Here's the travel story we translated into english, we'll focus on Iran and Turkey and briefly cover the rest of the journey.
Expedition map in the World scale:
Europe part (red=acctual route, blue=planned route):
Turkey:
Iran:
Expedition to Turkey & Islamic Republic of Iran
We began our „expedition“ on the 4th of August and in three days we traveled through the countries that we had already been to before – Latvia, Lithuania, Poland, Slovakia and Hungary. On the 7th of August we entered Romania, a country that stunned us with its poverty and potholes that were the deepest that we had ever seen. That is where we met Denis, a Scottish biker heading towards Istanbul, and decided to continue our journey together. On the 8th of August we entered Bulgaria which turned out to be a nice country, but the road from the town called Carevo to the Turkish border was a real disaster, however we had no choice but to take it...
When we eventually crossed the Turkish border on the 9th of August, it was already evening. We decided to try to get to Istanbul before it got dark and we set off. Passing through a town called Kirklareli we suddenly heard a whistling sound that grew into a song. We were in an Islamic country all right! The next thing we saw was a rocket shaped building, a minaret, with loudspeakers attached to it. So that is where the song was coming from! The closer we got to Istanbul, the more unbelievable the traffic was. Happily, Denis had an idea of where we were going , and finally we stopped at a youth hostel not far from the Blue Mosque. Since it wasn’t yet too late, we decided to get something to eat. We went to a restaurant that had a rooftop terrace, and ordered some kebab. The air had a different smell here, in Istanbul, and we could hear some traditional music played by the musicians at a nearby open-air restaurant. In addition to the kebab, steaming hot Turkish bread was brought to the table, and it was accompanied by grated cheese – a delightful composition. It was one of the moments when you just try to suck in every element of it. Since we were quite exhausted, we decided to return to the hotel. We spent some hour or more on its rooftop terrace where we could enjoy the view of the Bosporus (separating Europe and Asia) and numerous vessels gliding on its surface.
The next day we had a long sleep, and when we woke up, the sun was already very high. We decided to have breakfast on the hostel’s roof terrace, where we could enjoy the view once more. We realized later, the breakfasts at Turkish and Iranian hotels resemble each other greatly, consisting of bread, a couple of slices of cucumber and tomato, a piece of some kind of salty cheese, some five or six olives, a boiled egg and a tiny package of jam, honey and butter, accompanied by unlimited quantities of black tea. Having eaten, we went sight-seeing. We visited the Blue Mosque, which we were also allowed to enter, on the condition that we take our shoes off. The interior of the mosque was truly amazing... We also went to the bazaar where we stopped at a couple of places just to cool ourselves down, using black tea, of course. By the way, the locals drink it with unimaginable quantities of sugar! Having returned to the hostel, it was time to find a workshop to get our rear tire replaced. Taking into account the chaotic traffic, it was not easy at all, but finally we succeeded. Back in the hostel, we had a couple of beers from a nearby supermarket (note that both in Turkey and in Iran the word „supermarket“ usually means a small shop where it may be impossible to fit in more than three persons!) and we listened to the sounds of the street. It is a place that we would definitely like to return to...
The next day we said goodbye to Denis who headed back home through Greece, and we set off to Iran. Up to Ankara there was a motorway, but after that, the more east we moved, the worse the road conditions got. Now, there were numerous donkeys, geese and other animals on the road. However, the scenery became more rewarding, too, with more mountains to the east. When it started to get dark, we decided to put our tent up in some kind of a bush that was, judging on the consistence of the ground, being used for breeding cattle (probably goats). In Turkey, we had so far seen many stray dogs, and so it was not a great surprise to hear something sniffing around the tent at night.
The morning of August the 12th was surprisingly cold, and the thermometer was showing only some 7 degrees Celsius. The day, however, proved to be considerably hotter than that. Soon enough we understood why it would not have been a good idea to travel at night – on the road there was a lot of roadkill: that of donkeys, sheep, cows and dogs, who like to sleep on the warm tarmac. As we already said, the more east the worse the quality of the roads, and we also began to notice differences in architecture. Driving past numerous checkpoints, where soldiers were sitting behind sandbags, with Kalashnikov machine guns over their shoulders, we realized that we were in the Kurdish region. It was really poor... In some places, people were living in clay shelters and wearing tattered clothes. Since we were very close to the Iranian border, we had to buy the required headscarf and a pinafore. In fact, finding ones was not too easy, but we managed to get something, and hoped that it was decent enough. In the evening we reached Dogubayazit, the closest town to the Iranian border, and decided to stop at the hotel called Orta Dogu (our room had a nice view to Mount Ararat).
