farrah Dibahs dresses.
There was not much time for packing personal items before they needed to leave. |
 |
| Niavana Palace in Tehran: private rooms |
 |
| Niavana Palace in Tehran: Bed room. |
 |
| Niavana Palace in Tehran: Office. |
 |
| Niavana Palace in Tehran: One of the daughters' bed rooms. |
 |
| Niavana Palace in Tehran: strange place to be. |
 |
| Niavana Palace in Tehran: Not really beautiful ... |
 |
| Niavana Palace in Tehran: ... but impressive. |
 |
| Niavana Palace in Tehran: Bedroom of the oldest son. |
 |
| Niavana Palace in Tehran: Bedroom of the oldest son. |
 |
| Niavana Palace in Tehran: Portrait of the oldest son. |
 |
| Niavana Palace in Tehran: Dining room. |
 |
| Niavana Palace in Tehran: Dining room. |
 |
| Niavana Palace in Tehran: Time for lunch. |
 |
| Niavana Palace in Tehran: Fun w/o selfie sticks. |
 |
| Niavana Palace in Tehran: Fun w/o selfie sticks. |
 |
| Niavana Palace in Tehran: Delicious shakes. |
 |
| Niavana Palace in Tehran: Good food for lunch. |
 |
| Niavana Palace in Tehran: 'Sdeine smeissen' |
 |
| Niavana Palace in Tehran: Playtime in Shahs garden. |
 |
| Niavana Palace in Tehran: ;) |
We once again leave Teheran this time southwards. And after
having been driving for a long time without any accident we hit a mirror of a
taxi that is parked in second row. Within a couple of minutes the driver takes
the offered Rials and we leave the scene, being happy that no one wanted to
call police, which would have been a lot of hassle for us.
 |
| Tehran: Impressions. |
 |
| Tehran: people playing chess in the metro. |
 |
| Tehran: Pre-revolution relief in metro station 'Taijrish'. |
 |
| Tehran: Johann chilling in a taxi after city walk. |
 |
| Tehran: Antonia in a taxi chilling after city walk. |
 |
| Tehran: Impressions. |
 |
| Tehran: Impressions. |
 |
| Tehran: Bus stop. |
 |
| Tehran: Impressions. |
 |
| Tehran: Money exchange. |
 |
| Tehran: Impressions. |
 |
| Tehran: Impressions. |
 |
Azadi Tower in Tehran: Here many manifastions started.
Quite symbolic place. |
 |
| Tehran: Just another traffic jam |
On our way South to Qom we stop at the cities Graveyard. “It
is so big that cars are allowed”, we read in our travel guide. When we arrive
we see an eight (!) lane highway passing through the cemetery and every section
can be reached by car. We have come to see graves from the Iran-Iraq-war in the
80ties. They are ‘famous’ for their glass vitrines, where photos and belongings
of the young soldiers can be seen. Gravestones lay on the ground and you are
allowed to walk over them, at least everybody does. And instead of planting
flowers, people come, wash the stone and sit next to it. What a dark chapter of
this countries’ history: 1 Million young men died and at the end all
pre-war-borders where maintained, no one “gained” anything, everybody just
lost. That is what war is about…
 |
| Main graveyard south of Tehran: 8-lane-highway. |
 |
| Main graveyard south of Tehran: 1000's of lanes with endless graves. |
 |
Main graveyard south of Tehran: Seperate place for soldiers,
who died in Iran-Iraq war in the 1980s. |
 |
Main graveyard south of Tehran: The glass boxes contain sometimes
personal items of the killed soldiers. |
 |
Main graveyard south of Tehran: Even after many years relatives and friends
come together to remember. |
 |
| Main graveyard south of Tehran: Colorful tomb stones. |
Behind the cemetery rises the Ajatollah Chomeini
Mausoleum/Shrine into the sky. It is huge, with a shopping mall and all kind if
meeting places. Chomeini died in 1989, supposedly 10 million (!) people came to
his funeral, the age of mass hysterias. It is said that this was the biggest
funeral ever in the world. Eventually his open coffin was passed above the
heads of the crowd, until the dead body fell down and was used to get holy
memorabilies…
We look at the shrine
from far and don’t feel too much attracted to visit it.
 |
South of Tehran: Ajatollah Chomeini Mausoleum
It's a city by it's self. |
On our way to Qom we have some problems with the Police. We
don’t find funny, that a hyper- young officer walks off with our papers and
half way to Qom we get thrown off the high way and are sent to the old main
road to Qom. Highways are only for cars and busses, trucks have to use the
direct main roads between the villages. That way trucks ride directly through
the villages, highways with cars lead around them… In Qom we have again contact
with local policemen, who insist that we park the car for the night next to
their office, right at a busy highway. The night is short and temperatures are
still around 25 degrees at night…
L
“Today I won the Taarof-Game!”, Torsten tells us one morning
after going to the bakery and heading back with two breads. ;) Taarof is an Iranian
form of communication that we have to get used to. It means that every
conversation starts with all kinds of friendly phrases going so far as to offer
all things you want to buy in a shop for free. All of this is just courtesy,
none of this is meant seriously, it is just being kind. Every time I buy
something in a shop, the vendor counts up the things, tells me the prize, I try
to pass the money and then the whole scenery stops: the vendor puts his hands
on top of each other and on the table, then waves a bit and shows that he wants
to give me the things as a present, I insist to pay, he waves again, I insist
again and then payment is done and I can leave the shop. ;) So, Torsten has “won
the game” by insisting to pay only once and then taking the bread as a present,
leaving the shop with all “Thanks you’s” of this world. He tells us that he
didn’t look back, but heard the whole shop laughing at the bakerman. After two
weeks Torsten apparently couldn’t resist of playing the dumb tourist at least
once… ;-)
 |
| Qom: Women doing Early Morning Excercises |
 |
| Qom: Pauli doing Early Morning Excercises |
 |
Qom: We can't stand the heat.
