Kurdistan: Day 5, Piranshahr to Soran, 86km

The border between Iran and Iraq. 

Trucks were parked by the road from my standpoint all the way to the end of the visible road.

A spectacular view of the snow mountains on the border awaited me the next morning, along with the kebab for breakfast. I said a farewell to my excellent host Salam, and a couple of hours later a farewell to perhaps my favourite country of these travels, Iran.

On my steep uphill to the 1800m high Haji Omaran border, I had passed hundreds and hundreds of parked trucks, waiting to go into Iraq. Some were fuel tankers, others were car carries, with cars that I hadn't seen on the roads in Iran, including American Chryslers. However for me on my bicycle, immigration was a breeze, and the police were as helpful as ever.

Immigration on the Iraqi side was a little slower, although the free 10-day visa was welcome. Unlike Iran, there were a few more questions, a trend which has continued for my stay in Iraq. The police and army in Iraq and Iran have always been friendly and helpful, except when I came out of my interview to find an Iraqi army official riding my bike! I wasn't happy, and after discovering he had broken the phone holder I gave him a piece of my mind. Still dissatisfied after his three kiss-on-the-cheek sorry gesture, I was happy to get started on the long downhill. A race against a bus proved less successful than it had on the mountain roads of Yunnan, China, many months ago on the first leg of my bicycle travels. The sealed but patchy road surface here required a little more caution.

After an amusing incident with a car, where we had both been on the wrong side of the road, I finally arrived in the village of Choman. Some friendly interaction over lunch with the locals resulted in a conversation in Swedish with one man! He had lived in Sweden for 17 years, England for 6, and had now returned to his homeland for a little retirement, and business. Numerous Kurds I was to meet in Iraq had followed this pattern. Kurdistan was now the place to be for business.

The afternoon was a tiring, windy, but 'gorge'ous downhill with some single-handed riding while video shooting. The dogs were a little lacklustre and barely gave chase. I was surprised to find a theme park located in this mountain gorge setting, and a  quick photo turned into lots of conversation, and a bed for the night in the guards quarters. I had almost closed my eyes when the police came along, and after some discussion with the park owner I was told I had an interview with the police the next morning.

Kurdistan: Day 4, Oshnavieh to Piranshahr, 50km

Piranshahr looked beautiful, covered by a thin layer of fog the next morning.

It wasn't too hard to motivate myself to leave the dirty mosaferkhaneh the next morning. On a previous occasion, in southern Iran, finding a mosaferkhaneh had been a God-send (or an Allah-send) as it saved me from having to use my tent in the wet. On that occasion, I had the one-room mosaferkhaneh all to myself.

A short ride 50km to Piranshahr over some slightly hilly terrain was over by lunchtime. Merging with the busier main highway before Piranshahr suggested that the route through Oshnavieh had been a good choice.

Via couchsurfing.com, I had found a host by the name of Salam Salimi in Piranshahr. He turned out to be a very friendly 29 year old jeweller, who had only created a profile on couchsurfing a few days earlier. Coincidently, he had met or hosted a few travellers I had met in Iran a few weeks earlier, including Lukas on a motorcycle and Gaetan on a bicycle.

Salam spoke English well and was keen to meet travellers, all of whom would be passing through Piranshahr to or from Iraq. I was introduced to his English teacher, and some very interesting conversations followed while having a stroll on a hill overlooking the town with a population of 40 thousand.

Apparently, Piranshahr had its own fair share of 'tycoons', ten to fifteen of them, who had been very successful in business and would occasionally take long business trips to China. Some of these tycoons had began taking English lessons but had dropped out due to their busy workloads. No matter, some attractive female translators would be awaiting them in China. Surprisingly, even Kurdish is spoken by some Chinese (ladies), as an Iraqi Kurd later told me, gleefully describing his sex escapeed with a Kurdish speaking Chinese girl during his recent business trip to China.

Also on discussion was the 'problem' of the desire for young men and women to be free to have relationships. It wasn't so much a problem that sexual relationships before marriage were illegal, for it was easy enough to find a discrete location. According to the English teacher, the problem was that most men then later expected their brides to be pure and clean. Apparently Tehran has overcome this problem of 'unreasonable expectation'. Numerous Iranians and Iraqis spoke about Tehran as THE place to go to meet a girl.

