Thursday 4th August
It was time to leave Tehran on our whistle-stop tour of Iran and
head towards Aliabad, about 450 km away. Mohammed elected to ride in our car
for this leg of the journey so we attempted to give him an education on the
music and culture of England. In hindsight, Dizzee Rascal probably wasn’t the
best pop icon to showcase our country’s talent as he swiftly fell asleep. We
did find out some interesting trivia about Iran though. The Iranian flag says
“Allahu Akbar” 22 times on it, and Iran is sometimes referred to as the nose
job capital of the world because many wealthy women pursue the western flat
nose. This came as a relief to us as we’d initially thought the numerous bandaged
women roaming the streets just couldn’t stand the smell of us.
Whilst waiting at a junction we experienced our first crash of the
trip. Will from team Two and a Half Men decided he’d floor it into the back of Marigold,
denting the rear bumper. All three of us immediately jumped out the car and
like Billy Bowden raising the crooked finger; we slowly extended our arms locked in the familiar X shape and danced around their car in what has become an
established strike issuing ritual. Despite Marigold’s now slightly angular
posterior, there was no serious damage and we ploughed on.
Back on the roads were we constantly bombarded with beaming smiles,
exuberant waving and gifts of bread from cars passing us on the dual
carriageways. Iranians really are the friendliest people I’ve ever met. They
loved to test their English out on us which although we reciprocated willingly,
the conversations tended to follow a very similar pattern:
“Hello”
“Where are you from?”
“England”
“Ahhh, David Beckham?!”
“Welcome to Iran”
****End of conversation****
This loop was repeated at least a hundred times a day but we didn’t
mind, they were just so pleased to see us and we were so happy to be there.
Mohammed the guide wasn’t in such a jovial mood however as he had a bout of
diarrhoea meaning we had to frequently stop for squatty breaks. Rather him than
me, I couldn’t breathe in most of the lavatory facilities he relieved himself
in.
Around midday we stopped for lunch at a roadside café and enjoyed a
traditional bread, potato and lamb “worker’s” dish. The only seating
arrangement large enough for a party of 8 was sitting on a large rug on an
upstairs veranda. Not since assembly at primary school have I successfully sat
cross-legged on the floor and felt comfortable. But as the son of a yoga
teacher I persevered until it proved to be too painful and I joined the lanky
ones in a cumbersome slouch. Sorry mum, I’ve failed you. The food was delicious
though and we all agreed it was the best meal we’d had in Iran so far.
Posted by: Rich