Kids convert a water place, into a water playground ... |
 |
| Qom: ... and Antonia washes her scarf. |
 |
| Qom: Soon local kids join us. |
 |
Qom: Watching the master preparing hand-made rose water ice cream.
It took us a while to get used to it. |
Qom is one of the holiest places on earth for Schiit
Muslims. Fatima, the sister of Imam Reza is buried here. I am pretty tired,
last night did not bring a lot of new energy. So later in the afternoon we head
towards the shrine, a huge complex of mosques, courtyards and Quran schools.
And it is Friday.
When we arrive service seems to be over already, thousands
of people leave the mosques at their 24 exits. Lonely Planet says that we
should go to entrance Nr. 1 where I will get a Tchador and we will be received
by the Foreign Pilgrims Office (!) to be guided around. We are not allowed into
the complex on our own and we also cannot enter the holy shrine itself. But
there is still plenty to see as we will find out.
 |
| Qom: Circling around the shrine to find the entry for foreigners ... |
 |
| Qom: Shrine from a distance. Quite impressive. Right access still not found. |
 |
Qom: to repower ourselves we buy some sweets made of honey and rose water.
Look at Antonias face. |
We are received very friendly
by the guards at the entrance and are sent back to entrance Nr.14. ;) There we are asked to
wait five minutes and it is really not longer than that until a friendly
English speaking Imam appears and presents himself as our guide.
 |
Qom: Finally, we found the right entrance!
A couple minutes waiting ... |
 |
Qom: Imam Said Husseini welcomes us.
He'll show us around for the next 1,5 hours and answer all our questions.
Do you find Susanne? |
Walking with
him through the Fatima-mosque-complex I will never forget. Before we can start
a resolute woman appears and puts a Tchador over my head. At least it is not
black, but with flowers… Imam Said Husseini is a very friendly man, he tells us
about Fatima, the Quran, Mohammed, Jesus being an important prophet for muslims,
all very interesting. He has a very nice humor and we laugh a lot. He is
interested in Johann and Antonia and explains whatever they ask. When we stand
in front of the entrance of the Fatima-shrine suddenly we hear loud “Allah is
the only god” (in Farsi, I have forgotten how it is said) shouting and see a
dad body, wrapped in a cloth being carried on shoulders of four men into the
shrine. We don’t know what is going on, the kids are a bit scared. Our Imam
sighs a bit and says: “How many times have we told them to stop that shouting,
it is not necessary and just too loud.” ;-)
 |
| Qom: View on one of the inner squares |
 |
| Qom: One of the entrances to the grave of Fatima (shrine). |
 |
| Qom: Magnificent portals where we look. |
 |
| Qom: Susanne and Antonia following the Imam. |
The golden shrine we see only from the outside, but it is
still impressive. After a while Imam Husseini invites us to the Foreign
Pilgrims Office to get some water and I think of a grey office somewhere in the
back of the complex with a water fountain. But how wrong was I. ;) Have a look yourself!
He says that the room was built for the Shahs, to pray here and be on their own,
today it is used to receive foreign guests. There is air condition and water
and juice and cake and everyone is happy and we are all very impressed by the
friendliness and kindness that we are received with. The Imam takes a lot of
time; we sit and chat for almost an hour. It is a nice conversation. Of course
we are not of the same opinion in some of the things, but it feels very nice to
talk to this highly educated, friendly and humorous Imam and be able to ask a
lot of questions. He explains how one can become Imam, Ajatollah and
Great-Ajatollah and that the word ‘Mullah’ is not used anymore. He tells us how
he became Imam and that his black Turban means, that his family is a far
ancestor of the prophet Mohammed. He is a teacher for Quran students. Over 100
000 Quran students from all over the world study in Qom! When we leave we are
really impressed.
 |
| Qom: Our walk through the whole complex. |
 |
| Qom: And if there are any questions left, you can write, Fatima has a gmail adress! :-))) |
Exits are for women and men separately and Antonia and me we
head towards “our” exit. When I give back the Tchador a very strange thing
happens: Antonia loves to carry around a light blue scarf all the time and she
has put it over her head today “because we visit the mosque, Mama!” When
leaving we see a Tchador-dressed woman discussing with the women-guards. It is
about her daughter, who stands in shirt and shorts and is not allowed in. Usually
young girls don’t have to wear head scarfs, but apparently in Qom it is
different. The guard points at Antonia and we can see that she praises her as
an example of being well-dressed for the mosque… I can’t believe my eyes, we,
the foreigners are suddenly the good example of well-dressed Muslims… Antonia
takes this as a medal, carrying this story around proudly. ;-)
When leaving Qom we pass another huge mosque-complex called Jamkaran. It's all
very new, golden shiny, with a big parking place. It has a bit the appearance
of a fun park, just roller coasters are missing. We read that this is one of
the big leftover projects of Ahmadinedjad, when he was President. He wanted to
establish in Qom the biggest pilgrims place for Shiits, beside Kerbala (Irak)
and Mashhad (Iran).
