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Xavier liking Iran
As we left Tabriz we avoided the highway, opting instead for the “old road” heading towards Tehran. A few kilometres down the road and another beep of the horn and a car pulled on to the hard shoulder, stopping in front of us. As we approached the driver waved out of the window, gesturing us to stop. We got asked the usual questions – Where are you from? where are you going? whats your name? Two girls got out of the back and rushed over to give us some biscuits for our journey.
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They asked to take a photo with us and we duely obliged. After some joking around the driver, Ali, gave us his phone number and told us to call him when we arrived to Zanjan, which we planned to do the following night.
We set off back on the road, keen to make up for a late start. As it got to around 5pm it began to get dark, and out of food and water we started to look for some to buy before making camp.
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Iran roads
The road was sparse and we hadn’t seen as much as a shop in tens of kilometers. Rolling through a large valley with apple orchards lining both sides it was an ideal area for wild camping, but we didn’t have enough supplies to stop for the night.
Eventually as it got darker we found a shop and pulled in. The only food we could find, other the obligitary than junk food, was eggs,of which we bought 6 and filled our water bottles from the local fountain. It wasn’t ideal, but with some emergency rice I had been carrying since Europe it would make some kind of meal.
Resupplied we put our lights on and cycled into the darkness, looking for a place to camp for the night. After a few more kilometres we saw a track leading to a house. We decided to investigate to see if we could camp in the garden.
The lights were on but no one was home. Several shoes were layed outside the front door, it looked like a lot of people were around but we couldn’t see anyone. Not so keen to get back on to the road, in now complete darkness, we waited but after ten minutes we admitted defeat and got back on the bikes. Only to hear an incredible whistle piercing the silence. It came from across the field and was followed by a set of headlights.
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Showing the world through my camera
The family had returned from the day on the farm. Three generations greated us, and after approval was granted by the grandmother, whose farm it was, we were invited to stay. But not camping in the garden: we were invited sleep in the spare room. Lined with thick persian carpets it was an ideal sleeping quarters and would make for a comfortable night.
A few minutes later a fire was going outside and large skewers of meat being placed on it. We shared a BBQ of chicken and meat and talked deep into the evening, remarkabley we had stumbled upon a family who all spoke english – and good English at that!
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Host family in Iran
The next morning we took some photos, swapped facebook details and were wished a good journey. We had an ambitious 160km in front of us if we were to get to Zanjan to meet Ali that night.
The ride was long and boring, following a large road down another valley. Mostly bypassing the towns, which were often seated up the valley edge, making for an unappealing detour on a bike. In the afternoon the wind kicked up and delivered a strong blow to the face. Our progress was slowed and again we found ourselves riding into the darkness. As we approached the city the road got busier and turned into a 2 lane carrigeway as it turned pitch black. Struggling to see the patchy road surface against the oncoming headlights we slowed bounced our way into Zanjan.
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Again we had struggled to find regular food and seeing our first market we stopped to eat. Downing a litre of milk, an ice cream and some chocolate biscuits I immediately felt rejuvanated. The shop owner then came out of the shop to gift us another ice cream each, which i greddily wolfed down too.
We called Ali and arranged to meet outside a hotel in the centre of town. We weren’t exactly sure of the plan but we were ushered in to the hotel and presented with another meal of chicken and rice. It was a kind gesture, but having just stuffed myself with snacks i struggled to finish it.
After the meal Ali explained that it was his friend’s hotel and he had paid for a room for us for the night. Another stroke of kindness but Ali wsn’t done there. “Do you want to go swimming?” Ali questioned after we finished our chicken. It was an unexpected and puzzling question, after a huge 170km cycle all we wanted to do was shower and go to bed, but after Ali’s kindness it seemed rude to decline.
Now, when a 50y/o man in a country you don’t know offers to pay your hotel and then, after depositing your luggage there, offers to drive you across town to go swimming alarm bells would usually ring in the ears of a traveller trying to avoid being scammed. However, sometimes being open to opportunities leads you to the best experiences and you have to go with your gut. This fortunately turned out to be the latter.
After a hairraising drive across town – Iranian drivers are crazy! – we arrived to the swimming pool and met up with a few of Ali’s friends and their children. We attempted, and failed, to pay for the entrance, as Ali pushed in front to make sure he took the bill. I wasn’t sure of the rules of the swimming baths in such a strict Muslim country, but other than the men and women obviously not mixing (each having aseperate time of day to go) it was the same.
Without the distraction of alcohol, swimming falls into an evening social activity in Iran and the pool was full of men chatting and laughing. The atmosphere was relaxed and Xavier and I floated around the pool, relaxing in the sauna and jacuzzi, the perfect detox for the legs, after the long cycle. “Why don’t we go swimming after cycling every night?” we pondered.
After the swim we went to a juice bar and all supped delicious pomegrante juice, before going our seperate nights. Ali had one more surprise in store for us, as he sped acrosstown at break-neck speed. Asking him to slow down, he simple replied “This is Iran.”. We found ouselves winding up a steep hill on the edge of town and as we got to the top had a magnificent view over the city. Ali had been great and the night, although unexpected, had been perfect. I’d be lying, however, if i didn’t say i was relived to arrive back at the hotel to find all of our belongings right where we left them.
Ali met us the next morning and had brought us breakfast to the hotel. We mentioned we would find an internet cafe before leaving, but he was having none of it and drove us across town to his work office to use the internet there.
Returning to the hotel we thanked Ali, his hospitality to complete strangers had been remarkable and unheard of back in Europe.
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