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25. - 28.09.2012 Visa fight & pilgrimage to Mashhad
Olli:
Back in Tehran, we immediately went to the Turkmen embassy again, in the hope to be able to pick up our visas. We did not foresee that there would be a battle with the visa agency guys. The Turkmen embassy unfortunately doesn't have a waiting room, where you get a number or something like that, to regulate who's turn it is. There is only a small wooden window in the outside wall. After 2 hours of waiting patiently and being pushed around, we learned that no more visas would be issued on this day. What a bummer! Fortunately we could change our VIP bus ticket, which we had booked in advance, for this evening and went back to the embassy the next morning. Again the same chaos as the day before. Now, I finally had enough. There were again about 10 agency guys with stacks of passports. Again heavy shoving and jostling. Most of them were 2 heads shorter than me and so I explained them my point of view. First option: Now, it's my turn, because I came first. Second option: If necessary, I hurt everyone who tries to elbow his way through. That immediately convinced them and a little later we were handed over our visas.
Then the next surprise: After changing our bus tickets, we unfortunately got normal tickets instead of VIP for our ride to Mashhad. When we then went to the bus terminal in the evening one hour before departure, the bus driver made it clear, that he could take us but not our bicycles. WHAT?? The reason was, that the storage space of the bus was already totally crammed with luggage. (When you are travelling with bicycles, your best bet is to book a big VIP bus, since they usually have enough space.) Although we had help from the Giant Public Relations Manager, whom we had met at the terminal before, all his reasoning with the manager of the bus company did not help and brazenly we did not get back the full amount of paid money. In that moment, Sonja, howling with sheer rage and despair, almost collapsed and was eager to beat up the bus driver.
Sonja:
Actually, I'm already used to quite a lot, because in Asia you always have to be ready for anything, you need a lot of patience and a cool head and things seldom work the way you are used to from Europe, but in this situation I really freaked out. After all the waiting for visas in Tehran (over 2 weeks) and all the drama in front of the embassies my patience was almost used up. In addition, we had quite a bit of time pressure: Our Iranian visa was about to expire and our Turkmen visa had a well-defined time frame of only 5 days for about 500 km with unchangeable arrival and departure date. So it's really important to arrive at the border on schedule. Before you reach Mashhad, you have to endure a 14-hour bus ride and then we should find a connecting bus just in time for the remaining 200 km to the border, which also is able to carry our bikes. If now, anything unexpected happened we would be screwed. Welcome to Asia!
With a little help we found another bus the next day at the larger South Terminal and finally arrived in Mashhad at 2 a.m., after 14 hours of uncomfortable bus ride. In search of our accommodation we asked a friendly Iranian for the way and then had to follow his car all across town. He even tried to invite us to his home and that in the middle of the night! During our unfortunately very short stay here we once again met very nice and helpful people and were hosted by a very nice young vegetarian family (Yes, there are vegetarians and vegans here and even vegetarian restaurants!). We also got Olli's bottom bearing fixed once more before our journey into the desert (Rudy Bicycles).
Since Mashhad is the most important place of pilgrimage for the Iranian Muslims, we, of course, also wanted to visit the Holy Shrine, for which I borrowed a chador. Unfortunately, we couldn't take any photos of the stunning interior, as our camera was taken at the entrance, which we found quite unfair and illogical, because it's allowed to keep cell phones and everybody then took pictures inside with their phones. At first, we felt slightly out of place surrounded by all the faithful Muslims, who looked at us a bit puzzled, and I was very surprised, when suddenly a woman came up to me and asked: American? When I answered "Germany", she smiled at me and motherly patted my cheek. OK... weird. When we tried to enter the interior of the sanctuary, Olli and I had to separate, because there are different entrances for men and women. I was simply amazed and moved through the rooms together with the crowd of other women. Because I looked up all the time to the mirrored and glittering mosaic ceiling the chador slipped slowly further and further from my head, which is why a female guard finally touched my head with her feather duster to admonish me. Hastily I set it right again, during which the cloth slipped from my arm. Immediately another guard admonished me for this in the same way. She then asked me if I speak Persian and if I am a Muslim. When I denied both and said I was from Germany, she smiled at me and gave me chocolate. Olli was confronted with a similar situation: the men approvingly patted him on the back. Strange manners ... Our host finally explained, that it is a huge sign of respect for the Iranians, when a foreigner or non-Muslim visits their sanctuary.
Olli:
This time, when we tried to snatch seats in the bus to the border, everything went smoothly. We had to pay more for the transportation of our bicycles than for our seats but our bikes were given a separate luggage compartment in the cargo hold of the bus and the boss of the bus terminal invited us to tea and cake until our departure.
Once again we arrived late in the evening at the border town Sarakhs. When we asked locals where we could camp, they referred us to the police. So we went to the police station and asked for a safe place for the night. After a little discussion and a phone call we ended up following a police car and were led to the Red Crescent (like the Red Cross in Germany). We were allowed to spend the night there with the nice guys on duty in their standby room, including breakfast the next morning. They were very curious and wanted to see all our photos. A very nice and cozy last night in Iran 1 km from the Turkmen border.
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