Azerbaidjan, to tupyj narod jest. Tough guy with bandana, Sevan lake, Armenia.
Give me your money, Ara! Rainbow
Ice cream!, signifies someone's an asshole, Nagorno Karabakh
It's okay, it's ok!, Jay, rainbow quote
No pushing, no pulling. Jay
Zajec! Chto djelat?! Moj padrug zeni se!, Nata, Georgia
Don't think about it, just do it!, Gazelle
Most people don't die. Myself
Is it because I is black?, Theo
Life is about no regrets, Jay
I believe that the pure lie comes from darkness, Jay
I need my morning sex! Poly
Iranians are like onions. Don't judge from the first impression. Ali from the border
Each Iranian has a bit of Ahmadinejad inside, Ali from the border
You never know what goes through the mind of a russian. Border patrol guy, Georgia when talking about snipers shooting people in abkhazia.
Cha-cha ara!
Before you start to to travel you are afraid because of everything you hear on TV. When you finally are on your way you slowly lose that fear and that is when travelling becomes dangerous.
No problem - this is Iran!
Life box!, Emran, describing a TV
It's so difficult to leave home but it's so amazing to be on the way!, Theo
Don't worry about Ilona... she'll kill everybody! Nata, after Ilona has gone and I started being paranoid.
Me? I'm a democrat!, Zurab, first georgian we ever met
Tam guljat nelzja, tam tygr jest!, fat brainwashed lady at the border TKM/IR
Showing posts with label iran. Show all posts
Showing posts with label iran. Show all posts
Saturday, August 17, 2013
Quotes
Equipement
Just as we prepare to enter Turkmenistan, it is time to take a look at the state of my equipement so far and judge what choices were good or bad.
My tent was definitly a good choice. It's light and small and still in perfect shape. Taking an inflatable mattress, that was such a good idea. It's so confortable and doesn't have a single hole in it. It's supposed to be auto inflatable but that's bullshit, it doesn't work that much, I have to blow into ut manually, never mind. Many people advised me not to because humidity could accumulate inside but that seems to be bullshit too, eveerything is OK.
My sleeping bag seems to be allright. It got really wet from transpiration the time I was sick in tbilissi. Now it's OK though a little stinky but I don't have a sense of smell so that's Ilona's problem. It has lost some of its isolating power though.
I have lost all of my warm clothes, two on Aragats and a guy from the rainbow didn't give me my only warm t-shirt back. Never mind, I got another T-shirt in Yerevan from Sarkiss. It has short sleeves so I can use it more often in this heat. I got a sweeter from a bielorussian guy in Armenia. It's heavy and not waterproof obviously but it keeps warm. I've lost my hat the first day the sun started to hit. I still don't have a hat but I am getting used to it.
I also lost my microfiber towel when running away from the guy who wanted to beat me in Armenia because Nata is my wife.
I don't have a towel now but I manage without it, everything dries quickly in this heat, including myself.
My 32 GB micro SD card was bad from the very beginning, I threw it away. I still have all of my other electronic equipement though. My GPS beacon is still running on the same batteries as those it started from home. The signal is getting less reliable though, maybe I should change them.
My other GPS beacon remains unused but I still have it on the bottom on my bag.
My camera is still there and I still have a backup battery.
My solar charger isn't very useful. It doesn't work very well. Sometimes there are bad contacts, it doesn't charge anything. When it charges, it doesn't have much power accumulated. I still carry it around though. A car charger would be more useful.
My tablet rocks! I don't treat it like a princess, it got heated to 50°C on the sun on 4000 meters, I had silver spots on the screen from the heat, it got dragged into mud and water, it got rained on and it still works. It's not a special tablet, not waterproof or anything, just an asus t300 hybrid with a keyboard. Sometimes it freezes and needs a restart for no reason but I can live with that. Wifi and GPS still work just fine.
My phone is still there and allright but I don't use it that much. The battery isn't that good and it gets depleted faster than expected. The two functions I use the most often on my phone is the altimeter and the flashlight.
We didn't use any medecine from our stocks so far. At least not for ourselves. We've used it to help others though.
My knife is fine but isn't as sharp as before.
My grey-white t-shirt is dirty beyond repair. My black t-shirt with the little prince sawn on it has lost most of its color. It has a weird shade of blackish green on the back. The little prince is still there though.
My pants are repaired on at least 5 places and torn down around one of my ancles. But they are still great, I'll keep repairing them until they die completly.
I still have my twoo sunglasses and my spare normal glasses.
Money wise, We should still be under 2 euros per day per person but I have no idea how much exactly.
My bag is still there and doing great!
Last but not least, my trekking shoes. I thought my Salomon shoes were any good but I am dissapointed. They are starting to be used from the bottom and after descending Aragats, they even started falling apart. The sides started to open, it didn't look pretty. I had to repair them, now they're OK for a while. Very surprisingly, Sylvie's shoe implants which I use to correct my posture are still in an amazing state. I didn't give them more than a month, yet almost three months later, they're still in great shape. Ironically enough they might last longer than my shoes.
This is crazy. Thanks Sylvie!
That is all for now, see you in another three months for another equipement check.
Friday, August 16, 2013
Racing through the desert
Written in a air conditioned car on the way to turkmenbashi. Seriously with this stay of road, this car wil explode before we reach the city!
Yesterday we said goodbye to the neighbours.
"Don't look for excuses for not having climbed Damavand", said the neighbour. "every alpinist who goes there and fails says it's because of bad weather."
It makes me smile; he's right. Me and Nata were just looking for excuses and we found them.
Now we're not. We say goodbye to Theo, he cycles away from Tehran.
"I figured out today that we are actually people who take the responsability for their own happiness instead of putting that responsability by a second person." he says.
We leave at 12, we must hurry. The metro from Mirdamad has a friendly feeling of home. But now it's going to take us to hell. We arrive at the south of tehran and we try to negociate a free bus to Mashad. Fail. We walk. I thought I mastered iranian hitchhiking well enough to do it without stress but after all those days of rest in Tehran I have lost touch a little. We get a lift outside of Tehran and another a few kilometers to the next city.
this is too slow.
We are already Friday the 16./08 and our tranzit visa starts tomorrow. Don't forget that Turkmenistan borders close at 17:00 and we don't even know which time zone!
It's aboiut 900 kilometers to go part of which is through the mountainours roads and we have to be there tomorrow fairly early. This is tight. We have to cheat. We stop truck, and hope for a long distance.
"Neyere gidiorsun?" Where are you going?
Turks! Turkish! At least a language we can understand! We can communicate! I would have never thought when I first entered Turkey that I would welcome Turkish as a language I can feel safe with.
"Biz gitmet Mashad!"
They are not going to Mashad, they are deviating to the Turkmen border before going to the city! Awesome! Fucking awesome, this is our miracle, let's take it!
The truck drivers are awesome, they laugh a lot, they give a bracelet to Ilona. They are respectful, they've been in georgia, they are democrats.
Turkish truck drivers that means dinner. And good portions. Meat! I miss meat, I'm sick of being a fucking vegeterian for the last week because meat is too expensive!
They throw all their garbage from the window. Ilona can't look at it, I take it as a neccessary evil.
"Problem yokh, burada Iran!", (No problem, this is Iran!) says our driver as an explanation and laughs loudly. He means he wouldn't do that in his country.
We pass through a mountainous and desertic landscape. It's endless and unreal. So different from what I know.
We stop at midnight somewhere in a parking and build a tent next to them. Departure at 9:30 local time, 8:00 turkish time.
Luckily we leave at 8:30 and in about 16:30 we arrive at the last intersection before the border. They are going right, towards Artyk, we're going straight, towards Ashgabat. We can't continue with them, we wouldn't make it.
Just 40 kilometers left and 30 minutes to go before closure. We are not going to make it. And nobody is going towards the border, it is empty. Empty, empty, empty.
It must be closed already, they are not going to make it. Three people go and talk to us, they give us figues. They look like the worst of drug dealers, I am expecting acid in every figue they gives us and methamphetamines in each of these sunflower seeds.
They said their leader, Ackbar, whom they call Ackbar-leader will take us to the border to drink vodka and smoke pipe which probably means opium.
It's not a time to get high. We stop a taxi who even speaks a little english and accepts to take us for free.
I proved Ali wrong by often accepting rides with Taxis. It works. They are just people like you and me, they are not stuck in an unbreakable money circle.
It's 17:30 already. The taxi rider senses our fears and rushes it 170 km/h through the mountain roads without safety barriers. I am happy and even Ilona doesn't complain. I guess she's vaccinated against fast rides now.
We are passing Oasis, this is so beautiful. Rough desert and then bright green. What the fuck?
I am stressed out. Maybe the border will still be open. Turkmen officials are lazy but sometimes they don't respect their own rules. For example, the embassy which was supposed to be opened from 9 to 11 actually opened at 12.
"I'll pray for you", writes Gazelle and actually it means something to me. Please do, we need every support we can get, real or abstract.
My contact in Ashgabat decided to go on holiday so we are running without safety net here. And god knows we need that safety net, we need it so bad. I so hate myself of not having negociated a backup contact.
The border is open!
The iranian side of it is cool. The young guys discuss the big bang theory with me and other american shows.
"Bazinga!" They shout as a goodbye salute as we enter Turkmenistan.
We are greeted by a picture of their asshole leader smiling and looking like a real idiot. They say there are pictures of him everywhere. The border lady wants us to pay 22 dollars as a passing fee. This is normal but I have only 40 dollars in 20 dollar bills (from theo) and I am sure she doesn't have any change. The bitch is just gonna keep my forty.
I tell her that I only have a 20 dollar bill or 50 euros. She says it's not possible but what can she do with me, she wants to screw me over but she also wants to go home so badly it's written on her face. She exchanges our 50 euros against dollars and gives us the change: 38 dollars. That's about the best scenario, we don't need euros anymore, nobody wants them.
So we have 58 dollars in total when we enter turkmenistan.
We're the last people crossing the border at 6:00PM and the other side is empty. We cannot hitch anything. Anyway they wouldn't let us. There are armed soldiers everywhere with cowboy hats. They are several people with a ton of carpets coming back from iran.
There is one road going away from the border. Can we go there by foot? Of course not? Why?
The big fat lady official with slighty eyes (they are starting to look chinese here) tellse me:
"Tam gulat nelzya, tam tygr yest". You cannot go there on foot because there are tigers.
How many times have I heard that. Don't go there, there are wolves, there are bears, here there are tigers. Sligthly more original but not less stupid. Over time I've learned that excuses about wild animals are usually linked to some bullshit reason to keep us under control. It was so with the armenian assholes and it is so here.
"I bet the only living tiger here has his self-conscious picture on the wall", says Ilona. I can't agree more but we have no choice.
We have to take a bus from the border to somewhere on the road leading to Ashgabat.
I ask the people here how to avoid this. "It's not possible, not possible, talk to the man in charge, not us"
It is amazing, I have never seen anything like that. These people are brainwashed, you can actually see it in their eyes. They are not proud and self-aware like those of Iranians, they are empty and scared. Yes, these people are afraid.
We now realize that Iran isn't a dictatorship at all; the government may try to make it so but none of it is real. The islamic republic of Iran is a joke.
People who label their country a dictatorship in europe should think twice. When you have a authoritative regime, you can feel it. Turkmenistan is a real dictatorship, there is no joke there and you can feel it in every stone.
We try to go away from that bus without paying but the bus driver is such an asshole. He wants 10 dollars per person, our weekly budget. I take Ilona by the hand and guide her away. "Sorry, no money". They guy goes berserk. He threatens to report us to the police, they'll catch us as soon as we set foot in Asgabat. Bullshit you asshole, there is police 50 meters from here, we just had our passport control; if you had any power here you would go to them. SO fuck you!
The lady we spoke to at the border looks more and more scared. We asked around if 10 dollars per 40 kilometers is the normal price here. They say yes. Maybe they are just afraid to say no. We end up paying and the asshole bus driver goes away, no problem. But now, we really have no money. 38 dollars for backup and that is it. Nothing else. We can't even pay emergency transport if we are too slow. If we don't make it in 5 days, we are fucked.
The lady tells us it is dangerous to stay here and it is also dangerous to sleep in a park in Ashgabat. Everything is dangerous and everything is forbidden. This country is fucked up. The tiger is watching us. She drives us about two kilometers and then turns around: "hide in these trees. Don't make a fire. Don't turn on lights".
