Iran, First few days, Border to Tabriz, Wow!

Did we know what to expect in Iran? Not at all. We had hoped to visit here when we left NZ over a year ago and finally it is reality.  All the cyclists we met who had biked through absolutely loved it and spoke of the amazingly friendly people so we felt comfortable to see for ourselves. But I, as a women have to be fully covered in loose fitting clothes and a scarf covering my hair at all times. Could be interesting.
As I waited with the bikes while Trevor changed some money at the border an older lady came over, grasped my hands and said "It is so wonderful that you are here, I hope you enjoy Iran" This set the tone and was reiterated many times in the weeks ahead. Trevor arrived back with 7 million rial, his pockets bulging.
I forgot to mention the photos of the trucks in the last blog. Not sure if it is because this is the only border open at Bazargan but there were 2 lanes of fully laden trucks on both sides of the border stretching over 10km each way waiting to be processed. I think it would take many days. Some mini vans selling hot food and drinks to the drivers doing a roaring trade.
Off we went just 25 km to Maku, a town built in a narrow valley with amazing cliffs all around it. Young kids all yelling hello, where are you from and many toots and waves. We checked in to the tourist hotel pleasantly surprised at how nice it was and not smoky as we had in Turkey. We had time to visit the old ruins above the town just before dark, being shown around by a lovely old guy. In any other country we would have inadvertently hired a guide. Not here, just a handshake and a goodbye. We also watched a small parade and found out later today was day 1 of 40 days of (annual) mourning for Imam Husseini, a famous prophet who died 1500 years ago. This mourning time peaks on day 10, more on this amazing time in the next blog!
Then it was time to find somewhere to eat. Encouraged to come in at the first place, Goats head soup was on offer, the smell alone kept me away. Next a photo shoot with young girls at the pizza place on the corner but it did not appeal. Finally after putting our lives at risk crossing a few streets we found a burger place which was fine. 3 for 100000 rial or 10000 toman as they call it, confusing but about $5nz.
Day 1 and the scarf makes me feel sooo hot indoors. And the hotel has the central heating on.
Maku - Qaraziadin 90 km
Off early after a good buffet breakfast,  similar to Turkey but flat bread, feta cheese, cucumber, tomato, eggs, honey, yoghurt. We  hadn't gone far when we were invited into the local tea shop complete with water pipes and old guys smoking. Classic! (Photo)
A pretty easy ride on a noisy highway but a good shoulder to keep out of the way of speedy drivers. Feel like we might get RSI of the arm with all the waving going on...
Just as we got to the turn off close to Quaraziadin there were lots of buses and cars and people milling about, also a guy waiting for us, Tahud. He had passed us a few km back and decided to invite us to his house to stay for the night as he enjoys the company of foreigners and can practice his English. We chatted for a bit, he is an English teacher at a high school, a real extrovert with a great sense of humour. Another guy came along to talk to him, also a teacher. They quickly organized for us to leave our bikes at another teachers house nearby as Tahud lived out in a small village back the way we had come and as it turned out there was no hotel in the town so it was a great option.
Considering English was his third language, he spoke Turkish and Persian, he was like a walking talking Thesaurus! He had a cd playing in his car spouting English words and their meanings, most of the words neither of us had even heard of and those we had were not words that are used very often. He quickly decided he was a better English speaker than us.
His wife was away for the weekend at her parents but he invited his cousin over. His first question was "how did we know Tahud was not a terrorist?"
Because he told us...(as did everyone we met)
We enjoyed a meal (photo) and lots of laughs then went next door to meet more family and have tea. They were all very surprised that our children were not married and were adamant that it was my job as their mother to choose their spouse, as their mothers had, because mothers know best and have much more experience in these things. So look out kids, I will be home soon...
Qaraziadin- Marand 80 km
Reunited with our bikes early the next morning now sporting Iranian flags and a lovely breakfast all laid out awaiting us.
