Dear All,

After a very intense few days in Isfahan where we spent a lot of time with a wonderfully hospitable family, we took the bus on Thursday lunchtime to Shiraz. The road skirts the Zargos mountains where there are still snow peaks despite temperatures over 30 degrees. The mountains are barren and rocky but where there is water in the broad valleys there are rice fields and orchards. We reached Shiraz after dark and got a taxi to our hotel, tucked away in little side alleys in the old town. Our room looks through big coloured windows straight into the courtyard which is the restaurant, where we had a good evening meal and were as always late to bed.

Our first bus ride 

Shiraz is a town famous for its gardens, birds, roses and poets, and it lives up to its reputation. After getting deliberately lost in the little alleyways of the old town, Leander and I got out hair cut at a local hairdresser, bought bread, cheese and melon for a picnic in the park and visited a big botanic garden. The first highlight of the day was a visit to the shrine of the Iman Reza’s brother, one of the holiest shrines in Iran. It involved Norah borrowing a full-length hejab and us all having to give in our cameras before entering the complex, which is huge and impressive. There are at least three mosques set around a vast central square a lot of which is covered with carpets for Friday prayers. Men and women enter the shrines separately. Inside the walls are covered with small pieces of mirror, symbolizing the diversity of our earthly existence in the face of god. Worshipers in their thousands come to touch, kiss and revere the shrine and recite prayers and then walk backwards away from the shrine to avoid turning their backs to it. Norah got a woman guide who took a lot of pains to show us around and took lots of photos on her mobile (!) which she’ll send us on Facebook. In the evening we went to the Mausoleum of Hafez, the famous and revered Persian poet, set in beautiful gardens and full of Iranian visitors. Finally back to the hotel where we had heavenly double expressos and smoked a hookah on the rooftop café and watched the evening settle over this wonderful city.




Having a relaxing evening in the rooftop teahouse of our hotel

Gates of Persepolis

Off into the desert!

On Saturday we hired a car and driver, who took us to Persepolis, the ruins of the ancient centre of the Persian Empire before Alexander the Great overran it – and then on to the desert city of Yazd, where we have spent the last 2 days. Here the whole town centre is a warren of narrow alleyways between adobe walls. The skyline is dominated by the “badgirs”, tall chimney-like towers which catch the wind and draw cool air down into the houses.  Before entering the house, the air passes over cool water, cooling it still further and adding humidity to it. There are also some specially beautiful mosques to visit, and we’ve had some time to relax.

 

 

Wandering through the dark, quiet alleyways of Yazd 

Tomorrow we head for the desert for 2 days before returning to Teheran and then our flights back to Germany. Leander is so taken by Iran that he’ll try to extend his visa and drive around a bit more on his bike and perfect his Farsi! So in a few days I’ll be back in Germany and it will all seem like a dream from 1001 nights!

Naqsh-e Jahan Square is the second largest square on earth 

We're now in Isfahan where we've been adopted by an Iranian family we met having a picnic in the park on the first evening. They have been soooo kind to us, None of them speak much English, hardly any more than our Farsi, but somehow we have managed to communicate. We spent most of our second day here with them at their house. Saeed the father is a teacher too and he has 3 daughters and 2 sons who we all met. We chatted with them all using our Farsi phrasebook (thanks to Amin - it's been invaluable!) and their Iranian Leo equivalent. The food is of course delicious and it is really interesting to discover a bit of what life is like for a middle-class family, similar to our own, in Iran. At the same time it is a sometimes difficult to gauge what is really meant, either because of the language or because of the mentality.

Saeed & Vida

Nara & Yasmin

Hussien & Lodan

Ali & Liloofar

We had understood that they had invited us to stay the next 2 days at their home, so we checked out of our hotel. However, in the course of the day there was no more mention of picking up our bags and I felt the situation was unclear, so in the end we had to rebook in a different hotel. They had wanted to take us out to see the town, but we didn't set off till about 5.30pm. We then went to a beautiful palace, crossed town at high speed through the rush-hour in convoy to an Armenian church, which had just closed, then crossed town again and climbed a rocky outcrop which had been used for Zarathustrian Fire rituals and where we had spectacular views over the town and a thunderstorm with lightening .

Reza on a kooh in Isfahan ;)

When we got back to the hotel at about 1.30 am they were shocked and a bit offended that we had booked the hotel, but Norah and I were so exhausted that we were glad to get some rest. Leander went back and spent the night with them. He's struck up quite a relationship with Reza, their 21-year-old son, and went out to a tea-house and to a birthday party with him and friends - another whole dimension to life for young people in Iran.