 |
| Leaving Qom: 8-lane-Highways for the pilgrims. |
 |
| Leaving Qom: The all new Jamkaran Mosque south west of the city. |
Roses. You can eat and drink roses everywhere in Iran. At
least what is densed out of the flower leafs that grow high up in the
mountains. Rosewater, rosewater ice cream, rosewater sweets, rosewater perfumes,
you name it, they have it. We search for a cool night, so we head up to the
mountains, to park at the “Capital of Roses of Iran”, Qamsar (not far from Kachan). Quiet time has
become very rare for us, since we are always recognized as being foreigners, so
either the Police or some interested Iranians keep us busy all the time. But we
need some time off, we have promised the kids that we will watch Harry Potter II
tonight. ;)
 |
| On our way to Kachan/Qamsar: Impressive landscapes. |
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| On our way to Kachan/Qamsar: Village in the desert. |
 |
| On our way to Kachan/Qamsar: Village in the desert. |
 |
Close to Qamsar: When looking for place to stay
we came across this colorful remote village. A little too remote for us. |
 |
Close to Qamsar: At the foot of a mountain range we find a nice place next to a chicken farm.
It does not take long until the police shows up. They want us to stay in the city, but we convince them
that we are better off out here. |
 |
| Time-Off at Qamsar: Project Schedule set up by Antonia. |
 |
| Time-Off at Qamsar: Pauli is still a Papa-baby! |
 |
| Time-Off at Qamsar: Kids play with the neighbors. |
 |
Time-Off at Qamsar: Kids really enjoying the nature.
Johann spends hours carving his wooden stick. |
 |
| Time-Off at Qamsar: Kids have dinenr on the rocks. |
 |
| Time-Off at Qamsar: Feeding Pauli |
 |
| Time-Off at Qamsar: Happy Pauli. |
 |
| Time-Off at Qamsar: Visiting the chicken farm. |
 |
Qamsar: Sign remembering us what this place is famous for: Roses.
Harvest time of the blossoms is beginning May. |
 |
| Qamsar: Distillery to make rose water and other concentrated herbal waters. |
 |
| Qamsar: All kinds of herbal waters ready to be shipped. |
 |
| Qamsar: The variety is huge! |
 |
| Qamsar:Even next to the road you can find distilleries. |
After some searching and kindly denying invitations to a
village we find a lovely place next to a chicken farm. Our car Emma has become
a real haven for us, here we cook pasta and tomato sauce when we have enough of
Kebab. It is so nice to have our own beds every night, after a long day with
lots of new impressions it is a feeling of coming home. There is a lot to do to
organize every day of travelling and it takes sometimes a big part of the day:
we need to find places to get water, water tubs to wash our clothes, food needs
to be bought and that is sometimes not easy as supermarkets only exist in real
big cities and that way we need to buy all stuff in different shops, that we
have to find first and last but not least we have to find a quiet and flat spot
to park for the night every day.
Next day Police appears and wants us to come park in town,
but Torsten keeps discussing and eventually they leave.
The water fountain is lit and we get some food to eat it on
the square. Temperatures are perfect, horse carriages ride around the square,
Paul loves them and of course we will also take a ride. And we watch some girls
and boys play volleyball, the girls being especially professional. Johann loves
to catch missed balls and brings it back to the players all the time. No moral
police around despite athletic moves and flying head scarfs. Someone understand
this country.
Later we had back to our car, that is parked outside the
city center by taking a taxi. The driver is a funny man, knowing the route
through all the small streets very well. He drives so fast and roads have the
size of the car that it feels like sitting in a roller coaster. The kids have
great fun, Pauli starts shouting “Mal! Mal!” (engl.: Again! Again!) and Toni cites Harry Potter: “Auch wenn das mein Ende ist, werde
ich als Engel im Himmel immer an ihn denken.” ;)
The big Jameh mosque at the Imam Naqsh-e Jahan square we can’t miss and
again it is that magic room, with the wonderful tiles and echoes, that is
breathtaking. There are some tourists and we happen to meet an Iranian man who
shows us, after he knows that we are from Germany, photos on his phone “of your
minister Gabrielle!” Funny coincidence, the German minister for economy Sigmar
Gabriel has been in Isfahan just ten days before us. We had heard about the German
delegation flying to Teheran right after the negotiations on atomic matters were
done and ended positively. He even arrived before the French and I can imagine
that this has caused some problems back home. The Iranian market is huge and
waits for input from outside, a lot of money to make here…
In one of our many books about Iran, we have read about the
national hero and writer Ferdausi who has written the Shaname, the “Book of the
kings”, something like our Grimm’s collection of fairy tales, only much older
and written in verses. There is a wonderful story to it: The Sultan had
promised Ferdausi to give him one golden piece for every verse written, he
wants a collection of all Persian tales. When Ferdausi arrives with 50 000
verses, the Sultan realizes after checking with his treasurer, that this adventure
could be too expensive. He offers 50 000 silver pieces instead, but the grand
maestro is very angry, throws the books on the ground and leaves the palace,
swearing at the Sultan and giving all the silver money to the beggars at the
door. Later on the Sultan realizes what a treasure he holds in his hands and
decides to calm Ferdausi and pay him the promised gold. He sends an elephant
with the gold to the village of Ferdausi, but as the elephant enters the
village on one side, Ferdausi’s body is being carried to his grave on the other
side of the village. He has died in the meantime, poor and angry. What a story!