Tables and chairs are not the norm. A table cloth on the floor is how it is done here.  Trevor is already struggling with sitting cross legged on the floor for more than 5 minutes.
Tahud headed off to school, 60 km away, close to the border with Azerbijan. It was drizzling but we thought all right to cycle in. Not so and too far according to our newly made friends. Tahud phoned to say wait for him to get back from school, so we did, enjoying a look around town then lunch and time with a nice young couple and baby. (Photo)
Tahud duly arrived back, stuffed our bikes in his small car and off we went to Mirand where a warm showers host, Akbar, was expecting us sometime that week. Everyone has a car here, they can have any colour as long as it is white, seriously 95% of cars are white! Petrol is very cheap as is gas that is used for heating and cooking.
Jakob, a German cyclist was also at Akbar's shop when we arrived. Akbar is famous for his hosting, we were   numbers 685 & 686 of cyclists that have been through over the last 4 years. We enjoyed looking at his photos and seeing quite a number of cyclists that we have met on our travels.  Whether you contact him or not he finds you! Truck drivers call him to tell him if there are any cyclists heading his way. He runs a grocer shop and is also a marathon runner. He knows what cyclists need after a day on the road. He took us to a falafal shop for dinner then we cycled in the dark through busy streets to a place to stay, basically a carpeted room with bathroom, we organized our camping mats and sleeping bags and all had a good sleep, he picked us up again in the morning, we headed back to his shop for breakkie, then he escorted us out of town and onto the right highway to Tabriz. He also had a NZ flag that he had been given sometime ago so that was duly attached before we left.
Marand - Tabriz 85 km
So it was 3 of us today. The landscape is amazing. Almost lunar like, brown red rocks and hills, not quite desert but very few trees. Easy cycling until we reached the outskirts of Tabriz the 4th largest city. Jakob had a GPS so we managed to find our way through the city traffic and busy streets to a campground that was free for foreigners. The drivers were great, we were obviously not the everyday occurrence and they gave way with many yelling welcome to Iran. The campground was safe and secure, fenced with a caretaker. Just no shower, they were out of order till next summer...
We got in touch with Ashkan and Hamid, two young guys, both warm showers members and they came over to spend the evening with us which was really nice.
A definite drop in temperature in Tabriz overnight, rather chilly but fine in the tent.
Ashkan came back the next morning loaded up with food, we had also been out to get supplies so we enjoyed breakkie outside in the sun, including fresh flat bread with cream and honey. Traditional! Tabriz and all of this northern area is quite Turkish, a lot of the people are actually Turkish.
We headed out to sort out our Iranian sim card, nothing foreign works here. That took a while then we made our way to the famous bazaar by bus.
Something very new to me - Women in the back half of the bus, men in the front. It was really crowded so it was difficult for me to keep an eye on the guys especially as all the women kept offering me a seat but I did manage to get off at the right stop. Gender segregation starts early here, actually at kindergarten, separate for boys and girls as are all the schools. Sport is also separate. Girls can play indoor but no male spectators if the women have their head scarfs off. Cycling is very uncommon for women on the highways or in the cities, not approved of but a few do cycle.
We wandered the covered bazaar, (photos) then had a traditional meal called dizi. A dish/pot of stew, meat, tomato, potato, chick peas, (I exchanged the chick peas for more potato)
The eating is then quite a process. Tip off the juice into a small bowl then tear of small bits of flat bread to go into it and soak it all up. Eat that first. Then mash up all the rest, we were all given a small masher, finally pull off small bits of bread and spoon on the mashed food. We were all given a jug of douk each, a watery tarty yoghurt drink similar to Ayan in Turkey but in Iran it has mint in it as well - It's great. It was all great!
Ashkan insisted all 3 of us come to his house to stay. We told him we were fine at the campground but he explained when he got home the night before his mother was concerned as it was so cold and woke him at 2am worried about us!
She was busy preparing dinner so we could not refuse, packed everything up and cycled to their apartment where we had a lovely evening, fantastic meal and were very warm.
