The border crossing was a bit of a nightmare as it took so long (5hrs) to get through and it was cooking - I think it must have been close to 40 degrees. Having crossed the border it was getting late, so we started to look for somewhere to sleep. Finally we stopped in a remote village to ask if we could sleep anywhere in our van. Luckily, the man we asked could speak English (he is a retired Math’s teacher but was tending to his small farm in a remote village) and he invited us to stay with him and his family in the nearby town (60km across a twisting, hilltop road) called Khoy. Khoy turned out to be a bustling town and we ended up arriving in t
he dark at his home where his wife, two sons and two daughters made us feel incredibly welcome. They fed us a traditional Iranian meal (chicken, chilli & tomato like casserole with fried potatoes and you eat it with a chapatti-like bread) followed by water melon and lots of cups of chai, whilst sitting cross legged on their Persian carpeted floors. They seemed absolutely delighted to be speaking English and sharing their lives with us. They were all incredibly smiley and all laughed with great ease. Even though they insisted that we should sleep in their home that night we decided to sleep in the van, because it was easier to get into my bed rather trying to sleep on their carpeted floor (getting me from the floor to my chair would have been really difficult). The next morning I almost wished we had slept in their home because the 'sweat box' was absolutely boiling. I later thought that it was really lucky we have become a little acclimatized to the heat otherwise the heat in the van would have been really difficult to cope with. That morning they fed us again. This time we had another type of flat bread which you spread a soft white cheese on to it as well as cranberry jam. After breakfast the oldest son along with his wife, younger brother and sister guided us in their car towards the road to Tabriz.
We had the most fantastic experience sharing a little part of their lives, which was mainly thanks to th
eir warmth and generosity. We also learnt so much about Iranian life in such a short time and with out writing to much about the restraints they endure on a day-to-day basis it made Chrissy and I really appreciate the freedom we have to do what ever we like in the country that we live in. In retrospect it was interesting to contemplate – ‘if a stranger pulled you over in your town looking for somewhere to sleep would you invite them into your home?’ I think I could guess what the answer would be from the majority of people, which just goes to show what a generous and trusting act it was for them to invite us into their home.
Rather than stopping in the bustling city of Tabriz we decided to try and find somewhere to sleep in a village called Kandovan 50km south of Tabriz, which is a rock chimney like settlement equivalent to Cappadocia in Turkey but not quite so grand. Kandovans claim to fame is that it is the supposed site of the garden of Eden. What we didn’t account for though was that it was a Friday (The Iranian equivalent to our Saturday) and Iranians LOVE and are EXPERTS at picnicking. In the short time we’ve been in Iran we’ve seen families pitched up under the shade of a tree; sitting on their blankets; brewing up chai on their gas burners and generally going about picnicking with great expertise. As a result I think the majority of the inhabitants of Tabriz had packed up their hampers, piled them, along with their families into their cars or balanced them along the length of their motorbikes and headed for the same destination we were headed for. The drive was like driving up the towards Rhayader dams in the Elan valley in Wales but very much drier. The land we have been driving through had been very barren, so it was great to see so many trees (hazel nut we think?), which lined some of the valleys walls that we drove through. When we finally arrived at Kandonvan we never imagined every man, his dog and his kebab would be there. Traffic along the narrow road was banked up for miles and we (my hand-controls) seemed to be the star attraction of the hordes of people weaving through the queue of cars, whilst carrying their bundles of picnic gear. As we continued up the road, the tarmac ran out giving way to a cobble street which later turned into a dust track that was constrained by houses that were built directly on the roadside. Every other moustached pedestrian turned out to be a volunteer traffic warden, however, their patients would run out with in ten minutes and they would walk off leaving the traffic in a worse state of chaos than it had previously been in. Occasionally we would see a man on a donkey or a women herding a few sheep in between the chaos and I could just imagine that they were wishing all of the tourists would leave so that their home could return to the tranquil valley (with a stream trickling through the bottom of it) that it had been before they had arrived. It took us roughly one and a half hours to drive to the top of the valley (1km); half an hour to do a U-turn (thanks to the help of some unhelpful volunteer traffic wardens) and another one hour and a half to get out of the village. In that time Miranda scraped through one nasty pothole; she picked up a scratch down one side of her thanks to some not very good local driving; the hand controls had hell of a work out but on the plus side I would now class myself as a world class professional ‘Local Driver’ e.g. I now use my horn during every manoeuvre (no matter what I’m doing) and I never use my indicator to let anyone know what I’m doing. After ALL that we had to drive the 50km back to Tabriz and ended up in a gaudy ‘business hotel’ wishing we where camping in Miranda. We are now sitting in the foyer making the most of the free internet. Chrissy is currently writing her diary and is dressed in the strict Iranian dress code i.e. a black headscarf and with only her hands and feet showing. Oh yes and Chrissy seriously loaded up on the complimentary breakfast this morning, so much so that I’ve nicknamed her ‘little horse’.