On the market we find a miniature that pictures the scene of the Sultan staring
at the 50 000 verses while angry Ferdausi stands behind him. We buy it and hope
that it will be hanging in our house in Brussels one day. :-)
Golden Persepolis. It is still hot these days and we know we
have to carry a lot of water, sun glasses and hats, to visit the sunny ruins of
Persepolis. Expectations are not too high, since we will need a lot of fantasy
to imagine the golden, shiny, magic Persepolis. But how wrong it was to put
expectations low! What a fascinating place!!!
It is not only ruins and fallen down columns we see, but 2300 year old frescoes and reliefs you can read like a comic strip! All the details are still there, faces with curly hair or flat hair, eyes, noses, belts, everything. The entrance to the Apadana Palace, the palace where the delegations of the people of the empire would bring their presents to the king, is covered with pictures of the different people of the empire. All of them differently by clothing, hair style, presents. They all bring different presents to the king and with some little help of our travel book we can “read” it easily: golden bowls, rolls of wool, tissue, even riding pants we identify, all kinds of animals (that was Pauli’s part to find out), jewelry and all of this in wonderful detail. After 2000 years of desert storms and earthquakes, amazing. We really like that place. I try to give the kids a feeling for the palaces by letting them guess where exactly the roof could have been and how many people would fit into one hall (10 000 in Apadana Palace!). I imitate the king and the delegations, how they fall on their knees in front of the king, what they could have been talking about and so on, we have a lot of fun. I love to imagine how things could have been in early times. Later the day we will buy a DVD called “Persepolis recreated”, where in animations it is shown, what Persepolis looked like back then, for the kids this is really impressing and we talk about it a lot.
Well and then came Alexander. Alexander the Great was about
30 years old when he decided to burn down Persepolis, after he had defeated the
last Sassanides king. 3000 camels it took to get all the gold and other treasures
out of Persepolis, before they destroyed it. Where he sent them to, we didn’t find
out. Maybe he sent the camels back home to Greece, but then Greece would maybe
be better off today… ;-)
After having some lunch at the tourists pavilions and having
a look at (what is left of) the tents structures that have been built by the
last Shah for his enormous 2500-year-of-Persia-party in 1971 we head further.
The tents had been set up for the VIP guests, equipped with marble bathrooms,
air condition and (flown in) food from Maxim’s in Paris…
Some 4 km further we see the graves of the kings of
Persepolis. Carved into the rocks, they always show the same picture: the king
on the thrown held by the delegations of the nations, while he prays to his sun
good. I don’t want to forget to mention that the Shahs of Persia have always
called themselves: “Sha-an-sha” (speak shaw-on-shaw, with a slight o in it):
“King of Kings” with the addition: “of Iran and Non-Iran (!)”. ;)
The most impressing is one relief that shows king Darius II
as he points his sword towards the kneeling Emperor of the Roman Empire
Valerian, he has just defeated. He will keep Valerian as a prisoner for the
rest of his life, using his back to climb up his horse every time he has to
ride somewhere. A clash of world empires…
Ah yes and before I forget, chess was invented in India, but
the word “Schach” that we use in German and “Chess” in English comes from the
Persian word: Shah!
There is also the grave of Persian king Xerxes I. Anyone
here who remembers the movie “300” from 2007? I don’t remember much of it,
since I turned it off after half an hour… It shows bloody king Xerxes I. fighting
against Greek heroes. There is only one problematic detail: there are no written
sources left, that could tell us anything about the real Xerxes, only some
notes of Greek writers of that time and they hated Xerxes…
What a nice place for the night! Johann enjoys some free
time sitting in the dark on a rock in the desert in front of the graves carving
things into a big wooden stick, that we carry with us for a while already. The
wind blows, there are even some clouds and we realize that these are sand
clouds, there is no water in them. Yaser tells us, that he still swam
in the river next to Persepolis when he was a child, today there is rarely
water anymore. Experts expect that farming will only go on for about two or
three more years until the water will be gone in the valley of Persepolis.
[… start Torstens insert …]
In far distance we hear a sort of vuvuzela
sound accompanied by a monotonic drum beat. Since I’m getting more and more curious
where it actually comes from I decide to check it out. It takes me about half
an hour walking through the dark until I reach the small village Khosro Abad. Next
to it is a place illuminated which is doubtlessly the source of the sound.
Getting closer I see about 200-300 men sitting or standing in a big circle. In the
center two men dancing before they take positions facing each other. One is the
defender standing in circle on one foot and leaning against a long wooden stick,
the other one the attacker standing at a line and holding smaller stick. The
game is called “choob bazi” (engl.: stick game), a traditional game played by nomads
or tribes and the idea is that the attacker tries to hit the feet of the
defender. The whole scene creates a marvelous atmosphere. I first try to stay in
the background when taking pictures, but after a while I realize that no one
seems to take notice of me, so I join the circle standing next to the people
from the village. The people watching the game do not show any emotion while
watching the game. Whether some wins or loses does not seem to be important to
anyone else than the opponents. I enjoy the sphere for quite a while before I start
on my way back through the night. Impressions
to be remembered.
