An Oasis of the Past Times

"It is a good and noble city, and has a great amount of trade" - said Marco Polo once upon a time. His words remained true to this day. Handicrafts and silk are still one of the city's landmarks.

Yazd might be the hottest city in Iran, and therefore, medieval Perisans were noble enough to built many "windcatchers" - natural tower-like ventilation systems, as well as underground passages with hundreds of chambers. The city is a large labyrinth of tunnels, small alleys, fortresses, mosques, hidden squares and old houses made of bricks and mud. In fact, it's the oldest inhabited mud-brick city in the world.

Being one of the oldest cities in the Middle East, and due to its well preserved unique architecture, Yazd gives a very different feeling from any other places, not only in Iran, but in the whole world.

It's remote location in the desert, was a good advantage to save the city from the destruction caused by many wars. Therefore, despite Muslim conquest of Persia back in the 7th century, Yazd managed to keep most of it's ancient buildings, and heritage from the old times, when it served as a large Zoroastrian center.

Zoroastrians were monotheists whose religion had influence, among others, in Christianity and Islam. These worshipers of water and fire, still have their own temples preserved around this region. They had, however, a strange ritual of exposing their dead people at the top of the towers, removing skin and organs, and leaving only bones. Some of the buildings where they practiced excarnation are still here as testimonial to their rituals, known today as "towers of silence".

Wondering through its endless narrow streets, made me enjoy being lost in this historical maze called Yazd. Small local stores with merchants who looked like being leftovers from the middle ages, smell of a fresh baked bread, sound of Ezan passing through these corridors and tunnels all brought me to some forgotten charm from the old times.

Somewhere in the maze, between the streets, I passed through a door that hide a hotel behind it. A traditional old house reincarnated into a hotel, had a large garden around the fountain and several sitting beds perfect for having afternoon coffee. A mysterious man who worked there, came few times around us asking us few irrelevant questions, until we finally realized that he is our host.

Balal was the most active couchsurfing member in Yazd. However, living in a conservative society and hosting quite often, he had to hide his guests from the eyes of curious locals. Before he parked his car, he had to wait until the street was completely empty, so he can smuggle his personal immigrants into his house. A large room in the basement was reserved for his guests. It felt like an orphanage for travelers. Two large beds, one sofa, plenty of floor space were all filled up, and by the time of our arrival, he had three more guests at the same time. His walls was filled with drawings, signatures or funny random messages that each of his guest has left and his fridge decorated by mugshots of his guests. I recognized (another) Nenad, my Serbian friend, who was at the same place just two months before me.

Night Picnic with Baluchis Somewhere in the Desert

After we left the capital, days were becoming warmer and warmer, as we kept moving to the south all until we reached half of the world (nickname for Esfahan). However, Anya and me decided to make a turn to the east, into the driest city of Iran built in the middle of the desert, and named after the fourteenth king of Persia, back in the IV century. About 350 km were dividing us from our destination, and not much effort went into the writing name Yazd into the blank piece of paper, or let's call it - our free ticket to this city.

However, more effort went into explaining meaning of hitchhiking to all these curious and confused people who saw us standing by the road. As most of them didn't go to Yazd, they would stop, make a worried face and try to persuade us to go back to the city and take a bus. One driver stood there for 30 minutes, and once we finally managed to get rid of him, he called the police to help us, as he was concerned about our safety. The police car arrived at the same moment as we found our ride to Yazd - a large truck managed by three Baluchi people, heading to Zahedan, capital of Baluchistan region. This ethnic minority occupies large territories in the east Iran and west Pakistan. Their difference in culture, religion, public opinion and lack of rights created constant disagreement with Iranian government, and even some bombing attacks, which happened few times in the past, in the capital of their province. Therefore, concern of the police increased, and once they took all the personal details of our drivers, they let us hit the road with them through the desert...