The next morning, the first thing we did was to find Mr. Mehmet who was supposed to be arranging for documents required for crossing the border. After the long waiting in his travel agency’s lobby room (here we witnessed the truth of the saying that if a Turkish man says that something will take five minutes, it may actually mean half an hour), he promised to arrange the alternative carnet for next day. It meant that we had to stay in Dogubayazit for one more day, and we were not too happy about it (we agree with many who say that this town is a true shithole). However, we did not have a choice. In the evening, phone rang in our hotel room and we found out that there was one more motorcyclist staying at the same hotel. It was a Norwegian guy, Paal, who was heading to China on his BMW 1200 GS. After having discussed our plans we decided to cross the border together and then decide what to do next. When we headed to our room after a couple of beers with Paal we had still many doubts: will Mehmet keep his promise and arrange the document for us, and, will the document grant us permission to enter Iran..?.?
The next morning we found ourselves at the border crossing, and happily Mehmet was also there. The whole paperwork took more than six hours, which gave Paal enough time to teach an Iranian border guard play a Norwegian traditional instrument. When we were finally in, it seemed totally incredible – we had entered the Islamic Republic of Iran! The first encounter with the friendly Iranians took place at a gas station, where the fuel was allowed to flow over the edges of the fuel tank. But who cared, the fuel was dirt cheap (especially compared to its price in Turkey, where it was some thirty times more expensive). However, the quality was equal to the price. On the way to Tabriz we met a Japanese motorcyclist who was planning to cross Europe and end up in South-African Republic. Since we do not like big cities, we decided to avoid Tabriz, but somehow we managed to get into the city and had no choice but to ask the locals about how to get out of there. Here it was that Kariina got her first lesson about what is not expected at all from women in an Islamic country. To be more precise, she decided to give her contribution to the conversation concerning the best possible way out, causing a somewhat puzzled look on the others’ faces. The conclusion was clear: it is better to stay quiet. We headed towards Tehran, but it was still quite much to go. Since it started to get dark, we decided to find a place to stay. We found a hotel in some kind of a roadside village, which cost us only 9 USD per two. This was also our first encounter with Muslim toilets, which are somewhat different from those we have here
On August the 15th we continued our journey towards Tehran, with a plan to make a small detour and go to Khal Khal where some kind of an interesting mosque was supposed to be. Unfortunately we weren’t able to find the mosque nor the place itself, but we found ourselves on a breathtaking mountain road instead, that took us up and down, revealing the most amazing views of the Iranian landscape. Our map claimed that the same road should take us to Tehran, but at one moment we had to admit that the road conditions had become awful and that continuing to drive on the same road could result in damaging our bikes. We also found out that we had probably deviated from the correct road. So, when in one village we were given advice about how to reach the main (the boring one) road to Tehran, we took it and were grateful. However, the terrible potholes in the road had already managed to loosen the nut of our bike’s telelever, and we didn’t have the specific size tool to re-tighten it with us, so we had to look for a workshop to be able to continue our journey safely. Luckily there were many workshops along the road and we decided to ask for help in one of them. As it turned out, the mechanic also did not have an appropriate wrench, but not long after he had taken out his welding gear and had worked with it for some time, the required tool was ready. Everyone was happy. However, he refused to accept any payment for the work he had done. Later on, when we had parked our motorcycles in front of a restaurant, we got a lot of attention – everybody wanted to know where we were coming from and where we were heading to. Actually that was the case almost everywhere where we stopped in Iran. We arrived in Tehran when it was already starting to get dark, and when we reached the symbol of Tehran, the Azadi Place, we called Margus’s friend, Fatemeh, who drove to the nearby gas station and guided us through the city to where she lived. Since there was not enough space at Fatemeh’s place to let us all stay, Paal went to look for a hotel.
