Bloody Idiots is the only way to describe the driving in Iran. In Beirut and other Middle Eastern countries the road rules are ignored and people move through intersections, footpaths, one way streets observing others and avoiding other motorists. The difference in Iran is the aggressiveness and speed at which people drive. According to the Lonely Planet, Iran has the highest road deaths per capita in the world.
After three weeks I have seen 9 cars and 4 trucks overturned freeways about 30 min before I arrive and I have lost count the number of times I have been pushed off the road due to on coming traffic over taking on a two way road. On highways drivers will sit within two meters of the back of you, push into any gap and overtake on any side, including the shoulder of the road - all this at above 110 km/h. At 120 km/h two cars of generous Iranians have tried to pass me a bag of bread and a can of Juice - moving up next to me with arms out of the window,....don't they realise that on a bike if its not tied down its blown away at 120 km/h), there's no where to put it and I am concentrating on driving on the freeway!!!
They love taking photos while driving on the freeway, so they come right up behind the bike, push me over to the right lane, take a photo, then move in front of me and slow down. I then have to overtake them whereby they speed up to take more photos - so frustrating!!!
Never before have I been nervous about crossing roads or riding in a taxi but in Tehran intersections scare me. Once again, the difference to Beirut is the speed at which they drive to cross the intersection and the 'no care' of other people.
Monday, August 31, 2009
Sterotypes - the same the world around
I am still growing my biker beard after 100 days on the road, its starting to get a reasonable size and I am still shaving my heard - otherwise I would be a werewolf!!
Across the Middle East I often get asked if I am a Muslim, with a beard, no hair and looking western, people are interested to know what religion I am. I tell them I am Agnostic, which they don't understand and sometimes a look of disappointment in their eyes. They either would like me to be a Muslim or are disappointed because I don't have a God. The conversation usually finishes but once an old man kissed me on the head and did a prayer for me.
I have often been called the Aussie Mullah, so stereotypes are global.
Across the Middle East I often get asked if I am a Muslim, with a beard, no hair and looking western, people are interested to know what religion I am. I tell them I am Agnostic, which they don't understand and sometimes a look of disappointment in their eyes. They either would like me to be a Muslim or are disappointed because I don't have a God. The conversation usually finishes but once an old man kissed me on the head and did a prayer for me.
I have often been called the Aussie Mullah, so stereotypes are global.
Saturday, August 22, 2009
A night in the Police Station
After spending 12 hours on the bike, travelling from Northern Iran to the middle of Iran, I arrived at the city of Qom at 1am and in need of sleep. I thought the local park full of sleeping pilgrams was a great place for a few hours sleep. Qom is the home of the ruling hardline Clerics, religous students and a steady flow of pilgrims.
My greeting to Qom was a watermelon thrown from a passing motorbike, just missed me but broke over the back of my bike - I immediatley felt a warm welcome to the city!!! A local called the police who immediatley said its too dangerous for me to sleep in the park and escorted me to center of town with about 8 bikes following us. The plan was to sleep in the square, in front of the mosque with other pilgrams but the onsite police called me into their office and once again said it was too dangerous for the bike and I. They escorted me to the main police station where I slept in the secure car park.
Happy to be able to close my eyes at 2.30am, I was woken at 3am by the station boss who insisted I start the bike for him to rev the engine - who was I to refuse! 15 minutes later I lay down to sleep and at 5am I was woken up and told to move on. I don't think the police liked me there. Exhausted, I continued south.
My greeting to Qom was a watermelon thrown from a passing motorbike, just missed me but broke over the back of my bike - I immediatley felt a warm welcome to the city!!! A local called the police who immediatley said its too dangerous for me to sleep in the park and escorted me to center of town with about 8 bikes following us. The plan was to sleep in the square, in front of the mosque with other pilgrams but the onsite police called me into their office and once again said it was too dangerous for the bike and I. They escorted me to the main police station where I slept in the secure car park.
Happy to be able to close my eyes at 2.30am, I was woken at 3am by the station boss who insisted I start the bike for him to rev the engine - who was I to refuse! 15 minutes later I lay down to sleep and at 5am I was woken up and told to move on. I don't think the police liked me there. Exhausted, I continued south.
Sunday, August 16, 2009
Into Iran I go
I have whinged about border crossings several times and so I prepare myself for each border crossing by reminding myself to relax because time is something I have plenty of!!
