IRAN first part

In Dogubayazit, last Turkish city before the Iranian border, we met Stephan, a Belgian traveler living in Bristol, making a screening for a bicycle caravan to Dharamsala in 2009. A few kilometers after this town, in front of a big military basis -where were posted soldiers behind sand bags and about ten tanks ready to fight the PKK-, we were taking some pictures of Ararat Mount when a fourth cyclist arrived. It was Tzuo, a Malaysian, who had set off from L.A. in May. We decided to travel a little bit together. We crossed the border 40 kilometers later, overtaking a long queue of lorries. After having checked our passeports, a very courteous policeman gave us usual recommendations, more particularly about changing money on the streets, precisely when we were surrounded by three man trying to sell us Iranian rials.

-“ Never change money out of the bank", were they saying, seeing at the same time those guys out of the custom office.

-“Never give your passeport to someone else than police"

And finally “Welcome in Iran” with a big smile. From then on, this last sentence we would hear very often.

Given that, it was already dark and as we didn’t feel like staying in a hotel, we ended up sleeping next to a house under construction. Especially the first few days, it was reassuring to cycle in a small group as for this time we really entered an unknown country. So far we've always felt a little bit at home but Iran still remained a mystery.

Instead of opting for the usual very busy Tabriz to Teheran route, we choose to head northeast towards the Azerbaijani border, where the traffic was considerably less. In Poldasht, Tzuo had to leave us because he had to reach the Turkmenistan border on the day his visa started. We were advised by a local not to take the road to Jolfa because it was a military zone, forbidden during the night. As it was already late, we decided to wait the following day. We reached the first military checkpoint in the afternoon. Soldiers let us cross without any questions. The road was perfect, following the river up and down on the mountains’ sides in an impressive red gorge. We cycled in front of a succession of crooked rocks which seemed to be freezed for eternity. The night fell and we decided to camp in an idyllic place next to Stephanous church but were unhopefully evicted by the police, as we were still in the forbidden zone. We were escorted to Jolfa, at 20 kilometers of "roller coaster", by a rude policeman, smoking cigarettes on cigarettes and laughing when seeing us suffering in 12 % ascents.

It took us one week to reach the Caspian see, toppling over one valley to another on very small roads and sometimes sandy tracks. The heights were very dry and every evenings we stopped down in valleys where we could find water, little greenery and some trees to hide us from the road. Until Ardabil, we spent a peaceful time in those mountains, meeting hospitable farmers and shepherds, always offering us food and simple friendship with no words. We crossed a last little pass at 1500m high and then a big descent took us at 20 meters under the ocean's level, on the Caspian sea, biggest closed sea in the world. After the simplicity of rural life, we started experience the modern face of Iran.

Enter this country forced me to put on a veil, my "yashmak", but as the same time to take off another one, the veil of all my clichés. My dark view of this country was strongly undermined.

There would be so many to say but I should start about the most memorable feature when you arrive in Iran: Iranian hostpitality. Even during the Ramadhan, no day happened without receiving food or an invitation to drink tea, eat and spend the night. Our tiredness forces us sometimes to refuse but we are really touched by all those attentions that, I believe deeply, have nothing to do with their religion which suggests them to welcome the traveler. On the contrary, in certain cities, the police, in charge of making apply the Islamic principles, defends them to invite tourists at their place. But they widely brave this prohibition by tradition, curiosity or simply by heart goodness.

Before coming in Iran, I was also a little bit anxious. It has been now one month that we are here and I have never felt as much in confidence. And I really love this country. The beauty and richness of Iran is inherent to the variety of its geography, of its landscapes, and of its farmings, as well as its different ethnic groups, customs, languages, but it is particularly inherent to its people. The Iranians are a very educated, quiet, and polite people, and at the same time welcoming and warm. Of course women have to put on a scarf and some of them wear the tchador (this huge black dress) but this obligation is quickly forgotten as soon as you pass the front door of a private house. The women also have to seat at the back in the bus and as a rule, in public life they are separated from men, but it doesn't mean that men consider that they are lower beings. They mostly respect women a lot but are just forced to apply Islamic rules and are closely watched by policemen.

But on the other side, Iran is not also an idyllic country where oppressed people wait quietly to get more individual freedoms. The situation is well more complex and is not easy to clarify between the positions of the ultra-religious, of some young people dreaming of Europe or United States, going through those of people who really love their country but completely disapprove their gouvernment.

estel