During the last days in Armenia, I was withdrawing a lot of cash from ATMs because I knew I won’t be able to use credit cards in Iran. With almost 1000$ of cash, hidden in numerous spots in my luggage, I started to climb a mountain pass between Armenia and Iran. Cycling next to patches of snow at 2552 m above sea level meant that I finished my adventure in Armenia with style. The border crossing went smoothly and the visa, which was obtained at the Iranian embassy in Trabzon, was valid for 30 days. A few seconds in Iran and I was approached by two young German tourists asking me if I would like to change money because they are leaving Iran. I was glad because I was honestly a little reluctant to approach a local with that question. As it turned out they scammed me and exchanged money with me at a rate that was clearly in their favor. Actually I only realized that after a couple of days. For some reason is the official rate, stated online, completely misleading and one could easily exchange money on the street for a much better rate. They offered me 50.000 rials for 1$, and a few days later I exchanged 1$ for 90.000 rials in Teheran. But a bad beginning makes a good ending and at this point, I can say that this was by far the worst experience I had in Iran.
I was clearly shocked by how hospitable and kind Iranian people are, especially because it is almost impossible to communicate with them. The language spoken in Iran is called Farsi with the Arabic alphabet, completely foreign to the Latin alphabet with different numbers as well. Most people in Iran could only speak Farsi. Some younger people and those with higher education can speak or at least understand English. Despite this huge communication obstacle are Iranian people extremely kind and willing to help. Strangers approached me (30x times a day) and congratulated me, asked me questions, curiously observed my bicycle, took pictures and selfies and invited me over to have a meal or a cup of tea. People driving cars honked, waved, shouted and even stopped in the middle of the road to ask me if I need help and gave me things they randomly found inside their cars (a head of lettuce, tomatoes, candies, or even coins). On several occasions I didn’t have to pay for my meal in a restaurant, for things I bought in the bakery and almost every day I received free bottles of water. It was like a life of a superstar and every encounter filled me with positive energy. People working at the cash register offered to wash my clothes, during the fasting period of Ramadan meals were prepared for me and one time I was even invited to a wedding celebration.
Helpful people were true life saviors because Iranian sim cards didn’t work and I struggled to find any phone connection. They introduced me to the VPN because many social networks are not available in Iran. The one thing that worked without any problems was Instagram. One week of surprises later, I arrived in the capital of the country. I was offered a place to stay by Mohammad on Couchsurfing and I stayed with him and his family for almost 10 days. They were simply incredible hosts and at the end of my stay, it felt like I was a part of their family as well. Every single day my gratitude for their help and kindness increased because they drove me far away to the Turkmen, Uzbek or Chinese embassy. My stay in Iran had an important goal which was clearly to obtain a visa for the following countries on my way. The process was quite slow, so I had a lot of opportunities to explore the breathtaking Teheran. Most women didn’t wear scarves at home and people had alcohol at home, even though it is officially forbidden. I noticed many people with bandages over their noses and by coincidence, I was educated that this is due to plastic surgeries. Iran is supposedly the place with most plastic surgeries in the world. The food was delicious with familiar ingredients. I got used to the chaotic traffic and uninterrupted honking of drivers, informing people that their car works as an unofficial taxi. When my fear disappeared, I had also waved at one of the drivers and used an unofficial cab for a ridiculously cheap price. Many people drive on simple motorcycles, sometimes one can see a whole family on one with women at the back and children squeezed in between. They were my biggest enemies, especially because they drive on the opposite side of the road in the opposite direction, exactly where I was riding my bicycle. All the fears, prejudices and stereotypes about infamous, undeveloped and conservative Iran were long forgotten and I’ve never again felt so welcome anywhere else in the world. The scenery of Teheran is incredible, concrete jungle hitting against 4000 m mountain peaks in the north. Luckily on one of the days during my stay, museums in the whole of the country had free entrance, so I took the opportunity to see them all. I was fascinated by the amazing Holy Defense Museum with its modern representation of the Iran-Iraq war in the 1980s. Especially, because it had impacted my host family tremendously as the mother worked as a nurse and the father was imprisoned in the Iraqi prison. My stay in the capital was over after I got an Uzbekistan visa and got an appointment with Turkmenistan’s consulate in Mashhad thanks to a Slovenian ambassador who helped me immensely. I said farewell to my wonderful Iranian family and with a knot in my stomach I set off for new adventures.
The landscape changed again and as I struggled to progress after a long break, I started to notice peculiar road signs for camels, cheetahs and lizards. I entered a mountainous desert and headed toward Turkmenistan. However, the thing that seemed to remain intact was the incredible hospitality of Iranians. Countless invitations to stay for the night or simply to have a meal. My bicycle and my sun lines were in the center of attention and one guy even slapped my bottom to test the softness of my cycling shorts. The common way of relaxation is a hookah where – typically men – gather around and discuss everyday topics. I am not the biggest fan of Iranian hookah because it is way stronger than the one in Turkey and it made me feel very dizzy. The nights with doctors and medical students of the Iranian Red Crescent were unforgettable and I got used to knocking at their doors to ask for a place to stay. Eventually, I camped in the middle of the desert in strong winds and I was returning to my everyday cycling routine.
I felt the thrill and enjoyment of my trip again and during the fasting period of Ramadan, I reached the second largest city in the country, Mashhad. A place was crucial centuries ago when the trade along the Silk Road was thriving. Moreover, it is one of the most important pilgrimage sites in Iran, thanks to an impressive Imam Reza Holy Shrine. Again I was offered a place to stay by a young Iranian family, who were deeply involved in traditional Iranian dances. Anyway, I had to get my Turkmenistan visa first and we could attend an evening event together. Seeing a dancing performance of a completely different culture while feeling so welcome and at ease was a great experience. After sunset traditional Ramadan food came into the ballroom and I was even privileged to be a part of this custom. My trip through Iran was coming to an end and I would lie if said that it didn’t change my life.
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