So far we feel completely safe here, the people we have met are very friendly, very well educated, very generous, have lovely homes and seem to really enjoy having guests - they do not let us do anything - simply saying, No,No you are our guest.
Very humbling.

Istanbul to Eastern Turkey - Adventure travel at it's best ?? Or was that worst??

Thankfully it was a fairly quiet Sunday in Istanbul when we arrived. We found our way into the city teaming up with 4 Spanish cyclists who were on the ferry with us. We found an apartment to stay in but it was just available for 2 nights. Monday morning we visited the Iranian embassy to finish our visa application. We had sent off the initial information required and payment to an agent when we were in Serbia. They do whatever is necessary (not sure how much) and then send back an approval number. Once you have the number the rest is quite straight forward. Passport photo for me with my hair covered, more form filling, a whopping 100 euro visa fee for NZ ders payable at a specified bank. Then it was "Come back on Wednesday" Exciting. So a couple of days sightseeing and a change of hotel for the final two nights. A big busy touristy city but nice with the water and bridges, we stayed near the centre and hung about there so it didn't feel too big. We visited the big bazaar and picked up some warmer clothes and baggy shirts and pants for me to wear in Iran. Plus a dog dazzer! Could have done with it 16000 kms ago.
Lots of mosques and lovely old buildings to see.  Narrow streets. And of course tourist scams. One shoe shine guy dropped his brush right beside us.  Trevor picked it up and called out to him. Thank-you thank-you... Let me clean your shoes, (like our sandals need squirted with water and scrubbed with a grubby  toothbrush) then its the please give me money story...  he had obviously dropped the brush on purpose.
And more violence than we have seen anywhere else, guys losing the plot and starting a fight, all of a sudden there are so many men trying to pull them apart but it seems to escalate and carries on down the street for ages like a violent rolling maul.  One lot was heading my way so I ducked into the nearest shop, the guy in the shop hurried me behind the counter then picked up a huge bollard ready to defend himself if needed. Scary to watch.
Since we have visited Turkey before and winter is coming, we decided to get to Iran as quickly as possible. Oct/Nov is the best time to visit there weather wise. Not too hot.
We wanted to go direct to Van on the Dogubayazit express but the train line there had been sabotaged (PKK or kurds, who really knows)  so the only option was a sleeper train from Ankara to Erzurum, further north in Eastern Turkey leaving Ankara on the Friday night at 6pm. The travel agent told us we could take the fast train to Ankara, (with bikes) it takes just 3.5 hrs but currently it leaves from the Asia side of Istanbul and with bikes we needed to take a boat then the metro then ride 6 km. So, luckily as it turns out, we set off Thursday morning having decided we would suss it out and maybe stay over the otherside and go to Ankara the next day or all going well go to Ankara and stay overnight there. The boat trip was fine. Survived the access to the metro, the elevators were not working so we had to take the loaded bikes down 3 narrow steep escalators. We have done it before but these were particularly dodgy. A bit like water skiing, if you get the start right and balanced properly then its all good but if you don't then everything turns a bit pear shaped and the bike becomes a bucking bronco! Unfortunately the escalators are always crowded which does not help the nerves.
Two hours after we left we reached the fast train station and -   Absolutely no way were we allowed to take our bikes on the train. Fullstop... Hmm off to a bus station, No, absolutely no,  sorry don't do bikes here... Hmm
Maybe if you go to the main bus station - 40 km back where we had come from... Hmm, don't think so.
We found a travel agent and he sent us to another travel agent. No problem...
Now 3 pm.  Suddenly without much discussion we were stuffed into a minivan thinking we were off to Ankara. But no,  it was just a taxi picking people up to drop at a bus station. Then we waited and waited in the cold, we discovered 6 pm was departure time but that came and went, finally at 7.30 a bus arrived. The bus driver threw up his arms at the sight of the bikes but by that time we were 3 cups of Chai friendly with the bus company fella and he sorted it so they were loaded and off we went. 6 hrs later we arrived at Ankara bus terminal. The metro had stopped running for the night and there was no way we were cycling in the middle of the night so we dug out our sleeping bags and joined everyone else sleeping on the bench seats for a few hours... while the cleaners sloshed water and mopped the floor around us. Hmm.