The Hedieh family

Yesterday morning we met up with Leander in town and did some sightseeing, which was pretty Relaxing after trying to make sense of a converstaion with a dozen people using sign language, a mix of Farsi/English and a lot of guesswork. It's amazing that it works and our Farsi has improved in leaps and bounds - but Leander has definitely mastered it best!! It rained all afternoon and we had a bit of a rest in the hotel before going back into town to meet them at 6pm.

The Isfahan bazar at a more peaceful hour

However to our horror we discovered that they had been expecting us for lunch!! It was a very awkward situation, but they were so kind and we stayed the whole evening. In fact it was much more relaxed, the unmarried women could take off their headscarves in the house and we had a really wonderful time, rounded off with another midnight trip to another mountain where we had a beautiful view over the town. They didn't want to leave us and insisted on an ice-cream at the last stand open in town (in fact the police showed up as we were ordering and made them close up. And so to quite moving goodbyes! Today we're off to Shiraz!

Die zwei Wochen die ich gemeinsam mit meinem Vater und meiner Schwester verbringen konnte hat mein Vater dokumentiert und wird jetzt hier als Gastautor ein bisschen Abwechslung bringen ;)


I've made it to Teheran and met up successfully with Leander and Norah,

   Day one: I arrived safely with the 2 motorbike tyres at about 3 o'clock in the morning at Teheran Airport. In fact the computer at theTurkish Airlines check-in desk mistakenly thought I'd already paid so they ended up taking them for free. But no Leander in the arrivals terminal! I waited for about 30 minutes with an insistent taxi-driver who wanted to drive me into town, before I realized I was at terminal A - so was there a terminal B? There was, and it was buzzing with people and there was Leander waiting for me! We had so much to talk about in the taxi into Teheran (almost an hour's drive even at night) so we didin't get to the hotel until about 5am. Then Leander discovered that in all the excitement he had lost his camera - an expensive one he had borrowed from a friend for the trip. He tried phoning the airport but they couldn't help. It seemed like a bad start.  

Day two:: At breakfast the hotel manager came to our table to announce that the the driver of the taxi that drove us from the airport had just phoned to say that he had found the camera and would bring it to us in the hotel!! We were gobsmacked!! Since then we have found again and again that People are not only friendly and helpful but also amazingly honest. It's just as well, because the currency here is a mine-field of potential misunderstanding. Example: I wanted to buy a small bottle of mineral water in a kiosk. The vendor told me it cost 1. That, Leander told me, means 1000 Toman, which means 10000 Rial, which in turn is worth about 30 Cents.
 When we left the hotel we discovered that there was a whole row of tyre shops opposite, but none of them could change the motorbike tyres. However they told us how to get to a workshop. This involved strapping the tyres onto the side of the motorbike, both getting onto the bike (without helmets) and then taking courage into our hands, we plunged into central Teheran traffic! It's a crazy experience of a kind of surreal order in total chaos! Fortunately most of the big roads are one-way, except for the far-left lane which is a kind of free-for-all for mopeds, taxis and buses in both directions. It's not surprising that Lonely Planet lists among dangerous sports to be tried out in Iran hanggliding, rockclimbing, canyoning  or just crossing the road in Teheran. The amazing thing is how quickly you get used to it! In the evening we took the metro back out towards the airport. There is a compartment for women only but in fact it was all completely mixed. The only places for men only seem to be the mosque and the traditional tea-rooms where you are served wonderful tea and water-pipes. We arrived in time to meet Norah at 11.30 pm and this time no problem with the terminal...

 Day three (Easter Sunday): Abbas, a friend from Roisdorf who is Iranian, had put me in touch with his brother-in-law. He has found a place for Leander's motorbike for the 2 weeks we travel by public transport. The whole thing is complicated by the fact that Meqdad speaks no English and we have about 10 word of Farsi between us. Through a friend who translated we got  the idea that he would come and pick us up at  the hotel at 10 am. Sure enough he came on his moped, so off we went, me on the back of his moped and Norah and Leander on the motorbike! The fact that Meqdad has driven a moped for years and survived suggests he's quite an expert and he was quick to show it! This meant Leander had to try to keep up on his much wider and heavier bike while we weaved our way for about 30 minutes through hair-raising traffic. In the middle of it all we skidded to a halt.