By trees she ment a patch of small trees loosely growing in the desert. Because it is the desert here, flat patches of dry land under a shining moon. Beautiful but had to hide. And we have to hide. There is a trench from a dead river. Dry as hell but we are hidden somewhat. It is unconfortable. Ilona thinks about putting up a tent but I am fairly against it. I want to know what's happening. Usually it's the other way around. Maybe my experiences with Nata and Poly have changed me.
I also remember that with Nata, we were discovered every time. Fortunately it was always in countries where you got a second chance. Even Iran, especially Iran. I have a feeling that if we are discovered in Turkmenistan, there will be no second chances. Each time I hear a car, each time I hear a door slams, each time I hear steps I just pray there really are wild tigers to scare those people away. I am sure I am more qualified to negociate with tigers than with Turkmen.
If you are reading that blog for quite some time, you'll find out that I am a person very open to negociation. Too much maybe sometimes. But with those people, with brainwashed people, I just see no way to negociate.
"Tam tygr yest". What can you say to that?
Yesterday we said goodbye to the neighbours.
"Don't look for excuses for not having climbed Damavand", said the neighbour. "every alpinist who goes there and fails says it's because of bad weather."
It makes me smile; he's right. Me and Nata were just looking for excuses and we found them.
Now we're not. We say goodbye to Theo, he cycles away from Tehran.
"I figured out today that we are actually people who take the responsability for their own happiness instead of putting that responsability by a second person." he says.
We leave at 12, we must hurry. The metro from Mirdamad has a friendly feeling of home. But now it's going to take us to hell. We arrive at the south of tehran and we try to negociate a free bus to Mashad. Fail. We walk. I thought I mastered iranian hitchhiking well enough to do it without stress but after all those days of rest in Tehran I have lost touch a little. We get a lift outside of Tehran and another a few kilometers to the next city.
this is too slow.
We are already Friday the 16./08 and our tranzit visa starts tomorrow. Don't forget that Turkmenistan borders close at 17:00 and we don't even know which time zone!
It's aboiut 900 kilometers to go part of which is through the mountainours roads and we have to be there tomorrow fairly early. This is tight. We have to cheat. We stop truck, and hope for a long distance.
"Neyere gidiorsun?" Where are you going?
Turks! Turkish! At least a language we can understand! We can communicate! I would have never thought when I first entered Turkey that I would welcome Turkish as a language I can feel safe with.
"Biz gitmet Mashad!"
They are not going to Mashad, they are deviating to the Turkmen border before going to the city! Awesome! Fucking awesome, this is our miracle, let's take it!
 |
| desertic landscape |
The truck drivers are awesome, they laugh a lot, they give a bracelet to Ilona. They are respectful, they've been in georgia, they are democrats.
Turkish truck drivers that means dinner. And good portions. Meat! I miss meat, I'm sick of being a fucking vegeterian for the last week because meat is too expensive!
They throw all their garbage from the window. Ilona can't look at it, I take it as a neccessary evil.
"Problem yokh, burada Iran!", (No problem, this is Iran!) says our driver as an explanation and laughs loudly. He means he wouldn't do that in his country.
We pass through a mountainous and desertic landscape. It's endless and unreal. So different from what I know.
We stop at midnight somewhere in a parking and build a tent next to them. Departure at 9:30 local time, 8:00 turkish time.
Luckily we leave at 8:30 and in about 16:30 we arrive at the last intersection before the border. They are going right, towards Artyk, we're going straight, towards Ashgabat. We can't continue with them, we wouldn't make it.
Just 40 kilometers left and 30 minutes to go before closure. We are not going to make it. And nobody is going towards the border, it is empty. Empty, empty, empty.
It must be closed already, they are not going to make it. Three people go and talk to us, they give us figues. They look like the worst of drug dealers, I am expecting acid in every figue they gives us and methamphetamines in each of these sunflower seeds.
They said their leader, Ackbar, whom they call Ackbar-leader will take us to the border to drink vodka and smoke pipe which probably means opium.
It's not a time to get high. We stop a taxi who even speaks a little english and accepts to take us for free.
I proved Ali wrong by often accepting rides with Taxis. It works. They are just people like you and me, they are not stuck in an unbreakable money circle.
It's 17:30 already. The taxi rider senses our fears and rushes it 170 km/h through the mountain roads without safety barriers. I am happy and even Ilona doesn't complain. I guess she's vaccinated against fast rides now.
We are passing Oasis, this is so beautiful. Rough desert and then bright green. What the fuck?
I am stressed out. Maybe the border will still be open. Turkmen officials are lazy but sometimes they don't respect their own rules. For example, the embassy which was supposed to be opened from 9 to 11 actually opened at 12.
"I'll pray for you", writes Gazelle and actually it means something to me. Please do, we need every support we can get, real or abstract.
My contact in Ashgabat decided to go on holiday so we are running without safety net here. And god knows we need that safety net, we need it so bad. I so hate myself of not having negociated a backup contact.
The border is open!
The iranian side of it is cool. The young guys discuss the big bang theory with me and other american shows.
"Bazinga!" They shout as a goodbye salute as we enter Turkmenistan.
We are greeted by a picture of their asshole leader smiling and looking like a real idiot. They say there are pictures of him everywhere. The border lady wants us to pay 22 dollars as a passing fee. This is normal but I have only 40 dollars in 20 dollar bills (from theo) and I am sure she doesn't have any change. The bitch is just gonna keep my forty.
I tell her that I only have a 20 dollar bill or 50 euros. She says it's not possible but what can she do with me, she wants to screw me over but she also wants to go home so badly it's written on her face. She exchanges our 50 euros against dollars and gives us the change: 38 dollars. That's about the best scenario, we don't need euros anymore, nobody wants them.
So we have 58 dollars in total when we enter turkmenistan.
We're the last people crossing the border at 6:00PM and the other side is empty. We cannot hitch anything. Anyway they wouldn't let us. There are armed soldiers everywhere with cowboy hats. They are several people with a ton of carpets coming back from iran.
There is one road going away from the border. Can we go there by foot? Of course not? Why?
The big fat lady official with slighty eyes (they are starting to look chinese here) tellse me:
"Tam gulat nelzya, tam tygr yest". You cannot go there on foot because there are tigers.
How many times have I heard that. Don't go there, there are wolves, there are bears, here there are tigers. Sligthly more original but not less stupid. Over time I've learned that excuses about wild animals are usually linked to some bullshit reason to keep us under control. It was so with the armenian assholes and it is so here.
"I bet the only living tiger here has his self-conscious picture on the wall", says Ilona. I can't agree more but we have no choice.
We have to take a bus from the border to somewhere on the road leading to Ashgabat.
I ask the people here how to avoid this. "It's not possible, not possible, talk to the man in charge, not us"
It is amazing, I have never seen anything like that. These people are brainwashed, you can actually see it in their eyes. They are not proud and self-aware like those of Iranians, they are empty and scared. Yes, these people are afraid.
We now realize that Iran isn't a dictatorship at all; the government may try to make it so but none of it is real. The islamic republic of Iran is a joke.
People who label their country a dictatorship in europe should think twice. When you have a authoritative regime, you can feel it. Turkmenistan is a real dictatorship, there is no joke there and you can feel it in every stone.
We try to go away from that bus without paying but the bus driver is such an asshole. He wants 10 dollars per person, our weekly budget. I take Ilona by the hand and guide her away. "Sorry, no money". They guy goes berserk. He threatens to report us to the police, they'll catch us as soon as we set foot in Asgabat. Bullshit you asshole, there is police 50 meters from here, we just had our passport control; if you had any power here you would go to them. SO fuck you!
The lady we spoke to at the border looks more and more scared. We asked around if 10 dollars per 40 kilometers is the normal price here. They say yes. Maybe they are just afraid to say no. We end up paying and the asshole bus driver goes away, no problem. But now, we really have no money. 38 dollars for backup and that is it. Nothing else. We can't even pay emergency transport if we are too slow. If we don't make it in 5 days, we are fucked.
The lady tells us it is dangerous to stay here and it is also dangerous to sleep in a park in Ashgabat. Everything is dangerous and everything is forbidden. This country is fucked up. The tiger is watching us. She drives us about two kilometers and then turns around: "hide in these trees. Don't make a fire. Don't turn on lights".
By trees she ment a patch of small trees loosely growing in the desert. Because it is the desert here, flat patches of dry land under a shining moon. Beautiful but had to hide. And we have to hide. There is a trench from a dead river. Dry as hell but we are hidden somewhat. It is unconfortable. Ilona thinks about putting up a tent but I am fairly against it. I want to know what's happening. Usually it's the other way around. Maybe my experiences with Nata and Poly have changed me.
I also remember that with Nata, we were discovered every time. Fortunately it was always in countries where you got a second chance. Even Iran, especially Iran. I have a feeling that if we are discovered in Turkmenistan, there will be no second chances. Each time I hear a car, each time I hear a door slams, each time I hear steps I just pray there really are wild tigers to scare those people away. I am sure I am more qualified to negociate with tigers than with Turkmen.
If you are reading that blog for quite some time, you'll find out that I am a person very open to negociation. Too much maybe sometimes. But with those people, with brainwashed people, I just see no way to negociate.
"Tam tygr yest". What can you say to that?
Wednesday, August 14, 2013
Welcome Theo!
Let me start again with less emotions this time. After Nata left, Gazelle called to take us to the city. Theo also will be here in a couple of hours.
Theo is the cyclist we met in Tabriz by the good grace of Hamed, the saviour of lost tourists.
Then, I didn't want some dirty cyclist who has probably lost his social life ages ago to bother our trio. I talked to him only because Ilona seemed to find him interesting. But he turned out quite allright. He's the guy who will tell you the worst thing just to see the shocked expression on your face. Cool! Plus, he's cycling from his hometown to indonesia.
He went looking for Ilona the night she dissapeared when looking for the internet and for that he already has my respect. I am still ashamed of that moment when I gave myself up to the easy thoughts: "nothing will happen". She's my sister, I must take care of her; never again.
Theo is now crossing the last mountain patch before Tehran. He is 15 kilometers from us and now the way is only down. He'll be there in a couple of hours.
Meanwhile, we visit the city with Gazelle. She strikes me as a true artist, the one who can draw from voices from other dimentions and transform into a dragon. She's a photographer actually. Her life story is disturbing, unique, brave and kind of beautiful, are all rainbow people so unique?
We explore the bazar and then Theo comes. He's cycled trough the coast of the Caspian see, it's beautiful there. So much variation in the landscape. Nata should have a great time.
Me too, I am climbing tomorrow. I'll contact Jon and we'll make another try at Damavand. This time, it will work.
The lock is jammed, we can't open our appartment. Theo is exhausted, this is not a time for fate to do bad jokes. Worst case scenario, we sleep at the neighbours place. Lucky we have such great neigbours. But Gazelle prays for a miracle and she probably has superpowers the door just opens.
We talk a lot. I need it. Theo goes to sleep and Gazelle is my personal therapist for a while. I don't take a habit of opening my heart to people but these are special condition. Meeting her while halucinating under weed transcends my trust issues. And I'm reassured when she tells her story first.
Just to reassure you Nata if you're reading this, I didn't get into any details about you.
"Oh my, we're both losers", says Gazelle, "but this is a sign".
Actually I don't even feel like losing that much but I agree about the sign.
Gazelle sleeps at our place, and the day after we go meet Mahan. He has a joint in the palm of his hand and starts to smoke it in front of a police station.
V., a peroxide blond with a hijab accompanies him, she has some class, I like the contrast. I ask Mahan about how he feels about smoking a joint in front of the police station and he tells me in his ever-relaxed voice:
"Maan police nooo problem. Weeed is goooood."
I think this is kind of funny as long as I don't smoke too but Theo is losing patience a little.
He goes over the corner to buy some peaches: "I don't want to hang out with drug addicts". He is slightly angry. Come one, you're from Amsterdamland, I bet all of your friends are drug addicts and I hope you're reading this!
Me and Theo are getting along fine. He's also getting along great with Ilona. They go to the Ouzbek and Turkmen embassy together, Theo is supposed to get his Uzbek visa and ask for his Turkmen visa and Ilona is there just for confirmation that the visa was sent to Mashad as planned. I read somewhere that sometimes the embassy forgets to send the visa to Mashad but I don't really think that will be the case.
