Into Iran - with a movie star!
So as another beautiful day dawned, Gøran and I set off for the Iranian border.
But first, of course, the hotel wanted a picture of the Ford in front of the hotel. This on a small street and combined with a truckload of firewood that had just been delivered onto the road resulted in chaos.
And chaos pretty much describes our exit from Dogubayazit including some off-roading through major road repairs.
But we made the highway, where everyone waved and took videos of the Ford, and about 12 Kms before the border came upon a two-lane wide queue of trucks waiting to enter Iran.
We sailed by and soon entered the Turkish border area - we were the only private vehicles, and with us were two coaches of Iranian tourists.
We got through rapidly until technology struck - 'computer down'. So we sat in the sun for 20 minutes until it came to life again - about time since Gøran was getting tired of him or his Ford being mobbed by the tourists, taking selfies and even lying on the car wings.
I was happy to be out of the limelight but the bus drivers wanted a selfie with the GS
The gate opened and we were into the Iran transit zone - neither Gøran nor I had used carpets before so we said we would make sure each other's paperwork was in order.
We expected a scrum so were pleasantly surprised to be ushered into a luxurious VIP room, with leather seats, where a charming young woman with excellent English talked to us about Iran while she sent our passports off to be processed.
It seemed to take a long time and she embarrassedly said "computer problems". She gave us good advice on the stages we had to go through
-carnet
-customs inspection
-insurance inspection
And then showing the resulting piece of white paper at the exit. She said we did not need to use a helper.
In fact the carnet process was very straightforward, and the customs inspection non-existent. The staff were more interested in selfies with the Ford and the head of 'carnet' had himself photographed in he driving seat.
And then we were in Iran! The whole crossing probably took 90 minutes of which 30 minutes was due to computer issues.
We resolved to get petrol as soon as we got going - Gorans Ford gets 20mpg on RS 3.2litre engine whilst I was down to 100km range. We had planned to fill in Turkey but fortunately held on until Iran which has incredibly cheap petrol. ( will try to work it out and post later - rials and Toman are very confusing).
But then a policeman pulled up besides us as we conferred, and said 'you have to come with me'. Oh dear - 2 Kms into Iran and we are already in the sh*t! But one of the compulsory large group who mobbed us whenever we stopped said 'do not worry'.
We followed the policeman to the barracks whose big gate was ceremoniously opened for us to enter. Then it became a round of hand-shaking and photo taking for all the police (no gave us a good opportunity to use their WC!).
Finally on the road we made good time to Tabriz - the Ford seemed to run happily at 90kmh, and the biggest hazard was all the drivers alongside taking videos!
I stopped occasionally on the way, as I knew I could catch the Ford with little difficulty. I stopped first because I met the 2nd tourist/s since I left Greece 2000 miles ago - these two Dutch guys who had cycled from there and were en route to Bandar Abbas. Respect!
[For cycling nerds - I am one, too- one of the bikes had a belt rather than a chain and a Rohloff hub gear - really the GS of bicycles!]
My next stop was to admire those camels, already previewed in this blog.
When we arrived in Tabriz, my GPS was leading us confidently to the hotel I had targeted (Hotel Azarbaijan) - targeted because it had a reasonable review and more importantly even, it was listed on the GPS so I thought I had a chance of finding it.
But once we got to the peripheral road the GPS's view of Tabriz street plan was a little different from reality so we pulled over for a chat. Immediately a man pulled up in a car, with his family, and came to help us. When I asked for directions to Golestan Park he insisted we should follow him. He very generously lead us to the area we needed and (with a couple more escapades and street mob scenes around the Ford) we made it to the hotel.
One young student who had given us directions to a parking garage (for the Ford - my GS lives on the street!) joined us for dinner at our invitation, and told us about life in Tabriz.
When he left us back at the hotel, Gøran tried to offer him a few Toman in thanks for his guiding but he was most offended : 'this is not polite!. So far< I have been bowled over by the friendliness and generosity of the Iranians (or more precisely probably Azarbaijanis since this is Azarbaijan province).
I was also bowled over by something I ate - but that could have been my lunch from a Turkish breakfast buffet, or my Tabriz dinner - I hesitate to assign any blame and in any case I think I am now on the mend.
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