(Sorry Folks - no photos with this one)
A strong wind blows late into the evening and I awake covered in a fine layer of dust...lovely - you could pay good money for derma abrasion but Iran gives you then for free. I set myself my biggest riding day yet about 500kms. It’s a Friday (the day people have off work) so I set off early waking the hotel manager who is sleeping on a couch in the foyer. The visibility on the road heading out of town is 200 metres with everything just fading into pale light grey. The sun is playing moon, a shinning white disc that you can look at without any problems.…Ahhh…so maybe it’s mini dust storms that created the haze…not pollution as I thought.
I get the ring roads around major towns right but the traffic is heavy with families out for the weekend. They love a picnic just as much as Turkish families and stop anywhere to have them. At a busy roundabout on the side of the highway families had stopped their cars, laid out their mats, pillows and cooking implements and were lazing on the narrow stretches of green grass. I understand picnics…I don’t understand picnics next to a highway in the left over of a mini dust storm.
By early afternoon I’m getting tired so stop to get something to eat in a small town grocery store. I park the bike to surprised stares and take my helmet off to surprised stares x 2. Entering the store I greet an elderly lady “salam” she smiles and talks to me in Farsi then starts a friendly tut tut accompanied with a wagging finger…I wonder what she is saying…..”why are you riding your motorcycle so slow…give her some throttle woman or give me to me, I‘ll show you how it‘s done.”….hmmm maybe not.
By mid afternoon the wind is back and blowing so hard I struggle to keep the bike from being swept across the road. Leaning it at a rakish angle just to go straight line. I see mini dust whirls winds in slow motion being swept down the hills and sometimes thrown across my path - blocking my vision and creating a ting ting ting as the sand particles bounce off my helmet. Car passengers that pass me look on obviously wondering what I’m doing. With shrugged shoulders I give them a big smile and they wave back.
I’m 300 crow flying Kilometres from Baghdad and sometime today I passed my 5,000 kilometre on this journey- not a huge amount but more than the total of my riding prior to this trip. I need a little celebration but will wait until I stop - I keep on pushing myself to get as far as I can today and Ginger feels it struggling with the dust and wind barely making 60kms/hr in some spots on straight roads. It’s a long day and I’m dehydrated and tired again. My face is red and sore from the dry heat. No matter how much sunscreen or moisturiser I apply.. it looks raw and feels tender. With my silk scarf tied in a bow around my neck, I now permanently resemble a gift wrapped old beetroot…beautiful!
Allguardz has a Tourist Inn Hotel so I call it a day there. The staff bend over backwards to help me. I find they have blanketed Ginger in a red table cloth to try to keep the dust off her. One younger man who ’works in banking’ comes up to me, asking me questions that the guidebooks say Iranians ask…”how much is the bike, where are you going…what is your job, write down your university name and your email address and phone number...take your glasses off so I can see you better“….some of these questions are getting personal. He puts his hand out to shake mine - out of habit I shake his, but immediately regret it as he holds on too long and puts his other hand on top. I remember the words of wisdom from a seasoned solo female traveller - a man in an Islamic country is not allowed to touch a woman that’s not a relative - if someone wants to shake your hand they are probably not people you want to deal with. I pull my hand away - a hotel staff member must have seen this and comes over to rescue me. The hotel is full but I eat in the restaurant alone again. My 5,000km celebration is a small chocolate bar the staff give me after dinner.
I’m cranky with myself...I let this guy push my boundaries and rather than being firm, I don’t look him in the eye and mumble. In Australia I wouldn’t do that - why am I so confused with how to integrate here? I still have to learn the balance. The next morning I let one of the hotel staff who rides bikes take mine for a run around the car park….his smile is infectious as Ginger purrs with the love. The young banker from the day before comes tearing down in what looks like his pyjamas. “Are you going…where are you going? What cash do you have on you What is your room number” I tell him I need to pack and don’t really have time to talk and quickly duck back to my room making sure all my documents and money is on me and safe…I don’t trust this guy and just want to get away. I’m heading for Esfahan, I have been travelling for 6 days straight without a break and have covered the same distance I spent seventeen days covering in my first weeks in Turkey. I’m really looking forward to a rest and the sights Esfahan will offer and hopefully I’m meet some other travellers in a bigger town.
Kilometres travelled: 5331
Where am I: Allguardz, Iran
Lesson I’m still learning: The balance of how to interact in Iran
Biggest riding day yet: 482km
Times Ginger has been ridden by someone else: 3
Times Ginger has been blanketed by lovely hotel staff: 1
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