From the Caspian to Tehran was a couple of hours riding. We approached the first of the toll booths for the freeway and were waved through as there is no figure for bikes as they're not allowed to use the freeway. We were stopped immediately as we left the toll booth at a police check. It was our first or second in Iran, much different to the Iraqis where we were stopped for passport checks every 30 or so km. We think that they're bored and like to check the bikes, find out where we're from, our names..... etc.
The ride towards Tehran became crazier the closer we got. Its about a 3 lane road with up to 5 cars wide at places. Cars lane split, cross 4 lanes in one mad move, all while checking out the bikes and yelling the same questions out of the windows.
The freeway pretty well dropped us off in central Tehran. It was dark by now and we parked by the side of the road while Dave and Ben went of in search of a hotel. Crowd gathered...... same questions. Very friendly. About an hour later they returned and we rode on to the Hotel Dorsa. First impressions were good. Never rely on first impressions. The room was good after we argued our way out of being put in one room with a double bed, single and a fold out arm chair, but WIFI was always going to be fixed tomorrow, lifts worked some of the time, staff were useless and we had to move our bikes after we parked them where we were told to. The laundry only washed shirts and dacks, not underwear and socks! Maybe it was just OUR undies and socks.
Great parks in Tehran. Not the detail of Melbourne's, but a fantastic casual feel and well used. Background of mountains helps.
Basic street scene.
Pete and Dave outside our local café that had WiFi and half decent coffee.
Traffic shot from one of our taxis.
We were there for about 5 nights as this was our last pick up point for visas. Once again Turkmenistan was our most difficult one. Fill out new forms as the ones we did in Istanbul. But after about two hours of having locals push in in front of us, we finally had the visas. Next day it was off to the Uzbekistan consulate and much the same story. But, thankfully, the same result. Now we had them all.
Getting to and from the consulates, we elected to use taxis. These guys were millimetre perfect in their driving even if the cars themselves (mainly Iran-assembled Peugeots) were more rooted than a garden centre. Even so, we made Ben sit in the front. Airbag Ben, we named him. At least ion a taxi, you have time to look around and, er, admire the locals. Iranian women by law must wear the headscarf, but that doesn't stop the daring ones pulling it almost right to the back of their heads. Their make-up is superb and they strike a very assured, elegant pose even if they're not allowed to travel overseas under the age of 40 without the written permission of their father or brother. Go figure.
Finally, we hit the road again, and after a good solid 300km arrived at Kashan. A Dutch dude we'd met at the Turkmen consulate two days earlier told us about a traditional hotel which turned out to be a mud and straw (and very probably dung) building with a big courtyard and a great feel.
We'd planned to spend one night there, but we ran into a German woman who lives in Tehran who was taking her German visitors for a look-see around Iran. They were going into the dunes for lunch. Would we like to tag along?
Us and the German women that were going to show us some 'real' desert.
The courtyard of the hotel/hostel. About $10 per night. The room was great with huge vaulted ceilings.
The ride towards Tehran became crazier the closer we got. Its about a 3 lane road with up to 5 cars wide at places. Cars lane split, cross 4 lanes in one mad move, all while checking out the bikes and yelling the same questions out of the windows.
The freeway pretty well dropped us off in central Tehran. It was dark by now and we parked by the side of the road while Dave and Ben went of in search of a hotel. Crowd gathered...... same questions. Very friendly. About an hour later they returned and we rode on to the Hotel Dorsa. First impressions were good. Never rely on first impressions. The room was good after we argued our way out of being put in one room with a double bed, single and a fold out arm chair, but WIFI was always going to be fixed tomorrow, lifts worked some of the time, staff were useless and we had to move our bikes after we parked them where we were told to. The laundry only washed shirts and dacks, not underwear and socks! Maybe it was just OUR undies and socks.
We were there for about 5 nights as this was our last pick up point for visas. Once again Turkmenistan was our most difficult one. Fill out new forms as the ones we did in Istanbul. But after about two hours of having locals push in in front of us, we finally had the visas. Next day it was off to the Uzbekistan consulate and much the same story. But, thankfully, the same result. Now we had them all.
Getting to and from the consulates, we elected to use taxis. These guys were millimetre perfect in their driving even if the cars themselves (mainly Iran-assembled Peugeots) were more rooted than a garden centre. Even so, we made Ben sit in the front. Airbag Ben, we named him. At least ion a taxi, you have time to look around and, er, admire the locals. Iranian women by law must wear the headscarf, but that doesn't stop the daring ones pulling it almost right to the back of their heads. Their make-up is superb and they strike a very assured, elegant pose even if they're not allowed to travel overseas under the age of 40 without the written permission of their father or brother. Go figure.
Finally, we hit the road again, and after a good solid 300km arrived at Kashan. A Dutch dude we'd met at the Turkmen consulate two days earlier told us about a traditional hotel which turned out to be a mud and straw (and very probably dung) building with a big courtyard and a great feel.
We'd planned to spend one night there, but we ran into a German woman who lives in Tehran who was taking her German visitors for a look-see around Iran. They were going into the dunes for lunch. Would we like to tag along?
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