Yellow color dominated the empty road, which at times became light brown or sometimes even barely green, due to the small inhabited places in the middle of nowhere. Although you need three hours to cross the same distance in Europe, on Asian roads it can be two or three times longer. And, our truck was not the fastest transport, so we had all the time to meet our drivers... except that we didn't speak the same language. We ended up using our hands to explain our life stories, and I even brought a guide to my hometown, which delivered few more sentences made by our fingers pointed on pictures. Even by not understanding each other language, we managed to enjoy each other's company.

The day ended and we spent few more hours on an empty dark road. At some point, we saw a small light, which turned into a restaurant few seconds later. They parked the truck on the side, disappeared for a few minutes, and came back bringing plastic bags with food for all of us. They opened the front part of the truck, turned the front lights... and made their vehicle look like Transformers. They brought the carpet, which we put in front of the truck, and we made a perfect night picnic in the quiet desert, without anyone around...

Discovering Half of the World

After a day and a half of uncovering the mysteries of Kashan, "our Mohammad" brought us to the end of his city, from where we reached the toll gate, and started hitchhiking. A big car stopped just few minutes later, Although our future driver knew what we were doing, as he lived in the UK for couple of years, he was somehow suspicious. As of my Iranian look, he assumed that I was a local guy using a naive redheaded girl to find a free ride, or maybe rob the drivers. We showed him our passports, and once he realized that we are just nice happy hitchhikers, he was glad to give us a ride. Few hours later, as we reached Esfahan, we already became friends. And we went to celebrate our new friendship in a coffee shop, while waiting for our couchsurfing host to join us.

Once, one of the biggest cities in the world, and the important stopover on the silk road, today Esfahan is the third largest city in Iran. It served as a capital twice in Persian history. Due to its mesmerizing Islamic architecture, large historical gardens, palaces, bazaars and long beautiful bridges, the city's beauty is hardly to be matched with any other Iranian city. Therefore, back in the 16th century, the city got a nickname "half of the world", which is still being referred to today. 

The Unesco site, famous Naqsh-e Jahan Square, was built by Shah Abbas in the 16th century, and was always busy place connecting merchants, entertainers, travelers and officials. Shah's intention was to centralize the power in Esfahan, and so, he connected religion, trade and power within the square walls, built in two levels. Shah's mosque and Ali Qapu palace, connected by Imperial bazaar which is inside the walls, make this place as one of the largest square in the world.

Zaynade river divides the city in two parts, and it's connected by some of the most beautiful bridges I have ever seen. Old Persians used to build them here since 4th century. One of many architectural masterpieces is Siose Bridge (also known as the bridge of 33 arches) - the longest bridge in Isfahan, built on the initiative of Iranian General back in the 16th century. 

Anya and me explored the city with the help of Kourosh - our host, a local Esfahani, who lived for a long time in the US. After he moved back, he got a dog, who feels like a wanted criminal in this city, due to the strict Islamic rules of the country. Therefore, the discriminated dog, always waited for us either in his car, or in his house. Kourosh's big smile, unusual sense of humor, and surprising responses to curious locals made our experience of Esfahan quite unusual and enjoyable. We met many people thanks to him, took a bath in the central fountain, swapped music CD with some random car while waiting at the traffic light and even organized sort of a party at his house. At the end of the day, many of us (including locals) ended up staying overnight at his house...

Kashan: The City of Roses

Anya searching for the secrets

When you travel overland, even if you want it or not, you have to spend couple of days in the country's capitals waiting for visas to your next destinations. So... once I took my visas for Afghanistan and Tajikistan, I was finally set free from the invisible chains of polluted Iranian capital. I arrived in Tehran with Ilaria, and 10 days later, I left it with Anya - once my guest in Serbia, now my travel partner in Iran.

a random road fountain

We took the only existing subway in the Middle East to bring us outside of the capital, from where we reached the toll gate. Iran was hot... but fortunately, it didn't take long time to hitch a ride, I suppose, mostly because of the people's curiosity. Therefore, after few minutes of waiting at the toll gate, and seeing the bus named "Bad Boys" passing us, we got picked up by two guys heading to Qom. As I didn't want to go back to that city, we found another car from the toll gate of Qom, which was going to our destination - Kashan. But before our drivers let us out of their car, they insisted us to accept some pocket money for our trip. We also accepted their mobile phone number, so they can be able to call us for the few following days, in order to make sure that we are safe. Everyone was concerned about our safety, so we had already few "fans" in our phone books. Our second driver was a bit more quiet, maybe as he didn't speak English... but I remember that we stopped in the middle of nowhere to wash our faces in "the road fountain".