They return with good and bad news.
Good news, Theo got his Uzbek visa! He holds it proudly in his passport. Bad news: Not only did they forget to send our visa to Mashed, they completly forgot that we applied for one. Maybe good news: The guy was so confused that he told Ilona to come back tomorrow and he'll just hand the visas to us.
That would be great, we expected the visas on monday, maybe on sunday if we're lucky. If we get them on thursday then we can leave tomorrow and we'll have 3 more precious days to cross Turkmenistan an Kazakhstan.
I didn't mention this but actually, we are in a hurry. To be more precise, we are in a fucked up situation. Our Iranian visa and our Kazakh visa overlap. Why? Because the Kazakh assholes have put precise dates on our visas. We have to enter Kazakhstan after 01/08/2013 and exit the country before 30/08/2013. Rumours say, the penalty for overstaying the visa is prison. Since we spent way more time in Armenia than we intended, mostly because of me wanting to travel with Nata to Karabakh, we entered Iran the same day we were supposed to enter Kazakhstan. Therefore, each day we spend in Iran is one day that we cannot spend in Kazakhstan.
With our visa due one Sunday in Mashad, we have 12 days to cross both countries. 11 days if we get there on monday which is more likely. Crossing Kazakh takes 8 days if we hitchhike like crazies so that leaves 4 days for Turkmenistan. It is tight, very tight. Actually, we need a few miracles. And actually, I am counting on miracles in my plan. I count on them the same way I would count on provable facts. This is crazy.
According to that plan, I still have time to join Jon and climb that mountain. But with that new information, I have to cancel. Not only should I be at the embassy tomorrow but every extra day counts and it would be stupid to put our freedoms at risk just to climb a mountain I can climb in Kyrgystan anyway. If we get the visa, we go, that's a no-brainer.
Besides these worries life goes fine and calm at our appartment in northern Tehran. We live there in peace and harmony, we make tea, we cook, we laugh with our neighbours, it feels like home. Leaving Tehran will feel a little bit like leaving Brno in our home country.
Sometimes, Ali visits and gets stoned at our place. I think he likes Ilona a bit. He's nice too, always stoned.
The next day, I go with Theo to the embassy. I don't really believe they will deliver our visas. I'm sure they will forget about us again and we'll just have to ask again. In that case we'll never make it to Kazakhstan in time. In that case, we'll have to extend our Iranian visas and ask again for Kazakhstan and then for Turkmenistan. Visa hell all over again but more time to explore Iran.
If they refuse our visa extension then we have to go back to Armenia. These times, Ilona is very easy going, I'm sure she would survive but I'm less sure about myself.
The consulate is supposed to open at 9, it opens at 12. There is a million people in front of the small window. Two french people also travelling towards Kyrgyz. I don't like french travellers usually but I like these two. The girl had to come back to work so she seemed a little from another world but she was so sweet. The guy didn't strike me as the classic french know-it-all, he didn't judge our hitchhiking, I really wish him well.
Then there was Sol and Ana, from Iran and Croatia. They were applying. Actually Ana was applying and Sol was there for moral support. Go to the turkmen embassy, I'm sure you will need it.
"So did you fly here?", asks someone. Plenty of time to talk when waiting for 3 hours for the embassy to open.
"No I'm hitchhiking"
What??? "Hey hey! I'm hitchhiking too! Look at me!" I would have waved the hitchhiking flag if I could.
"Are you looking for a hitchhiking partner?"
Oh my god is Gazelle all-powerful or what? That just might be the wish I did when she gave me that friendship bracelet. Not that I believe in that bullshit but still, nice coincidence.
I must confess dear readers, for some time now, I haven't been completly honest with you. From the time we entered Kacheti, the georgian region more than a month ago, Ilona and I have decided to separate in China. We have discussed this decision multiple times, changed it, confirmed it, whatever. The truth is there is a high chance we will part ways at Iktresam pass, border between Kyrgyztan and China.
What then? Should I travel alone? Maybe. China is the first safe country with low criminality, I guess I would survive. After that, Korea will be just like home.
In Georgia, I almost panicked and started searching someone on the internet. Unfortunately, no one replied. Then I accepted that I'll go alone. At some point in Armenia, Georgia and even Iran I hope has risen with Nata. When Ilona leaves, I could continue with Nata. It doesn't seem like a good choice granted all the arguments we constantly had but some time before she left, for the first time I had the feeling that I can handle her. Not as good as she can handle me but the concept of handeling Nata is a miracle in itself.
So deep down, I would love to let my worries go and just hope to meet Nata somewhere in the Kyrghiz mountains and then go east, east, east.
However, in light of recent events I don't think Nata will come to Kyrgystan. She will continue to Turkey, she'll meet so many people and who knows where they will go. Plans and mindsets change so quickly in journeys like ours that it would be crazy to count on a word given a month ago.
So Ana travelling to Kyrgyz and then China, she's from heaven sent. The dates don't fit exactly but hey who cares. Some Gazelle magic and all will be well.
The embassy opens. I have my visa. Unbelievable! Theo pays for me because they only want dollars and I have forgotten my money anyway. I give it to him back in euros but I sense that from now on, euros are becoming useless, there is nothing like an U.S. dollar.
I hug Theo, I hug the french people, I even hug Ana. She must be 2 meters high or at least a head and a half bigger than me. Her hair is so long that no hijab could hide it. I am curious to travel with her just to see how she manages to take care of that on a hitchhiking trip.
And also.... Croatia! This is almost home! Ante! Petar! I feel homesick for just a few seconds.
I get a reply from Tess too. She was robbed in Tirana after the greek rainbow but would like to go in the direction of Kyrgyz and China. That would be great but money is the issue here. I just feel that options are opening, maybe I should just let destiny have her way.
Later with Jon, Emran and the other cyclists we go to Ararat, the Armenian club. Only armenians are allowed there, it's forbidden for iranians, especially for muslims. It's a fortress, a huge complex inside of Tehran. Inside, everything is in Armenian, it's like a small country in the city.
We manage to pass by flooding them with Barevdzes, Vonzeg haper, chatlaaav and the girls who actually spoke armenian.
"Where is Natacha?", people ask. Eternal question. I am starting to have a prepared speech. "Natacha went to the caspian see, she is safe, everything is allright."
"Is that the effect you have on women?", says Jon. I realise that everyone actually thought me and Nata were a couple; the party must have been so humiliating for me but I didn't care because I was stoned anyway.
Obviously, we are not leaving Tehran today. We'll do it friday morning. Theo is sad and so is Ilona. Not as sad as I was when Nata left us maybe but still, shitty feeling. I will also miss Theo, I wonder what he does now, alone on his bike.
We promised ourselves to meet each other again in Kyrgyz. So many people decided to meet there already. I wonder what will come of it. Will we really see Theo again in this mountainous country? Will the french make it? Will Ana be there? And against all odds, will Nata really hitchhike accross Russia and Kazakhstan to get there? Will S. meet us there too? Only time will tell but one thing is certain, we should prepare for one hell of a story!
Theo is the cyclist we met in Tabriz by the good grace of Hamed, the saviour of lost tourists.
Then, I didn't want some dirty cyclist who has probably lost his social life ages ago to bother our trio. I talked to him only because Ilona seemed to find him interesting. But he turned out quite allright. He's the guy who will tell you the worst thing just to see the shocked expression on your face. Cool! Plus, he's cycling from his hometown to indonesia.
He went looking for Ilona the night she dissapeared when looking for the internet and for that he already has my respect. I am still ashamed of that moment when I gave myself up to the easy thoughts: "nothing will happen". She's my sister, I must take care of her; never again.
Theo is now crossing the last mountain patch before Tehran. He is 15 kilometers from us and now the way is only down. He'll be there in a couple of hours.
Meanwhile, we visit the city with Gazelle. She strikes me as a true artist, the one who can draw from voices from other dimentions and transform into a dragon. She's a photographer actually. Her life story is disturbing, unique, brave and kind of beautiful, are all rainbow people so unique?
We explore the bazar and then Theo comes. He's cycled trough the coast of the Caspian see, it's beautiful there. So much variation in the landscape. Nata should have a great time.
Me too, I am climbing tomorrow. I'll contact Jon and we'll make another try at Damavand. This time, it will work.
The lock is jammed, we can't open our appartment. Theo is exhausted, this is not a time for fate to do bad jokes. Worst case scenario, we sleep at the neighbours place. Lucky we have such great neigbours. But Gazelle prays for a miracle and she probably has superpowers the door just opens.
We talk a lot. I need it. Theo goes to sleep and Gazelle is my personal therapist for a while. I don't take a habit of opening my heart to people but these are special condition. Meeting her while halucinating under weed transcends my trust issues. And I'm reassured when she tells her story first.
Just to reassure you Nata if you're reading this, I didn't get into any details about you.
"Oh my, we're both losers", says Gazelle, "but this is a sign".
Actually I don't even feel like losing that much but I agree about the sign.
Gazelle sleeps at our place, and the day after we go meet Mahan. He has a joint in the palm of his hand and starts to smoke it in front of a police station.
V., a peroxide blond with a hijab accompanies him, she has some class, I like the contrast. I ask Mahan about how he feels about smoking a joint in front of the police station and he tells me in his ever-relaxed voice:
"Maan police nooo problem. Weeed is goooood."
I think this is kind of funny as long as I don't smoke too but Theo is losing patience a little.
He goes over the corner to buy some peaches: "I don't want to hang out with drug addicts". He is slightly angry. Come one, you're from Amsterdamland, I bet all of your friends are drug addicts and I hope you're reading this!
Me and Theo are getting along fine. He's also getting along great with Ilona. They go to the Ouzbek and Turkmen embassy together, Theo is supposed to get his Uzbek visa and ask for his Turkmen visa and Ilona is there just for confirmation that the visa was sent to Mashad as planned. I read somewhere that sometimes the embassy forgets to send the visa to Mashad but I don't really think that will be the case.
They return with good and bad news.
Good news, Theo got his Uzbek visa! He holds it proudly in his passport. Bad news: Not only did they forget to send our visa to Mashed, they completly forgot that we applied for one. Maybe good news: The guy was so confused that he told Ilona to come back tomorrow and he'll just hand the visas to us.
That would be great, we expected the visas on monday, maybe on sunday if we're lucky. If we get them on thursday then we can leave tomorrow and we'll have 3 more precious days to cross Turkmenistan an Kazakhstan.
I didn't mention this but actually, we are in a hurry. To be more precise, we are in a fucked up situation. Our Iranian visa and our Kazakh visa overlap. Why? Because the Kazakh assholes have put precise dates on our visas. We have to enter Kazakhstan after 01/08/2013 and exit the country before 30/08/2013. Rumours say, the penalty for overstaying the visa is prison. Since we spent way more time in Armenia than we intended, mostly because of me wanting to travel with Nata to Karabakh, we entered Iran the same day we were supposed to enter Kazakhstan. Therefore, each day we spend in Iran is one day that we cannot spend in Kazakhstan.
With our visa due one Sunday in Mashad, we have 12 days to cross both countries. 11 days if we get there on monday which is more likely. Crossing Kazakh takes 8 days if we hitchhike like crazies so that leaves 4 days for Turkmenistan. It is tight, very tight. Actually, we need a few miracles. And actually, I am counting on miracles in my plan. I count on them the same way I would count on provable facts. This is crazy.
According to that plan, I still have time to join Jon and climb that mountain. But with that new information, I have to cancel. Not only should I be at the embassy tomorrow but every extra day counts and it would be stupid to put our freedoms at risk just to climb a mountain I can climb in Kyrgystan anyway. If we get the visa, we go, that's a no-brainer.
Besides these worries life goes fine and calm at our appartment in northern Tehran. We live there in peace and harmony, we make tea, we cook, we laugh with our neighbours, it feels like home. Leaving Tehran will feel a little bit like leaving Brno in our home country.
Sometimes, Ali visits and gets stoned at our place. I think he likes Ilona a bit. He's nice too, always stoned.
The next day, I go with Theo to the embassy. I don't really believe they will deliver our visas. I'm sure they will forget about us again and we'll just have to ask again. In that case we'll never make it to Kazakhstan in time. In that case, we'll have to extend our Iranian visas and ask again for Kazakhstan and then for Turkmenistan. Visa hell all over again but more time to explore Iran.