We met a friendly young guy about 6.30am, he was there to meet his dad off the bus.  He decided he had enough time before school to escort us on and off the now running metro and into central Ankara. We met 'dad' as well, he was left to make his own way home and off we went. Fantastic. Then Feud showed us where the train station was and left us enjoying breakfast and coffee at a nice cafe. We organized to meet him and a friend after school.
So a day in Ankara, can't say we were feeling that chipper but we did manage to look around a bit and visited Ataturks memorial (Ataturk being the founding leader of modern Turkey)  definitely a man ahead of his time, and a place worthy of a visit (photos)
We met up with Feud and his friend later, had time for an ice cream in the park then we were off on the overnight train. Phew. Time to relax. 21 hours to relax to be precise. But it was a nice trip. We were comfortable in our own cabin.  (Scenery photos from the train) Vast expanses of nothingness, sheep and goat herders, haphazardly built,  poor villages. I am glad I didn't find out until we had nearly reached Erzurum - the train schedule had recently been changed so it crossed a particular area of Eastern Turkey in daylight, there had been a number of incidents recently on this line as well where explosives had been put on the tracks...
Erzurum is the hub of Eastern Turkey and a nice city. Loads of hotels. Not long after we arrived we learnt of the terrorist attack that happened at Ankara railway station that morning. Just a few hours after we had left there. Truly awful.
We enjoyed looking around the sights of  Erzurum the next day, noting all the flags were half mast (photos) and booked seats on a bus to Van which is the closest city to the border where we wanted to cross into Iran. Info from where we got the ticket - It leaves at 7 am, takes 7 hours and the bus terminal is 2 km from here.
We thought we would wander to the station to see for ourselves as we didn't want any surprises early in the morning. It was not 2 km, after 5 km we found out it was almost 12 km and way out of town on the main highway.
Nothing was happening at our hotel the next morning, we woke the guy sleeping on the couch to unlock the door and left in the dark intending to have a cuppa at the bus station. A fast cycle, we arrived at 6.15, were quickly escorted to a bus, bikes loaded and ready to depart at 6.23 while I'm thinking - Are we on the right bus going to the right place? Where is English / Turkish Google translate when you need it ?  Yep apparently we were on the right bus.
The driver gave new meaning to the terms Express and Direct. No toilet stops, no food stops, 5 hrs total not 7.
Hot, hungry, thirsty, bikes reassembled and bags on ready to head into the city when an old guy, with a cigarette hanging out of his mouth, approaches us and asks for our passports. Initially we kind of ignored him until he produced his police badge. Then he decided to search all our panniers. No, 'let's go inside or into another room', just right where we were on the pavement surrounded by a huge number of curious Turkish males, every one of them sucking on a cigarette.
Eventually satisfied that we were not a threat he shook our hand and we were able to leave. We stopped about 5 km down the road at what we thought was a cafe but it actually sold lollies, dried fruit and cakes. The father and his daughter were delightful and so happy we had stopped.  We downed 4 glasses of tea each and a heap of food. They kept bringing more out for us to try and would not accept payment for it. They directed us to the hotel area and once we sorted that we headed off to suss out how to get the 100km to the border.
There was some kind of rally going on in the square and a huge riot police presence to go with it.  Police wagons with water cannons, police all well armed as well as many army vehicles.
This is Kurdish territory and although most of the trouble hotspots are further south Van also has its share of incidents.
We didn't hang around.
But we did find out at the tourist office that the border between Turkey and Iran was closed as was the one further south and the only one open was back up north around 400 km!
So another bus ticket booked for the next morning. Far out.
