Day 249: Banderabbas-Sharjah

At eight the train arrived in Banderabbas at the south coast of Iran, even though it was mornig the heat was heavy and the slightest movement made me sweat like usually only a big work out does. In the city center I found the shipping agency without much trouble and was lucky enough to get a ticket for a a ferry for this very evening. While roaming the city, killing the time until I could board the ship, I ran into David and Magnus from Ireland. After talking with David for a while, we figured out that we would be taking the same ship tonight.
The boarding procedure was a long one but luckily we had to exchange quite a couple of stories to make waiting a lot easier. At some point we were approached by Marco and Nathalie from Switzerland. They travel with their own Van, actually it is not only travelling, but they actually move to Cambodia and decided to do so on the land way.
It turned out that none of us really have planed to go to Sharjah and all of us had to come up with a plan B for different reasons. Exchanging the impressions in Iran was also a major part of the discussions. The spectrum of emotions that accompanied our experiences was wide spread and ranged from amazement and admiration to confusion and uneasiness.
I spent quit some time speaking with Marcos. He originally comes from the Ticino (The southern canton of Switzerland) but speaks 3 out of our four national languages fluently and with little accent. He told me that he was managing Gotthard from their beginnings on for quite some time, which left me in awe.
It was already late in the night, when the chef of staff of the ship called us to come with him. Marco and me already suspected that he would lead us to some beer stash (since we asked earlier) but instead we then stood on the front deck of the ship, which is usually out of bounds for passengers. Here it was calmer than on the rear decks, being further away from the machines and there was a nice warm wind in our face and a clear sky above our heads. I joked about this spot being the Titanic-movie-spot and the sailor laughed and went on that we unfortunately have to miss out on Rose here. So we stood there for a while looking at the stars in the sky, the fluorescent looking water hitting the bow of the ship and at the barely visible fishes swimming in front of the ship. The sailor said, that spending time on this part of the ship made him working this job for 25 years without getting tired of it, he is on the contrary still loving it.
Back on the rear deck I later chose a bench to sleep outside. The temperature was ideal, not to hot and not to cold, so I quickly and comfortably fell a sleep on the wooden bench caressed by a summer breeze.

Day 247-248: Gaemshahr-Banderabbas (train)

I did not get much sleep in the train to Tehran, so I arrived back in that huge city early in the morning, dragged wolter in his box across the train station in search for a spot to lie the ticket offices open.
It was a bit of a hassle to get the ticket. I could not just walk to a counter and buy it, first I had to wait through the queue for the waiting list, which took over an hour, then I had to wait another hour until they sold the canceled seats for my destination. But people saw me lost and offered help, then they would keep an eye on me to make sure I got the queue once called out. It was very different from what I am used to, but even though it first appeared chaotic to me it seemed that it this 'ritual' follows strict rules.
Once I got my ticket I had no money left and another two hours to kill. At twelve I boarded the train after I was close to get in trouble because of my big carton wrapped around the disassembled wolter. But after the manager gave his ok for bicycles I got my seat just in time.
it was weird seeing a desert the first time in my life through the window of the express train. Seasonal rivers (wadi) left hints of green traces in that enormous gravel/sand plane, which was as flat as a tarmac.
The train was comfortable and the three men who shared the spacious compartment were very friendly. Everyone would share his food with the others, so that in the end we had a rich table with fruit sandwiches coffee and sweets.

Day 246: Chalus-Gaemshahr

Back on the bike again. The roads were not spectacular, it was just distance to cover. The climate up here however is quite special, all these days along the coast I never saw the higher mountains in the south, they were hidden in the clouds on which they seem to have a firm grip on.
There was not much energy left when I arrived in Gaemshahr, due to the hot weather I did not really feel hungry, so I just ate a small melon for lunch.
I went straight to the train station, asking about trains to Banderabbas. Once the lady saw my bike she told me that I can not take it by train. After a lot of back and forth, while some army people came by and wanted to see my passport, I was told that I would have to package and compact the bike. Then I got the ticket and one of the soldiers showed me the way to a guest house. That guy also asked me about swiss army and if they would also walk around and control people, my answer was no. He then said that it sucks here (they serve three years), I just stared at him eyes wide open not believing what I just heard from a uniformed man.
The guest house was kept by a bunch of 4 old men. Communication was difficult but after each one asked me where I'm from (while they were all present the hole time) and after a small eternity to copy the data from the passport I finally got a room.