 |
| Village close to Persepolis: Men playing choob bazi. |
 |
| Village close to Persepolis: Men playing music for choob bazi. |
 |
| Village close to Persepolis: Men playing choob bazi. |
 |
| Village close to Persepolis: Men playing music for choob bazi. |
 |
| Village close to Persepolis: Men playing choob bazi. |
[… end Torstens insert …]
Shiraz we visit in one day, it is an hour to drive from
Persepolis. After having seen Isfahan it is not impressing at all, if not
disappointing. National hero writer Hafez has his grave here though and when we
arrive at his mausoleum it is packed with Iranian tourists. We can hardly reach
the tomb stone, as a lot of people stand around it. There is a whispering in
the air as people read the poems engraved, while touching the stone. They seem
to love him a lot. It is said that in every household in Iran there are at
least two books: the Quran and a copy of Hafez’ “Diwan”, the latter often being
used as a sort oracle, since the poems always have a double sense and can be
interpreted in different ways. Try and read Hafez as an oracle once, it is
really fun! Goethe admired Hafez, he wrote the “Ost-westliche-Diwan” and there
is a partnership today between Isfahan and Weimar. When President Chatami was
in Weimar a couple of years ago there was a monument opened for Hafez and
Goethe, who have of course never met each other. The miniature painter Hossein
Fallahi that we met in Isfahan has painted Hafez on a sheet of paper for
Antonia, so he will together with Ferdausi be admired in a frame, when we are
home in Brussels one day. ;)
 |
On our way to Shiraz: We are short of brake fluid so
we stop at a repair shop to get some.
Intense discussion which one is the right liquid to fill it up. |
 |
| On our way to Shiraz: But we manage. We all line up for a picture. |
 |
Shiraz: Grave of Hafez.
People are reciting poems while touching the tomb stone. |
 |
| Shiraz: Grave of Hafez. |
 |
| Shiraz: Grave of Hafez. |
 |
| Shiraz: Corner tower of the fortress Arge Karim Khan |
 |
Shiraz: Mosaic above the entrance
to the fortress Arge Karim Khan. |
 |
| Shiraz: Impressions. |
 |
| Shiraz: Inside the fortress Arge Karim Khan. |
 |
| Shiraz: Beautiful bath in the fortress Arge Karim Khan. |
 |
| Shiraz: Beautiful bath in the fortress Arge Karim Khan. |
 |
| Shiraz: Beautiful bath in the fortress Arge Karim Khan. |
 |
| Shiraz: Beautiful bath in the fortress Arge Karim Khan. |
 |
| Shiraz: Inside the fortress Arge Karim Khan. |
 |
| Shiraz: Mock up of old times in the fortress Arge Karim Khan. |
 |
Shiraz: Beautiful woodwork
in the fortress Arge Karim Khan. |
 |
| Shiraz: Old Vakil Bath now being converted in a museum. |
 |
| Shiraz: Vakil Mosque. |
 |
| Shiraz: Vakil Mosque. |
 |
| Shiraz: Ornaments at the Vakil Mosque. |
 |
| Shiraz: Ornaments at the Vakil Mosque. |
 |
| Shiraz: Ornaments at the Vakil Mosque. |
 |
| Shiraz: Vakil Mosque. |
 |
| Shiraz: Vakil Mosque. |
 |
| Shiraz: Vakil Mosque. |
 |
| Shiraz: Ornaments at the Vakil Mosque. |
 |
| Shiraz: Ornaments at the Vakil Mosque. |
 |
| Shiraz: Carpets and Antonia. |
 |
| Shiraz: Child labour at the bazaar. |
In the evening we are back in Persepolis and Yaser takes us
to his home. Funny detail: when we arrive, it is still some time until the last
tourists are gone and Yaser can close his shop, so we hang out and relax a bit.
When we leave the parking he asks the kids if they want to drive in his car and
they don’t resist one second and jump in his car. We are driving following
Johanns waving from Yassers car through town… ;-)
Yaser and Sorraya have a nice house in the town next to
Persepolis. Sorraya has studied English, almost finished with her master’s
thesis. Both met as tourist guides in Persepolis, they married one year ago. Antonia
and me, we admire the wonderful wedding pictures. ;) For all interested: Sorraya had
a white wedding dress, she tells us that there were 800 guests, one party for
women and one for men, but that her husband and her male relatives were allowed
on both parties. We learn a lot that evening. ;)
 |
Having dinner together at Yaser and Sorraya ... .
Babak (left) holding the world record in taekwondo kicks per minute. |
 |
| ... and chatting 'til late. |
There is a bit stress with Pauli, since he doesn’t want to
sleep, but the further the evening goes the wilder he gets. We eat around ten,
wonderful food. But besides Pauli the evening is very relaxed, I like the way
our hosts treat us, we can get water in the refrigerator on our own, the kids
can watch TV, we help with the vegetables and we learn: in Iran you don’t “set
up the table to eat”, but “you put the table away to eat and put up the
carpet”. ;) We are not the center of attraction, but are treated as if we have always been
part of the family, it feels great. Inside the house there is no head scarf and
it seems all as if we were somewhere in Europe. Interesting lessons for all of
us. The brother and father of Yasser join us, we know them already from the
tourist shop at the king’s graves. Babak, Yassers brother is a sportsman, he is
expert in taekwondo and has great pictures of taekwondo in the ruins of
Persepolis, Johann really impressed. ;) I connect easily with Sorraya, she is so friendly and open, I like her a lot.
