It was a very sad goodbye leaving Vero's house in Dushanbe. Neil, a South African cyclist was on the same flight as me to Tehran and we planned on spending the next couple of weeks together before splitting due to different timetables and visa schedules.
The flight to Tehran was a little stressful. Neil and I had packed out bicycles together into a large box. A little too large as it turns out. After paying too much for our oversized baggage we had to repack the bikes seperatley at the very last minute and just managed to make our flight. On top of this I was a little anxious about being denied a visa on arrival
Turns out my VOA worked out just fine, apart from being charged 100 euros for a two week visa. Even more amazingly, our bikes both made it in one piece, albeit falling out of their boxes.
A long taxi ride took us to the north of the city to our couch surfing hosts places. Ania lives in a quiet part of Tehran, close to many cafés and surrounded by trees. We spend the afternoon chilling out, followed by an evening stroll past said cafés.
The following morning it is business time. Ania very generously donates her time to traipsing around the city, catching a multitude of buses. We change money, buy a map, find a bike shop (new chain for me) and procure a local SIM card. By the time all this is done we are toast and head back up the hill to her place.
We are lucky we have a local with us, the traffic is madness. Every time I cross the road I wonder if it will e the last. There doesn't seem to be any rules. Even the traffic lights have given up trying to create some sort of order, they just flash orange, as though actually directing traffic is jut too hard.
During the day Neil and I had been trying to get our heads around the money. The currency is called Rials. One US dollar is about 32 000 Rials. Prices are advertised in Tomen, which is a factor of ten less than a Rial (one zero cut off) although when talking shop keepers leave off 3 zeros. All in all, if someone says 4 than they mean 4000 Tomen, which is 40 000 rial. Confusing much?
The other thing I had been trying to wrap around my head was my scarf. I felt very out of place walking around the city and on the bus. I was wearing a blue shirt/dress and a bright green scarf. Ania is also brightly dressed. About 80% of the women are all in black, mostly chadors - a long scarf/ cloak that goes to the ankles (chador translates directly into tent). I have trouble getting my head around that fact that I am wearing these items of clothing because the government dictates it, not because I choose to (and it's so bloody hot that I would normally be wearing shorts and Tshirt).
Neil and I head to a cafe for a little while, partaking in our first Iranian water (shisha) pipe. I ask for a lemon soft drink and get Iran's beer substitute, a malted lemon soft drink. Delicious. This would become a staple during sweltering days. We smoke the apple flavoured pipe and sip our soft drink, lamenting the lack of beer.
After two wonderful nights at Ania's it is time to move on. We figure out a route to get to the bus terminal in the south of the city. We can not avoid the expressway. Luckily we are going downhill and managed to keep up wth traffic, zooming along at 50-60km/hr. The hard part is leaving the expressway. After a bunch of frustrating city riding we are on a VIP bus, loving the air con. Surprisingly we also get snacks on the bus.
A few hours later we are deposited in Koshan and manage to leave the bus station without paying extra for our bikes. We don't agree with paying extra at the end of the trip when the agreed on price has already been paid. We find our couch surfing host, Mohammed, and he points is in the direction of some historical houses.
Neil and I visit wander down lanes, surrounded by mud brick walls and make our way to Tabatabaei historical house, built by a carpet merchant about 225 years ago. The house is pretty amazing, lofty ceilings, carved stone, tiles, mirrors.
30/9: Tehran/ Koshan: rode 32 km, ODO 2644km
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