Anyway our three days in Iran has been fantastic and we hope to update the blog as soon as we can but internet access may be harder to find from here on in. We can't upload pictures at the moment but we will do in another country.
Posted by Colin
he dark at his home where his wife, two sons and two daughters made us feel incredibly welcome. They fed us a traditional Iranian meal (chicken, chilli & tomato like casserole with fried potatoes and you eat it with a chapatti-like bread) followed by water melon and lots of cups of chai, whilst sitting cross legged on their Persian carpeted floors. They seemed absolutely delighted to be speaking English and sharing their lives with us. They were all incredibly smiley and all laughed with great ease. Even though they insisted that we should sleep in their home that night we decided to sleep in the van, because it was easier to get into my bed rather trying to sleep on their carpeted floor (getting me from the floor to my chair would have been really difficult). The next morning I almost wished we had slept in their home because the 'sweat box' was absolutely boiling. I later thought that it was really lucky we have become a little acclimatized to the heat otherwise the heat in the van would have been really difficult to cope with. That morning they fed us again. This time we had another type of flat bread which you spread a soft white cheese on to it as well as cranberry jam. After breakfast the oldest son along with his wife, younger brother and sister guided us in their car towards the road to Tabriz.We had the most fantastic experience sharing a little part of their lives, which was mainly thanks to th
eir warmth and generosity. We also learnt so much about Iranian life in such a short time and with out writing to much about the restraints they endure on a day-to-day basis it made Chrissy and I really appreciate the freedom we have to do what ever we like in the country that we live in. In retrospect it was interesting to contemplate – ‘if a stranger pulled you over in your town looking for somewhere to sleep would you invite them into your home?’ I think I could guess what the answer would be from the majority of people, which just goes to show what a generous and trusting act it was for them to invite us into their home.Rather than stopping in the bustling city of Tabriz we decided to try and find somewhere to sleep in a village called Kandovan 50km south of Tabriz, which is a rock chimney like settlement equivalent to Cappadocia in Turkey but not quite so grand. Kandovans claim to fame is that it is the supposed site of the garden of Eden. What we didn’t account for though was that it was a Friday (The Iranian equivalent to our Saturday) and Iranians LOVE and are EXPERTS at picnicking. In the short time we’ve been in Iran we’ve seen families pitched up under the shade of a tree; sitting on their blankets; brewing up chai on their gas burners and generally going about picnicking with great expertise. As a result I think the majority of the inhabitants of Tabriz had packed up their hampers, piled them, along with their families into their cars or balanced them along the length of their motorbikes and headed for the same destination we were headed for. The drive was like driving up the towards Rhayader dams in the Elan valley in Wales but very much drier. The land we have been driving through had been very barren, so it was great to see so many trees (hazel nut we think?), which lined some of the valleys walls that we drove through. When we finally arrived at Kandonvan we never imagined every man, his dog and his kebab would be there. Traffic along the narrow road was banked up for miles and we (my hand-controls) seemed to be the star attraction of the hordes of people weaving through the queue of cars, whilst carrying their bundles of picnic gear. As we continued up the road, the tarmac ran out giving way to a cobble street which later turned into a dust track that was constrained by houses that were built directly on the roadside. Every other moustached pedestrian turned out to be a volunteer traffic warden, however, their patients would run out with in ten minutes and they would walk off leaving the traffic in a worse state of chaos than it had previously been in. Occasionally we would see a man on a donkey or a women herding a few sheep in between the chaos and I could just imagine that they were wishing all of the tourists would leave so that their home could return to the tranquil valley (with a stream trickling through the bottom of it) that it had been before they had arrived. It took us roughly one and a half hours to drive to the top of the valley (1km); half an hour to do a U-turn (thanks to the help of some unhelpful volunteer traffic wardens) and another one hour and a half to get out of the village. In that time Miranda scraped through one nasty pothole; she picked up a scratch down one side of her thanks to some not very good local driving; the hand controls had hell of a work out but on the plus side I would now class myself as a world class professional ‘Local Driver’ e.g. I now use my horn during every manoeuvre (no matter what I’m doing) and I never use my indicator to let anyone know what I’m doing. After ALL that we had to drive the 50km back to Tabriz and ended up in a gaudy ‘business hotel’ wishing we where camping in Miranda. We are now sitting in the foyer making the most of the free internet. Chrissy is currently writing her diary and is dressed in the strict Iranian dress code i.e. a black headscarf and with only her hands and feet showing. Oh yes and Chrissy seriously loaded up on the complimentary breakfast this morning, so much so that I’ve nicknamed her ‘little horse’.
Anyway our three days in Iran has been fantastic and we hope to update the blog as soon as we can but internet access may be harder to find from here on in. We can't upload pictures at the moment but we will do in another country.
Posted by Colin
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