I managed an early start with breakfast at the cafe of Lentil soup ( yes I like soup for breakfast) and scrambled eggs.
The ride out of town was a relief. It was not much of a town. The view from the Hotel window will demonstrate.
The ride out of Turkey was uneventful. Wide valley floors, high ranges snow capped and the browness of the villages and the countryside.
The border was fortunately simple. Turkey was a smile a stamp and "best wishes".
Iran was behind a large steel gate that opened only far enough to admit me. Thereafter however they were good. Stamp by the Police in the passport. Into Customs for the Carnet and a photocopy of the passport and the visa with two of my last three Turkish coins ( and then some currency changed by the same man) and I was on my way.......well nearly as there was another check down the road by some "Police" not in uniform but all they wanted was to look at me and take the last slip of paper.....then I was on my way to the Gas station.
Petrol is the one unknowns in Iran. There is a "permit" system for locals, which appears to be not implemented for tourists, fortunately. So line up ( you can tell there is a Gas station by the queue of cars on the road) and ask for an attendant who will produce a "card" and pump fuel, sometimes all over the bike, but beggers can't be choosers. The stations that have a dedicated bike pump are the best because they fill the bike for $4.... on average ! Now that is nice.
The ride to Tabriz was not even interesting enough for many pictures. May have got one of a lonely village, but before I could get aimed there were two locals beaming and waving !
The architecture is different. The roads are good. The cars are mostly Hillman Hunters (or Avengers) its really odd to be among old cars again. There must be an explanation, perhaps they purchased the Rootes Group car line but I am convinced they are Hillmans.
Anyway they like to get close, really close. amd if you are in their way even closer. Racing rules apply, in that the car in front has right of way no matter how he got there, U turns, crossing three lanes at once, reversing up in the face of oncoming traffic, its scary but you get to understand they do not have many accidents. They will do whatever it takes to avoid contact and with a great deal of tolerance. If road rage were known here there would be a civil war on the roads. They are VERY tolerant yet still drive like it is a race track.
So I found Tabriz on the day the Prime Minister visited. He commands a large crowd. I sort of dead reckoned my way to the Hotel but about three blocks short called for help from two guys on a bike and they "delivered" me. The Hotel was full, first time that has happened, so I was in the Hotel next door with the bike in the foyer again. Pampered bike !
Dinner. Found the local recommended by the Hotel, and then with the help of the guy at the table, a bread baker, and the staff and the owner I discovered how to eat a Dizi which is a claypot of slow cooked meat and vegetables. First tear up some flat bread in the empty bowl. Then tip the fluid off the Dizi. Soak it up and eat it. Then tip pot contents into the same bowl and mash ( with a masher supplied) and eat the brew. Its delicious ! Accompanied by a pot of Aryan a sort of drinking yoghurt. Also delicious.
So I survived day one. I was sort of relieved.
nzl04
