Zanjan

As we leave Tabriz, we go to the first of our Iranian mosques with the guide, and then we are back on the road again. Thankfully today, we are on a motorway and the driver can overtake to his hearts content with a vastly reduced (but not zero) chance of us narrowly missing anything coming in the opposite direction. Once on the motorway we see some signs encouraging motorists to slow down at exits, to wear seat belts and there are also variable speed limits in operation from time to time. When we stop for a pee break we also see a mobile camera in operation. Talking of pee stops, there's only 3 'gents' at todays particular location and the queue is massive. It soon becomes apparent that one is blocked – with a person. Eventually, some guys manage to drag some poor old guy out, legs and arms akimbo as he has obviously collapsed inside. Believe us, these toilets are not for falling ill in.
Our 'lunch' stop is an interesting set of retailers and a restaurant or two. These shops mainly sell a collection of knives in two sizes - large and larger, together with coshes and some interesting ashtrays – some interestingly complete with cannabis logos.
When we arrive at Zanjan, there's another funfair. There also seems to be a fair degree of construction work, maybe for new housing.
As we go for an early evening wander we find local market traders and hawkers setting up for an evenings trade and we are able to buy some fresh fruit to make a change from all the bread we've been eating recently. Talking of bread though, we walk past a couple of bakeries where the bakers are happy enough – indeed encourage us to take a photo of them. Despite popular myth, we increasingly notice that not all males are obliged to have facial hair, females are not covered up eye to fingers and toes and many people are keen to come and talk to David (Helen is 'invisible' in the cover up clothes it appears).
The traffic is still a bloody nightmare though. And what of the 'co-driver'? Still no sign of him sitting behind the steering wheel, but he does at least a double-count every time we get on the bus, but it's not until the end of the day we see one of his talents. The engine compartment at the back of the bus is fully open as opposed to its permanent state of semi open and he appears to be conducting some maintenance. This involves, we kid you not, getting a bucket of water and throwing it over the engine.
In the evening we find a local restaurant to eat in (it's the universal vegetarian option of pizza), but the guys operating the place are keen to please and when we leave a tip, one of them comes running along the road 100 metres or so behind us, as they think we have overpaid.

Into Asia & Cappadocia (Goreme)

Into Asia & Cappadocia (Goreme)
We leave Istanbul by crossing a large suspension bridge and into Asia. Our journey to Cappadocia is around 750km and the pollution is easy to see in the air over Istanbul. Some of this is from small fires that are numerous across the countryside but most is from chimneys at various industrial plants. Initially there's lots of housing on the Asian side of Istanbul, but this gradually fades away to leave a very arid landscape as we ascend to over 1000 metres above sea level.
A way into the journey, other vehicles are tooting and pointing to the back of the bus. Dennis stops and gets out to see what the potential damage might be, some fear the worst that maybe we've been losing luggage, or perhaps a flat tyre, not that we've felt anything like that. Whilst Dennis is off the bus at the back, he is kicking a wonky hub cab in to place and thankfully it's no more adventurous than that.
Further along our journey, we see a salt lake in the distance and are able to take a driver break where we see the that the lake is currently completely dry and there are hail stone size salt pebbles left for us to witness.
When we arrive at our hostel in Goreme, it's set out as little caves, in the style of the buildings cut into the rocks, a complete contrast to our room in Istanbul. Goreme is another world completely with the stange sandstone formations.
The following morning it's an early start for a balloon ride, and we arrive at the site as the balloons are being filled with gas just upon the crest of day break. Our balloon is one of the first up and we get an impressive view of all the other balloons being inflated against a unique backdrop of the stone landscape. As the sky fills with around 50 hot air balloons, we nudge other balloons, ascend and descend at rapid rates and at one of the highest altitudes we experience the slightest breezes that just seems to tickle the balloon to give the basket the gentlest of rocking. When the balloon ride is complete from the amazing spectacle we've just witnessed, the pilot and crew manipulate the basket to hop on to it's trailer in what is an extremely smooth manoeuvre. Then it's a glass (or two) of sparkling wine – a good way to start the week and should be recommended every Monday morning.
The remainder of the time at Goreme is spent wandering around the area marveling at the sites, exploring the now empty cave houses, looking at the artwork, taking pictures and generally having fun – there's even a pool at the accommodation for an afternoon swim.

