We are awakened by the call to prayer from the mosque right outside our bedroom window at 5.00 a.m.. Even at stupid o'clock in the morning, it sounds lovely, but this morning we can even hear the Imam clearing his throat between calls. Not quite so lovely. Birds squabble on the balcony and Becky, still half asleep, reassures me it's the cleaners doing the windows. Poor lass. She must be delirious from the tummy bug she's been suffering. It's impossible to get back to sleep as the walls are so thin we can hear the person next door fart, and already showers are going and toilets flushing all around.
The shower has no curtain and the bathroom is already a swimming pool as I step in. Just as I'm shampooing my hair all the lights go out and the water fades to a trickle, then nothing. I'm stood there in the pitch black, wearing nothing but my nakedness and suds. It's not looking a good start to the day. Especially as today is the day we have to be fully covered for Iran, with full hi-jab. I feel my way to the door to let some light in. Just as I have dried myself and soapy hair off with a towel, the power comes back and I go through the whole process again.
As we go down to breakfast, the view from the corridor window looks straight to Mount Ararat, but today it is sporting a cloudy halo.
It's a short drive to the border, and we pass hundreds of lorries stacked 4 deep, waiting to cross as we risk life and limb driving on the wrong side of the dual carriageway to overtake them. This is where we say goodbye to our first Ozbus and driver Daenes. We will miss them both. We have a photo shoot with Daenes, the bus and all the girls in their gear. We gather up all our worldly goods and head towards the Turkish exit. There is a forlorn little beep from the bus as Daenes pulls away and I turn back to wave goodbye
There's only a short queue as we wait to exit, then another coach pulls up and suddenly its chaos as men come from all directions to try to push in front of us. They push in front of the girls in front and invite their friends and family to join them. It's like we don't even exist but I am resolute in my determination not to bow to this sexist intimidation. Is this how it is going to be? Debbie was standing behind me and as I go through I realise an entire coach load has placed themselves between her and me. Eventually we exit Turkey. We anticipate entry to Iran will be even more difficult but despite a long wait, it is relatively painless, as they take our finger prints from several angles including two knuckles(don't ask). As we sit and wait, two Iranian women, swathed in black, sit beside me, smiling and asking me questions in Farsi. I look at them, clueless, but they are not perturbed and continue on. I am willing myself to understand and I try sign language but its not working and they don't give up. Where are we from? Are we all family? Are these my sisters, daughters? Is Barry the father or grandfather? As I start to understand and try to explain, it is time to move on. I bet they are still marvelling at the lack of birth control in England, and wondering at the man who could father so many children and grandchildren and afford to take them on holiday to Iran.
Around us posters and leaflets welcome us to West Azerbaijan. What? I thought Azerbaijan was a different country. It is, but WEST Azerbaijan is now part of Iran. We go through to change our money. For the first, and probably the last, time of my life, I am a millionaire! Weyhey.
Outside our next Ozbus is waiting for us. Superficially, it looks not unlike our last but inside it appears to be held together with gaffer tape and, horror of horrors, there is no on board toilet. On the positive side there is a beautiful carpet runner down the centre and we have more legroom.
Suddenly a cheer goes up, and Kenneth comes running through to the bus. We have followed his journey to catch us up, lived through his torment of fully booked overnight buses, losing another 24hours, being rerouted through uncharted territory, and and are relieved to see him back in the fold. Not as relieved as he is to be back with us. Its hugs all round.
The journey to Tabriz is fraught with police checks and everyone in the front seats has that slightly petrified expression as we continuously swerve to overtake , challenging the fuel truck hurtling towards us to a game of chicken. The landscape is dramatic and the flat roofed housing of the villages we pass is both simple and sophisticated with large bow windows. But the colour of the ground and the housing is the same and there is little green in the fields we pass. Even with air conditioning on the bus, we are all stifling in our full length clothing and headscarves.
We stop for lunch in a little restaurant (there are no service stations in Iran) and we millionaires are challenged to count the cost of a meal, where a chicken kebab is 50500 Rials and a coke 3000Rials. The choice is limited. Chicken kebab, lamb kebab, beef kebab and for the vegetarians, barley soup. It is very tasty but we are not used to having our meal in the middle of the day and struggle to finish the large portions.
As we pick up the road again, in the distance we can see lightening and a storm approaching but as we exit the rain there are double and triple rainbows all around us. They are so beautiful, everyone starts snapping pictures.
When we finally arrive in Tabriz, it is already dark and quite late. We dump our bags in our rooms and set out to scavenge for food. The restaurant in the hotel is not open and as we walk up the street looking for food we can only see furniture shops. Eventually, there is a small, but busy supermarket. Great. We can get some bread and cheese and have a picnic. We wander round but can only find sweets, crisps, biscuits, fruit juice and water. We go round and round again. It must be somewhere. Is this all these people live on? We are causing quite a stir in the shop. Despite our attempts to fit in with local fashion, we are well off the mark compared to their beautifully chic , black headscarves and full make-up with kohl eyes. The girls on the checkout, at least 3 per checkout, look at us, chatter to each other and giggle. We grab some crisps, nuts, raisins and fruit juice and line up at the till. I hand over 110, 000 Rials for my purchases and a packet of chewing gum is put in instead of change. 'A present' she says.