Kashan is internationally famous for manufacturing silk and carpets. However, the symbol of the city is a rose, due to its long lasting traditional methods of making the rose water. Paintings of roses were following us from some random walls, as well as products made of roses (syrups, sweets and even ice-creams), This city, with a nice atmosphere and curious people, felt like an oasis in the desert: full of big bazaars, beautiful old gardens, and few huge and impressive historical houses which offer a feel of a labyrinth. About two hundred years ago, the spectacular houses were made from brick, mud and straw, and used by some rich merchants. Kashan is also being a host to the oldest existing garden in Iran, and Unesco Heritage Site, "Fin Garden". Since 16th century, Persian rulers kept burying their secrets here, and today, these 2 hectares of land are collecting new ones, as locals tend to throw their coins into the "pool of wishes".

Anya and me arrived in the city quite late in the afternoon, and as we forgot to look for a host through the couchsurfing website, we decided to check through her phone if someone left a phone number on one of their profiles. And.. few minutes later, we ended up giving a phone call to one more Mohammad. Even without thinking, he accepted to host us, and he rushed to the place to meet us, leaving behind his plans to attend a birthday party of his friend. From the moment we met him, he put us in his car where we sang together with a loud music and we spent two days with him, learning about Kashan, trying local delicacies and exploring the places I previously mentioned...

If I was a Journalist in Iran...

"Good evening, ladies and gentleman, from the holy city of Qom!" - that was my introduction sentence I spoke in front of the camera, as I ended up applying for a job at the local TV station. The opportunity came unexpected, as my host in that city happened to work as a TV presenter, and her station was looking for someone who can be a host to programs on English language.

Her name is Fatima, and she is one of the most active couchsurfing members in her city. She accepted my couchsurfing request just few minutes after I sent it, and a day later, welcomed me to her house. Her mother comes from Germany, and she moved to Iran long time ago, accepting Islam and marrying a local. Although most of religious girls are quite conservative with hosting men, Fatima was quite open-minded and her house was open to everyone and always full of guests. Besides me, there were two other guys (from different part of Iran) staying with her. Later that day, in the same house, I had an honor to meet a local champion of swimming through the Persian Gulf for 85 days, crossing 1000 km along the coast of southeastern Iran. He made approximately about 11 km per day, protected by the 7-meter long shark cage, followed by the guide boats of the safety team. Among the pictures he showed me, I remember one where he shakes the hand with Ahmadinejad, Iranian president at that time.

His story brought my memory back from the times I used to work in Serbian media - several radio and TV stations, where I met so many different characters, and learned a lot about people. I was thrilled to accept the job, but however, I had a trip waiting for me and two visas of unusual countries about to be put in my passport.

This city surrounded by desert, is about 100km away from Tehran, and was a good chance to escape the capital, while waiting for my Tajik visa. "Our consul is a little bit strange, so you have to wait for a few days" - said a woman from the Tajik embassy, after I came there for the third time. Therefore, I hitched a ride from the capital's exit toll gate, and a man who picked me up gave me short introduction about this holy city.

He brought me to try local sweets called "sohan" - a flat sweet biscuit made of pistachios and saffron, very famous across the country. He also showed me Ayatollah Khomeini's house, where he lived for some time after the year of Islamic revolution. In this city, Iranian spiritual leader brought his opposition to the Pahlavi royal dynasty back in the 60s. Qom has a reputation of being quite conservative city, and as a place of pilgrimage, the atmosphere seems more serious than in previous cities. Behind every corner there are big posters of Iranian spiritual leaders, looking at you.