If they refuse our visa extension then we have to go back to Armenia. These times, Ilona is very easy going, I'm sure she would survive but I'm less sure about myself.
The consulate is supposed to open at 9, it opens at 12. There is a million people in front of the small window. Two french people also travelling towards Kyrgyz. I don't like french travellers usually but I like these two. The girl had to come back to work so she seemed a little from another world but she was so sweet. The guy didn't strike me as the classic french know-it-all, he didn't judge our hitchhiking, I really wish him well.
Then there was Sol and Ana, from Iran and Croatia. They were applying. Actually Ana was applying and Sol was there for moral support. Go to the turkmen embassy, I'm sure you will need it.
"So did you fly here?", asks someone. Plenty of time to talk when waiting for 3 hours for the embassy to open.
"No I'm hitchhiking"
What??? "Hey hey! I'm hitchhiking too! Look at me!" I would have waved the hitchhiking flag if I could.
"Are you looking for a hitchhiking partner?"
Oh my god is Gazelle all-powerful or what? That just might be the wish I did when she gave me that friendship bracelet. Not that I believe in that bullshit but still, nice coincidence.
I must confess dear readers, for some time now, I haven't been completly honest with you. From the time we entered Kacheti, the georgian region more than a month ago, Ilona and I have decided to separate in China. We have discussed this decision multiple times, changed it, confirmed it, whatever. The truth is there is a high chance we will part ways at Iktresam pass, border between Kyrgyztan and China.
What then? Should I travel alone? Maybe. China is the first safe country with low criminality, I guess I would survive. After that, Korea will be just like home.
In Georgia, I almost panicked and started searching someone on the internet. Unfortunately, no one replied. Then I accepted that I'll go alone. At some point in Armenia, Georgia and even Iran I hope has risen with Nata. When Ilona leaves, I could continue with Nata. It doesn't seem like a good choice granted all the arguments we constantly had but some time before she left, for the first time I had the feeling that I can handle her. Not as good as she can handle me but the concept of handeling Nata is a miracle in itself.
So deep down, I would love to let my worries go and just hope to meet Nata somewhere in the Kyrghiz mountains and then go east, east, east.
However, in light of recent events I don't think Nata will come to Kyrgystan. She will continue to Turkey, she'll meet so many people and who knows where they will go. Plans and mindsets change so quickly in journeys like ours that it would be crazy to count on a word given a month ago.
So Ana travelling to Kyrgyz and then China, she's from heaven sent. The dates don't fit exactly but hey who cares. Some Gazelle magic and all will be well.
The embassy opens. I have my visa. Unbelievable! Theo pays for me because they only want dollars and I have forgotten my money anyway. I give it to him back in euros but I sense that from now on, euros are becoming useless, there is nothing like an U.S. dollar.
I hug Theo, I hug the french people, I even hug Ana. She must be 2 meters high or at least a head and a half bigger than me. Her hair is so long that no hijab could hide it. I am curious to travel with her just to see how she manages to take care of that on a hitchhiking trip.
And also.... Croatia! This is almost home! Ante! Petar! I feel homesick for just a few seconds.
I get a reply from Tess too. She was robbed in Tirana after the greek rainbow but would like to go in the direction of Kyrgyz and China. That would be great but money is the issue here. I just feel that options are opening, maybe I should just let destiny have her way.
Later with Jon, Emran and the other cyclists we go to Ararat, the Armenian club. Only armenians are allowed there, it's forbidden for iranians, especially for muslims. It's a fortress, a huge complex inside of Tehran. Inside, everything is in Armenian, it's like a small country in the city.
We manage to pass by flooding them with Barevdzes, Vonzeg haper, chatlaaav and the girls who actually spoke armenian.
"Where is Natacha?", people ask. Eternal question. I am starting to have a prepared speech. "Natacha went to the caspian see, she is safe, everything is allright."
"Is that the effect you have on women?", says Jon. I realise that everyone actually thought me and Nata were a couple; the party must have been so humiliating for me but I didn't care because I was stoned anyway.
Obviously, we are not leaving Tehran today. We'll do it friday morning. Theo is sad and so is Ilona. Not as sad as I was when Nata left us maybe but still, shitty feeling. I will also miss Theo, I wonder what he does now, alone on his bike.
We promised ourselves to meet each other again in Kyrgyz. So many people decided to meet there already. I wonder what will come of it. Will we really see Theo again in this mountainous country? Will the french make it? Will Ana be there? And against all odds, will Nata really hitchhike accross Russia and Kazakhstan to get there? Will S. meet us there too? Only time will tell but one thing is certain, we should prepare for one hell of a story!
Tuesday, August 13, 2013
Goodbyes and signs
Waking up in Tehran, one more time. I am still a little slow from the weed but everything is allright.
Farewell Natalia, meeting you has and will change my life. Maybe we will see each other in Kyrgyzstan. It hurts her less to believe that and it hurts me more to hope in unlikely events. Maybe it is the reason I got stoned last night, my goodbyes are more definitive than hers.
"I don't think we'll see her there", says Ilona.
Everyone including Nata believe that my sorrow is because I am in love with her. Who can blame them, everyone falls in love in Nata, they're like dominos. But the truth is you don't have to fall in love with Nata to find her amazing. You just have to learn to see her.
She will leave a void for a while, Jon will ask about her, Hamed will wonder if she's alright, some others will shake their head in remembrance of her princess manners and some, not many, will just not care.
But I, for one, will never miss her because of her brief but lasting impact on my life, she has never left. I had so much to learn and am now one step further.
Farewell Natalia, meeting you has and will change my life. Maybe we will see each other in Kyrgyzstan. It hurts her less to believe that and it hurts me more to hope in unlikely events. Maybe it is the reason I got stoned last night, my goodbyes are more definitive than hers.
"I don't think we'll see her there", says Ilona.
Everyone including Nata believe that my sorrow is because I am in love with her. Who can blame them, everyone falls in love in Nata, they're like dominos. But the truth is you don't have to fall in love with Nata to find her amazing. You just have to learn to see her.
She will leave a void for a while, Jon will ask about her, Hamed will wonder if she's alright, some others will shake their head in remembrance of her princess manners and some, not many, will just not care.
But I, for one, will never miss her because of her brief but lasting impact on my life, she has never left. I had so much to learn and am now one step further.
Gazelle joins us in a while. She also, has a story. So much happened at the rainbow and I realise that everything is connected. Gazelle and M., M. and Nata, Nata and Poly, Poly and S., S. and T., the first person I wrote about in my blog more than half a year ago before I even knew any of these people.
We are locked outside our apartment, trying to open that stupid door. The lock is jammed as are our lives. Remember that person who was waiting for Ilona all that time? Well, it is not the case anymore. The lock is jammed and we cannot go in.
We are locked outside our apartment, trying to open that stupid door. The lock is jammed as are our lives. Remember that person who was waiting for Ilona all that time? Well, it is not the case anymore. The lock is jammed and we cannot go in.
Gazelle prays just for a joke, then the key falls exactly into the lock, the door opens and suddenly everything makes sense.
"This story, everything what happened is a sign", says Gazelle. Everything is a sign for her. I can't believe such bullshit. Or can I?
The coincidences are just too much. I don't exactly remember what changed my mind but it was some connection about the little prince. So why not a sign.
From that point me and Ilona decided to rush forward. Something odd is going on in Armenia on her side.
"And you know what", she says, "fuck the visas, fuck the system, let's cross illegaly to china".
Monday, August 12, 2013
The most absurd ascension to Damavand
Tonight, our mood is low in our appartment in north-central Teheran. Nata doesn't talk to me, she seems angry but there is little I can do. I have accepted the too obvious fact that Nata's thinking is too exotic for me to comprehend. As Picasso piece, too many interpretations.
She tries to organise a last minute plan for the ascention. We have almost nothing. No equipement whatsoever. We used to have nuts for energy but I lost them in Georgia, that was definitly my fault. I am thinking that she is the only experienced mountain climber that would attempt an ascention in such unlikely conditions.
Consequently, she might be the only mountain climber whose decisions I trust almost without a second thought. I don't like these self-conscious people who have their way of doing things and are oblivious to thoughts of others. And while Nata sometimes appeared as such on several occasions, I see no other who tried that ascension with me; not even Ilona. I really appreciate her wanting to try even thought every bet is against us.
There is a huge difference between planning something stupid reckless and actually doing it. I am something in between; I like staring at recklessness face to face before I recognize it.
Only downside and it is a geat one: Nata is in a hurry. She has other plans in Iran and she has to be back in two days. She wants to do a fast ascend and actually I like this solution better too. However, I am not repeating my mistake on Aragats. I hurried up too much then because I didn't want to make Ilona wait. I got caught in a storm as a result and I will not repeat my mistake again. In a general sense, I don't like risking my life. On a journey like mine, I might risk my life for others; I have accepted that; but I choose these people carefully and the person who we would be risking our life for by hurrying is not among them.
In the morning we pack chaotically. Nata cooks some rice and potatoes. There is almost nothing in that appartment and we do our best to improvise our mountain food. Well, Nata does, I am just walking repeatedly between the fridge and my backpack. The best option for me was to score some food. I asked the neighbors for sugar (my imagination got stuck) and got a giant bag full of sweets and bread.
We leave Teheran very late. Our interactions are formal. It's a sad end but when I look back, I just think that she being briefly part of my journey was a wonderful story. And if we climb that mountain it would be a wonderful conclusion. Curtains closed. So I am not sad; actually, I smile. Life is beautiful precisely because it has stories in it. I could wonder about Nata's mood but I decide to give it up. Ilona used to say: Sometimes, you have to learn to ignore a woman's feelings if you want to better a situation.
I do find out, however, the reason of Nata's mood. Pretty abruptly. She gives me a speech that is just too much too quickly to make me feel anything. She has read parts of my blog. I think some parts about Armenia. I have hurt people intentionally by my writing in the past but I have never hurt someone so much and so unintentionally. She hates that I have exposed my vision of her, including personal details and my hypothesis about her life and being. From what she says, I feel like having written mein kampf. Pretty shitty feeling but I guess, deserved. I could debate here about writing methods and what should be in a blog and what not but this is not the issue here.
I am now 100% sure that our story stops here, we are not meeting in China and even less in Russia. Shame.
However, there is something wonderful about Nata, she is the queen of second chances. It seems that no matter the argument, the matter the evil you do to her, she'll forgive you. A unique quality I have never seen before to such extent. Later, I would understand that growing up in the heart of the Soviet Union makes you deal with so many extreme assholes that if you hold a grudge over anything less than murder, you may soon find yourself void of any friends for having too strong morals.
So maybe our the story hasn't ended yet. Maybe this another side of Nata I don't know; still something to discover.
We hitchhike towards Polour, the base village for ascention. Hitchhiking feels better, almost natural. My farsi is still non-existant but I manage somehow to understand some important parts or to explain the concept of hitchhiking with minimal use of the magic word: salavaati. Surfing on religion; that would be cheating.
We stop somewhere mid-way, on a mountain settlement where our driver takes gas and invites us for lunch. The extreme heat of Teheran is giving way to cooler, more comfortable temperature. We are expecting a few degrees below zero at the top of Damavand. The only downside of all this is that our driver must make a deal with some guy who is supposed to come with some money and he insists of showing us the whereabouts without fully understanding the concept of hurry.
The whereabouts are basically a flea market with a lot of rusted iron things of various sizes.
At last, his contact comes and even gives us a hitch further.
The next ride invites us for an iranian version of shashlik, meat which they cook on burning coals. Since she's vegetarian, Nata didn't eat anything so I had a mountaineering dinner just before ascension. The guy is routinely frustrated since all that sheep meat is there mainly to impress the girl and I end up eating all of it.
The guy cuts some more sticks of from a nearby tree and Nata whispers somethings along the lines of "motherfucker" because he is hurting trees. I guess that nullifies the theory about ever forgiving Nata unless you count tree cutting as murder which might very well be the case.
It is getting too late, we are not making it to base camp today. Plus, we still didn't find a group to join. This is my fault because I am not respecting Nata's hurrying up. I don't really believe it is possible to reach base camp before nightfall.