We talk about men ;-), having children, studying, time goes by too fast that
evening. And another great thing: we can use the shower!!! ;)
 |
Time to say good-bye to Yaser and his family.
Feeling sad. We spend a wonderful time. |
On our way north we stop in the desert oases city Yazd. What
a lovely town, all is in desert colour brown, even all houses, some 500 000
people live here. In the summer heat rises in Yazd until 50 to 60 degrees in
the shade, we arrive in the middle of September and find still some 30 degrees
during the day, but nights are cool and there is a lot of wind, that makes a
bit a feeling of fall coming.
 |
| Yazd: Taking a closer look to the Windtowers. |
Before we left Brussels we had a whole list of things we did
to prepare for the long trip. One was to go to the dentist, have a check up and
repairs of teeth if necessary. I hate to go to the dentist, I am afraid of them
and their work. ;-) But I still went and at one of my teeth the doctor found
some hole and fixed it. From the beginning it went off wrong, after the
treatment I would always have a very sensitive feeling for cold or hot food and
during the last weeks it got worse. So bad, that I decided that I need again a
dentist. Yazd seemed to be the place for that, since afterwards we would be
crossing desert and heading towards Turkmenistan. To find a dentist in Yazd, we
asked in a hospital, where we were sent by friendly doctors to a sort dentist
school in the center of town. Within two minutes after finding the building I
sit on the dentist chair, ten minutes later a radiography is done and another ten
minutes later the doctor tells me in perfect English that an urgent repair of
the roots of the tooth needs to be done. Aaaaahhhhh. The appointment is for next
day.
I have never had such a relaxed and nice treatment by a
dentist as in Yazd. While listening to relaxing music and the doctor singing
while filling the roots of my tooth I have the feeling that I now finally have
found a real Medicus, not in Isfahan, but in Yazd. One day later Ibuprofen and
me are still best friends, but I feel that it gets better and I hope that
this is the end of my tooth-story!
 |
| Yazd: Susanne opts for a root canal treatment. |
One of the evenings we are allowed to park on the parking of
a five star hotel. It is a nice and quiet evening and Torsten uses the occasion
to get some free time and heads back town to stroll around a bit.
[… begin Torstens insert …]
Since the hotel where we stayed was
rather far from the city center I had to find someone who would give me a ride.
Luckily a motorbike stopped next to me (I didn’t even raise my hand) and took
me to the next Taxi hub. For little money I was brought to the center of Yazd.
I started at a sort of sports club where men of all ages show in an ancient
dome (called Zurkaneh or House of Strength) a sort of martial art, which was
already exercised in a pre-Arabic times to stay in shape for possible
upcoming conflicts. About 30 people gather in a circle and do sort of Aerobics,
while a master (morshed) standing next to it in a booth is singing traditional texts
(e.g. poems from Hafez, citation from Ferdowsis’ book of kings ‘Shahnameh’) and
beats the drum to set the rhythm. Once warmed up huge pieces of wood and
eventually heavy metals are swung around their bodies. Although the whole
spectacle was pretty noisy I leave the place quite relaxed from watching the
slow monotonic moves. I continue my night excursion of Yazd and walk through the warmly illuminated narrow lanes of the historic old city. The shops are mostly already closed and there are no people in the streets except from
some heavily equipped Photo-Tourists. The ambience was somewhat magical …
While trying to make my way back a
young man asks me where I’m from. This happens about 3 dozen times a day in
Iran, but when answering him he immediately starts a quite interesting
conversation about German demography – Yes ‘demography’, it’s no typo. Who
could be a better partner to address all kinds of questions around this topic
which we asked ourselves in Iran. We have a really great time and I enjoy chatting with him about the past, present and future of Iran, but for all about
the different regions and their influence on the country. Unfortunately time is running and I have still 13 km to go back to our car. So I continue my walk
and since there are no buses anymore I prepare for some tough discussions to
get a taxi for a reasonable price. After a couple of hundred meters a motorbike stops next to me and the guy I was just talking to asks me if he can give me ride.
Well, YES, he can! So I jump on the backseat and my white-knuckle-ride through
the streets of Yazd starts. Since Iranians don’t wear helmets on motorbikes
we continue our discussion. Eventually we arrive at the hotel and the staff even allowes him to walk me to our door. Susanne and
Johann were still awake so we took some pictures before he leaves. Moments to be remembered.
 |
| Yazd: Inside the Zurkaneh. |
 |
| ... here are the instruments. |
 |
| Time to excercise. |
 |
| This stuff is really heavy! |
 |
| Later even metal bows are used to keep in shape. |
 |
| At the end enourmous pieces of wood are used. |
 |
| Yazd: Old town at night. |
 |
| Yazd: Covered passages at night. |
 |
| Yazd: Magically illuminated. |
 |
| Yazd: Amir Chakmaq Square at night. |
 |
| Yazd: Returning from my night excursion. |
 |
| Yazd: Susanne & Johann are still awake. |
We have to speed up a bit, the way north is still far and
from now on we will pass the huge desert of Central Iran. Behind Yazd we pass
the “Caravansary behind the little almond tree”, in Iran this is the saying for
being really far away from anything (Hinterwäldler as we would say in German)
and it is really in the middle of nowhere.
 |
This is the sign for the
“Caravansary behind the little almond tree” |
When passing the desert we see signs
of a water catching system from ancient times, we have already read about.