Tabriz

Our new coach is also a Mercedez Benz, but appears to have a row less seats – this means we (as the 'couple') share a seat, but have noticeably more leg room. As well as the new driver, we have a guide for Iran and another person, who we are eventually told is the 'co-driver'. Both Barry and Chris instantly consider that he is a member of the security services coming along to keep an eye on us. Interestingly at our first stop for lunch, Mark and David sit outside as they don't feel like a full meal at lunchtime, and after a few seconds the 'co-driver' appears and just stands near to them smoking a cigarette.
Back on the road, of which the surfaces are notably superior over those in Turkey and we see many small shacks and small holdings, but surprisingly lush ground growing a variety of crops. We also seem to have several stops for police checks and at one time an officer gets on board, walks down the coach to do a head count and checks the cupboard is empty.
We then drive through an impressive thunderstorm with a less than impressive driver who clearly has a sixth sense when it comes to overtaking in the blindness of massive spray. There are several times when we manage just to pull back into our side of the road missing the oncoming traffic by nothing more than a mosquito's undercarriage. Maybe the 'co-driver' could do a better job?
We arrive in Tabriz grateful to be one piece, but there is the evening rush hour to compete with. Loads of cars, looking like old Chryslers and Hillmans compete with buses, trucks, pedestrians and only a few mopeds. On the main drag outside our hotel there is a central two-way bus lane and the occasional moped realises it's better to argue with a single bus than the mass of cars on the street. Our group is the centre of attention and amusement throughout the wander along to the local shops and we meet several smiles, giggles and 'welcome to my Country' from the people we meet. In the local supermarket we go crazy and buy some supplies for the next few days spending 130,000 of the local currency.

Leaving Turkey, entering I Ran

We set off at 8am in the shadow of a cloudy topped Mount Ararat.
As we approach the border, there is a long queue of trucks waiting to cross the border that we are able to by-pass as Dennis leaves us here and drives all the way back to Latvia over the next 7 days or so.
As we approach the gate, a couple of guys get on the coach immediately to direct us where to go – you'd think they were officials, but they are trying to see if any of us will exchange our Turkish Lira into Iranian currency.
We'd like to say it's chaos at the border, but we believe that even chaos has some sort of order, and there's none of that at this border.
Our first 'queue' is to get a Turkish exit stamp, whilst our party stands in a good orderly line there are hoards of others who are pushing and blatantly walking past the security guard and handing their passports back for others to check. Most of us try the 'elbows-out' technique and use our luggage as weapons to assert our position, but it's pretty futile as we some of our party appear to go backwards in the line. It is surprising throughout the process how the currency touts appear to wander backwards and forwards into and out of 'no-mans' land. Non-British passports seem to get the most grilling as we exit Turkey and a couple of Oz-Bussers have a short wait whilst their documents seem subject to further scrutiny.
Kenneth left his back pack on the bus, as he was hoping to rejoin us in Erzican from the overnight bus, so someone needs to carry his back pack through. David takes the risk he has no playing cards, no top-counter magazines, or anything remotely bad as he carries through the additional pack, together with his own back pack, and camera bag and wheely suitcase.
Then we are in 'no-mans' land, where we hope that Kenneth will join us, but we get a text to say he is still a short way out of Doguybayzit, although he can see Mount Ararat, so that is welcoming news.
The remainder of us sit in a holding area together whilst our Iranian visa's are checked at immigration. This process takes some time and the official who is exclusively checking our groups passports constantly gets hassled by others who want their passports checked.
Eventually, we are all checked and we wander through to the next process – no sign of Kenneth.
The next phase is more blue ink to the finger tips so that we can provide another set of prints. We are called into a small office one by one and give an individual set on one side of the paper and a full finger set and individual thumb from each hand. The blue ink is a bugger to wash off, so I see just how lightly I can press my digits onto the ink pad and paper. The guy is obviously telling David to press harder so he pretends as best he can that he is doing so. We were hoping that Kenneth would catch us up at this point, but at least we hear that he has arrived at 'Dodgy' and has got straight into a taxi.
All the Brits are fingerprinted (including Matt the American) and we can wander through to where our coach is waiting. We have an opportunity to exchange cash – the rate is around 15000 to the pound, so some of the party can't resist the opportunity to make themselves local millionaires. There's even an ATM outside to get currency directly, but it doesn't work for us. The first few through seem to get their notes in denominations of 10,000 which gives them a big wad, we appear to have received the big notes! (50,000 a piece) which will be interesting to change when buying a bottle of water.
Our Iranian coach is waiting, so we sit, doze and wait until over an hour later Kenneth appears on the new bus to a cheer, and then we set off into Iran on our way to Tabriz past an even longer queue of trucks winding up to border control.

