The hotel I found in Tabriz was basic but cheap. The room had 2 beds a domestic fridge and little else. The bathroom had all the essentials, excluding towels and toilet paper, but neither were an issue as I carry both. My towel is interesting as it is a towel given to me at home for cleaning the bike. I took it with the theory that once the likelyhood of camping is over it can be discarded, lightening my load, and I could use it to clean the bike first. When I arrived there was no English spoken so the negotiations on the room was with sign language and I never established if there was breakfast included. I'd got up early to check the bike and pack with the intention of getting an Iranian sim card for my phone. At the point where I had given up on the possibility of breakfast, one of the hotel guys appeared with an armful of bread and some cheese and indicated he'd be serving soon. I went upstairs and received the most interesting breakfast trays. On the tray was a piece of the flat bread, a small slice of the fresh salty cheese, a tiny pot of jam, a portion of butter and a teapot of cay. I have not missed anything out. Understandably all was consumed and I was glad I had a spare boiled egg in my room. This description somewhat undersells the dining experience though, as I was welcomed warmly by the others in the dining room and all said their goodbys as they left. When I went back down stairs a couple of these old gentlemen were looking at the bike. A discussion ensued about where I come from and they clearly had little idea where Ireland was. So to help explain I took out the worn out Europe map I keep in my tank bag and brought it inside the hotel to spread it out without tearing it any more (a section of Italy is missing already so I'll never be able to go there). One of the old gentlemen seemed to suggest it was time for a new map, the cheek of him! Anyway I spread the map out with minimal additional damage and showed them where Ireland was and my route and that I had covered 5,000km. Again another friendly exchange without understanding each others language. This promped me to put the map back with Ireland showing on the front to help answer future questions and I had quite a few before leaving Tabriz.
So suitably replenished I went off to a phone shop, pointed out to me by a couple of Swiss bikers the evening before. We shared a coffee, a meal and lots of travel stories and ideas. They were off to Mongolia on R1200GS's. So to the phone shop, where the guy was very efficient, checked and copied my passport, filled in a form which I signed 3 times and installed my sim. The process was so simple I omitted to check it worked for data and allowed me to dial international, so back I went and he got it sorted. So I now have a sim in my spare phone which allows me to generate a wireless hotspot, just like the one I got in Turkey.
The bazaar is 7sq km and I was aware I might get lost, I managed that a couple of times in the souk in Marakesh. Mind you this was quite a different experience to Marrakesh. This bazaar is for the locals not tourists. I was not hassled once or encouraged to come inside and be shown some stuff. You could say the Moroccans are better salesmen but it was great to experience a bazaar as it was originaly intended, a place for locals to shop with lots of choice. There were carpets of course but there were also electric plugs, lots of tea and herbs and spices. No tourist trinkets to be seen. My single purchase was a bag of Turkish delight or maybe that should be Persian delight.
The night before I had a review of the itinerary and realized I needed to get a move on, so decided that once I'd visited the bazaar and got my sim I would move further southeast with the hope of getting to Esfahan the next day. It would be a pity to miss out on another of those breakfasts but I would always have the memory. There was a lot of interest as I readied the bike, which sat on the pavement outside the hotel, with people stopping as they past, interested in where I came from. Once loaded up I followed the GPS guidance and joined the hectic traffic. There are very little traffic rules, cars change lanes, make up an extra lane, but the whole thing flows like a liquid. Apart from the odd toot on the horn, no one seems to get annoyed or angry. You do need to have your wits about you and focus on what is in front of you, to the sides and behind. The GPS mapping I have from Iran is a special purchase and supposedly like Garmin mapping. Well it's not bad but is not as clear with the directions. It took me 3 attempts, and about 20 mins to get on to the Tehran motorway to Zanjan. On one of the slip roads I had a sizable rear step out, but no consequences and I continued with my journey.
The road climbed quite a bit leaving the city and in fact it got up over 2,000 meters a few times. As we got closer to Zanjan the landscape around became quite interesting. It was mostly rocky but the rocks were all coloured in pastel shades, quite beautiful. Occasionally I noticed little villages, with mud built houses, similar to some I'd seen in the Atlas mountains of Morocco. Arrived safely in Zinjan and found a nice hotel.