I left Turkey with not too much fuss and drove 10 meters straight into Iran (borders are usually separated by between half and several kilometers of no mans land). I was greeted with English speaking police who were courteous and friendly (this is unusual), while the passport was being processed we spoke about the usual topics, motorcycle, my wife (or lack of) and why I am by myself. We started joking and laughing where the border guard with a machine gun around his neck was bent over laughing, this made me a little nervous.
Onto customs, who were equally helpful, friendly, all spoke English and out into Iran I drove.
No bribes, no hassle, this a great start. ;-)
I left Turkey with not too much fuss and drove 10 meters straight into Iran (borders are usually separated by between half and several kilometers of no mans land). I was greeted with English speaking police who were courteous and friendly (this is unusual), while the passport was being processed we spoke about the usual topics, motorcycle, my wife (or lack of) and why I am by myself. We started joking and laughing where the border guard with a machine gun around his neck was bent over laughing, this made me a little nervous.
Onto customs, who were equally helpful, friendly, all spoke English and out into Iran I drove.
No bribes, no hassle, this a great start. ;-)
Eastern Turkey
I have enjoyed travelling around Eastern Turkey, the huge mountains (many peaks over 4000 meters), forests and green rolling hills used for grazing by the nomads and the area has a focus on outdoor activities.
I am surprised the locals don't speak english (compared to western Turkey, Syria and Jordan) and do not appear too be interested in trying to talk with me but no matter where I go everyone loves the bike!! Alcohol is getting harder to find and many restaurants don't serve alcohol but I managed to have a beer most nights. I do recommend the Efes Dark beer, the other beers are pretty average.
I have met many europeans on holiday and a solo Englishman who is driving a 4x4 around the world for 3 years and we will be crossing paths several times. He is the only other person I have meet on a long overland trip.
I am surprised the locals don't speak english (compared to western Turkey, Syria and Jordan) and do not appear too be interested in trying to talk with me but no matter where I go everyone loves the bike!! Alcohol is getting harder to find and many restaurants don't serve alcohol but I managed to have a beer most nights. I do recommend the Efes Dark beer, the other beers are pretty average.
I have met many europeans on holiday and a solo Englishman who is driving a 4x4 around the world for 3 years and we will be crossing paths several times. He is the only other person I have meet on a long overland trip.
Saturday, August 8, 2009
Great food and extra baggage....almost
I stopped in a small town underneath Mt Ararat for a quick bite to eat and I could have left with the waitress.I had a tomato, eggplant and spicy lamb kebab with salad and it was fantastic. The salad had a spicy paste on the side which added great flavour to the kebab and salad. Everyone was super friendly and all were trying to speak English and tell Harry Kewell plays for Turkish league team, Galatasaray.
On leaving the restaurant this very large old lady told me through sign language and interpreters that I can have her daughter (see photo) and take her to Australia on the back of my bike and the waitress was jumping up and down saying, "Yes, I come to Australia". I politely said to both Mother and Daughter, Australia is so far away and it would not be fair to separate you both and I don't have any room on the bike.
Old stuff hangover
After visiting handfuls of Crusader castles, Mosques and Churches which are hundreds or even thousands of years old from Turkey to Jordan and back again, I am a little over it all.
I can now do a reccy in 30min of most places and if not impressive or seen similar stuff before, I am out of there to the dismay of the local staff. Naturally there is a pride of the local staff and people that their part of preserved history is the best.
I can now do a reccy in 30min of most places and if not impressive or seen similar stuff before, I am out of there to the dismay of the local staff. Naturally there is a pride of the local staff and people that their part of preserved history is the best.
Tuesday, August 4, 2009
Secret Police
I had heard of the Syrian secret police from friends and other travels, they ask where your going, check your tickets, etc. or follow you, but I had not experienced any of this until my last 2 days in Syria. After 8 hours on the bike and sight seeing in 40C, I noticed a white Peogot 504, what seemed to be following me. After 50km and close to my destination, I
stopped to pretend to read my Lonely Planet and who should stop to provide assistance??
I knew where I was and where I wanted to go but, as usual, I just play it my ear each day and see where the wind takes me.
Two overweight men , rough shaven with moustache, suit pants and short shelve shirts (so suited the Pegout 504 image), stopped and jump out to assist. With no common language I indicated I am OK and did not need assistance but they insisted to drive me to my destination and wanted to know my plans for the next few days - I knew who they were and said no help required and don't have any plans.