I wonder why I don't want to try? Am I more reasonable than Nata? Or do I want us to fail? Or am I being childish and disrupting the future romantic reunion of Nata and Jay just for the sake of annoyance? Usually it is a combination of everything.
We question some people to see if they are climbers. They are celebrating the end of Ramadan, don't have any clue about any mountain climbing.
I end up finding some people pointing us to a place which is some starting point for mountaineers.
We say farewell out our Iranian host and enter the alpinist facility. The atmosphere suddenly changes. This is serious business, people have high class mountaineering equipment, sleeping bags, crampons and ice axes, and, maybe I should start there; they have warm clothes.
Nata has a light mountain jacket but I have absolutely nothing... merely that blue hoodie from the Armenian rainbow. I wish I hadn't lost my good quality jacket on Aragats.
Besides being under-equipped, there is another obstacle, no easier to overcome: we do not have a climbing permit.
On Damavand, as well as many big mountain climbs, a mountain permit is needed. Here it is fairly cheap, merely 50 dollars per person, but that's about a month and a half worth of travelling for each of us. Plus, as under-equipped as we are, there is a good chance we might not make it anyway and why should we pay to die on a mountain?
"You have no way of getting in," says the leader of the mountaineering facility.
"Military checkpoints at all entries of Damavand," the tourists confirm.
"We're done," says Nata, "we can still go home"
"We are not giving up!" I am besides myself! Nata might be right rationally or she is just giving up on this climb just to go on some boring ride with her newly found boyfriend. Seriously, I don't care how wonderful the sex may be but I firmy believe that mount Damavand is much cooler and certainly much bigger that any type of sexual attribute or romantic experience, "there must be a way! You never trust me so trust me now, for once Nata, I didn't grow up in effing Siberia like you but I am smart too!"
To my great surprise, we don't have a bloody argument, Nata says that I am mistaken, she does trust me more than I know and that surprises me.
"What's your plan?"
I am so used to fight with Nata that I feel a huge sense of responsibility and stake over the proud read-headed princess.
"We'll use the cover of night to cross the checkpoint by the grasslands"
"Last time we did that, we got caught, remember, the Armenian border?"
"And we survived that, didn't we? And they can't get us everytime!"
"We'll get lost"
"We have GPS."
We agree on hitchhiking a car towards the least guarded checkpoint (from our very unreliable intel) and then cross by the grasslands.
As nobody stops, we decide to cover the ground by foot. And that is when something unusual happens.
A red rover, runs swiftly towards us. I makes a few unusual turns before stopping and a man tells us, in English but in a bit bizarre voice. He seems to have a speech defect. His voice is slow and over-articulated, as if his jaw couldn't do all the right moves.
"Do you go Damavand?"
"Maybe yes, maybe, no, who are you?"
"I help you! You trust me I help you!"
"Can you get us to the checkpoint?"
"You have permits?"
"We'll manage. Can you get us there?"
"I help you better. I know secret way."
"Please, do not take the hidden trail, " pretty much everyone tells us. And Nata agrees too.
She tries to organise a last minute plan for the ascention. We have almost nothing. No equipement whatsoever. We used to have nuts for energy but I lost them in Georgia, that was definitly my fault. I am thinking that she is the only experienced mountain climber that would attempt an ascention in such unlikely conditions.
Consequently, she might be the only mountain climber whose decisions I trust almost without a second thought. I don't like these self-conscious people who have their way of doing things and are oblivious to thoughts of others. And while Nata sometimes appeared as such on several occasions, I see no other who tried that ascension with me; not even Ilona. I really appreciate her wanting to try even thought every bet is against us.
There is a huge difference between planning something stupid reckless and actually doing it. I am something in between; I like staring at recklessness face to face before I recognize it.
Only downside and it is a geat one: Nata is in a hurry. She has other plans in Iran and she has to be back in two days. She wants to do a fast ascend and actually I like this solution better too. However, I am not repeating my mistake on Aragats. I hurried up too much then because I didn't want to make Ilona wait. I got caught in a storm as a result and I will not repeat my mistake again. In a general sense, I don't like risking my life. On a journey like mine, I might risk my life for others; I have accepted that; but I choose these people carefully and the person who we would be risking our life for by hurrying is not among them.
In the morning we pack chaotically. Nata cooks some rice and potatoes. There is almost nothing in that appartment and we do our best to improvise our mountain food. Well, Nata does, I am just walking repeatedly between the fridge and my backpack. The best option for me was to score some food. I asked the neighbors for sugar (my imagination got stuck) and got a giant bag full of sweets and bread.
We leave Teheran very late. Our interactions are formal. It's a sad end but when I look back, I just think that she being briefly part of my journey was a wonderful story. And if we climb that mountain it would be a wonderful conclusion. Curtains closed. So I am not sad; actually, I smile. Life is beautiful precisely because it has stories in it. I could wonder about Nata's mood but I decide to give it up. Ilona used to say: Sometimes, you have to learn to ignore a woman's feelings if you want to better a situation.
I do find out, however, the reason of Nata's mood. Pretty abruptly. She gives me a speech that is just too much too quickly to make me feel anything. She has read parts of my blog. I think some parts about Armenia. I have hurt people intentionally by my writing in the past but I have never hurt someone so much and so unintentionally. She hates that I have exposed my vision of her, including personal details and my hypothesis about her life and being. From what she says, I feel like having written mein kampf. Pretty shitty feeling but I guess, deserved. I could debate here about writing methods and what should be in a blog and what not but this is not the issue here.
I am now 100% sure that our story stops here, we are not meeting in China and even less in Russia. Shame.
However, there is something wonderful about Nata, she is the queen of second chances. It seems that no matter the argument, the matter the evil you do to her, she'll forgive you. A unique quality I have never seen before to such extent. Later, I would understand that growing up in the heart of the Soviet Union makes you deal with so many extreme assholes that if you hold a grudge over anything less than murder, you may soon find yourself void of any friends for having too strong morals.
So maybe our the story hasn't ended yet. Maybe this another side of Nata I don't know; still something to discover.
We hitchhike towards Polour, the base village for ascention. Hitchhiking feels better, almost natural. My farsi is still non-existant but I manage somehow to understand some important parts or to explain the concept of hitchhiking with minimal use of the magic word: salavaati. Surfing on religion; that would be cheating.
We stop somewhere mid-way, on a mountain settlement where our driver takes gas and invites us for lunch. The extreme heat of Teheran is giving way to cooler, more comfortable temperature. We are expecting a few degrees below zero at the top of Damavand. The only downside of all this is that our driver must make a deal with some guy who is supposed to come with some money and he insists of showing us the whereabouts without fully understanding the concept of hurry.
The whereabouts are basically a flea market with a lot of rusted iron things of various sizes.
At last, his contact comes and even gives us a hitch further.
 |
| We stop in mid-way at some mountain settlement |
The next ride invites us for an iranian version of shashlik, meat which they cook on burning coals. Since she's vegetarian, Nata didn't eat anything so I had a mountaineering dinner just before ascension. The guy is routinely frustrated since all that sheep meat is there mainly to impress the girl and I end up eating all of it.
The guy cuts some more sticks of from a nearby tree and Nata whispers somethings along the lines of "motherfucker" because he is hurting trees. I guess that nullifies the theory about ever forgiving Nata unless you count tree cutting as murder which might very well be the case.
It is getting too late, we are not making it to base camp today. Plus, we still didn't find a group to join. This is my fault because I am not respecting Nata's hurrying up. I don't really believe it is possible to reach base camp before nightfall.
I wonder why I don't want to try? Am I more reasonable than Nata? Or do I want us to fail? Or am I being childish and disrupting the future romantic reunion of Nata and Jay just for the sake of annoyance? Usually it is a combination of everything.
We question some people to see if they are climbers. They are celebrating the end of Ramadan, don't have any clue about any mountain climbing.
I end up finding some people pointing us to a place which is some starting point for mountaineers.
We say farewell out our Iranian host and enter the alpinist facility. The atmosphere suddenly changes. This is serious business, people have high class mountaineering equipment, sleeping bags, crampons and ice axes, and, maybe I should start there; they have warm clothes.
Nata has a light mountain jacket but I have absolutely nothing... merely that blue hoodie from the Armenian rainbow. I wish I hadn't lost my good quality jacket on Aragats.
Besides being under-equipped, there is another obstacle, no easier to overcome: we do not have a climbing permit.
On Damavand, as well as many big mountain climbs, a mountain permit is needed. Here it is fairly cheap, merely 50 dollars per person, but that's about a month and a half worth of travelling for each of us. Plus, as under-equipped as we are, there is a good chance we might not make it anyway and why should we pay to die on a mountain?
"You have no way of getting in," says the leader of the mountaineering facility.
"Military checkpoints at all entries of Damavand," the tourists confirm.
"We're done," says Nata, "we can still go home"
"We are not giving up!" I am besides myself! Nata might be right rationally or she is just giving up on this climb just to go on some boring ride with her newly found boyfriend. Seriously, I don't care how wonderful the sex may be but I firmy believe that mount Damavand is much cooler and certainly much bigger that any type of sexual attribute or romantic experience, "there must be a way! You never trust me so trust me now, for once Nata, I didn't grow up in effing Siberia like you but I am smart too!"
To my great surprise, we don't have a bloody argument, Nata says that I am mistaken, she does trust me more than I know and that surprises me.
"What's your plan?"
I am so used to fight with Nata that I feel a huge sense of responsibility and stake over the proud read-headed princess.
"We'll use the cover of night to cross the checkpoint by the grasslands"
"Last time we did that, we got caught, remember, the Armenian border?"
"And we survived that, didn't we? And they can't get us everytime!"
"We'll get lost"
"We have GPS."
We agree on hitchhiking a car towards the least guarded checkpoint (from our very unreliable intel) and then cross by the grasslands.
As nobody stops, we decide to cover the ground by foot. And that is when something unusual happens.
A red rover, runs swiftly towards us. I makes a few unusual turns before stopping and a man tells us, in English but in a bit bizarre voice. He seems to have a speech defect. His voice is slow and over-articulated, as if his jaw couldn't do all the right moves.
"Do you go Damavand?"
"Maybe yes, maybe, no, who are you?"
"I help you! You trust me I help you!"
"Can you get us to the checkpoint?"
"You have permits?"
"We'll manage. Can you get us there?"
"I help you better. I know secret way."
Turns out our guy is a retired mountain guide who has one of these diseases which makes you lose control over your body over time, which makes you more paralyzed everyday until you become completely motionless. It is tragic, oh so tragic, even more tragic for our newly found friend who's life is the mountains. He can't be confined to a hospital bed, not even happy with a computer, and he can't guide mountaineers anymore. The disease has gotten to such an advanced state that he can't walk anymore. He can drive his re-purposed rover with his arms, not even his hands and speak only slowly.
Very sadly though, I was more focused on the sole goal of climbing Damavand.
"I help you, I help you. Military checkpoint patrols see you! Go to car! Me no problem! Military know me, I disabled, no problem!"
"Great!" I am so happy that my plan worked although, technically that is not my plan at all, that is a huge coincidence which makes no sense whatsoever.
"Wait... Filip, " says Nata, "is it really wise to drive through Iranian high mountain roads with a paraplegic driver? Forget outsmarting the military, this seems a bit crazy... even for me."
"No worries! We've done crazier things!"
"... did we?"
And so we climb. The red rover drives fiercely cutting it through cliffs and unpaved mountain roads, some of which nobody uses and thus are not guarded by military.
Our driver juggles with the steering wheel, helping himself with arms, elbows and sometimes even his face depending on which responds best at any given moment. Everytime though, the car managed to stay on track even in the most difficult terrain otherwise I wouldn't be here writing this.
I didn't know what to feel throughout this overwhelming ride. I could be scared to death, I could admire the brave man battling his paralysis the most awesome way, by driving where most healthy men wouldn't or I could just be fully excited and enjoy the thrill. I chose the latter while Nata gasped at every slip of the wheels too close to a cliff.
"We are going to die!" says Nata and she is more angry than scared, angry that she, a mountain guide from Altai is going to die a stupid death following advice from a guy who doesn't have half the experience she does, "We are going to die like dumb amateurs!"
"What is she saying? Is the ok?" screams the driver over the racket of the car as he makes another very close turn.