Day 236- 245: Tehran

The bus ride from Chalus to Tehran was quite spectacular, first through the forest, that is also referred to as jungle by some locals, then into the valley that was getting steeper and narrower as we progressed, the pass was hidden in, the clouds and on the other side all the green and the trees were gone. This is a natural frontier.
I dozed off a couple of times and when I woke up on the west station of Tehran I was very disorientated and walked around the station looking for infos and food for more than and hour. I managed to eat something, but orientation would only be re-established once I got moving again. So I avoided public transport, especially metro and tackled the city by foot to get a feel for its dimensions, in any case it was too late already to visit some embassies. After a couple of hours I, did not get very far, but I came across a internet coffee where I filled out forms read mails. In a park I found refuge from the traffic and its noise to rest my, feet and have a siesta. I the eavening I met Rza I know from Istanbul, which was a nice reunion.

The next day I went to the Uzbekistan Consulat and from there I was sent to my embassy to get the recommendation letter. Apparently all of the Stans want this letter if you don't apply at their embassy in your home country.
So after having lost a day, I managed to apply in, the second attempt. At the consulat I met Marcos again, whom I've met yesterday shortly, today he was with his travel companion Ismael. We decided to go for a tea together after we handed over the documents. On the way to the metro we got picked up by military police, they took our passports and all electronic devices and brought us to their station. Everything got looked at; notebooks, photos... When the first pair of interrogators were finished, a new pair in civil showed up, one of them speaking english. Now we found out at last why we were here, apparently we crossed a sensitive area and the guard suspected us to have filmed or taken pictures. It is true that I had my mobile out to taken a picture of the city with my back to the gate that was guarded by uniformed men. Having read the instructions from the embassy where it says that photographing any military, police or governmental building is prohibited, I thought to be on the save side by not pointing the device at the guards. It turns out you should not taken the camera out at all when you are close to such a thing, do not even think picture!
Then the same questions all over again. After three hours we were drove back to the station and put in a taxi going to the centre, but not before they gave us some lunch. The hole procedure was thorough but rather politely executed.
Back in the centre we finally got our tea together. Marcos and Ismael have planed quite a tour through central asia ending in Nepal. Obviously there was a lot to talk about and after tea we went for dinner in a nice traditional place. The food was good and we hopped between visa stuff to travel experiences, bikes (obviously) and somewhere in between european economy popped up (probably my fault).

Friday nothing goes concernig visa stuff and also otherwise most things rest. But Langtunes, a local band, gave a concert that day. It felt a bit following the traces of the movie 'No one knows about Persian Cats'.

Saturday I went to get the visa extension. After having to answer a lot of questions to my person and travelling plans, I was brought to the Colonel who told me that I would need a recommendation letter from my embassy and that I would not get more than 15 days. That came as a shock. My informations were that it is usual to get an extension of 30 days without trouble. I tried to insist to get at least a attestation that I commenced the extension procedure, since my visa was about to expire, but I left with nothing but a numb head. I went and sat in the next caffee for an hour, starring at the wall while in my head the different horror-scenarios cascaded one after another. Today was Saturday, so the Swiss Embassy is closed. I took a second attempt and went back to the foreign police. This time I met another applicant who lived the last 40 years here. He had a lot of experience, was talking fluent english (unlike the employees here) and managed to give me back hope. I left the station again without any of the documents I came for (visa, attestation) but with hope that it will be fine.

This early Sunday morning I got to the Swiss embassy to get the requested letter. After some questions where my answers caused some head shaking, the lady at the reception started to work on it. It is generally a bad idea to do things at the last moment, but applying for an Iranian visa extension in Tehran on the last two days before expiration is a particularly bad idea. The liaison agent Mr.Salahi came up with the following solution: The Swiss embassy writes a recommendation for me to Irans foreign Ministry and they instruct the foreign police (a.k.a. alien police) to give the extension. It so happend that Mr. Salahi went to the foreign Ministry anyway and offered to take me along and help me get the documents. After two hours in the Swiss embassy I sat in the car back downtown. Another half an hour I got the letter and was on the way to the alien police. Quite amazing to see how Mr. Salahi glided seemingly without effort through this administrational procedures.
At the police station I finally got the forms. Then I, was taken again to the top floor, where the special security officers who interrogated me yesterday had to, give their approval. Then I had to run to the bank to deposit the fees and finally I was instructed to pick up the passport with the extension in two days. Oufff, I bought myself some time with a lot of help, now I'm just wondering if I get the requested 20 days.