The pride of the city is Shrine of Fatima-al-Massumeh. This holy complex of several mosques, visited by thousands of pilgrims per year, is the place where Fatema È Massumeh was buried in the 8th century. She was a sister of the eight Imam. As I looked like a local, people at the entrance assumed I came for praying...

The next day, I returned to the capital. There, I spent few more days with more people. However, on my surprise, I reunited with Anya - a Russian solo female traveler, who went alone to at least one third of the world. She was my guest back in Serbia one year ago, so naturally, I was happy to have found a new traveling partner for the next two weeks, with whom I continued my hitchhiking trip towards the east...

Some Call it Chaos, Some Call it Life...

Tehran is the place where I made a decision to travel overland to China, and so, I had to stay there for ten days in order to prepare documents for my Afghan, but also for Tajik visa. In order to do that, one of the necessities was to get a letter from my own embassy, which confirms my existence. And, so, I went to my embassy and sent $60 to Serbian government (for both documents), after I assured them that I know what I am doing, as north of Afghanistan was safe. Ha! Safe! Ok... at that time, I believed it was, and I knew how to persuade other people believe it too.

And while waiting for my visas, I could just relax, and "enjoy" Tehran. If I forget about swallowing pollution and running for my life while crossing the street, I could say that its possible to enjoy this crazy city.

Ilaria, my co-passenger, stayed only few days in Tehran, as she had to go back to Italy for a wedding. We both stayed with Mohammad, who was a couchsurfing host of my Serbian friend a year before I came. For the rest of my time in the capital, I stayed with another three people, and met maybe thirty three more...

Social life in Iran is quite a story. Its quite possible that some suspicious official approaches the crowd of more than 7 people and starts asking some questions. To avoid that, most of Iranian youth organizes social activities in their own houses. There are no official clubs, discotheques or dancing places, so people are making their own "underground parties". One of my hosts made such a party, with more than 15 of his friends. We had a memorable night of dancing, laughing and drinking some strong homemade alcohol. After the party finished, most of the people stayed overnight, in order not to get caught drunk on the street.

With such a limit in social life, how is it possible to start a relationship? Well... I'd like to share one unique story about one girl who hosted me in Tehran: As I mentioned before, traffic is quite crazy and every third driver had a small, or so called "regular accident", described by one local. Regular accident means that you hit a person on a pedestrian crossing, or just "kiss" another car while driving. However, this girl had a big accident. Her car was completely smashed by another car, and she was lucky not to be injured. The other driver offered his help with the bureaucracy process, and they started meeting regularly. Eventually, their interests went further, and one day... they hooked up!

The largest city of Western Asia, which serves as a country capital for more than 200 years, has so many undiscovered stories from its charismatic locals. The longer you stay, the more stories to tell...

a typical Iranian lunch in a Tehran restaurant

Life in Tehran has its ups and downs. I received a lot of positive energy from its residents, visited the biggest bazaar I've seen so far, also few palaces, ate a lots of meat, took a ride in buses with divided section for men and women, was invited for a lunch in many houses, watched open-air theater, smoked nargiles accompanied by tea with yellow sugar, and even tried driving in the traffic jam (huh, never again)...

A Long Stopover in Tehran

Pollution. Traffic. Chaos. Fashion. Elections. Khomeini's pictures on the walls. Big bazaars. Palaces. Embassies. Buses with divided sections for men and women. Kebabs. Hidden parties. Hidden alcohol. Car accidents. And... people full of energy. These are some of my memories of Tehran.

I don't like big cities, especially not as densely populated as Iranian capital. Metropolitan area of the city could fit people from two Serbias. However, at that point of my journey, I didn't have idea where to go next. My original plan was to cross Pakistan overland, but since it took long time to obtain Pakistani visa back in Serbia... I was thinking to try in Tehran. Eventually, I found out that its impossible to get their visa outside of your own country of residence, so I was thinking to change my plans, and find a plane to Malaysia.