There are hundreds of underground water canals in the desert that lead every
drop of rain to the next villages and fields. These channels have been drilled
into the ground some of them are at depth of 150 m and are maintained by
workers crawling through them. On the surface we see, that the whole desert is
prepared to lead the water into the channels: walls in half circles, sand hills
and the entrances for the maintenance of the underground water channels. Very
fascinating, every square meter of the desert has its purpose.
Our travel book has one interesting line for the area we are
crossing: “Some 40 km behind the Caravansary behind the almond tree is the
place where the American operation to free the hostages at the Teheran embassy
failed in 1980.” That’s all on information we get. As we drive on, we suddenly
see in the middle of the desert that the crashed American helicopters are all
still there! We wipe our eyes: there is a fence built around them and all the
crashed pieces, turbines, broken rotors, aircraft and helicopters lay in the
sand, since 1980. That is the strangest site I have seen in Iran. They have
even repainted some of the aircrafts within the last years.
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| Middle of the desert: Sign showing crashed helicopter. |
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Here it is: Preserved site with Military equipment
from the failed operation "Eagleclaw" |
The nights we always park in the
desert and enjoy the stars and silence. Evening comes early,
already around six thirty, sun goes down and then light is turned off pretty
quick. Driving in dark we always try to avoid, there are too many cars without
light and very strange detail: their lights are working, because when we pass,
a lot of people blink at us wanting us to turn our lights off… We have seen
that at a lot of occasion, especially tunnels were dangerous, people blinked at
us to turn our lights off. In general the conscience for risks of Iranians is
very different to ours. The state of the roads and cars is sometimes so bad,
belts unknown, lights not used, breaks ignored, kids hanging out car windows
that I would even go as far as saying there is no conscience for risks at all.
Torsten has been joking around: that non-conscience of risks is actually even
more important in the negotiations for using nuclear energy, than the fear of
the bomb… ;-)
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We stay in the desert for the night. Great experience.
Next morning kids are cleaning the dusty solar panel. |
All of our kids have grown a lot, since we left. Johann has
become a vegetarian eater, refusing to eat any meat (but sausages ;-), enjoying
rice and eating tons of yoghurt. ;) He is really interested in all kinds of motors, he painted an electrical motor
yesterday when we asked him to draw something from the trip. ;) Antonia is hard
working for school, she is really bright, learns quickly and works in high
tempo through the exercises. For every finished page in their work book the
kids get a sticker. We bought Iranian ones, with Persian letters and pictures,
very exotic. ;)
Pauli is very active, he doesn’t want to speak much, still
inventing his own words. Lately his brother and sister taught him the phrase:
Spinnst du? (engl.: Are you crazy?), that he loves to repeat at every possible
occasion… We have found out that he has a very good sense for finding things
and finding directions. He remembers very well the direction to a playground
and he always knows where he has hidden his toys when we ask him. If he points
a direction we can be sure that the car or book is where he points at, he is
never wrong. ;-)
Some words about the food. Since Turkey we are having a list
of dishes we really liked and we want to cook for you all, when we are back in
Brussels. ;) For Iran we added “Dizi”, also called “Abgusht”, depending on the region of
Iran. It is a stew of lamb meat and vegetables, long cooked in a big pot and
then served on the table with a metal thing to smash it all in the pot on the
table and then it is eaten with bread. Very delicious.
Talking about bread. I cannot say how much I miss good tasty
bread. The last good bread we had was somewhere in Georgia I think, since then
all varieties of white bread have passed our table, but none of it to compare
with baking traditions in west and east Europe… :( Bread is made in big ovens on hot stones, usually very thin, it looks really nice
at the beginning, but actually you can eat it only right after it comes out of
the heat. If you leave it in open air it will turn immediately into cardboard.
One bakery can only make one kind of bread and there is nothing else sold in
the bakery shop than this one kind of bread.
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Tehran: Traditional bread bakery.
Bread is baked on hot pebble stones. |
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Tehran: Traditional bread bakery. Bread needs to cool a bit.
Watch out that you check for stones before tasting! |
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Tehran: Traditional bread bakery.
View into the oven with pebble stones. |
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| Pauli found another way of using the bread ;) |
Besides the stew there is always Kabab (minced meat grilled
on fire) served, with rice and salad. We have travelled through almost the
whole country and have eaten in lots of different places, but meals always look
the same, there is not much variety to it. Even grocery shops totally look the
same, by style and products. If being in Tabriz, Shiraz or Yazd: they are
usually very small, have one or two refrigerators, where we usually dive in to
search for yoghurt, white cheese, some puddings and if we are lucky we find
milk. Supermarkets are very rare and if there is one, it is usually just the
bigger version of the small shop. Coca Cola is sold everywhere, but there is
also an interesting variety of all kinds of other colas made in Iran, for
example Zam Zam Cola. Many of them are much better than Coca Cola, since there
is much less sugar in them. I haven’t
seen good chocolate for a while, but a sort Iranian Haribo exists and Pauli
loves the “bomboms”. ;) And of course there is no beer… But very interesting there are all kinds of
non-alcoholic malt drinks sold (some of them called: “Hoffenberg” or
“Hofbrau”!), added with lemon, or orange juice. Torsten usually opts for a
malt. ;-) There is not much to spoil us at the moment…
And not to forget: Iranians eat a
lot more souer than the other countries we travelled so far. A good comparison
are the thin sheets of concentrated and dried fruit mousse, which you can buy
everywhere next to the street in Georgia, Armenia and Iran. Due the souerness
the Iranian ones were refused by Johann and Antonia, while they loved to chew
on the ones from Georgia and Armenia.