Monday was my day off. I was with Rza at his place. All physical activity was twenty minutes of basketball, having left the house without a water we did not withstand the midday sun for long.

Tuesday I went to get my passport at the alien police. The extension was for fifteen instead of the requested 20 days. Afterwards I met Niloo, a friend I had the pleasure to meet the first time in Istanbul. She stayed there for a couple of months with the idea of maybe settling there, but it is not easy starting off with nothing there and so she came back to Tehran. She took met to a really cool cafe, where we got time to discuss stuff.
I the eavening I thought the schedule through with the 13 days that I have left in Iran. So the Ouzbekistan visa would be ready on Thursday if everything goes smoothly. With a bit of luck I'd manage to handover the copy of the visa and my passport to the Turkmenistan consulat. One day to travel back to Chalus, riding to Mashad in four days is impossible for me (almost 200 km for four days in a row) so I have to taken a bus for whatever distance isch left to be on the fifth day (after Tehran) at the Turkmenistan consulat in Mashad. If the transit visa is in my hands the day later, I just would have time to get to, the border with two days of margin. Since this schedule was rather tight and everything had to get through in the first attempt I had little hope that this is going to happen.
I told the guys at the alien police that a 15 days extension is barley enough to make the visas needed to continue, now even with the letter from the foreign ministry, asking for not much more, they just gave me time to fuck off, because once the extension was handed over day two of it was already gone.
Accordingly moral was low when I met Carlos and Ismael for lunch. Those poor guys had to listen to my never ending rant. But Carlos gave met a bit hope back.

Wednesday I thought about a plan B. I decided not to taken anymore chances, if tomorrow I don't get the Ouzbekistan visa, Central Asia is out of the race.
So back to Turkey or Armenia I don't want to go. Azerbaijan requires a visa, from hearing not the easiest to get. Pakistan is probably even more complicated. Afghanistan without careful preparation would be suicidal. So that would only leave The United Arabic Emirates asr the next closest neighbour. That bad thing here is that I would bridge the 1000-whatever kilometres with a train to get to the south before my visa expires again.

On Thursday I went together with Ismael to the Ouzbekistan consulat. As the cycloreveurs warned us this day is agency day and even though we arrived half and hour before the offices open the waiting list was long. I managed to talk to one of the agents and he let met cut the queue. The secretary later told me that since yesterday was their national day the visa would not be ready before sunday and she added that she is sorry. I answered: 'not as sorry as I am.' Then I explained my iranian visa situation and told her to cancel the application.
I said goodbye to Ismael and Marcos and went to the bus terminal west.
I was something between very close to explode and released. My budget was getting a bit tight to venture into that visa country region in the north, true, but now I would go from being a traveller by bicycle to a traveller with a bycicle and this bloody hurts my ego.
Finally it was not the difficult terrain or the turkish winter and my body braved all the challanges great so far, it was the fucking bureaucracy that got me.

I made two major mistakes I want to mention so maybe others won't find themselves in my situation:
1) I heard from several sources that the iranian visa extension is easily obtainable in Isfahan or Shiraz
2) The Ouzbekistan visa is obtainable within one day if you got a letter of invitation, that can be issued by Stantours and sent directly to the consulat. This is the case even though on offices web sites it is specifically mentioned that for several countries (including Switzerland, I back checked with our embassy in Ouzbekistan) the LOI is not needed.

Day 235: Lahijan-Chalus

This day was all about covering the distance. The wind was on my side today.
I arrived exhausted in Chalus. Tomorrow I will have to plunge into visa admin. I dreading it.