On my second day in Iranian capital, while I was exploring it by walking, I noticed a big unfinished mosque showing the way to glorious Alborz mountains. However, it's not the mosque that got my attention. It was the flag on a building besides the mosque. Black, red and green colors waving from the top of the building called me to come closer, and once I approached, my curiosity couldn't have been controlled, as I've seen the letters "Embassy of the Islamic Republic of Afghanistan".

As I stepped into the embassy, I had a feeling like I am entering a jail. Hundreds of people, chaotic atmosphere, noise, dissatisfaction and guards reminded me on some Hollywood movies with prison riots. Apparently, most of them were Afghan refugees with temporary stay in Iranian capital. The rest of them were locals employed in Afghanistan. I was pretty much the only foreigner. As they found out that I am a tourist, they invited me for a separate interview with a consul. "You want to visit my country?" - said an old nice man on the other side of the counter. Although I didn't plan Afghanistan, I thought why not... I knew that north of the country was safe, so I could try. "Ok. I am from Herat. You should visit it. It's a beautiful city" - said consul. "Go to your own embassy, get a permission from them, pay 40 euros to the bank, and I'll give you visa." Wow! That sounded like a proper invitation to the country I was always curious about. And that moment, my plans changed, and I decided to do my trip overland...

The Road to the Capital

The natural border between Ramsar and Tehran was created by a big mountain range, known az Alborz. Even if our distance to the capital seemed short by looking on the map, Ilaria and me had to start our trip quite early in order to reach our final destination. As the car which we stopped didn't go straight to the capital, we got a chance to say goodbye to the Caspian sea by making a small town Chalus, as our last stop before inhaling dirty air of Tehran. A quiet beach was perfect place for meditation, but as we were not meditating type of people, we managed to find a small wooden coffee shop. Hehe, coffee magic... and the Caspian see... and some random hungry ducks asking us for food on their own language. Perfect combination. Our calmness was interrupted by a car trying to drive on the sand. As I mentioned before, Iranians would even drive into the sea, if it would be possible. So... the car got stuck, and my small muscles used their power to push the car out of the sand. Miracle happened – I succeed.

After an hour on the beach, we went back to the road trying to find a ride, by explaining that we don't pay for the rides (pul nadaram). An old man, with strange expression on his face stopped, and gave us a ride. He might've been old, but his reflexes were still good. That's because he worked as a freelance taxi driver, which we didn't realize at the beginning. We reached the curvy road going through the mountains, and the old man turned into a manic racer. He liked overtaking other cars even on the full line, so we didn't enjoy properly the incredible view over the big canyons. Half an hour later, we realized that he actually charges for driving... so we had to go out from the car, and find another ride from the gas station where he planned to fill the tank with our money. Luckily, we found an elderly couple who were driving to Karaj, the big city just across the Alborz mountains, which we crossed after 3 hours. After we said goodbye to them, there was only 20km between us and the capital. We found the crossroad to Tehran, but due to misunderstanding with a woman who picked us from there, we realized quite late that she already drove us into Karaj. The rain started, and it made it difficult to find a way out. Finally, one guy told us that he will drive us there, but instead of it, he put us into some car, and after we left, the mysterious driver said that the man from the street, to whom we talked for 20 seconds, paid for our ride to Tehran.

The evening fell, we were still in the car. The streets were becoming wider every minute. I realized that we arrived. Shortly after we made our first steps on the capital's ground, I remember a small tornado of papers. The first reason was the wind. The second reason was election. Apparently, the campaign for election was so big, so there was not enough space for all the material printed. That's why the presidential candidates were flying around the city.

From that moment, my experience of Iran changed. Like I was not in the same country anymore. The traffic became crazy, the streets dirty, air polluted... but people were still the same: nice, friendly, hospitable, intelligent, informed and ready to help to anyone. Not even 5 minutes after we made our first steps on Tehran's streets, a random old man approached to us, telling us that he would be honored if we can be his guests. However, our host Mohammad, appeared few minutes later and brought us to his house. Now when I remember, I think I met at least one Mohammad each day, and four Ahmeds each week. So, Mohammad was a natural choice for the first experience of the Iranian capital.