Back at the hotel, we munch on crisps and dried fruit and try to connect to the internet with limited success. There's nowhere to eat, nowhere to drink, we can't play cards, we can't play music, we can't get online and we're too hot in our headscarves. Eventually, one by one, we go up to our rooms for a much needed, early night.
The shower has no curtain and the bathroom is already a swimming pool as I step in. Just as I'm shampooing my hair all the lights go out and the water fades to a trickle, then nothing. I'm stood there in the pitch black, wearing nothing but my nakedness and suds. It's not looking a good start to the day. Especially as today is the day we have to be fully covered for Iran, with full hi-jab. I feel my way to the door to let some light in. Just as I have dried myself and soapy hair off with a towel, the power comes back and I go through the whole process again.
As we go down to breakfast, the view from the corridor window looks straight to Mount Ararat, but today it is sporting a cloudy halo.
It's a short drive to the border, and we pass hundreds of lorries stacked 4 deep, waiting to cross as we risk life and limb driving on the wrong side of the dual carriageway to overtake them. This is where we say goodbye to our first Ozbus and driver Daenes. We will miss them both. We have a photo shoot with Daenes, the bus and all the girls in their gear. We gather up all our worldly goods and head towards the Turkish exit. There is a forlorn little beep from the bus as Daenes pulls away and I turn back to wave goodbye
There's only a short queue as we wait to exit, then another coach pulls up and suddenly its chaos as men come from all directions to try to push in front of us. They push in front of the girls in front and invite their friends and family to join them. It's like we don't even exist but I am resolute in my determination not to bow to this sexist intimidation. Is this how it is going to be? Debbie was standing behind me and as I go through I realise an entire coach load has placed themselves between her and me. Eventually we exit Turkey. We anticipate entry to Iran will be even more difficult but despite a long wait, it is relatively painless, as they take our finger prints from several angles including two knuckles(don't ask). As we sit and wait, two Iranian women, swathed in black, sit beside me, smiling and asking me questions in Farsi. I look at them, clueless, but they are not perturbed and continue on. I am willing myself to understand and I try sign language but its not working and they don't give up. Where are we from? Are we all family? Are these my sisters, daughters? Is Barry the father or grandfather? As I start to understand and try to explain, it is time to move on. I bet they are still marvelling at the lack of birth control in England, and wondering at the man who could father so many children and grandchildren and afford to take them on holiday to Iran.
Around us posters and leaflets welcome us to West Azerbaijan. What? I thought Azerbaijan was a different country. It is, but WEST Azerbaijan is now part of Iran. We go through to change our money. For the first, and probably the last, time of my life, I am a millionaire! Weyhey.
Outside our next Ozbus is waiting for us. Superficially, it looks not unlike our last but inside it appears to be held together with gaffer tape and, horror of horrors, there is no on board toilet. On the positive side there is a beautiful carpet runner down the centre and we have more legroom.
Suddenly a cheer goes up, and Kenneth comes running through to the bus. We have followed his journey to catch us up, lived through his torment of fully booked overnight buses, losing another 24hours, being rerouted through uncharted territory, and and are relieved to see him back in the fold. Not as relieved as he is to be back with us. Its hugs all round.
The journey to Tabriz is fraught with police checks and everyone in the front seats has that slightly petrified expression as we continuously swerve to overtake , challenging the fuel truck hurtling towards us to a game of chicken. The landscape is dramatic and the flat roofed housing of the villages we pass is both simple and sophisticated with large bow windows. But the colour of the ground and the housing is the same and there is little green in the fields we pass. Even with air conditioning on the bus, we are all stifling in our full length clothing and headscarves.
We stop for lunch in a little restaurant (there are no service stations in Iran) and we millionaires are challenged to count the cost of a meal, where a chicken kebab is 50500 Rials and a coke 3000Rials. The choice is limited. Chicken kebab, lamb kebab, beef kebab and for the vegetarians, barley soup. It is very tasty but we are not used to having our meal in the middle of the day and struggle to finish the large portions.
As we pick up the road again, in the distance we can see lightening and a storm approaching but as we exit the rain there are double and triple rainbows all around us. They are so beautiful, everyone starts snapping pictures.
When we finally arrive in Tabriz, it is already dark and quite late. We dump our bags in our rooms and set out to scavenge for food. The restaurant in the hotel is not open and as we walk up the street looking for food we can only see furniture shops. Eventually, there is a small, but busy supermarket. Great. We can get some bread and cheese and have a picnic. We wander round but can only find sweets, crisps, biscuits, fruit juice and water. We go round and round again. It must be somewhere. Is this all these people live on? We are causing quite a stir in the shop. Despite our attempts to fit in with local fashion, we are well off the mark compared to their beautifully chic , black headscarves and full make-up with kohl eyes. The girls on the checkout, at least 3 per checkout, look at us, chatter to each other and giggle. We grab some crisps, nuts, raisins and fruit juice and line up at the till. I hand over 110, 000 Rials for my purchases and a packet of chewing gum is put in instead of change. 'A present' she says.
Back at the hotel, we munch on crisps and dried fruit and try to connect to the internet with limited success. There's nowhere to eat, nowhere to drink, we can't play cards, we can't play music, we can't get online and we're too hot in our headscarves. Eventually, one by one, we go up to our rooms for a much needed, early night.
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