"Oh you know, she has her woman days." It is a stupid sexist remark but I like being theatrical in a situation where I have nothing too loose because if we don't die falling off a cliff or shot by military patrols on Damavand, Nata is going to kill me anyway, so I better make the most of it.
"Patrols! Get down!"
Nata climbs under the seats and throws the clothes over her and I climb as much as I can under my seat. Our driver races next to a military patrol and passes a very loosely guarded, possibly even abandoned checkpoint... we are in!
"See, I help you! Tell Natalie no be afraid, I help you!"
We stop the car next to an intersection and we wait. Soon, a blue truck comes on and on it other people, mountaineers, some of them. It's not their first time on Damavand and they seem to know what they are doing. Most of them are Iranian and most of them speak English.
They seem to think we are completely reckless but they are too polite to tell us.
"They think we're stupid but they are too polite to tell us," Nata tells me.
We swich cars and board the blue truck. We climb higher, to a mountain settlement from which the trails start.
Our driver points us to his home where he is routinely hosting Damavand mountain climbers. It is a beautiful place, it even has a swing. The mountain climbers prepare a meal, everybody contributes with a bit of their own food.
We also discover that we are not at the end of our worries.
"All trails are controlled. Except one."
There is a huge map of all trails leading to the summit of the mountain and there is a secret one indeed. But this one, since nobody knows about it, will be empty. If we get lost there, nobody will save us because nobody will even know how to begin to save us. And get lost we will, for there is no map of that trail except the one in that man's head, and he isn't in a state where he coud walk anymore.
He moves across the room by stabilizing himself with several objects or pieces of furniture. It is the mountaineers who he routinely helps, that help him to maintain his home where he lives basically alone. There is such unimaginable bravery to this man, bravery so easily hidden by the grotesque of every of his moves. We should not forget that bravery is great but it never cared to win a fashion show.
 |
| Nata thinking about options in the alpine shelter |
"We shouldn't go." She trusted me with that plan, to get to here. Her words carry a heavier weight even that I know she put up with my ideas until now. I really really don't want to give up. But sometimes, giving up is much harder than climbing. It is another example of hidden bravery, one that shallow people will seldom see.
I remain undecided until the morning, discarding all the wise words of alpinists but Nata's words stay in my mind. That evening, I give my fake fiancé a real wedding ring, symbolically embedded inside a mango, her favorite fruit.
We have a deep discussion after. There is a connection between us, it's ambiguous in nature but it is true. We share a deep bond of trust, one where we trust the other to catch us when we fall and be prepared to catch the other. That is why we are true co-travelers. Not just friends, not lovers, not even brother and sister, real co-travelers. And this time, Nata will prevent me from falling.
I say nothing but deep down, I will not climb Damavand. Not this time.
In the morning, there is a deep fog all over the place. The other mountaineers have gone through the usual trails. There is no way I could see the entrance of the trail in such a cloud porridge.
So we both go back. It is a hard blow for both of us but it is the right choice. We manage to join Teheran in a couple of hitches, the first with a young Iranian girl and her boyfriend (notice the choice of words, Iran actually is one of the few Muslim communities where we have an actual concept of boyfriends and girlfriends). The second is at the back of a pickup that we picked on a highway. All great and happy Iranian people.
 |
| Here we see the usual practice of wearing a scarf in Iran nowadays |
We manage to get back to our apartment at Nilufar square before nightfall. Ilona is waiting there for me and so is Jay for Nata. They will be going to the Caspian sea and us further east, towards Turkmenistan. But still not yet.
Saturday, August 10, 2013
We organised an underground party!
Today is another day me and Ilona separate for a while. Me, Nata and Jay are going to the Caspian see while she is staying here with Theo, the cylist who is coming tomorrow. We met Theo in Tabriz, he really is a cool guy. But before that, rebellon time!
Welcome to our appartment in Tehran and fuck the government! We are having an underground party. We are all excited, if we invite iranians to our appartment in Tehran does that mean that we are living like Iranians? Of course you can't say that but I would dare to say that considering the short period of time that we are still here we are as close to iranian life as we can get.
We get shopping, we get to know our neighbours, the girls have a place for their hijab, we are trying to cook our food with the weird ingredients; Tehran isn't a far exotic place anymore.
Ali and Lada are going to come. I also called Mahan, he is coming with a girl from the rainbow. I wonder who that is. Nata is inviting Shaian, a guy from a previous rainbow.
First comes Mahan and Gazelle. Her name is really pronouced Gazelle, seriously. That's so cool.
Mahan is high as usual but in a better shape than Armenia. This guy is so sensitive, he senses everyone and everything around him, stuff people can't even comprehend. It doesn't even matter that he doesn't speak good english, he just senses what you think.
"Heeyy! I was in the Jungle for two days!", he says as a greeting
"The jungle? What do you mean?"
"Yeaaah... LSD!"
As funny as it sounds you just feel the seriousness and emotion Mahan puts into his drug-altered reality and it is just hypnotising. I think people can see Mahan's heart as clearly as if his chest was open.
He and Jay start smoking joints. Mahan gives me one too, I don't take more than three pufs. "Iranian weeeeed, gooood", says Mahan. It's so funny each time he talks, funny and hypnotizing at the same time.
Gazelle also is an interesting person. She is easy going, sensitive but there is something about her, almost supernatural. Like she talks to the wind or something. I like talking to her.
Nata is annoyed by the smoke. She has a point; Ali and Lada are coming, this is not the time to get high, we should try to appear in some good light, this is respect. But today I don't care. Everything is falling apart. I didn't climb Damavand. Nata will be leaving in a few days, she will stay longer than us in Iran, maybe continue to Turkey. I worry about her a little. But most of all, deep down, I feel that I will never see her again.
We met by such a coincidence that a rational encounter would never work. Motives on my friendship bracelets and memories, that is what will be left of her. "Never mind I'll find someone like you". No, I won't and Adele is wrong. I will meet lots of amazing people but no other red haired russian annoying alpinist princess from the rainbow. That should be obvious for Adele and it is obvious for me.
Either way, I start getting really high. I can't understand it. I never smoked anything like that. So strong. My mind isn't that simplified as with french weed but people are approaching into a shining circle in front of my face when I talk to them.
Jon, Emran and some other people came and I said hello. I was still well enough to say hello but I was getting even more high, I already knew it would be too much. Jon talked to me about Damavand, he wants to climb. That sucks, why the hell am I so high now? I got into that state because of Damavand and now I will climb it anyway? I don't seem to make much sense but Jon keeps the conversation with me. He appears in an aura of shiny light. He takes my whole field of vision and he vanishes as soon as he walks away.
"Good weed aaay?", says Mahan
I must agree, this weed is the fucking bomb. Fuck Amsterdam and France, buy your wine in Georgia and your weed here. But for me, it is just too strong. That kind of stuff would have stoned even Petra from croatia. Mahan smoked three joints of that stuff and he's reasonably high but fine.
I'm starting to get scared, the information is overwhelming me. Too many people talking. If I was in a circle of weed smokers it would have been fine but as Nata said, this is a get-together party.
There is also a woman who I have never seen and I wonder if she is real. First, I talk with her in Polish because I have the impression that she is Polish. Then I stop because maybe she doesn't exist. I try to avoid the conversations.
I am in Iran, my family is far, my friends are far, Orianne is away with other problems, my cousin is somewhere in America beyond all reach. And where is Claire? Who can I rely on? I realize that I know Ilona only for three months, even a little less. She's such a different mind. We don't have any kind of attraction like I thought we had with Nata, she is a distant person in general so what is our connection?
And then I remember. She is my sister. Hey sis! I'm screwed up, will you help me? I am not so sure of the answer, I use to joke that Ilona doesn't have the slightest idea about psychology and handling feelings of others. I stopped trusting Ilona on the medical side the moment when she left me alone with my evil tick I could get encephalitis from. Sarrkiss had then operated me with a needle.
"Men travelling with doctors are such pussies!", she had told me. She was right but she forgot that people turn into pussies precisely because their feelings are not acknowledged.
But then, maybe, Ilona was a stranger. She takes time to adapt; to tame. I, especially should understand that. Today she helps me. Now, I can just let go. I take her by the arm as the last gesture that makes sense and she accompanies me to a dark room. This is better. My mind stops to be overloaded. I can relax. I am so glad that we never tried to have a romantic relationship with Ilona, I am so glad we never tried to sleep together. She is actually the only girl in the world, in the past, present and future about whom I can say that. Now I can feel safe because of all these things.
I am still overwhelmed and afraid at times but Ilona comes to visit me.
"I am afraid of everyone but you". I just hope anybody else doesn't come.
And then there is another presence, she brings me sweets. "You need sugar". She's in pink and flowers and she dissapears into the wind. I think I imagined her like that polish woman. But the sweets are in my hand so it wasn't a hallucination. You cannot truly hallucinate under weed anyway.
Ilona tells me it wasn't her, it must be someone else. And she comes again, several times; it is Gazelle.
Very weirdly, I still feel safe. I am not afraid of Gazelle. She seems to be one with the wind. She dissapears in the wind. I am not afraid of the wind, not when it's no more than a breeze.
Mahan also comes. I am not afraid of him either. He has a pretty clear idea what is going on. He's very caring, he brings me food. It tastes wonderfully.
And then Gazelle says that I should feel allright. Same healing philosophy as when Nata told me to decide to stop being sick and I stopped being sick.
So I went back to the party. People were happy and talking to each other, it was great. Even Ilona and Nata were getting along fine. I wondered if I wasn't the bad seed in this whole lot after all.
If so is the case, maybe I shouldn't go to the Caspian see. I have kind of given my word to Nata but on the other hand it is my philosophy not to interfere into relations, especially those that I don't believe in.
"Don't go to the Caspian see, just stay in Tehran", syas Gazelle.
I'll think about it. "Don't think about it, just do it!". This became Gazelle's symbolic sentence we used with Ilona over and over again.
And with the drug-induced mystery around Gazelle that simple sentence had an unusually powerful effect. I just decided that I am not going with Nata tomorrow. We will say goodbye tomorrow morning.
But why the sad face: we had just organised an underground party in Iran! Whatever dude, I am still so high I have to go to sleep. I am just so grateful that there are people like Ilona, Gazelle and even Mahan in the world.
Welcome to our appartment in Tehran and fuck the government! We are having an underground party. We are all excited, if we invite iranians to our appartment in Tehran does that mean that we are living like Iranians? Of course you can't say that but I would dare to say that considering the short period of time that we are still here we are as close to iranian life as we can get.
We get shopping, we get to know our neighbours, the girls have a place for their hijab, we are trying to cook our food with the weird ingredients; Tehran isn't a far exotic place anymore.
Ali and Lada are going to come. I also called Mahan, he is coming with a girl from the rainbow. I wonder who that is. Nata is inviting Shaian, a guy from a previous rainbow.
First comes Mahan and Gazelle. Her name is really pronouced Gazelle, seriously. That's so cool.
Mahan is high as usual but in a better shape than Armenia. This guy is so sensitive, he senses everyone and everything around him, stuff people can't even comprehend. It doesn't even matter that he doesn't speak good english, he just senses what you think.
"Heeyy! I was in the Jungle for two days!", he says as a greeting
"The jungle? What do you mean?"
"Yeaaah... LSD!"
As funny as it sounds you just feel the seriousness and emotion Mahan puts into his drug-altered reality and it is just hypnotising. I think people can see Mahan's heart as clearly as if his chest was open.
He and Jay start smoking joints. Mahan gives me one too, I don't take more than three pufs. "Iranian weeeeed, gooood", says Mahan. It's so funny each time he talks, funny and hypnotizing at the same time.
Gazelle also is an interesting person. She is easy going, sensitive but there is something about her, almost supernatural. Like she talks to the wind or something. I like talking to her.
Nata is annoyed by the smoke. She has a point; Ali and Lada are coming, this is not the time to get high, we should try to appear in some good light, this is respect. But today I don't care. Everything is falling apart. I didn't climb Damavand. Nata will be leaving in a few days, she will stay longer than us in Iran, maybe continue to Turkey. I worry about her a little. But most of all, deep down, I feel that I will never see her again.
We met by such a coincidence that a rational encounter would never work. Motives on my friendship bracelets and memories, that is what will be left of her. "Never mind I'll find someone like you". No, I won't and Adele is wrong. I will meet lots of amazing people but no other red haired russian annoying alpinist princess from the rainbow. That should be obvious for Adele and it is obvious for me.