On August the 16th we visited the bazaar, which was quite boring, and also the Golestan Palace and the Azadi Place. In order to travel across the city we used a cab, because we thought it would be wise to use someone else’s vehicle in this city which is home for some 14 million people. To drive yourself is only for those Europeans who are certain that they do not want to live anymore. The traffic is just unbelievably crazy! When we went to a bank (there are lots and lots of banks in Iran, you can find one virtually on every corner) to exchange our money, we were brought some tea and biscuits instead, accompanied by the regular questions about our origin and destination, and... an invitation to visit the bank worker’s home. We decided, however, not to take advantage of the famous Iranian hospitality. To be honest, we were already quite tired of Tehran (crazy traffic, too many people and the torrid heat), but since Paal had arranged for some interviews with the local puppet theatre people for the next day (he had a huge camera with him in order to make a documentary about his trip), we decided to wait for him.
The next day we spent half a day waiting for Paal to call us and to get moving. We watched MTV (which is forbidden in Iran) and played cards with Fatemeh’s sister Zeinab (a locally popular card game, called shelem). As you can imagine, gambling is also illegal in Iran
By the evening we were informed that Paal did not intend to leave Tehran any time soon. Therefore we decided to continue our journey the next day without him. At sunset, Zeinab took us to Mount Tochal which had a nice view of the whole city of Tehran – fantastic view.
On August the 18th, in the afternoon, we set off in the direction of the Caspian Sea. The road there went through the Elborz Mountains. Up there, it was quite cool, and we enjoyed the fresh air and the views. But the more north we went, the more humid the air became, and the clothes started to stick to our skin.
We managed to reach the beach on the next day, after having spent a night at a hotel in Babolsar. However we had to admit that there was nothing special about the Caspian Sea. We headed south and decided to cross the Dasht-e-Kavir desert that same day, which seemed like a tempting idea. We were still able to enjoy the green and the splendour of the Elborz, but soon the scenery started to get more and more flat and, a little further on, there was no more habitation. The mountains that had bordered the road so far disappeared in the sand. There was nothing more than a straight road ending at the horizon, making its way through sand and clay. We could also see some camels’ footprints... Our thermometer was showing a bit more than 40 degrees Celsius... It was something truly amazing... The knowledge that the nearest gas station was situated some 600 km away, and that in an emergency we would not have been able to contact anyone (Estonian mobile operators do not have contractual partners in Iran), made it even more exciting. Fortunately, everything went well and at sunset, we arrived in Yazd. There, in the labyrinths of mud brick houses, we found, half by chance the hotel of our dreams. Interestingly, the older part of Yazd is completely built of mud brick houses. The streets are really narrow, which makes them slightly cooler than the outside. In Yazd there are many wind towers which are built to catch the slightest movement of air and to direct it into the streets. But it is still so hot...?
On August the 20th we had a closer look at Yazd, the oldest city in the world. We began our tour at the Amir Chakmak complex that had a stunning facade, due to its architecturally unconventional design, and definitely worth seeing. After that we went to the water museum and visited a couple of amazingly beautiful mosques. We then went to see Alexander’s prison, and incidentally we also saw the oldest building in Yazd. Before dark we took a taxi to see the Towers of Silence. The Zoroastrians believe that the dead body should not be buried nor burnt because it would contaminate the ground or the air. That is why they take the bodies of the dead to the Towers of Silence where the birds eat them. Today the Towers are not in use anymore, but in earlier times a priest was sent to the tower to see if the birds would pluck out the right eye first, or the left eye. If the right eye was plucked out first, it was a good omen for the dead person’s soul. If it was the left eye, the omen for the soul was dark. Back at the hotel, the owner recommended that we go and see the zurkhaneh, the traditional gym. It was an exceptional experience which is hard to describe... Later, back at the hotel, we tried out the wet pipe for the first time in our life.
On August the 21st we continued our journey with the plan to see Persepolis. We also visited Pasargadae and Naqsht-e-Rajab, both of which are famous for their ruins. Persepolis itself was magnificent. Many years ago, when we learned about it at school in history classes, we did not yet imagine that there would be a day when it would be possible to see them with our own eyes. However, there we were, in civilization’s birthplace. At dusk we found ourselves in Shiraz, the southernmost point of our trip. Since big cities did not attract us too much, we decided to move on the next morning.?