Meqdad asks me if we wanted to visit. I wasn't quite sure what, but I said yes. It turned out to be a kind of palace with wonderful courtyards, painted tiles, shady trees and cool arcades. Meqdad gave us a kind of running commentary via his translator friend on his mobile phone. It was totally surreal, but a token of such friendliness and hospitality. When we reached North Teheran. where the city sprawls up into the mountains against a backdrop of snowy peaks, we stopped at a small garage where we met Garzem, our translator, and exchanged the moped for a car, before setting off again - destination not quite sure! We stopped in front of a very beautiful marble villa with big security railings. This was where Leander could store his bike in an underground carpark that was tiled wall and floor in gleaming marble. We were also introduced to the caretaker who had his office in the carpark and promised to keep watch day and night! Then on, now all 5 of us in the car, out into the mountains north of the city to a traditional restaurant. Here Meqdad invited us to an unforgettable experience: seated on low cushions and carpets, we were served starters of sweet-sour fruit with different fruit juices, followed by different kebabs, fish, rice and ab- kusht(?) a special Iranian dish made with meat, chickpeas, vegetables and potatoes mashed with a sauce and eaten on a kind of thin fresh nan-bread - delicious.  To finish off there was fresh water-melon, a tea to die for and we tried out a water-pipe, the most exotic, civilized and attractive form of smoking I've ever experienced!

When we got back to the hotel, I could give Meqdad and Garzem the chocolates and some Easter bunnies for their children as a small token of our gratitude. We were so full,both physically and mentally, that we have had a long siesta. This evening we want to head for the bazar. Tomorrow we take the bus to Isfahan where the adventure continues.  This is an amazing country and such an antithesis to the prejudices we have in the West. We will be returning to Europe, but I believe it will be with a heavy heart!

Es ist der 26.Mai und ich bin mal wieder in Shiraz. Der Z und mir geht es blendend!!! Und hey, ich weiß auch nicht was mit dem Internetfilter passiert ist :P Pedro you hero!!
Hier ein erstes Update seit meinem letzten Eintrag…

12. – 15. April Tage phänomenaler Begegnungen 

Aus Van geht es erstmal los nach Norden an der Küste entlang bis die Straße sich ins Inland und hoch in die Berge schlängelt. Ein Atemberaubender Blick nach dem anderen. Ein kleiner Junge steht am Straßenrand. Er ist sichtlich unbeeindruckt, dass seine Schafe überall auf der Straße herumlaufen. Ich gehe vom Gas, fahre langsam vorbei und grüße ihn. Er sieht mich kurz an, holt aus und schleudert einen faustgroßen Stein in meine Richtung! Gott sei Dank trifft er nur meinen Koffer. Ich will mir gar nicht vorstellen was hätte passieren können wenn der Stein mir in die Speichen geflogen wäre.

Nein, das ist kein pixelfehler :-)

Ararat! Was ein Anblick! Der gewaltige Berg erhebt sich mit knapp 4000m Höhenunterschied aus einer Ebene die von kleinen Dörfern und Nomadenzelte gesäumt ist. So kommt seine Größe zur vollen Geltung. Ich fahre bis in die Stadt Dogoubayerzit am Fuße der Bergs. Auf einem Hotelparkplatz treffe ich zufällig die vier Schweizer Michel, André, Jean-Luc und Thierry die auf dem Weg in die Mongolei sind und hier übernachten wollen. Nur zwei von ihnen sprechen Englisch, sonst nur Französisch. Wir verbringen den Abend zusammen und Thierry hat sogar eine Ukulele dabei!! :D 

Einigermaßen ausgeschlafen gehen wir am nächsten Morgen gemeinsam den Grenzübertritt an. Fünf Stunden und einige hartnäckige „Helfer“, Geldwechsler, Versicherungsverkäufer, Führer, usw. später sind wir endlich im Iran! Es ist auch schon 17:00 Uhr (aus der Türkei +1:30). Die Schweizer nehmen direkt in Bazergan, die Grenzstadt, ein Hotel. Ich will heute noch bis Khoy fahren etwa 150km entfernt. Es geht langsam wieder Bergab. Die Schneeberge rücken weiter in die Ferne und die Landschaft wird mit jedem Kilometer etwas grüner. Ich fahre auf der Hauptstraße hinein in die Stadt. Ein Auto überholt mich. Aus dem Innern winkt mir ein junges Mädchen zu und lacht. Sie dreht sich nach vorn und ruft ihrer Mutter und Schwester etwas zu. Die Mutter lächelt mir freundlich zu, hupt zweimal, zieht scharf vor mir auf meine Spur und Bremst! Ich kann grade noch ausweichen und komme neben ihnen zum halten. Wo ich herkomme und wie ich heiße will die Mutter wissen und lässt ihre Tochter im gebrochenen Englisch übersetzen. Nach ein paar Minuten Smalltalk erkundige ich mich nach einem Hotel oder Herberge. Sie nickt mir zu und signalisiert mir ihr zu folgen. Es geht gut 15 Minuten kreuz und quer durch die Stadt. Hier im Iran haben sich mittlerweile alle von jeglichen Verkehrsregeln verabschiedet. Selbs der Gegenverkehr hat bei Überholmanövern nicht zwingend vorfahrt! Wir halten in einer winzigen Gasse. Das Mädchen steigt aus, führt mich um die Ecke in eine kleine mit Ersatz- und Altteilen vollgestopfte Motorradwerkstadt. Sie dreht sich um und sagt voller Stolz: „ my shop!“. „Bia Berim“ sagt sie und läuft an mir vorbei nach draußen. Als ich wieder raus auf die Straße komme sitzt sie schon auf einer kleinen Honda 125ccm mit ihrer Schwester hinten drauf und winkt „come, come!“ Ich folge ihr bis nach hause wo ihr Vater schon wartet. Ich soll rein kommen und mich setzen. Tee und Früchte werden mir vorgelegt und der Vater setzt sich mit einem Fotoalbum neben mich. Er zeigt mir Bilder von Cross-Motorrädern, Rennen, Siegerehrungen, und und und… Dabei deutet er immer wieder auf mich und seine 15 jährige Tochter. Ich komme gar nicht aus dem Staunen mehr raus. Wie sich rausstellt ist er iranischer Cross-Champion in der 250ccm-, und sie in der 125ccm-Klasse.