Erzincan and Dogubayzit

On our last night in Goreme, sadly Helen suffered an upset stomach and was poorly. There are also others on the trip who are suffering - Frankie and Becky are two of the more severe victims.
We say our goodbyes to and leave Rick, Lisa and Allen behind at Goreme, as they were either not granted or not able to get Iranian visa's – they take a side trip by boat to meet up with us again in Amritsar.
As we pull out of the accommodation Helen asks David if he has his passport (a daily ritual) and David has a slight moment of not knowing where his passport is (almost a daily ritual) but finds it before traveling a kilometre into the journey.
Sometime during the morning Lana, the leader, receives a phone call that Kenneth has left his passport behind and as we stop for lunch decisions are made on how he is going to be able to retrieve it. The result is for him to stop at a bus station in the next town, so he becomes the 4th person we temporarily say goodbye to in the same day. The options for him appear to be to get a 3 o'clock bus back to Goreme and then get either a 9, 10 or 11pm overnight bus to meet us in Erzincan the following morning. When he has left though, we strangely still have the same number of people on board as we appear to have picked up someone from the bus station who is guiding us back on route to the road to Erzincan. He is with us for a few minutes before getting off the bus and returning to the bus station across a busy main road. Erzincan is a large, populated town, set within the valley of a mountain range and it is busy when we arrive. We notice our first unusual pedestrian crossing of the trip, where there are lights on the surface that are lit red when it's supposed to be unsafe to cross the road. The lights in the road turn green when the green man also appears, although whether it's any safer is up for debate.
On our way to Dogubayzit, we pass increasingly poor settlements with correspondingly smaller smallholdings. We pass through many interesting settlements too but, as usual sadly only to get to stop at a service station for our regular driver break or lunch stop. The reasoning behind this is simple enough to understand from a logistical point of view - it minimises the chance of members of the bus from having anything to wander too far off to see. Today's lunch stop is an interesting one though as there is a bit more to see. There are some extremely cheeky boys who entertain us, and when David tells them his name and asks him what theirs are, they appear to have no understanding until they walk away shouting 'What is your name' at the tops of their voices. Whilst we are waiting to get back on the bus, there also seems to be some off road driver training in a minibus on the off-road car park. Hopefully it involves a bit more than needing to drive in a straight line, turn around and then stop, although in the time we are there we don't see much more than that.
We have news from Kenneth along the way, the evening buses were all fully booked and he is now catching a bus in the afternoon that's an overnighter to get him to Dogubayzit on the morning that we leave Turkey and he will have to catch us up at the border.
Some way out of the border town, we continue to see impressive mountain ranges and in the distance a significant one. Mount Ararat dominates the early evening skyline as we approach our hotel (note no 's'). Dogubayzit, we are assured is pronounced Doggybiscuit, but perhaps should be more aptly called Dodgybiscuit. It is massively busy, part of this due to us arriving at school closing time and although many children clearly don't have the luxury of doing anything other than walking to school, those who travel by car seem to be the same the world over by parking as close to the school gate as possible at the inconvenience of everyone else and without realising to themselves too.
In the evening we manage to eat out in the street with some of the locals, and the stares are not actually as noticeable as you might imagine. We have a fairly early night so that we can have as early a start as possible on the experience of getting across the border.