The next day, in the afternoon, we were already in Esfahan which seemed to be much calmer than Shiraz. It was greener and there was more fresh air. Finding an appropriate hotel (where it would have been safe to park our bike) took us a lot of time, but after we managed to find one we were finally able to go and see the city. We took a taxi and drove to the Imam square. It was a huge square, surrounded by the bazaar, with the most important mosque of Esfahan at one of its sides. While we wondered at the mosque’s beauty, a man approached, and started asking the usual questions. Soon enough we found ourselves in the carpet shop where the man appeared to be working. It turned out that the owner of the shop was organizing tours to see the nomadic people. Taking part in such a tour seemed like a very exciting opportunity for us, and soon we had a deal to go see a nomad’s wedding which was supposed to take place the next day. We arranged to meet the man in front of a mosque in the town of Shahreza. Before we returned to our hotel we went to see „the most beautiful bridge in the world“, namely the Khaju bridge, which was nice. For some reason we had doubts about the next day’s plan to go to the nomadic wedding, but on August the 22nd we were on our way to Shahreza. A couple of minutes after the agreed time the man was there and we could begin our journey. Some hundred kilometers off Shahreza we started to hear the sound of the drums. We had arrived! Lots and lots of people had gathered onto the plain, drums were playing and the horn was calling everybody to the dance. The women were dressed in colourful and shimmering clothes, waving with bright coloured cloths while dancing. There was a tent for women and a tent for men, and two tents for the freshly married. Yes, two tents, because two couples were being married. That was why there were so many guests. The music of the nomadic people and all the colours combined with the dry looking scenery had a stunning effect on us. A goat was killed in front of the crowd and soon we were able to taste a traditional dish made of rice and meat. After having eaten, men started to play some kind of a ritual game which consisted in hitting the opponent with a wooden stick. It seemed to hurt quite a lot!... Those who were not playing gathered around our bike, which seemed to attract more people’s attention than the wedding itself. We were quite used to it, of course. After having spent there some hours we became a little tired and we decided to return to Esfahan. Meanwhile we had become friends with Iraj, so he invited us to stay at his place. It also seemed like a great opportunity to have a closer look at Esfahan, so there was no reason for us to refuse. When we arrived in the city, we drove right into the bazaar (the policeman who was guarding the Imam square kindly opened its gate so that we could enter the pedestrian-only area...) and parked our vehicle right in front of Iraj’s store. After a cup of tea we went to see the bazaar. A couple of times we were virtually dragged into some carpet shops, telling them repeatedly that we had no plans to buy a carpet. However, when we returned to Iraj’s shop, Margus suddenly decided that we needed a carpet (note that before we were certain that we would not buy a carpet – what for?), and soon enough the deal was made at a “student price“. As they say - never say never. As it was getting late, we parked our bike right inside the carpet shop and went to Iraj’s place where he served us local bread with fried minced meat and unflavoured yoghurt. The night was painfully hot.
On the morning of August the 24th, after having said goodbye to Iraj, we continued our journey along the Zagros Mountains in the direction of Kermanshah (supposedly the capital of Iranian Kurds). We were stopped by the police in a small town, we handed over our documents and we were asked to follow a police car to the police station. There we spent around an hour not knowing what it was all about - as you can imagine, their knowledge of English is really poor. To be honest, it was quite a frightening situation, because we were sure that if they had decided that we had had done something wrong, we would not have had much legal protection there. Finally our passports were returned, we were said “Sorry, mister”, and we were free to go. It wasn’t a good feeling, however. Just before sunset we arrived to Kermanshah which was somewhat different from other cities we had seen. There was an unusually high number of young people on the streets. Since we were quite exhausted, we decided not to do any sightseeing but to find a hotel and to go to sleep. And that’s just what we did.
The next morning we had a long sleep, so we only set off in the afternoon. Unfortunately a whole day’s riding on the hot tarmac road resulted in cracks on the rear tire, and some of the tread had flown off completely. Yet the fact was that we would not have found a solution to our problem in Iran. We could only hope that the tire would last to the Turkish border (which was approximately 250 km away) and that it would be possible to replace it there. In despair, we reached Orumiyeh and took a hotel. In the hotel’s garage there was a Yamaha bike belonging to an Italian professor. As it turned out, it had broken down due to electrical problems which could not be repaired in Iran. Too bad for the professor, because he had just begun his journey through Iran and now he had to turn around. For us, it was a comforting thought that we had managed to make our tour round Iran without technical problems.