The Shah's Lost Paradise

Hitchhiking in Iran

The mother of our host gave us a ride to the exit of Rasht. "Koja miravid?" and "Pul nadaram!" were the phrases we used for hitchhiking in Iran. It didn't take long and we stopped a small truck. The man didn't speak English, but he didn't stop speaking Farsi, as he was obviously excited to have foreigners in his small truck. He extended our small knowledge in Farsi by pointing on random places and repeating the local word twice... or more... He had a big smile, good mood, and a wife at home who was cooking lunch. From our sign language, we realized that he wants us to be his guests for a lunch, and he would be offended if we refuse him. As our host was waiting for us in Ramsar for lunch, we had to explain this to him somehow. So, I draw a man sitting on a table, holding a fork and knife above the empty plate. Then I draw a clock with scales pointing on 3 above the man, and explained that we had to be there at that time. My explanation worked, and our driver was happy to deliver us to our host on time.

Ramsar used to be one of the most exclusive places in Iran during the reign of the last Shah. Today, its a quiet town, with memories of its former glory. The Caspian coast is very quiet, with almost no people. However, there is a cafe next to the half destroyed building which used to be a discotheque once. At the town center, there is a big building which served as a summer palace of the last two Shah. The last Shah spent his honeymoon at that palace. Twenty years after the fall of Shah, the palace opened its gate again, as it reincarnated into a museum.

The town itself is very small, so Mohammad was waiting for us on a crossroad which was not difficult to miss. We spent two days with him and his big family who fed us with almost everything they could think of. Besides their town, we went to the mountains from where we could see the big panoramic view over the Caspian sea. Our host Mohammad and his family were just one more example of the endless hospitality from Iranian people.

Shah's former summer residence

Moral Police of Iran

Back in 1979, leader of the Islamic revolution, Ayatollah Khomeini, established "Basij", paramilitary volunteer militia whose duty is to act as morality police ever since the revolution. They are arresting women who are not dressed Islamic enough, prohibiting connections between unmarried men and women, confiscating satellite dishes and in general trying to stop any form of "westoxification", which is threatening to the Iranian national identity

Rasht is the biggest city on the south Caspian coast. Being the major trade connection between Russia and Europe for centuries, the city is known as the "Gate of Europe". Like in any big cities in the world, most of the young Iranians are following the newest fashion. However, dressing properly can be tricky, because of the strict Islamic laws. Girls who put too much make-up, dye their hair, mix their jeans with the traditional hijabs or even wear jackets which can show small parts of their arms, are in danger of being arrested by the so-called morality police, who can appear anywhere at any time. They are the eyes of supreme leaders, whose pictures are decorating street walls of Rasht and many other cities. Their recent actions caused closing of some cafes, restaurants and other places where young people would break the moral law.

Their eyes are following you!

People that you can see in the streets of Iran are not the same people you see in their houses. Women are not wearing hijabs, taboo subjects are allowed, facebook, youtube and foreign TV channels are not forbidden, and you can even drink alcohol. Our host was a modern girl, very intelligent, open and of course, really hospitable, like all of the Iranian people. After she made delicious breakfast for us, we borrowed her friend Moein to help us explore the city. The temperature was very hot, so being an Italian girl, Ilaria forgot about her moral obligation towards this country. While being busy exploring the city, all of us didn't notice that her shirt sleeves were few millimeters shorter than usual. But there is always somebody whose job is to notice...

A black ninja woman with evil eyes appeared out of nowhere, and started talking with us with a tone that my geography teacher used to talk to me some 20 years ago, as he was mad at me, as I imitated him in front of everybody. We didn't realize what's the problem about, until another man appeared to support her. They were dressed like all other civilians, with a small difference as they were carrying some sort of a radio in their hands. Apparently, Ilaria didn't get arrested, as they have small tolerance towards foreigners, and Moein acted like he just met us. Otherwise, being a local, he would have been in a trouble. Ilaria's sin was forgiven by the supreme leader's messenger so we were free to walk further. Or was it just an illusion?