Istanbul

We arrive at our hostel late, having had an impromptu tour of the city. Suspiciously, we are all hoarded into the reception to have a jolly welcome chat by the guy in charge who tells us what a great time we are going to have staying in his hostel. Our suspicions are confirmed when we exit the the stairwell on the first floor to where our room is and are met with a stench so pungent it physically knocks your head back. The smell seems to be coming from the showers rather than the toilets though and remains hanging in the hostel throughout our stay. Thankfully, when we close the door to our twin room, the smell seems to dissipate, but when David turns his pillow over the following morning he notices an unwelcome blood stain on it. Talking to the other members of the bus, their experience is equally grim, if not grimmer as the other dorms are small, stuffed with bunk beds and not enough room for bags and back packs. Tiny lockers are available for storing valuables and it seems the sort of place where taking advantage of this facility is highly sensible. Apparently one dorm has 30 beds and the hostel offers 152 beds.
The city is also a full-on experience, but in the most positive way imaginable. After the first visit to the Iranian embassy, a group of us go out to find the bazaar. Whilst David is walking along with Allen chatting to him about his disappointment of the morning they fall behind the group as they are deep in conversation and taking photographs. Before they know it they've detached themselves from the bizarre bazaar group. Helen realises, waits with the group for several minutes whilst at the same time David is asking a policeman for directions, making him think like he is a lost child. With no map and limited directions from the local constabulary Allen and David meander in a vague direction towards the bazaar. On the way they bump into Jim and Debbie who have just been in the bazaar and when they hear that our group has been separated, they wish David and Allen good luck finding everyone again as they try to explain just how big it is in there. In fact, they have understated just how massive it is and both Allen and David are overwhelmed when they arrive and appreciate what a mammoth task they have in finding the other happy shoppers. Walking along one row alone takes several minutes and every few stalls there are other corridors of shops leading off on both sides. Its full of people, colour, sound and many sights to behold. Amazingly though after only walking down the second aisle David spots one of the group and the ten or so of us are repatriated on the shopping trip. The main reason for the haggle fest is to buy dark, loose fitting clothes to cover up the ladies for Iran. There are lots of things tried on both in terms of clothes and stating ridiculous prices, but in the end everyone seems to get what they want including bargain prices. The food in Istanbul is good, reasonably priced and plentiful enough as we try out several different local eating establishments. On the second evening the group have a joint celebration of a couple of consecutive Birthdays – Rick and Jaime. There's a roof top terrace at the hostel and there's singing into the early hours. Despite the celebrations, there's also some sad news in the evening as the wife of the other married couple on the trip, Debbie has decided the trip is no longer for her and Jim has booked her a flight home the following day. Jim was to continue with the group and meet up with Debbie again later in their own personal round the world trip, but the following day, Jim also takes the decision to leave the group and also books a flight home to make alternative travel plans with Debbie. It's a sad time as they've quickly established themselves as good traveling companions and we thank them both individually for their company as they depart separately and we'll miss them.
Our last full day in Istanbul sees us visiting the blue mosque together and then doing separate things. David walks to the other side of the city across the bridge, packed with restaurants and bars underneath and fishermen and vendors on top, including men with scales who charge a small amount of money for the opportunity to publicly weigh yourself. The photo opportunities are plentiful, and the aural spectacular is mesmerising as when David returns back across the bridge he finds himself between two mosques at the time of call to prayer. On his way back to the hostel via the spice market (where amongst other things leeches are on sale) David is often on the verge of being lost but just manages to get back to the hostel to the smell of a different kind, but not as appealing of those being sold by the market traders.
Just before getting back to the hostel David stumbles across a peaceful protest about the threat of burning the Koran. There has been a very high police presence throughout our stay but the placards state “Read Don't Burn” and free English copies of the document are offered to the gathered crowd. It all passes off peacefully whilst David is there and it's a general call for tolerance of all faiths.
Helen's day is spent at the Turkish Baths which is an interesting experience! None of the group have been before and have no idea whats going to happen. The baths are very hot and noisy. The group is directed to all lie down individually on the middle of a very large marble slab and one by one are called forward to get their exfoliation and soapy massage. Its really quite odd to be washed by a complete stranger but Helen thinks everyone 'sort of' enjoyed it. When Helen returns, David asks if she is ok as she has a glazed look over her face. Helen thinks “spaced out” describes the feeling!
In the evening a few of us wander down to the the harbour via the waterfront. The male locals seem to have claimed themselves territories on the rocks to fish, cook and generally pass the time away. There are tea, corn, water and pretzel vendors and it's interesting to see the liberal approach to food hygiene as some of them smoke whilst preparing the fresh food – watch out for those charred bits. At the bridge there are 3 small highly decorated cooking boats with no signs of cigarettes and some of the group enjoy a fresh fish sandwich prior to a few beverages to toast the delights of Turkey's capital.