With a couple of hours to spare we took a taxi van out to visit the big fort that over looks Lake Van, it was dark by the time we finished and flagged down another van back.  The usual donor kebab for dinner.
There is definitely an uneasy feeling here. Tension among  the people and they are quick to tell us they are Kurdish, not Turkish. Hotels are doing a starve and dropping their prices as no tourists are visiting.
Public transport is vital to this country as not many people own cars. The buses are pretty cheap and very modern. Main roads are at least two lanes each side straight and buses travel kms quickly.
Except today.
Off again early. And I was not feeling at all well. Last nights dodgy kebab...This time a local bus, really slow, through a gorge, stopping everywhere and then we had to change buses halfway. The bus stopped at a police check point, there was even one of those armed vehicles where the guy pops out the top and swivels the gun around!  They came on and checked everyones ID and took one guy off. It was about then my illness peaked, I will leave it there!  
I must admit its all a tad nerve racking and unfortunately we have started to look at everyone and wonder if they are potential suicide bombers.
A night in Agri, nothing to report there as I was too sick to go anywhere and then to Dogubayazit (commonly known by tourists as Doggy biscuit) the next day just 35 km from Iran, a great hotel and a great view of Mt Ararat. Photo-Think Noahs Ark. Also very chilly. Dogubayazit - Maku in Iran - 65 km
Yay next morning we were back on the bikes and on our way to the border. Half way along Trevor stopped to find his gloves, I continued on then spotted a young boy up ahead, looked like a goat herder and had a big stick with him. I slowed down to wait on Trevor just as this kid decided to run towards me. When he reached me he started yelling and screaming and whacking the back panniers on my bike with his stick.  I would say he was about 11 or 12 and what struck me most was the look in his eyes. Such total absolute hatred toward me or more to the point what he perceived me to represent.
Astonishing how someone so young can get to be so misguided and evil.
I just yelled at him, changed down a gear and bolted just as Trevor arrived to give him a barrel. At the same time 2 army vehicles just happened to be cruising by and also saw what happened, turned on their sirens and tooted and the kid scampered off into the distance.
We had heard about the kids over this way and yesterday when the bus we were on stopped at a red light 3 really young kids came over begging. The bus driver basically told them to go away and then they proceeded to throw stones at the bus. Little urchins, not at school, wearing rags. Sad, there is not much hope of a good life for them.
On we went to the border, just one minor issue as we wheeled our bikes the final 100 metres surrounded by more Turkish urchins. One of them suddenly spotted a huge piece of wire wrapping itself around Trevors wheel. As he removed it a number of the kids indicated he should pay the guy for noticing it... We are fairly certain they deviously put it there to begin with.
We exited Turkey and then no problems at all entering Iran. Immediately we felt the different atmosphere. Here it was calm and peaceful and lots of friendly people saying - Welcome to Iran. So looking forward to the next month.
A pretty character building and frustrating week getting across Turkey but that's what 'adventure' is all about.

Anzac Cove - On a Mission

October 2015
Alexandroupolis - Kesan, Turkey 80 km
Definitely a step up in border security compared to every other country we have been in and a huge police presence checking buses and other vehicles, for refugees but finally we were on our way to Kesan. It fined up but we didn't quite dry out. Late afternoon by the time we arrived to start the hotel hunt. Immediately we noticed how many young groups of males there were. A bit like Morrocco. All smoking. Hanging about. And very aggressive impatient drivers. An almost gridlocked narrow street going uphill, we were going the same speed but the car drivers were trying to get us out of their way. And absolutely no tolerance for pedestrians. We found a hotel, after 4 previous no goes, thankfully being rescued by the man at reception, he could obviously see us trying to extract ourselves from a group of guys who had insisted on tagging along and then wanted paid for showing us the way... yeah right. We were shown the expensive, lovely, spotless  3* option and then the 1* option across the road  where we could store our bikes for the night. We decided we would rather stay there. It was more spacious, old and tired but also much cheaper, honestly the 3* was just not right for our muddy wet bags, shoes, raincoats and there was nowhere to hang up our clothesline! I did get a kind of - Are you daft  - look from the guy showing us around.
