Iran here I am…

The bike pannier rack is at an angle it shouldn’t be (pulled in towards the wheel) and I’m missing one clip that holds my pannier on.  It’s been ripped off. I think back…people flashing lights at me yesterday…my bike wheel feeling like I ran over a large rock that I’m sure wasn’t on the road. I realise that my bike strap must have come undone and was flapping in the wind for heaven knows how long before it got caught in my back wheel and ripped off - clip and all. Oops. Joseph helps me straighten the pannier holder and I get all Mcguivered again with an elaborate system of bungee straps to hold everything together. Ever the gentleman, he maneuvers my bike out from the hotel foyer and in the early morning light we are heading for the Iranian border..scarf at the ready.

The night before I had changed some of my Iranian Riel back into Euros. The embargos against Iran mean I won’t be able to access any money while in the country, not at banks, not at ATM’s, you can’t wire money, not even the Australian Embassy can help with funds. What you carry in, is all you have. For safety, this is split up in various places on my bike, myself and my luggage - I have enough funds for 20 days with two days worth of back up funds.

We reach the border driving on the wrong side of the road to pass a five kilometre row of trucks waiting to be processed…some looked like they had been there for days. We are ushered through the first gate where a non uniformed person asks us for our passports. Scam No 1: - as the officials are not in uniforms, people pose as officials….so I ask “are you an official?” Yes..Yes...give me your passport. “what is your job if you are an official“…he got cranky at this so we hand over our passports. He disappears into a little building while some other person comes up to us telling us we can’t change our money the other side of the border. Then when that didn‘t work he says he can offer a better exchange rate. Scam No 2: The Iranian currency is quite confusing with it officially known as Riels but the Iranian people speak in terms of Tomma’s which is a Riel minus one zero….so 100,000 Riels ($10AUD) is 10,000 Tomma. Because you are working with large numbers…millions of riels, the money changers at the border often leave a 0 off and you are down a lot of money. “No thanks, we don’t want to change money here”. The guy with our passports returns and he then starts telling us we need to change money here…ok…so you are not an official.

We ride up to where the officials really are and get processed quickly by an arrogant guard who understands the power he has and flaunts it through throwing document papers back at you, not speaking to you or showing you where you have to go next. The eyes of Ayatollah Khomeini stare down from a huge sign that greets us to Iran - this is where the scarf must go on. The passport officer and other officials assume that Joseph and I will ride together, we don’t say anything different. As the male, they only talk to him, asking about his travel plans and when they are satisfied they usher us into the customs area to get the bike paperwork signed. Border fixers (people who earn money from ‘helping’ getting papers signed) hang like vultures around the doors waiting for us to enter. I’m confident we can do it ourselves but somehow we end up with a fixer who is stamping our papers and telling us the next place to go is the Insurance office. Scam No 3: they say you can only get insurance for 1 year at 80 Euros when the other border crossings give you one month for 20 Euros. Considering the insurance is not worth the paper it’s written on and that the majority of visas are less than 30 days, the one year is a rip off.

Joseph looks on while I get tough…yes…me…tough. The young boy behind the counter is obviously intimidated by the fixers and says he knows no English to communicate. I say that I have spoken to the Embassy and the Government and that it should be 20 Euros. I argue with the fixer and take a picture of them saying that if I find them to be lying I will send it to the Tourist Police. They let me take the photo but don’t look happy with it. Someone puts a phone in my face with an English speaking ‘official’ who tells me the computer system has just changed and it is now 80 Euros the information I had is outdated….the change happened just last week…right. The fixer says that we can get insurance just outside the border gate for one month at a cheaper price. “How much cheaper?” Probably 20 - 30 Euro. If we go outside the gate, we might not be able to get back in and they could then charge us anything. I look at Joseph…he shrugs his shoulders. “OK…I will get the other insurance if you swear on Allah that it will be no more than 20 Euros.” The fixer says he doesn’t know exactly what price it will be…:“How can you not know, you do this every day. No, you swear on Allah that the price will be 20 Euros and we will buy it outside.” There is a growing crowd looking at the weird red faced (because it was so hot) woman making an Iranian man swear to Allah he eventually swears and we cross the threshold. Outside the gate the Insurance man tells us that it is 30 Euro. I explain that the fixer swore to Allah and only give them 20 Euros which they finally accept…apparently the insurance salesman is family to the fixer - how convenient.

We are in Iran…with dodgy insurance and after Joseph changes some money 750,000 Riels each…enough to get us to our destinations that night. We sit under the cool of a roadside tree guzzling water and a licking in a celebratory chocolate bar that was a wilted gooey mess in the heat. We ride together for 75kms then, after a cup of chai and best wishes we separate, Joseph heading down eastern Iran while I turn west. I am alone in Iran heading to Khoy, hoping to find a hotel for the night. I’m so grateful that the key signs are in Farsi and English and with a little help from a friendly taxi driver I turn up at my first hotel. I had heard all the stories of females not being served in Iran because they are female and if they did talk to you, the hotels would not take a single female anyway. So I picked a hotel in the Lonely Planet that I thought might be more ccommodating, the Khoy Tourist Inn…surely they will have me. I’m nervous as I approach but I try not to let it show. “Do you have a room? I look around, the place is empty. Yes…for two? “No…just for one” I say as casually as possible. You’re not travelling with anyone else. “No just myself thanks”. I hand my passport over and I’m in. It’s a room with a real shower, sheets on the bed and a western toilet - no more splashback marks on my boots and uncomfortable poses - hallelujah.

Walking through the city centre that night I take a close look at the local women to see what they wear - it’s always best to try to ‘blend’ (as much as I can) when you don’t want to draw any additional attention to yourself. The majority are in long black chadors - a lightweight material that is placed on top of their head and then loosely draped around the body. Some younger girls wear jeans, a long fitted trench coat (Mantoe) and a black one piece head covering (or scarf). I enter a small shop that has women serving to buy a black all in one head covering. The scarf is great but best left for when I’m off the bike. I want to be as gender neutral as possible when I’m riding. Laughing, they conspire with me to commit a crime as I squat behind the counter and let my hair loose while I try on the different options. They tell me in Iran people wear short Manteaus and their fringes out…it is very liberal…but they cast nervous glances at the door…just in case anyone else comes in or I’m seen from the road.

Dinner is eaten in a cavernous banquet room with attentive hotel staff who have only one guest to please. I suppose I’m off the beaten track a little for other tourists (wishfully hoping I hadn‘t stumbled upon an Iranian version of the Bates Hotel). To my relief I find out it’s part of a chain and I get a brochure indicating the other towns they are located in. At least I know they will have me if I need a bed!. I sleep peacefully ready for my day tomorrow.

Total Kilometres travelled: 4286

Where am I: Khoy - Iran

Photos of dodgy border fixers: 1

Border scams we managed to avoid: 2

Number of seats taken in a 150 seat dinner hall: 1