Day 234: Paresar-Lahijan

I got up and found the men from yesterday standing around the bakery close by. They were curious to learn more about this weirdo traveller and invited me for some tea and fresh bread. The baker asked me after he knew that I am Suisse if I like Iranian people, I answered yes. Then he wanted to know if I like the US. My reply was that I liked California very much. Then he asked about Israel... trick-questions in the early morning, here is something to wake you up! I said I don't know Israel, nor the people, but in general people are good, it's the politics that are wicked (now picture me explaining this in body-language).
Then I started dragging my sorry ass across this huge river delta. The scenery with the rice fields, the sea on one side and the mountains just visible through the foggy always humid air is quite special. I did not really expect to encouter tropical conditions in Iran. At a shop an old man indicated to me a good route to the other side of the delta to Lahijan, all on smaller roads mostly through villages.
The farmers went about preparing the fields, ploughing them and repairing the small mud dams. Some fields were read for planting, here groups of women put the small rice plants in the ground. I respected these people a lot for the hard work they are doing. The ones I met during my breaks in the villages had rough hands and a firm handshake that let me guess their strength. My effort compared to theirs looked like nothing.
For lunch I found a dining place that had these couch boxes (little pavilions with carpets and cushions in them) which were all around. This one was idyllic, to be accessed over a small pedestrian bridge leading to, the other side of one of the bigger river arms. I had some meat with bread and a bit of vegetables and then dozed off, cosily lying on the cushions. When I was about to pay the owner returned with his son. The junior carried a new football that needed an Seeing this I remembered that the pump I bought in Tblisi had this metal piece to stick into the balls valve. So I got it and pumped up the ball. The owner was a very kind man and we ended up talking over tea. His wife who was waiting my pavilion earlier was completly changed, from a cold air to a heartfelt one) after she saw me getting along with here husband and children. They ended up inviting me for a second lunch but full as I was I hit the road instead.
In Lahijan I met two boys on bicycles. One of them was shooting with questions and having a bit of fun with me. My Farci seemed to amuse him quite a bit. So I pulled out the phrase to ask for a good hotel, I hadn't had a chance to use yet, more to show off than for information, but the boy said to my surprise that indeed, he knew a place and dropped me off in front of it. The hotel was simple and cheap, its signs were all in arabic, so from looking at it I probably would not have realized it's a hotel. That was probably the smoothest arrival in a big town. Usually I have to stop, orientate and ask around, this time I just rode directly to the right spot with halting even once.
I had a long shower, ouh yeah! This one I need more than ever, since the last days camping I did, not have a river close by very often and if I had I did not dare run around naked to get the full washing program.
After a stroll through the city I got a baseball cap (to give my poor exposed nose some shadow) and got a chance to surf the net for a while in a coffeenet (how they call it here).
The happiest moment of the day was while going to bed early.

Day 233: Helabad-Paresar

The road was good and the headwind gone for the morning, traffic was moderate and the weather good for a first part down the mountains. Then I climbed to Khalkhal where I found a small restaurant for dinner. After I parked Wolter, it wasn't long before a small group of youngsters gathered and asked the usual questions. I then left them and went into then restaurant. While I was eating one of the guys, who later turned out to call himself Milad, invited himself to the table and started scribbling something quietly on a piece of paper. I just finished, pushed the plate away to find that piece of paper under my nose. It said, that he studied physical education, works as a bike mechanic and wants to travel by bicycle, therefore he was curious about how much money you need for this kind of trip. We started talking a bit and his buddies joined to inject questions and make this a big shouting match. Milad took me to his shop where I could get an air chamber. We took photos, I got then map out and everybody started to make suggestions. Milad invited me to stay at his place and since it was only afternoon, I refused again and opportunity to spend time with locals for the sake on closing up on Tehran. I had to stock up with food, but before I got a chance to got to a shop I had my water bottles refilled and some bread in my bags. Then they escorted me out of town. I started climbing the pass to Asalam, came just a couple of kilometres far and there he was again, Milad taking his bike out of a car and joining me for I wondered what distance it would be. On the pass I got my map and indicated to him where I intended to camp, but he said, that I have to come to Asalam and stay at his brothers place.