Im laufe des Abends treffe ich vier Onkel, drei Tanten, 5 Cousinen, einen Cousin und die Nachbarin. Es wird gegessen, gelacht, gestritten, getanzt und gesungen. Um 02:00 Uhr morgens komme ich vollkommen erschöpft und überwältigt ins Bett. Die Mutter hatte mir kurz vorher ein Bett im Schlafzimmer präsentiert, sagte irgendwas von wegen „Hotel“ und lacht laut. Genau verstanden habe ich es nicht aber der Sarkasmus war eindeutig.

 Den nächsten Tag verbringen wir im Park, bei der Oma und bei diversen Motorradwerkstätten dessen Besitzer, Angestellte, Kunden und Freunde alle mein Motorrad inspizieren und laut diskutieren. Dann die Frage, die ich jedes Mal gestellt bekomme: „how much?“. Jetzt ist es 22:00 Uhr. Ich sitze mit meinem Laptop im Wohnzimmer auf einem der sieben Sessel (ja sieben… aber keine Sorge, es gibt noch vier Sofas), die Mutter ist am telefonieren in der Küche, Elnaz (die ältere Tochter, 15) macht auf dem Wohnzimmerteppich ihre Hausaufgaben, der Onkel macht ein Nickerchen und Sabil (7) wirbelt wie immer energiegeladen und breit grinsend durch die Gegend.
Ich möchte am nächsten Morgen los nach Teheran. Elnaz überredet mich allerdings mit ihren Vater in die 150km entfernte Stadt „Urmia“ zu fahren. „You must see. You like. My father happy. You back in tree hour. Help yourself! “ Zwei Stunden später haben wir allerdings erst die Pflichtstopps erledigt: Eine Tasse Chai bei der Oma, noch zwei in seiner Werkstadt, dann noch Chips, Wasser und Tochme in 3 verschiedenen Läden eingekauft und abschließend einen Abstecher ins Polizeipräsidium zum Onkel um sicher zu gehen, dass wir die strecke auch ohne Zwischenfälle mit 180km/h durchbrettern können. Kurz vor Urmia biegen wir auf einen kleinen schotterparkplatz ab und halten vor den streng bewachten Toren eines großen Anwesens. Der Vater steigt aus lehnt sich noch einmal ins Auto, signalisiert mir zu warten und hebt lässig zwei Finger. Da verschwindet er auch schon durch den Checkpoint. Nach einer halben Stunde dämmerte es mir, dass er wohl eher zwanzig und nicht zwei Minuten gemeint hat… eine Stunde später habe ich mich schon mit dem Gedanken angefreundet, dass es wohl zwei Stunden werden. Nach vier Stunden war ich mir schon ernsthaft am überlegen ob er eventuell zwei Tage gemeint hat, da fliegt die Tür auf und er schwingt sich sichtlich angespannt und aufgeregt ins Auto. Nach einem flüchtigen „Khubi?“ sind wir schon wieder auf der Hauptstraße Richtung Khoy. Ich werde wohl nie erfahren was er dort gemacht hat und zu welchen zweck er mich mitgenommen hat…
 In den folgenden zwei Tagen geht es eher unspektakulär über 1100km Autobahn nach Teheran. Am Abend des 18. April wird mein Vater Landen und morgen dann meine Schwester!!!