Either way, I start getting really high. I can't understand it. I never smoked anything like that. So strong. My mind isn't that simplified as with french weed but people are approaching into a shining circle in front of my face when I talk to them.
Jon, Emran and some other people came and I said hello. I was still well enough to say hello but I was getting even more high, I already knew it would be too much. Jon talked to me about Damavand, he wants to climb. That sucks, why the hell am I so high now? I got into that state because of Damavand and now I will climb it anyway? I don't seem to make much sense but Jon keeps the conversation with me. He appears in an aura of shiny light. He takes my whole field of vision and he vanishes as soon as he walks away.
"Good weed aaay?", says Mahan
I must agree, this weed is the fucking bomb. Fuck Amsterdam and France, buy your wine in Georgia and your weed here. But for me, it is just too strong. That kind of stuff would have stoned even Petra from croatia. Mahan smoked three joints of that stuff and he's reasonably high but fine.
I'm starting to get scared, the information is overwhelming me. Too many people talking. If I was in a circle of weed smokers it would have been fine but as Nata said, this is a get-together party.
There is also a woman who I have never seen and I wonder if she is real. First, I talk with her in Polish because I have the impression that she is Polish. Then I stop because maybe she doesn't exist. I try to avoid the conversations.
I am in Iran, my family is far, my friends are far, Orianne is away with other problems, my cousin is somewhere in America beyond all reach. And where is Claire? Who can I rely on? I realize that I know Ilona only for three months, even a little less. She's such a different mind. We don't have any kind of attraction like I thought we had with Nata, she is a distant person in general so what is our connection?
And then I remember. She is my sister. Hey sis! I'm screwed up, will you help me? I am not so sure of the answer, I use to joke that Ilona doesn't have the slightest idea about psychology and handling feelings of others. I stopped trusting Ilona on the medical side the moment when she left me alone with my evil tick I could get encephalitis from. Sarrkiss had then operated me with a needle.
"Men travelling with doctors are such pussies!", she had told me. She was right but she forgot that people turn into pussies precisely because their feelings are not acknowledged.
But then, maybe, Ilona was a stranger. She takes time to adapt; to tame. I, especially should understand that. Today she helps me. Now, I can just let go. I take her by the arm as the last gesture that makes sense and she accompanies me to a dark room. This is better. My mind stops to be overloaded. I can relax. I am so glad that we never tried to have a romantic relationship with Ilona, I am so glad we never tried to sleep together. She is actually the only girl in the world, in the past, present and future about whom I can say that. Now I can feel safe because of all these things.
I am still overwhelmed and afraid at times but Ilona comes to visit me.
"I am afraid of everyone but you". I just hope anybody else doesn't come.
And then there is another presence, she brings me sweets. "You need sugar". She's in pink and flowers and she dissapears into the wind. I think I imagined her like that polish woman. But the sweets are in my hand so it wasn't a hallucination. You cannot truly hallucinate under weed anyway.
Ilona tells me it wasn't her, it must be someone else. And she comes again, several times; it is Gazelle.
Very weirdly, I still feel safe. I am not afraid of Gazelle. She seems to be one with the wind. She dissapears in the wind. I am not afraid of the wind, not when it's no more than a breeze.
Mahan also comes. I am not afraid of him either. He has a pretty clear idea what is going on. He's very caring, he brings me food. It tastes wonderfully.
And then Gazelle says that I should feel allright. Same healing philosophy as when Nata told me to decide to stop being sick and I stopped being sick.
So I went back to the party. People were happy and talking to each other, it was great. Even Ilona and Nata were getting along fine. I wondered if I wasn't the bad seed in this whole lot after all.
If so is the case, maybe I shouldn't go to the Caspian see. I have kind of given my word to Nata but on the other hand it is my philosophy not to interfere into relations, especially those that I don't believe in.
"Don't go to the Caspian see, just stay in Tehran", syas Gazelle.
I'll think about it. "Don't think about it, just do it!". This became Gazelle's symbolic sentence we used with Ilona over and over again.
And with the drug-induced mystery around Gazelle that simple sentence had an unusually powerful effect. I just decided that I am not going with Nata tomorrow. We will say goodbye tomorrow morning.
But why the sad face: we had just organised an underground party in Iran! Whatever dude, I am still so high I have to go to sleep. I am just so grateful that there are people like Ilona, Gazelle and even Mahan in the world.
 |
| And smile for the group photo! |
Friday, August 2, 2013
How we didnt get to tabriz
Jolfa, we sleep in a Park. Nata and Ilona have outvoted me again. Nata thinks she found an ally in Ilona, she thinks she sees her as a person similar too her.
But Ilona is a person with countless facets and resources and guessing her personality is risky to say the least; you woukd find it attached to that needle in a haystack. And finding that needle is hard, even for a person as smart and talented as Nata. Actually, you know Ilona best by keeping a distance and that is one thing Nata cannot do very well.
The reason why Ilona agreed with Nata was actually a practical coincidence: we didn't have water. Ilona would prefer sleeping in the nature and hide our stuff as well as possible. But in the desertic Iran we will find water more easily in the city than in some random part of nature.
So we sleep in that park in Jolfa with absolutly no trouble. Trouble starts with the internet. No gmail, no facebook, no twitter, everything is blocked. Some page in farsi advising us to read Quran instead or whatever. Even mu GPS beacon doesn't transmit half of the coordinates it should because of some signal interference over the country. Trouble continues when we want to start hitchhiking.
First, we get controlled by the polce because we are eating ice cream in public. It's ramadan in Iran until the end of the week or so and eating in public is forbidden.
But the biggest problem are taxis. Everyone is a taxi here. And they don't understand no-money. How much money? How much? Tabriz? Tabriz? (2nd biggest city, capital of the west).
I spend five minutes with each car I stop to ask him where is he going (they keep asking: where are YOU going? never saying their destination). At the end of each conversation they just say that it's not possible without money.
Nata says that I am wasting too much time with explanation and that I should just let go the taxis and try the next car. But how can I go faster when it takes 5 minutes to figure out if a car is a taxi or not. And I can't ask "are you a taxi?" because they will all say yes automatically for a lot of different reasons. Because they're really taxis and want money, because they think taxi is a general word for car, because giving a lift for free also counts as taxi in their mind or because they just don't understand my accent and say yes out of politeness.
But how can I say this to Nata when everything is confused in my mind. Nata tells me I'm too stressed, I should calm down.
Yes I'm stressed, we're in Iran in a crowd of screaming taxis, I have the responsibility to get us out of Jolfa and I have the feeling she judges my every move.
We have a letter in Farsi explaining our situation. I show it to drivers and suddenly we got lucky. The magic word Salavaat makes the drivers understand. It was used during some event with the Iraquis and it means something like "for good pray". Something like "take us for free and god will help you". Kind of blackmail, kind of embarassing but when you wake up in Iran with no money and taxis like flies you stop worrying about embarassing.
This driver is called Ali like half of the country. I have no idea if he's a taxi or not. He reacted in a neutral way to all my we-have-no-money attempts. He probably didn't understand most of them, probably he didn't understand any of them. I am actually more afraid of Nata than of having to pay for the ride.
If my communication skills fail with this guy, she'll just tell me "you should have copied my sentences I wrote for the event why didn't you do it" and I will just feel as useless as can be.
Half way it turns out he is an electritian.
But Ilona is a person with countless facets and resources and guessing her personality is risky to say the least; you woukd find it attached to that needle in a haystack. And finding that needle is hard, even for a person as smart and talented as Nata. Actually, you know Ilona best by keeping a distance and that is one thing Nata cannot do very well.
The reason why Ilona agreed with Nata was actually a practical coincidence: we didn't have water. Ilona would prefer sleeping in the nature and hide our stuff as well as possible. But in the desertic Iran we will find water more easily in the city than in some random part of nature.
So we sleep in that park in Jolfa with absolutly no trouble. Trouble starts with the internet. No gmail, no facebook, no twitter, everything is blocked. Some page in farsi advising us to read Quran instead or whatever. Even mu GPS beacon doesn't transmit half of the coordinates it should because of some signal interference over the country. Trouble continues when we want to start hitchhiking.
First, we get controlled by the polce because we are eating ice cream in public. It's ramadan in Iran until the end of the week or so and eating in public is forbidden.
But the biggest problem are taxis. Everyone is a taxi here. And they don't understand no-money. How much money? How much? Tabriz? Tabriz? (2nd biggest city, capital of the west).
I spend five minutes with each car I stop to ask him where is he going (they keep asking: where are YOU going? never saying their destination). At the end of each conversation they just say that it's not possible without money.
Nata says that I am wasting too much time with explanation and that I should just let go the taxis and try the next car. But how can I go faster when it takes 5 minutes to figure out if a car is a taxi or not. And I can't ask "are you a taxi?" because they will all say yes automatically for a lot of different reasons. Because they're really taxis and want money, because they think taxi is a general word for car, because giving a lift for free also counts as taxi in their mind or because they just don't understand my accent and say yes out of politeness.
But how can I say this to Nata when everything is confused in my mind. Nata tells me I'm too stressed, I should calm down.
Yes I'm stressed, we're in Iran in a crowd of screaming taxis, I have the responsibility to get us out of Jolfa and I have the feeling she judges my every move.
We have a letter in Farsi explaining our situation. I show it to drivers and suddenly we got lucky. The magic word Salavaat makes the drivers understand. It was used during some event with the Iraquis and it means something like "for good pray". Something like "take us for free and god will help you". Kind of blackmail, kind of embarassing but when you wake up in Iran with no money and taxis like flies you stop worrying about embarassing.
This driver is called Ali like half of the country. I have no idea if he's a taxi or not. He reacted in a neutral way to all my we-have-no-money attempts. He probably didn't understand most of them, probably he didn't understand any of them. I am actually more afraid of Nata than of having to pay for the ride.
If my communication skills fail with this guy, she'll just tell me "you should have copied my sentences I wrote for the event why didn't you do it" and I will just feel as useless as can be.
Half way it turns out he is an electritian.
Iran
The way to Iran is long, about 400 kilometers because the roads doesn't make sense. First it goes to the east towards Karabakh. Then, it goes to the south along the turkish border. We see mount Ararat from very close. It is a very impressive sight, this 5000 meter high mountain from the city landscape.
The road isn't great and as the border approaches, fewer and fexer cars drive by. We sleep at some guys place. He's a "çoçuk-yok" but really sweet. We sleep at his place, he tells us to wake up at 9. Misunderstanding, next morning we have to be ready by 6:30. Harsh.
Hitchhiking is slow, we are continuing towards the border and the road gets worse and worse. More cows than cars really. Me and Nata are getting along well again.
Our last ride is with armenian alpinists. Nata is excited; she usually is when she sees alpinists or georgia. I wonder what it does to her when she sees georgian alpinists. To be tested.
We driver on a mountain and we drink armenian cognac and eat a lot of food. Wonderful farewell with Armenia. Armenia, you were not so bad. Armenia, you are a land of stubborn psychopaths but also good people. Armenia, you are the land where strange things could happen if you let them.
Armenia, imarevnes.
The road is bad, the green is fading. Georgia is green, armenia keep up a little. But here, in front of us, we see the desert. The border between Iran and Armenia is the border between yellow and green. Dust and trees. The contrast is stunning, it changes in a matter of meters.
Scary desertic mountains appear from behind the border. THey are razor sharp, they are evil. They despise us. We keave armenia. And then the night falls. We are not greeted by border guards but by regular soldiers of the iranian army. Welcome to the Islamic Republic of Iran. You can tell that the Welcome is there just as a sentence opener.
You don't feel welcome here.
Our stuff is taken through huge automatic scanners, just like those you have at airports. Our passports are checked for half an hour. We are questioned about our itineraries. We meet two amazing cyclists on their way to indonesia. Our sunshine in the night. Nata and Ilona have put on their hijab. They look like Babushkas and you can't do anything about it. I think Ilona has genuine hatered towards her scarf. It's unconfortable as hell.
But Iran is starting to reveal it's hidden side. We are approached by a girl in hijab. We are invited to an underground club in tehran. Some artmenian community organises parties here and everything is hidden from the regime.
Our passports are checked, we have stamps and we pass the last part of the border. We are in Iran. We actually are in Iran.