Iranian visas and the blue hand gang

On our first morning at Istanbul, we set off before breakfast to be at the door of the Iranian embassy to start our visa application process. We're in good time and sit outside until there are signs of life and the door is opened. Inside, we go up to the window one by one to give them our already issued authorisation number. Once this is checked, we are given a form to complete and told that we need to copy our passport photo page and the page with our Turkish visa in. We then need to go to the bank to pay the 100 Euro's fee. We subsequently learn that the fee for the USA is 70 Euros and some French visitors in the embassy tell us they only have to pay 50. It would appear that this may be some sort of fee matching system for all the individual countries. Sadly, when Alan goes to the front of the queue, they have not received a fax from the Iranian embassy in London with his reference number on it. We are 2 hours ahead of London and the embassy closes at 11.30 and it transpires that we don't have enough time in Istanbul to sort the logistics out. Alan goes and sits on his own for a while to contemplate this fact. (There are already two people on the trip who haven't been issued with visas for Iran and they are going on a boat trip for the few days that we are in Iran and will fly into Amritsar – via Dubai and Delhi - the day before we arrive in India. Alan will make this a threesome.)
Conveniently, less than a hundred metres from the door of the embassy is a copy shop so they pick up the trade for making copies, although it works out at less than 5p a copy. There are several guys in the shop and initially all eager to serve us individually but when they see the paltry business they are receiving from us they soon show a lack of interest. Then it's across the road to the bank, in what Helen remarks is a workable triangle just like a well laid out kitchen plan. In the bank, a security guard issues us with a ticket for what we want and there appears to be a separate counter for the collection of visa fees and similar transactions. When our number is called a local guy quickly queue jumps and as we arrive at the counter we are surprised when the clerk behind the counter doesn't ignore us, but leaves the other guy standing. The money handed over, receipts in hand, we complete the triangle and return to the embassy to hand our passports over the counter together with a copy of the receipt and completed application form. We are told to return at 10am tomorrow.
On Saturday morning we get to the embassy at just before 10, but don't press the button until the allotted time. We stand there for 5 minutes or so before trying again and then Vicky decides she needs to get some money out of the cash machine at the bank opposite. She gets us to promise not to go inside the embassy without her if the door is opened whilst she is across the road. She's halfway over and this involves negotiating a significant concrete barrier in the centre of the road when David shouts 'Vicky' but of course the door isn't really open. Then as soon as she is concentrating on withdrawing cash David suggests we all hide in a line behind the large tree outside the embassy for when she turns back around. We think the looks from the passers by at our strange line up probably gives the game away, but it doesn't stop the initial thought of 'B@st@rds!' Vicky later reveals. Whilst we're still standing at the closed door to the Embassy we notice the sign that gives the opening hours, but it's the days that finally catches our eye and sinks in – Monday to Friday. We've buzzed the buzzer and hammered on the door several times during this twenty minutes. Matt sensibly suggests that he will walk around the embassy to see if there's another entrance, whilst we wait and guard the unopened door. He's gone some time, which is sort of encouraging and eventually returns with promising news. There's a gate around the corner and he's spoken to one of the security guards who has handed him his walkie talkie and spoken to someone on the other end who has said 'I can help', so Matt has returned to tell us this. We still stand at the door for a minute or several though until Helen suggests that perhaps we should all go to the gate as a group to pursue the 'I can help' voice. David stays at the unopened door just in case somebody comes there, Helen stands on the corner 75 metres or so away and the remaining three go up to the entrance. It's less than a minute before Helen beckons David to come forward. As David jogs around the corner the security guard raises his hand, to which David 'high fives' much to the amusement of the guard. We find ourselves in a small reception room and we're told the man on the phone in front of us has just said '4 British and 1 American' passports, so everything continues to look promising. The guy on the phone then disappears. After a few minutes pass by, another two guys appear one by one and the second is holding several plastic A4 wallets that contain our passports. He then starts to complete another form for four of us, this is our finger print record card. Only the British need their fingerprints taking, there's no need for the American he says – perhaps another reciprocal agreement? We then place fingers and thumbs into a pad of blue ink and the cards are completed with smudgy marks. We are offered cleaning fluid to remove the ink, which sort of works, and we are then out of the embassy complete with the Iranian visas in our passports and slight blue tones to the tips of our hands.