They followed me the next 20km to the castle where the cafe manager translated. I played dumb and asked who they were?? Tourist police was the reply - yeah right!! On that response, I pushed a little by saying "I thought they were two dangerous weirdos and was trying to avoid them. Why did they not identify themselves?" The reponse was silence.
I left and went to the near by campground and who should turn up 5 minutes later? The two coppers from the 70s. I said I will stay here the night and work out my plans for tomorrow. On leaving the next morning the campground manager asked where I was going - I explained to the which border crossing with Syria.
It was 200km to the border, so 50 kms into the ride, another white 504 was on the side of the road and started following me. After being followed 20kms, I was not happy, so I flew between two slow overtaking semi-trailers, where they could not follow, and sped away for the next 20kms - never saw them again ;-)
After 1.5 hours I was the border and happy to move on, but somehow, each of the areas, border entry, passport police and customs asked if I was 'Benjamin James'(passport name, don't repeat it).
On the Turkish side of the border, locals also crossing the border, said I was driving very fast in Syria and I should not.
With Iran and the Stans in front of me, I think I will bite my tongue and accept the big brother interest in my plans.
It is fun pushing the limits of the system!!!
stopped to pretend to read my Lonely Planet and who should stop to provide assistance??
I knew where I was and where I wanted to go but, as usual, I just play it my ear each day and see where the wind takes me.
Two overweight men , rough shaven with moustache, suit pants and short shelve shirts (so suited the Pegout 504 image), stopped and jump out to assist. With no common language I indicated I am OK and did not need assistance but they insisted to drive me to my destination and wanted to know my plans for the next few days - I knew who they were and said no help required and don't have any plans.
They followed me the next 20km to the castle where the cafe manager translated. I played dumb and asked who they were?? Tourist police was the reply - yeah right!! On that response, I pushed a little by saying "I thought they were two dangerous weirdos and was trying to avoid them. Why did they not identify themselves?" The reponse was silence.
I left and went to the near by campground and who should turn up 5 minutes later? The two coppers from the 70s. I said I will stay here the night and work out my plans for tomorrow. On leaving the next morning the campground manager asked where I was going - I explained to the which border crossing with Syria.
It was 200km to the border, so 50 kms into the ride, another white 504 was on the side of the road and started following me. After being followed 20kms, I was not happy, so I flew between two slow overtaking semi-trailers, where they could not follow, and sped away for the next 20kms - never saw them again ;-)
After 1.5 hours I was the border and happy to move on, but somehow, each of the areas, border entry, passport police and customs asked if I was 'Benjamin James'(passport name, don't repeat it).
On the Turkish side of the border, locals also crossing the border, said I was driving very fast in Syria and I should not.
With Iran and the Stans in front of me, I think I will bite my tongue and accept the big brother interest in my plans.
It is fun pushing the limits of the system!!!
New Tyres
After 16,900kms in 73 days it was time to change my tires before I hit Iran. BMW Damascus had never had a bike visit them and everyone wanted to work on my bike - I don't think they were that busy! With a big mechanic team to do the work everyone had their own job from tyre remover, fitter, translator, hold the bike, etc, it was done in 1.5 hours and off I rode.
Lost it at the border!!
After many frustrating hours at borders, doing circles between border staff and continuously forking out money for this tax, that service fee and goodwill gestures .... I spat the dummy at a border guard!!
After doing a circle of signatures, stamps and fees for my exit from Jordan, I was told now I had too do the same for the bike. I totally lost my cool and told the guy it was a ripoff, unorganised, terrible process and is totally different from other countries... plus Jordan needs to fix this.
As you know...I am usally a cool customer and don't get angry or rant!!
After doing a circle of signatures, stamps and fees for my exit from Jordan, I was told now I had too do the same for the bike. I totally lost my cool and told the guy it was a ripoff, unorganised, terrible process and is totally different from other countries... plus Jordan needs to fix this.
As you know...I am usally a cool customer and don't get angry or rant!!
Jordanian kids
Riding through towns the kids always wave, chase me on their bike, run after me but in Jordan I had a few different experiences. I recieved a few rude handsignals back when I waved, kids pretended to through something at me, pretended to hit me with a stick and one time threw a rock at me.
This was the exception but has never happened in any other country and it happened on several occasions accross towns in Jordan.
This was the exception but has never happened in any other country and it happened on several occasions accross towns in Jordan.
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