Surprises on the South Coast of the Sea

"No problem. I will host you in Astara" - said Arash the previous day. However our morning didn't happen in Astara. And our host was not Arash, but his friend Azim. He is a history teacher, nice and calm family man in his 40s, who lives in a village 30 km south from Astara and gives shelter to the guests of Arash. If this sentence confused you, then imagine our confusion. Anyway, we found out that Azim inspires his younger friends and pupils to host people, and gives a good example, even by accepting their guests. Another surprise waited for us in his house: big meeting of couchsurfing members from nearby towns, all of them staying with him during the night.

 

That day we decided to explore mountains and waterfalls around Caspian sea, with a help of our guides - Arash and Reza. They bought delicious Iranian bread, perfect for a picnic that we decided to make near the waterfall, after an hour of hiking. Wonderful views on a rice fields, which are guarding the sea from the distant hills waited for us, together with curious villagers. A small waterfall, surrounded by forest, was like an oasis, out of reach from a "moral police", making it as a perfect place for couples, and women who were tired of walking with a scarf on their head.

Back in their village, Azim continued the tour, and almost drove us into the Caspian sea with his car. Most of Iranian people prefer to drive everywhere, instead of walking, even for a short distance. I wouldn't be surprised  if one day Iranians invent waterproof cars, which would allow them to drive into the sea...

Azim's car, Azim, Reza and their guests at the Caspian sea

The coast of Caspian sea was long, covered by thick grey sand where, instead of tourists, garbage was taking a sunbath. Only few men were swimming, while completely covered women waited for them on the sand. If they would swim, they wouldn't take their clothes off.

In the late afternoon, Ilaria and me went to the road again, remembering the Arabic numbers of a registration plate for Rasht. The driver who stopped, agreed to bring us to the town on half of the way there. And then, another surprise: as we arrived to that town, driver asked for money. We tried to explain him about hitchhiking... but once again, another confusion and another crowd surrounding us from each side. We tried to escape from all of them, but the town was too small for any escape. Another car stopped on our signal, but then our stalkers came and scared that driver. And of course, once more, there was police, coming to help us. All of them started talking at the same time, creating another confusion... until, our saver appeared, sent by God, as Ilaria said. A man walked towards our audience closing the door of a big white car, and solved the problem by insisting to pay to the man who was hungry for money. He told the police that he will drive us to Rasht, and problem was solved. That day we learned that many cars in Iran are unofficial taxis, and that we should know few basic sentences in Farsi language for making our hitchhiking trip easier.

From the Medevial Capital to the Caspian Sea

The blue mosque of Tabriz

Tabriz was chosen few times as an official capital of Iran, by the several rulers in different historical periods. The city was even a residence of an Iranian crowned prince until first part of 20th century. Today, it's a capital of East Azerbaijan, and home of 2 million people. The city's turbulent history and geographical position, which caused numerous earthquakes, destroyed most of the historical monuments. However, being one of the most historic Persian cities, Tabriz and its streets can still give you few surprises.

We were still in one piece, although our drivers from the previous day wouldn't expect us to be. Our new friends, Hamed and Arman, were quite enthusiastic to be our guides through the authentic bazaar, blue mosque, local cuisine, and the city streets. After we finished our tour of Tabriz, they drove us to the end of the city, and even hitched a truck for us.