The views were amazing, everything green, the Caspian Sea at the horizont and here I also saw the first forest in Iran. The descent was fun, from 2300m all then way down to 0m on a nice serpentine road in good condition. The air was getting thicker and saturated with humidity, breathing suddenly felt like eating. On then handlebar I felt the condensed salty, slighy sticky moisture.
Shortly before Asalam Milad bought some bread. I was exhausted having cycled far more than a hundred kilometres and climbed about 2000m. Then we cycled towards the town but instead of entering it we took the ring road. It got dark and we were still cycling, I asked how much further, Milad replied 20 minutes. I asked Milad if he had any idea what he is putting me through... no reply. Besides he knew that I avoid cycling in the dark, since he asked me about the lights on my bike earlier. Heavy traffic roads like the one we were on are a no go for me under these conditions. After the silence I said that in half and hour I will just stop and pitch my tent. One hour later Milad stopped again to buy bread, probably his bottom was soaring and he needed a break and took this for an excuse. I took out the map and I realised that we past Aslam by 20 km and after Milad revealed the true destination (obviously not Aslam) it became clear that we had at least another 20 to go. At this point I lost my calm. He said it's not far anymore and I thought that I heard that a bit too often recently. We continued a bit but I, got completly worked up about this situation: He joined the ride without asking me, ended up completly taking me out of my rhythm I, struggled to maintain the last days in order to make it to Tehran in time. Yeah, riding a 100+ km starting in the later afternoon sounds like a brilliant idea, let's try that with this stranger with his 50kg bycicle! He had me running on the last reserves, the kind that you can't recuperate during one night and most of all; one lie is already too much. Answering 20 minutes to my questions about the remaining distance for the last one and a half hour might work with a kid or your girlfried, but since I am neither, this really pissed me off.
I can't stand if people wriggle the facts so you look like an idiot saying no, in other words if they try to make decisions for me. Some gifts are true ones, given unconditionally, and most of the gifts are "sold" to you. By accepting that kind of "gift" people expect you to fullfile that little contract of theirs you never got to read.
So at this point neither my body nor the mindset would let me continue, even if we would have been only five minutes from our destination, I was so mad at Milad, that staying at his place did not appeal to me in the foggiest anymore. I waved goodbye and turned towards the beach. Milad followed and there was a little drama before he let me go. I felt bad doing it, but I had no energy left to endure the consequences of his flawed plan. Even if there was no bad intention, his actions drove me to the edge.
Ten minutes later I parked Wolters behind the bushes and lay in the shadow of the street lights next/half-under a fisher boat on the beach. Stay alert I thought and dosed off. Around one a.m. I woke up from the steps of a man in in slippers strolling through the sand. He just past very close by without noticing me, but he saw Wolter and took a look. When he started fiddling with my bike I mande some hrrmhmm-noise. The man jumped, mumbled something, looked around and right in my direction but still did not see me. Then he rushed away. I just lay in the dark, but the dark-green sleeping bag seemed to melt with, the shadow. A minute later the previous visitor came back with two companions, one of them had a torch. Obviously it was time to explain myself. They were not upset at all with me, more concerned about me lying in this damp sand. They showed me a shed on the other side of the road where I could stash Wolter away and ly on a wooden bench. The shed was just plastic and wood, but it sheltered me from curious eyes and from the humidity. After a bit of talking they returned to their beds and I made my new, dry one.