We ventured out to a restaurant for dinner almost falling asleep waiting for the food to be cooked, the last couple of big days catching up on us.
Kesan - Gelibolu (Gallipoli) 83 km
The bonus for the day was that breakkie was buffet back across the road at the 3* , We stayed quite a long while enjoying the comfort and delicious food, lots of feta cheese, olives, cucumber, tomato, eggs, fresh bread, fruit, yoghurt, jams and lots of tea,  we were not at all keen to venture out in the rain. But finally we set off. A highway ride all the way, but a good shoulder. Also heavy rain all the way. Everytime a truck hurtled by we got even more drenched. Luckily it was rolling countryside so we warmed up going up the hills and then froze going down. Gelibolu, or Gallipoli to us, is a funny little place. Spread out, touristy, kind of run down on the opposite side of the peninsula from Anzac cove. We wandered around - fair to say a little unimpressed.
Gelibolu to Hill 64 - 53 km - Over the hills and far away...
We took the cross-country option instead of the highway. All the rain had muddied things up a bit (photo 1) but an interesting ride. We came across huge kangal dogs sporting dangerous looking spiked collars, the dogs were almost as big as my bike. They usually look after the sheep and certainly don't like it if you get too close. I didn't get any photos being a little too concerned for my welfare. It's hard to describe some of the villages out here. Like going back in time. Peasant life. Just eeking out an existence while actually quite close to modern life. Finally we made it to the otherside of the peninsula. We chatted to a family from the UK who had visited their grandfathers grave and were thrilled that they saw his photo in the museum.
It was getting late so we made the decision to stay the night in front of Hill 64, a NZ and Australian memorial outside of the main cemetery and no camping areas. Very quiet and peaceful night. 
Hill 64 - Canakkale 40 km
We were packed up and away early on our mission to find the name of Trevors great uncle who died here 100 years ago.Just a few kms down the road to Anzac Cove where we lingered for a while. It was a beautiful day. Calm and sunny. Very few people about. Probably quite the opposite to 1915 and hard to imagine how so many people could be here on Anzac day.
We stopped to look at every memorial on our way up to Chunuk Bair which is at the top of a big hill. There are separate cemeteries and/or memorials for different battles. It took us a while.
At Chunuk Bair, the last place to visit,  we found the name we had been looking for-  Charles Hayward-  It was in  alphabetical order among the roll of inscribed names.  He was a part of  the Wellington infantry group. We were thrilled to find it, not sure if any other family members have been here or not so we took plenty of photos to show them back in NZ.
Mission accomplished!
A memorable day, emotionally exhausting  and all the inevitable thinking of the enormous waste of young lives and the futility of war. Never the less it is a place we have wanted to visit for a long time. We were so close to here in 1986 and later regreted not making the effort.
A short cycle back across the narrowing peninsula then an even shorter ferry crossing to Canakkale. A modern, vibrant city full of students. Nice cafes and restaurants, good food and nice hotels. We wandered along the promenade to see the wooden sculpture of the horse used in the movie Troy. Enormous!  The place Troy is not far from here but we decided not to make a detour to visit.
Canakkale - Can - 85 km
Tough riding on a boring inland highway. Just a hard slog up and down hills. Huge wide expanse of farmland for as far as we could see. Pleased to reach Can.
Can - Bandirma - 110 km
Another huge day but more enjoyable as we kept getting stopped and offered chai (tea) which we accepted and then chatted to the locals. But it made for a long day and we really had to push the last 30 km just making it to Bandirma on dark. Another nice coastal city.
Bandirma - Istanbul
We took the midday ferry which took about 3 hrs to get to Istanbul. Great to land so close to the centre. This is the stretch of water that in 1915 the allies were trying to secure in order to get to the black sea...
Next blog, character building week crossing Turkey