Hamed and Arman stopped the truck... and rain started falling

Following the ancient silk road to the east, our next 200 kilometers we spent in a truck, going to the direction of Caspian Sea. Our truck stopped in the town one hour away from the coast, so Ilaria and me needed to get out of sight from the all curious people whose eyes were following us, and use combination of our hands once again to stop our next car. Two older men, sharing a small car, chose us for their company, and the ride through the hills started. Despite all the differences between them, they were dressed like brothers. The driver was Iranian Turk. Cartoon like character, he was a short man with a gray hair combined with Groucho Marx mustaches. The talker was Azeri man, his younger friend with a golden smile. Many people from the Ex-Soviet countries, are followers of the golden fashion which they like to put in their mouth. His breath was smelly, his stories were dirty and his voice was changing tones, as he probably did something he shouldn't do in Iran - drank forbidden drink. His sexual imagination mixed with alcohol inspired dirty words from his golden mouth, after he found out that Ilaria and me were not married. He didn't stop until she declared herself as a strict Christian, and his mind didn't have inspiration anymore.

Iranian Groucho Marx and golden Azeri man

Finally, we reached Astara, a small town on the coastal border with Azerbaijan. As we waited for our host to come, random men in front of us couldn't wait to satisfy their curiosity and offer us food from their stores...

Salt of the Earth

Urmia salt lake

After we woke up in his mansion-like house, Yassin drove us to the east end of the city. In front of us there was a large salt lake, divided by a long causeway in the middle. That was the road to Tabriz, and the provincial border between East and West Azerbaijan. We decided to change our hitchhiking strategy this time, so we used our hands and waved up and down, hoping that cars will stop. Cars would stop anyway, as everybody who saw us, became extremely curious who we are, what are we doing on the road, what are we doing in life and what are we doing in Iran. We tried many times to escape from their curiosity, but even if we thought we did, there was another surprise. One of the surprises was waiting for us in Tabriz, after we crossed the lake.

Our driver at the salt lake

Urmia lake is the third largest salt lake in the world, and the largest lake in the Middle East. It is a home to many endangered animal species, and therefore it's being protected by the UNESCO. Unfortunately, protection couldn't do much, as Iranian government built a huge causeway across the lake, dividing it to the north and south. A big gap between two sides, almost doesn't provide mixing of water, and therefore the lake shrunk for 60% in the past decade, being in danger it will completely disappear. This caused big protests in 2010 and 2011, but as all protests in past couple of years in Iran, nothing could be done. Many protesters ended up in jail, and some people said, that protests even caused few deaths in these clashes. With all inner political conflicts in Iran, many people don't trust each other nowadays.

Yassin was worried for us, so he kept us company until the car going to Tabriz stopped. Telling to the driver to keep us safe, he put responsibility on his back, much bigger than we thought. The driver and his father felt a big pressure, like they are driving a royal family members on their back seats. Once we crossed the shrinking lake, we felt "royal" as we arrived in Tabriz. Naturally, they brought us to their home, where we met all the other family members, who wished us welcome with a delicious lunch that we shared together. The problem appeared as we called our couchsurfing hosts to come and pick us up. Our drivers felt that we are in danger, they called the police, and all of us ended up being interrogated one more time. What can I say... it was just another "normal" day in Iran...

Having a lunch with a family of our drivers

Please, Come to My House and be My Guest!

Visiting Iran was my dream for a long time, so I woke up early as my high enthusiasm defeated my tiredness. Urmia's population crosses one million, and the city serves as a capital of West Azerbaijan province. A huge mosque, watching over the old bazaar full of people reminded me on the atmosphere in Turkey, except that the street spice was mixed with Azeris, Kurds, Asyrians and Armenians. Constant traffic jam and crazy way of driving, was not only landmark of the city, but of the whole country.

a mosque in the center of Urmia

lunch with Yassin (our host) in his family house

On that first day I spent in their country, I discovered that Iranians have high friendship values, and being their friend even for a day means that you will remain their friend forever. I found them as very sincere, warm, well informed, intelligent and extremely hospitable people, who would share with a stranger everything they have. Therefore, saying goodbye to most of them was never easy, and I realized that one month I planned to spend in Iran will not be enough. I got to know that feeling by meeting Yassin, a friend of our busy host. He took his time, energy, car fuel, emotions and stories to share with us, showed us every corner of his city and made us feel like his siblings he didn't see for a long time. At the end of the day, he stole us from our actual host, so we spend one more night in that city without planing, just in a different house.