The journey so far:
Week 1: London to Budapest - 1,932 km
Week 2: Budapest to Bulgaria/Turkey border - 1,469 km
Week 3: Bulgaria/Turkey border to Selcuk (Turkey) - 1,122 km
Week 4: Selcuk to Olympos (Turkey) - 739 km
Week 5: Olympos to Nemrut Dagi (Turkey) - 1,358 km
Week 6: Nemrut Dagi (Turkey) to Masuleh (Iran) - 1,976 km
The first thing that struck me as we entered Iran was the dramatic scenery. The mountains are majestic and came as a big, pleasant surprise. In a nutshell, the Iranians are exceptionally friendly, endlessly curious and surprisingly generous. The countryside is very scenic and varied from jagged mountains to expansive plains and from leafy tropical pockets to dry, arid land.
The second thing that I had to see for myself was the price of fuel. 10 Cents a litre. Unbelievable! At one petrol station they tried to rip us off by quoting 30 cents a litre but we beat them down and settled for 15 cents. I think we filled the entire 1600 litre diesel tank for about 8 pounds!
Backtracking a couple of weeks and we were all pretty much fed up with the cold weather in Turkey which, after a brief encouraging warm spell had returned in miserable force. Along with rain. The last place we stayed at in Turkey (Dogubayazit) was, quite frankly, a dump. And I like to believe that I give every place a fair chance before forming an opinion! We were also fed up of being overcharged for things that we knew were overpriced. So we spent two nights and a day at 'Doggy Biscuit'.
The first night we went straight to a travel agent listed in the Lonely Planet as we had read that we could get an Iranian visa (last ditch attempt for Simon's visa) turned around within about 24 hours which is all we had as the truck would be moving on. Naturally it wasn't going to be easy or straightforward and would involve at least a round trip to another town 300 kms away, racing against the clock. This would usually be a simple logistical calculation, if you could rely on the information about a) what time the buses ran between the two towns, b) what time (and day) the visa office in the other town opened and issued passports and c) how long the visa would take to be issued. The advice was to come back at 8.30 the following morning. This didn't sound good as, if Simon was to do the round trip in time, he would need to get one of the first buses at around 5am in time for turnaround. But, being foreigners and not having reliable information, we were at the mercy of the travel agent who, in all honesty, seemed to be genuinely trying to help us.
So the next day after a restless night (and a revolting cold, smelly shower) we turned up dull and early at the travel agent's office and found out that yes, he could get a bus
to the other town but, wouldn't'cha know it, the visa office would be closed for lunch when he got there, re-opening at 2.30 pm and the last bus back was at 3.30 pm. There was no way the visa would be issued in time for the last bus back as at best, it would take a few hours and at worst, overnight. So after about half an hour of painful deliberation and exploring our options which, let's face it, weren't many, we decided to accept the offer of a car and driver/guide for the trip. Pricey but we were desperate. There was a risk that we wouldn't be back in time to move on with the truck so, on that basis, we decided that Simon would take the trip alone, catching up with the truck at the first Iranian city 4 days later, pending his visa.
I then spent an anxious day moping around Doggy Biscuit in the fecking snow (okay, it wasn't thick enough to settle but it was still blimming cold and did nothing for my already dreary mood). Forcing myself to buy a hideous shapeless garment for Iran which was the most unsatisfactory shopping experience I think I've ever had. I then spent the afternoon on tenterhooks awaiting some news from Simon via text message on someone else's phone (my phone hasn't worked since leaving England by the way). My patience held until about 4pm when I had to reign in my agitation before composing a carefully worded text message along the lines of 'Hi honey, hope all is going well, anxiously awaiting news' which basically meant 'Do you realise I'm going nuts over here, it's 4 o'clock already, what the hell is going on?!'. I then finally received the good news that the visa was in hand, would be collected at 5pm and Simon would be on his way back for about 9pm. Woohoo! Au revoir Doggy Shitty Biscuit and hello Iran TOGETHER.