The next morning we woke up early and headed towards Bazargan. Before setting off, Margus had contacted the man who was supposed to assist us with crossing the border (since we did not have the original Carnet document, we had to leave the country through the same border crossing point that we had entered it), and told him that we were coming. However, we were not completely sure that we’d manage to reach the border with our cracked rear tire. Somehow we managed to get a bit lost on the road to the border, so we had to ride a lot longer than we expected. But finally we arrived at the border crossing. Leaving the country was easier than entering it, and we quickly found ourselves in Turkey. As we had decided to have a look at the southern part of the country, we headed towards Lake Van. To the east of the lake some strangely shaped magma formations could be seen. The lake itself was huge and the blue waters were tempting, but as it had rained a bit after we crossed the border, we decided not to go to swimming. Riding west there were many road construction sites with an unimaginable amount of dust in the air, so that we were had a hard time seeing anything. As darkness fell, we put up our tent near the road, under the pine trees.
On August the 27th, when we had just started the day’s journey, we saw two local bikers riding in front of us, so we stopped by the road and got acquainted. After we had explained our situation, a new tire was ordered from Ankara to be sent to Elazig, but since it was only due to arrive the next day, the Turks invited us to join them for a short trip to the canyon of the Euphrates. It seemed like a good opportunity to explore the smaller roads of Turkey and so we took the chance. We drove to the small village of Kemaliye and had a stroll around which we enjoyed very much. Later we rented a small bus and set off to explore the steep road along the canyon. This was a real adrenalin buzz with its many unforgettable views. We would definitely recommend it to other adventure seekers. We spent that night at a nearby cozy guest house. For half the night we were able to hear fragments of traditional music played at a wedding in a nearby village, brought to us on the wind.
The next morning we packed our things and after breakfast with the guest house owner’s family, we set off to see another village. We also went to see a man who had in the past managed to build a small hydroelectric plant by himself. In the evening, when we reached Elazig, it turned out that the ordered tire had been lost on the way, so we decided to take the risk of reaching Anakara with our own cracked, rear tire. We spent that night at a plantation.
On August the 29th we visited Cappadocia, renowned for its exceptional landscape that has hosted many sci-fi movie scenes. By evening we reached Ankara and had our tire replaced. There were no new tires available in the required size, so we got our tire replaced with a part-used tire that looked good enough to get us home. Feeling safer, we continued our journey in the direction of Istanbul, and finally put our tent up in some bushes near the road.
The next morning there was a problem to face – the “new” tire was almost flat, so we had to drive to the nearest gas station to fill it with air and to determine where the air was coming from. After discovering a puncture, Margus managed to repair it and we were able to continue our journey. Soon after, we were stopped by the police and told that we had exceeded the speed limit (which is actually no surprise if you take into account that in Turkey the motorcycles are not allowed to drive faster than 80 km/h even on the motorways!). We were told something about 115 euros and the „gümrük“ which means the customs. So we concluded that we were supposed to pay the fine when leaving the country. You can probably understand our desire to leave this motorcycle-hostile country as soon as possible. However, there was one more thing we wanted to see. It was Troy, but as we had to admit later, it was not really worth the effort (and the 10 YTL per face). After seeing the wooden horse we set off for Canakkale and took the ferry to the other side of the strait. Luckily it was really cheap, only 4.50 YTL. Since it was already dark when we arrived on the other side, we found ourselves quickly a camping place and put our tent up.
On August the 31st, in the morning, we set off for Greece. But as things turned out on the border, they did not want us to pay money (remember the fine?), and we did not offer it to them either. At last, we were back in Europe.
The same day we explored the beauty of the Chalkidiki peninsula laying to the south of Thessaloniki. On September the 1st it was raining all day and Greece did not look half as breathtaking as on many postcards we had seen. However, we made a short visit to the Meteora monasteries and then headed towards Igoumenitsa. At first we had had a plan to drive back north through Albania and its neighbouring countries, but since Margus had caught a cold, we decided to take ferry to Italy indeed, so that Margus could recover a bit. Next day we arrived in Ancona from where we moved north. As we have friends in Vienna, we told them that we were to be passing through Austria, and on the 3rd of September we arrived in Vienna. After spending a couple of days there we decided to head home. We set off on the 6th of September and traversed the Czech Republic and half of Poland. The 7th of September, the day that we were planning to reach home, had unfortunately different plans for us. We were hit by a careless Polish car driver, which resulted in several bruises and a wrecked bike. The next day we and our comatose friend were transported home by Margus’s father who had to come for us with his car and a trailer...
Hopefully, this story is able to bring to you at least a fraction of the emotions that we experienced during this expedition...
Thanks to Denis who helped us to check and edit the text.
Kodafez, Margus & Kariina
ing but here you gotta work on regular non-artistic ways you know...