We are some 80 km from the border to Turkmenistan. We have
found a nice parking place next to a big house that is used for wedding
parties. That means that the house has two huge halls, one for the women party
and for the men. The evening we arrive there is a wedding going on and we are
invited to have a look at the party. The men’s party I can only see from far,
there are windows, Johann tells us that moods are not too high there, some men
doing traditional dancing; most of the men sitting on the long benches drinking
tea. But the men have live music. For the women’s party we have to search a
bit, there is an extra entrance, a hall way and then: the women partying. Wow,
I haven’t seen so many miniskirts, high heels, heavy makeup, stylish hair and
low tops for a long time… Music is really loud, older women sit and watch, but
all the young ones dance as if there is no tomorrow, cheer as music turns
louder, jump up and down, a real nice party. Ha, and in between all these
women: the groom, dancing with the bride. There are about 300 women at the
wedding, kids run around, cake is served and tea, but no other food. We stand
at the entrance and watch, but are not invited in, after 10 minutes we leave
silently. Never to forget. (Of course I could not take any pictures. ;-)
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| Quchan: Invitation for tea at our host. |
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| Quchan: Johann and Antonia enjoy cruising on the pond. |
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| Quchan: Breakfast together next morning. |
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| Quchan: We are equipped with lots of fruits for our trip ... |
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| Quchan: ... before saying good bye to our hosts and to Iran. |
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| Quchan: Last visit inside of Emma. |
We have one more day in Iran, before our Turkmen visa starts
and we will have five days to pass the country. The morning we leave
temperature is at 5 degrees, cold, but it also feels great, this cool air.
Now that our trip through Iran comes to an end we talk all a
lot about what we have seen, learnt and if there are any conclusions for our
own life to take with us.
First of all: Iranians are incredible friendly people, always
helpful and interested. The people here have made it a very pleasant stay! We
have been invited to private homes, have been accompanied when visiting places,
we have so many positive and unforgettable moments with people from Iran to
take with us in our hearts!
Their hospitality was
sometimes bigger than we could bare and we wished to have met more people with
good English vocabulary.
BTW: we met a lot of people, who
expressed great appreciation and respect for the humanitarian efforts in our
home country to help refugees. At least 10 times we were specifically addressed
– sometimes even ‘in the name of all Iranians’ – with thanks and blessings for
this.
(Which makes me think
of the first contradiction: the aggressive rhetoric of politicians of this
country towards the rest of the world does not match at all the friendliness
and kindness of the people living in this country!)
We have learned so much about the ancient history of Iran!
This was a real joy, it is so full with interesting people, kings, stories,
inventions, poetry, architecture, really amazing and stunning!
Not very warm feelings I have for the current regime in this
country. I have already written about my feelings about the discrimination of
women, but also for young men it is not easy to survive all the things asked
from them. Traditions and ideas on how you have to live your life seem to be
very narrow and I can understand that young people feel choked. Gosh, people I
am embracing our democracy and free life from far!!! Of course there are always
things that have to go better, but we cannot be happy enough with the freedom
we have!!! Enjoy.
There is one thing that I have encountered very often, when
reading texts about Iran written by western analysts: It is very difficult to
get a whole picture of Iran. It is often described as a country of
contradictions and I think that is true. There is, as always no black and
white. But what I do not like is the tendency to put to every “bad example” a
“good example when describing the country, as if they were an excuse for the
bad legal basis in the country. For example: women have legally almost no
rights in this country, but then there is quickly mentioned that there is for
example a woman race car driver that won the national race competition. Wow, a
woman winning a race of cars, you might think now, in Iran? Great! Or: women
have no right for divorce, but then it is explained as if it was an excuse,
that there is the possibility to get a sort private contract with your future
husband that allows a possible divorce. And there are other examples like that. (For example: there are more women studying at University than man and that some Universities even started to apply quotas for men). I think it is interesting to know about these exceptions, but they cannot deny
that there is no legal basis at all in Iran to make your own free living. Not
for women, not for men. Exceptions as the ones mentioned above are pure luck,
they could have gone wrong easily. The woman racer could have easily gone to
jail for speeding and the private contracts could also be overruled if the
regime wanted to. There is no legal basis for a real “pursuit of happiness”.
When travelling through Iran, my impression was, that this
regime is in a pretty stable position. The country has a very modern appearance
and people seem to be able to make a (more or less) good living in private. At
least we did not have the feeling at all, that there is enough dissatisfaction
in the air for a revolution or some other change in the next couple of years.
Everyone is busy with his or her own life.
BUT, we are East-Germans and that is why we never lose hope:
in spring 1989 no one would have bet a cent on a revolution in East-Germany…
;-)
When getting our passports stamped we suddenly hear the
music of “We wish you a Merry Christmas” from a TV running in the waiting hall.
This is a real surreal end of our visit to Iran.
**********************
Some more snapshots
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| "You told me to put my pants on." |
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| Playtime. |
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Johann keeps on reading Harry Potter to Antonia.
As of the third book Antonia reads herself. |
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| The reward for his blue eyes. A melon! |
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| I need a break! |
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