The next day was the border crossing and after a brief meltdown feeling smothered in the heavy garb and headscarf (and probably an emotional hangover from the previous week's tension about the will he/won't he get a visa) we got to the Iranian border where things went, under the cirumstances, very smoothly and only took about 2 hours when we'd been warned to expect a 4 or 5 hour delay.
The first 3 nights in Iran (14th, 15th and 16th May) were bush camps - the first being in the middle of nowhere surround by the aforementioned majestic mountains (stunning), goatherds (observed from afar) and wild dogs (apparently). The second was on a lushly wooded hillside, where we were expecting bush in which to camp, and followed the directions from the trip two years ago only to be led to an informal but popular campsite that had clearly been developed fairly recently. Within minutes of disembarking, we were swamped by curious but friendly Iranians crowding around us and asking 'Where you from?'. The third night (for which I was on cook duty) we spent in a dusty wilderness and had literally just finished eating on one of our first fine, still and lovely nights of the trip when a sudden and ferocious wind storm hit the camp. It was quite something. We all went into emergency mode, packing the kitchen away as quickly as possible with dust-stung eyes and (on my part at least) a bit of shock. Needless to say I didn't sleep terribly well with the wind howling and the tent flapping all night. One tent, belonging to an American who was bypassing Iran (couldn't get a visa), which was erected for airing, had blown completely away never to be seen again!
Masuleh (17th and 18th May) was our first Iranian town and is positively charming. Nestled on a steep hillside, it's only 300 years old and is a quaint little town consisting of a colourful bazaar alleyway, the obligatory mosque or two, tiny little shops making and selling tasty edibles and more little shops selling crafts of small knitted things like gloves, bootie-socks and hats (among other unidentifiable items). There's also some waterfalls somewhere around but in the two nights and one day that we spent there found ourselves so charmed by the little place, the welcoming hosts and relaxing hookah pipes with chai, that we never bothered to venture to any falls. No one did, it was that chilled. (Photos to follow soon.)
Monday 19th May was a bush camp, nothing remarkable to report, followed by 4 nights in a 'basic' hotel in Esfehan, the other (and more attractive) major city apart from Tehran which is not on the itinerary. Esfahan was okay. I'm not a big city fan and the hotel was at the lower end of the 'basic' scale but the showers (out the room, along the hall and across the courtyard) were clean(ish) and hot. Of course, now that were were all trussed up from head to toe 24/7, the weather had suddenly improved to a balmy (some might say sweltering) heat. The long-sleeved, knee-length tunic with loose trousers and headscarf has to be worn at all times, even when visiting the loo (yes, also out the room, along the hall and across the courtyard) in the middle of the night. Hey ho. At least I caught up on my sleep, bordering on narcolepsy, for a few days and we spent some pleasant time in Imam square whiling away an afternoon with chai and cakes. Of course, I can't believe I nearly forgot to mention The Cakes. Unbelievably tasty eye-wateringly good-looking cute little cakes. In a variety of types but all deliciously small, sweet and satisfying. I have a picture of a cake shop window which I'll upload. The banner across the shop reading 'Welcome to your shop'. My shop indeed. Everyone's shop actually! The was no disagreement that Iran have the best cakes in the world. Yum!
I'll upload a couple of photos from Esfahan so you can see what it looks like. Basically, the specialty being the picturesque bridges, of which there are many, and the shaking minarets which didn't shake while we were there. And of course, Imam square upon which everyone descends of an evening for family picnics, discreet hand-holding, peacock strutting (the spiky-haired, tight-jeans clad youths are hilarious) and general moseying about. It was here, one afternoon at a rooftop tea-shop overlooking the square, that I was reprimanded for taking a drag on a hookah that we'd bought to have with our tea (we'd already eaten the cakes). So it seems that ladies smoking hookahs is forbidden in some parts. Luckily we'd already bought one for the truck at Masuleh so I wasn't overly disappointed. Would've been an entirely different story if the cakes were forbidden!
