Kurdistan: Day 3, Orumieh to Oshnavieh, 79km

According to my good German map (and it is very very good, waterproof and rip-proof!), I was to take a 'shortcut' off the main road, from Orumieh to Oshnavieh on my way to Piranshahr and the Iraqi border. As it turned out, this was the way all the locals went anyway. The hotel staff in Orumieh had told me I was going through a JUNGLE! I guess for most Iranians, a few upright sticks with leaves is a jungle. Some trees, a forest, a jungle...it's all the same.

The 79km route was beautiful, through valleys and over hilly mountains, with shades of green rivalling Ireland. The road was good and the traffic light, with a very steady uphill and a steep downhill, although the headwind prevented any real fun on the downhill. A friendly encounter with a Kurdish family in the middle of no-where involved a few English worlds, a few Farsi (Persian/Iranian) words, and a number of photos. The standard interaction on the road in Iran, except the tea was missing. Always a fun experience though, especially when a free tea, lunch, or sleepover is included. Even the Kurdish wife wanted a photo, which seemed a little different to the usual behaviour of Kurdish women who seemed even more shy and reserved than the Persian women.

A late lunch in Oshnavieh turned into an invitation to stay from the shopkeeper, Behzad, who turned out to be 18. After a short visit to his place, and an introduction to his young friend, there was some extended conversations in Kurdish with his mother and his friend. What was going on? There was some talk about the hotel in town, and I got  the feeling that the invitation to me was about to be revoked. A visit to the police with Behzad to 'register' his foreign guest was rejected, and I was instructed to stay at the hotel. I later got the picture that Behzad's friend was part of the Basij, the young volunteer's army, known among travellers for their suspicion towards travellers (even when the police are not). No matter, it was finally a chance for me to stay at a mosarferkhaneh, an Iranian hostel, except not the Western kind where young male and female travellers share dorm rooms and run around in their underwear. Rather, a hostel for men only, old and seedy men.