An invitation to a late night English lesson produced many questions about Australia, particularly about immigration. I've now become a little more experienced in dispelling the myths of living in Australia and living the 'good life'.

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.

Kurdistan: Day 2, Orumieh

Nice to see some South Park at a Kindergarten in Iran

Cartoons and caricatures feature heavily in Iranian media & advertising. 

Most of it is locally created, with a few exceptions...

It takes quite a sleep-in to recover from a 20 hours bus ride with almost no sleep followed immediately by a 150km bike ride. Same restaurant, same food, no questions asked. They had plenty more on their menu, but that's ok; anything but shish-kebab! I think it was khoresht, a stew of beef and beans with a delicious tomato base. Finding a restaurant in Iran which doesn't only serve kebab can be a struggle. I don't know why. There are plenty of great Iranian dishes (mostly stews) served at home, but Iranians go crazy over shish-kebab when they (rarely) eat out!

It turned out to be good decision to rest for the day, as the rain was rather active in the afternoon. I finally sent out my 3rd postcard of my entire trip that afternoon, as well as my 29th (yes, do the math). It seemed a bit silly, considering I'd be sending everyone postcards again in a week from Iraq (THE destination to send a postcard from!), however in hindsight it was a good idea; it's still a little difficult to find postcards in Iraq.

Kurdistan: Day 1, Tabriz to Orumieh, 150km

I woke up a bit dazed and confused, sure that it would be another 6 hours of crap sleep on the overnight bus before I arrived. Alas, I was wrong; I was in Tabriz. The snow mountains in the distance confirmed my destination. The friendly Iranian staff had my bike and panniers safely off the bus and I was ready to go, before an Persian girl demanded my attention. As it turned out she was 20, a university student, knew barely a word of English and within the space of a 20 minutes she wanted to take me home to her town 100km away. It didn't quite match my itinerary, direction or style so we said goodbye. Two hours later arrived the sms "I am in college. I love you very much". It was the second time in a week this had happened to me.

A beautiful tailwind and downhill allowed a mighty speedy exit from the big city, even though I was a bit rusty from a 6-week rest, and tired from the long bus trip. It wasn't long before the roads were quiet and I was riding through the middle of a dry salt lake. Although the map showed a direct road between Tabriz and Orumieh, the signs (and locals) indicated a different story. A minor 29km detour.

No matter, I stopped for lunch and met my first Azari in Iran. While Persians make up the majority in Iran, the Azaris account for a fair 25% chunk of the population. The kind Azari man provided me with a lunch of bread and a gas-heated can of tuna. Along with another can of tuna, I should have been charged about $3 (3000 tomans or 30,000 rials). Fortunately, he engaged in the Iranian custom of etiquette called "t'aarof", one aspect being that the merchant will refuse payment. Unfortunately (for the first time in Iran), I was stung in the ass and after playing along and saying "no, no, I really must pay", he 'reluctantly' asked for $5. Only a few minutes earlier, he had asked about a work visa to Australia and then later offered that I stay for the night. It was perhaps the only time I had been asked for a visa while in Iran, and the first time I had been cheated. Despite this incident though, Iran had been a welcome change to Nepal in almost every way.

The 29km detour just prior to lake Orumieh was very scenic and very green in comparison with southern and central Iran, although just a taste of what was to come in the following two weeks in Kurdistan. A 25km ride along the bridge and causeway over the salty lake Orumieh was beautiful but tiring. My 6-week break from cycling wasn't working out for my legs by now.

My first encounter with dogs for many many months occurred immediately after the lake, in Kurdistan. They weren't too intimidating though, and the sound of a zap from the Taser was enough to stop them in their tracks. With every dog so far in Kurdistan, stopping and getting off the bike has been enough to discourage close contact. I suspect the dogs in Turkey won't be so easy from the stories I've heard from other cyclists. After some very close encounters in China and Nepal, I've had dreams of 'dogfights'. I won't hesitate to rip a dog apart from limb to limb to save my own ass. Throwing a rock or two (while stationary) should be more than enough to discourage most dogs though.

After about 150km, I finally navigated my way past numerous packs of dogs and arrived in Orumieh at night. A $15 'splurge' on a nice hotel was much needed. As usual in Iran, the staff were more than happy to help out in any way, and escorted me to a restaurant down the street and waited until I was finished, then offered to pay!