So, a long (and I mean LONG - about 11 hours) driving day later and a bush camp (with yoga, yes fully togged out in head scarf et al), we arrived at Persepolis which is an ancient (450BC) and grand ruined city. It's been likened to Angor Wat and reminds me of the Acropolis in Athens. Pretty impressive and wholly unexpected - once again photos to follow. We then spent the afternoon in a nearby town called Shiraz which apperently is where the wine originally came from according to what the guidebook alludes to but doesn't actually clarify. This is quite weird since alcohol is illegal here but obviously wasn't always so.
Sunday 25th and the last night of Week 7 was spent at a fairly pretty bush camp site on a riverbed eating tasty (woodfire-cooked as usual) savoury mince, potatoes and beans followed by our first really lovely evening sitting out under the stars smoking our hookah and chatting until late.
That pretty much brings us up to date. Yesterday we had an early start (more about those later) and a 6-hour drive across a desert (I forget the name) to Iran's oldest continually inhabited city called Yazd. Despite having seen about 200 square feet of the place, I like it. We didn't do much today apart from enjoy not being in a tent, running water, beds and an en-suite (believe me, you need these things now and again and when they come, which is infrequently, they're so enjoyable that there's no need for anything else!). The truck is leaving tomorrow morning for the last leg of Eastern Iran before crossing over to Pakistan on Friday. Simon and I have decided to take a little detour as, after the Iranian visa slog, we concluded that the Pakistani visa just wasn't worth it. So we're flying out to Dubai on Friday to go and stay with some friends of his in Abu Dhabi for a few days before flying over to India ahead of the truck. This works well in that it gives us time to go to an ashram which was previously unfeasible but is now a viable and highly attractive option. Tomorrow I'll log on again (it's getting late now) and give you some more news on day-to-day life both in Iran specifically and on the truck in general. I'll also upload some photos showing the places I've mentioned here. Datewise, we'll be in Abu Dhabi for as long as it takes for Simon to get his India visa (about 5 day) and then on to India towards the end of next week. Then we'll have about 10 days somewhere in Northern India for ashraming/retreating before meeting up with the truck in Delhi on 16th June. Sadly Simon will be leaving the expedition at the end of June to get back to Oz and his teaching commitments but I'm very glad for the quantity and quality of time that we've had to spend together in, let's face it, rather unusual, unexpected and highly unlikely circumstances. I think we probably took a fair risk in embarking on this trip together not having known each other long and we all know that things could've gone either way. However, I'm pleased to report that, notwithstanding the inevitable bumps along the way (let's call it a learning curve!), we're living and travelling together in very close proximity for large chunks of intensitve time, and sometimes challenging conditions, very happily and harmoniously. Oh, and by the way, the clash with Jackie and I is now a distant memory as we've since changed cook groups and are getting along fine now.
The schedule from India onwards is dependent on what happens with China (we don't know yet whether we can go through it or not). After India we're going to Nepal and then either back through Pakistan to circumvent China if necessary (HUGE detour possibly involving flying over China) or straight into China followed by Laos, Cambodia, Vietnam and Thailand etcetera. So Khoda Hafaz (farsi for 'goodbye') for now while we head off in search of some camel curry (I kid you not - it's excellent here!) and I'll do my best to get back online tomorrow to upload those photos. Lots of love to you all. Lx
Simon, Manoj yogi and I after our week of yoga
Arriving at Sunder Palace yesterday where we were welcomed by a trumpeter wearing a horse costume, a drummer and children handing out garlands. It was very noisy and quite funny.
A real live snake-charmer with some real live snakes.
Hammering relentlessly on, lunch on the second day was in the Netherlands. Very, very pretty. We however weren't a pretty sight. 25 Pale, tired and slightly dazed people emerging gingerly from a great orange truck to stumble gratefully into a heated, toileted roadside cafe somewhere in Holland.