Day 231: Bahraman-Saraye

Rain, headwind, accompanied by loads of traffic...

Day 230: Tabris-Bahraman

Headwind, rain accompanied by heavy traffic and loads of honking. Days how I hate them. In my attempt to escape traffic on smaller roads I ended up making considerably more distance without much success in my undertaking.
In Mehraban I asked somebody for directions, instead of giving them to me he picked up his mobile phone and invited me to his place between calls. Minutes later I was surrounded by a crowd. I tried to refuse politely, since I wanted to advance some more to make the few visa-days count, besides I haft a bad feeling about the guy. He gave me the impression of just wanting to show me off to his friends instead of actually helping.
So I cycled until it was almost dark, found a side road leading away from then main one, pitched my tent and had a good nights sleep.

Day 228: Avilaq-Tabris

I slept badly last night because of the humidity, as idyllic the place was otherwise the dampness screwed it a bit.
I had no clue what I was in for today and it turned out to be quite intense, a lot of climbing and it is not so easy anymore to get a re-fill of water. The villages were very sparse and I managed to empty most of my suplies.
After I reached the first big path I came to a small village in a higher valley. My maps on my pocket computer just showed me a lot of nothing for the area I found myself in and the maps Christiano gave me had a too low resolution. The road was not paved anymore aroud here. So I saw two shepherds sitting in front of the small village and once the younger of the two came to keep the bunch of big dogs away from me and invited me to sit with them, it turned out, that it was lunchtime. I was offered some tea, that I gratefully accepted, having drowned the last gulp from my water bottle on the pass that did not quite stop my thirst. So I asked in Turkish for water and directions (there was a crossing next to the village), for the water they pointed in the direction I came from and for Tabris they pointed not the road leading down the valley but the one up the opposit mountainside. I saw some water one the pass, but it comes from the rest of, the melting snow, not a source and thus I was not sure if my stomach can handle it. Also I am a bit afraid that that water is lacking minerals and might absorb some from my body (but I am not so sure either if that is a serious problem). As we tried to make a little conversation, I realized that the Azerbaijan language is quite different from the Turkish I learned, but it was better than nothing.
After many cups of tea and a few bites of bread and cheese, I said my goodbyes and started to climb again. The road was rather difficult and because in the upper parts the snow had still not cleared there was a track shortcuting the last couple of ziczacs and leading straight up. I could have drowned a lake once I arrived completly out of breath one the top. So I did not loose time to start the descent. On the way down I met a couple of funny guys from Tabris, we chatted a bit and I learned that there should be a village not much further to get some water. They did not have any themselves but instead invited me for 'tüntün number one' (I give you a clue; the first word can be found in Turkish).
Then I finally arrived in Gollujeh where a man who got just , out of a car blocked my way. I stopped him and we shook hands. I asked for water and found myself hoisted into the next house where he and his father and friends had tea. After many questions and a lot more tea I proceeded towards Tabris.
In the center I started looking for a cheap hotel and felt lost between all these signs in arabic letters, but whenever somebody stopped to ask me where I'm from or get his picture taken with me, I went ahead and asked them for directions. The first guest house was full, in the second I tried to negotiate the, price, had no luck and went for the next one. Then I got rejected one time and tried two more fully booked hotels. Two hours later and after wandering off in a neighbourhood without any hotels, somebody took me along his way and dropped me off in front of a five star hotel. There I got a map and detailed info in english and a bit of free wifi. Then back in the center I found the indicated two star hotel. They only had double rooms and contrary to most establishments I visited before, they would not give me a single room price. The first room I got was not cleaned up after the previous guest had left it, the second one was occupied and the thrid one was finally mine. I was exhausted. After a shower I dragged my ass through the empty roads into the next best restaurant I could find and ordered the first thing the waiter suggested. While I was eating the waiter suddenly asked me to come to him, I made a one-moment-gesture which he must have overlooked, since he repeated, louder this time, 'l come to me'. A bit irritated I followed his order. At the counter he handed me the phone and clapped his hands in excitement while grinning all over his face. At the other end of the line a man introduced himself Mustafa, a student for Tourim, he offered himself as guide in exchange for English practice. Startled I accepted the offer and Mustafa told me to pick me up at nine the next day at my hotel.
When at last I was back in my room felt like a typhoon had raged in my head and was eager to shut down the input and rest.

Day 227: Agarak-Avilaq

And this morning it was finally time to enter Iran. I've thought about that country quite a lot, talked about it many times and I had that Persian audio phrasebook since I left Dresden. Most of the countries I crossed during this trip, that I did not know before, like Turkey, I just went to without long preceding thoughts about it. And as it is with things that grew important in the absence of concrete action, when it finally happens it is a bit overwhelming and no matter how close you are, it does not happen before it actually happens... there goes a simple and obvious thruth, that just struck me again...
But before taking off I had to repair another flat tire. I fixed it yesterday but apparently I only pulled out one of two metal threads from the wheel. Now I had five of these little metal pieces causing me the last four punctures, where do they come from anyway?
After a ten minutes ride I arrived at the border. The Procedure took some time, an Armenian officer asked me my detailed opinion about his country before the passport control... well, it was great, what do you expect? But ass a matter of fact, I did not have to search for lies, it was great. About the people it was a bit trickier, I met good ones but a lot of times I got weird vibes and never really figured what caused it.
At the passport control my face was thoroughly compared to that other one on the passport-picture and the lady flipped a couple of times through the visa-pages, when she finally finished, she recapitulated my travelling so far and then asked me where I'd go after Iran, I said that I have an eye on Turkmenistan, and then she kept asking... I assumed it was pure interest, even though during the flipping she looked very seriously and almost had me worried.
On the Iranian side the first officer was not in, a hurry at all, the second one taking a copy of the passport also asked me about my travel plans after Iran, but without examining my passport further. Then I had to open one bag and after a short look, before I could empty its entire content I was instructed to close it again and preced.
I got some Drams at the change office and after a civil Iranian welcomed me to his country and we had a short chat. When I was leaving he came after me handing me an Orange and wished me luck.
The land on the other side of the Rud-e-Aras (river) was quite different, vegetation was very sparse, most of the rivers were dry and the mountains, made of a sandy material, came in, different shapes. There was no big pass today only small ones and after the hottest time of the day was over I found my flow. In Kharvana, the first village I, crossed after the border I chatted with the shopkeeper and a lot of kids with bikes were sticking around. I almost drowned that one and a half liters of cold coke and the suggar rush translated into a higher pace once I took off again.
It was reptile day, I saw a big lizard and almost run over a snake.
Shortly before Avilaq there was a valley with a river that actually had water and around it it was nice and green. I took the spot even though it was still afternoon and I had a longer distance in mind for today. But in the ends I did not want to risk finding myself in a similar situation as yesterday.
Apropos distance, I completed the 10000 kilometres today. For some reason this number gets me very excited.