First contact, we are casually held at gunpoint. Some soldiers ask us where we are going: meeting some friends in that direction. It is a lie of course. We want to get the hell out of here. Away from this border guarded by the army.
We continue in the night, on this road with mountains on both sides. Maybe we can put a tent somewhere. Me and Nata argue over where to put a tent because Nata thinks it's not possible. Ilona agrees with her. I am a little surprised because with Ilona, we are used to building tents in crazy places. I think that maybe I am starting to contests Nata's decisions out of principle, not because they are not good. So we continue the road further but some soldiers on a motorbike see us and we are escorted to the border again. We lost them in the night and Ilona finds a great place for a tent, by the river. Nata is against camping because she things the soldiers will come back. Ilona and I outvote her.
We get to that place and start unpacking our things but Nata-is-right. The soldiers come back and point a machine gun at Ilona. Me and Nata have a talent for choosing places to argue.
"See that was a bad idea, now Ilona has a machine gun pointed at her, that's not fair"
So I put myself in the line of fire of the machine gun. "Happy now?"
"No, I don't like people getting aimed at with machine guns"
That makes some sense but what can you do.
The soldiers didn't really have a clue what was going on. Their english was very bad but so much better than Armenian english. They told us to exchange money and then take a taxi to Jolfa. No way, even with a gun pointed at me will I compromise my hitchhiking. We have made it so far without paying for a single ride if you don't count the slovak many weeks ago. It's no way to start.
We hitchhike next to the soldiers in the night. That's not how I imagined our first iranian ride. This is not good. Iranian people don't understand the concept of hitchhiking. They all expect money for rides. It's usually a long explanation for each ride. We know no farsi. And the girls can't talk to men so they all rely on me. I am used to rely on Nata a lot after our two weeks of hitchhiking through Georgia and Armenia. I have lost my independence a little and my decision making has gone soft.
Plus, this is the opium route. Opium is consumated casually in Iran and all the opium and heroin which enters the western world goes through here. Drugged people are driving here.
I can't even imagine how hard it must be to explain to an Iranian driver under influance of heroin the complicated concept of hitchhiking in a language I have never heared before. But we shouldn't be driving with a heroin junkie in the first place so I guess that's good insurance policy.
A car stops. It's a taxi. Screw him. Next.
Another one and... oh my god he speaks english! There is not enough space in his car but we jump there anyway. We were warned about tarof in Iran a complex cultural concept implying (among a lot of other things) people offering rides out of politeness. Fuck Tarof let's get out of here!
Everything is better than stupid iranian soldiers with guns.
He's a university professor and he is going to Jolfa more than 100 kilometers from here. Amazing! He is an atheist and he hates religion, muslim religion especially. He hates iran, he goes to Armenia for freedom. Hate is the word he uses. I think this guy is an exception but later on, it will become a rule.
Little did we know that we are actually entering one of the most atheistic countries in the middle east.
A country so disfigured by the media that visiting it and seeing it on TV are two completely different experiences.
The road isn't great and as the border approaches, fewer and fexer cars drive by. We sleep at some guys place. He's a "çoçuk-yok" but really sweet. We sleep at his place, he tells us to wake up at 9. Misunderstanding, next morning we have to be ready by 6:30. Harsh.
 |
| Hitchhiking a truck full of furniture |
 |
| Approaching the iranian border with a russian car, we got a hundred dollars: "Filip tell your mother Russians are good people!" |
Our last ride is with armenian alpinists. Nata is excited; she usually is when she sees alpinists or georgia. I wonder what it does to her when she sees georgian alpinists. To be tested.
We driver on a mountain and we drink armenian cognac and eat a lot of food. Wonderful farewell with Armenia. Armenia, you were not so bad. Armenia, you are a land of stubborn psychopaths but also good people. Armenia, you are the land where strange things could happen if you let them.
Armenia, imarevnes.
 |
| Goodbye Armenia, farewell sunflowers |
Scary desertic mountains appear from behind the border. THey are razor sharp, they are evil. They despise us. We keave armenia. And then the night falls. We are not greeted by border guards but by regular soldiers of the iranian army. Welcome to the Islamic Republic of Iran. You can tell that the Welcome is there just as a sentence opener.
You don't feel welcome here.
Our stuff is taken through huge automatic scanners, just like those you have at airports. Our passports are checked for half an hour. We are questioned about our itineraries. We meet two amazing cyclists on their way to indonesia. Our sunshine in the night. Nata and Ilona have put on their hijab. They look like Babushkas and you can't do anything about it. I think Ilona has genuine hatered towards her scarf. It's unconfortable as hell.
But Iran is starting to reveal it's hidden side. We are approached by a girl in hijab. We are invited to an underground club in tehran. Some artmenian community organises parties here and everything is hidden from the regime.
 |
| On the desertic side, there is Iran. |
First contact, we are casually held at gunpoint. Some soldiers ask us where we are going: meeting some friends in that direction. It is a lie of course. We want to get the hell out of here. Away from this border guarded by the army.
We continue in the night, on this road with mountains on both sides. Maybe we can put a tent somewhere. Me and Nata argue over where to put a tent because Nata thinks it's not possible. Ilona agrees with her. I am a little surprised because with Ilona, we are used to building tents in crazy places. I think that maybe I am starting to contests Nata's decisions out of principle, not because they are not good. So we continue the road further but some soldiers on a motorbike see us and we are escorted to the border again. We lost them in the night and Ilona finds a great place for a tent, by the river. Nata is against camping because she things the soldiers will come back. Ilona and I outvote her.
We get to that place and start unpacking our things but Nata-is-right. The soldiers come back and point a machine gun at Ilona. Me and Nata have a talent for choosing places to argue.
"See that was a bad idea, now Ilona has a machine gun pointed at her, that's not fair"
So I put myself in the line of fire of the machine gun. "Happy now?"
"No, I don't like people getting aimed at with machine guns"
That makes some sense but what can you do.
The soldiers didn't really have a clue what was going on. Their english was very bad but so much better than Armenian english. They told us to exchange money and then take a taxi to Jolfa. No way, even with a gun pointed at me will I compromise my hitchhiking. We have made it so far without paying for a single ride if you don't count the slovak many weeks ago. It's no way to start.
We hitchhike next to the soldiers in the night. That's not how I imagined our first iranian ride. This is not good. Iranian people don't understand the concept of hitchhiking. They all expect money for rides. It's usually a long explanation for each ride. We know no farsi. And the girls can't talk to men so they all rely on me. I am used to rely on Nata a lot after our two weeks of hitchhiking through Georgia and Armenia. I have lost my independence a little and my decision making has gone soft.
Plus, this is the opium route. Opium is consumated casually in Iran and all the opium and heroin which enters the western world goes through here. Drugged people are driving here.
I can't even imagine how hard it must be to explain to an Iranian driver under influance of heroin the complicated concept of hitchhiking in a language I have never heared before. But we shouldn't be driving with a heroin junkie in the first place so I guess that's good insurance policy.
A car stops. It's a taxi. Screw him. Next.
Another one and... oh my god he speaks english! There is not enough space in his car but we jump there anyway. We were warned about tarof in Iran a complex cultural concept implying (among a lot of other things) people offering rides out of politeness. Fuck Tarof let's get out of here!
Everything is better than stupid iranian soldiers with guns.
He's a university professor and he is going to Jolfa more than 100 kilometers from here. Amazing! He is an atheist and he hates religion, muslim religion especially. He hates iran, he goes to Armenia for freedom. Hate is the word he uses. I think this guy is an exception but later on, it will become a rule.
Little did we know that we are actually entering one of the most atheistic countries in the middle east.
A country so disfigured by the media that visiting it and seeing it on TV are two completely different experiences.
Thursday, June 13, 2013
No visa to Iran
Written in a georgian home, OzugretiIn the morning we wake up early for a good breakfest and we're away towards Ardesen.
My tablet has a full batteries again, both of them and that doesn't happen that often. Until now I didn't deplate the battery a single time but in the harshest times it got to 30% of the primary battery and the secondary one completly depleted.
We were running down the hill inside the back of our host's pickup truck. The truck was speeding through the randomly paved and steep roads picking children on the way.
We disembarked in central Ardesen and started a quest for wifi. I forgot to mention that our guests didn't have the internet. We try to get to a wifi spot for obvious reasons and also because we need to know the status of our iranian visa. So far, the consulate didn't send us anything. The deadline is in a few days.
It was incredibly hard to find a wifi spot. People offered us computers, they gave us tea and talked to us about a million things but no way to connect. Besides their good will, the people didn't know they even had a wifi let alone a wifi password. After countless attempts we made our way into a high school. Some of the teachers spoke english (victory!) and they called the english teachers to make the communication flawless. They invited us for food into the school canteen so we got our free lunch but still no wifi.
We ended up getting wifi in front of a store which sold chainsaws. They knew their wifi password and we got our internet. No news about our visa anyway.
So we got out of Ardesen, to some city called Of, between Rize and Trabzon.
Still time to visit some mountains so we wanted to hitchhike further into the mainland. Before we even started a young couple very much in love stopped and we rode with them until Uzungol.
The next day we rode with them high into the mountains, we reached the snow in 2500 meters and didn't even 19062013Today we hitchhike to Trabzon. The stress is rushing through our veins. Will we get our visa? There were times we wondered about how it'll go and elaborated various hypothesis, some more realistic than others. I was wondering weather Iran will discover that I'm also french. It's not that hard to search my email and discover tons of french forum posts and whatnot and probably not too difficult to figure out that I also have a French passport. And Iranians don't like double nationalities and they seem to like the french even less.Or they could just have forgotten to ask us some information needed for the visa and we'll have to wait one more week. Don't I know administrative officials are useless as hell, I've lived in France long enough.So we entered this iranian embassy after eating brunch with our last driver (another free meal) at a local restaurant, it was really great food.
There was a woman who, I am sorry to say would look her best in a burka and had an obvious hormonal problem. She asked us for a reference number, how the hell are we supposed to know that? The last guy a week ago asked us the same question at first but when we told him we had no such thing he didn't seem to care that much and just took scans of our passports to send to Tehran.
The woman came back after a while and told us just this:
"No reply from Teheran. No visa."
When we asked why and what should we do she just said "No visa, I don't know. This month no visa maybe next month visa." At least she should learn proper english when you work at an embassy.
Next month, easy for her to say, we have to cross Iran, we can't wait a month for it. We don't even want to stay in their stupid country, at least not right now and not in our current mood. We just need to cross it and be on our way.
We've heard such wonderful things about the Trabzon consulate, now they just seem to be incompetant assholes with no clue whatsoever.They should at least have known that we don't stand a chance without that reference number or they should at least have sent us an email to say that Teheran was not responding, they said so much the first time.
So we searched for a wifi spot again and signed up with key2persia, a travel agency which obtains these reference numbers.
We asked them if we could retrieve our visa in Yerevan, Armenia. This way we can at least travel east and leave Turkey behind even though it's full of good memories.
My tablet has a full batteries again, both of them and that doesn't happen that often. Until now I didn't deplate the battery a single time but in the harshest times it got to 30% of the primary battery and the secondary one completly depleted.
We were running down the hill inside the back of our host's pickup truck. The truck was speeding through the randomly paved and steep roads picking children on the way.
We disembarked in central Ardesen and started a quest for wifi. I forgot to mention that our guests didn't have the internet. We try to get to a wifi spot for obvious reasons and also because we need to know the status of our iranian visa. So far, the consulate didn't send us anything. The deadline is in a few days.
It was incredibly hard to find a wifi spot. People offered us computers, they gave us tea and talked to us about a million things but no way to connect. Besides their good will, the people didn't know they even had a wifi let alone a wifi password. After countless attempts we made our way into a high school. Some of the teachers spoke english (victory!) and they called the english teachers to make the communication flawless. They invited us for food into the school canteen so we got our free lunch but still no wifi.
We ended up getting wifi in front of a store which sold chainsaws. They knew their wifi password and we got our internet. No news about our visa anyway.
So we got out of Ardesen, to some city called Of, between Rize and Trabzon.
Still time to visit some mountains so we wanted to hitchhike further into the mainland. Before we even started a young couple very much in love stopped and we rode with them until Uzungol.
The next day we rode with them high into the mountains, we reached the snow in 2500 meters and didn't even 19062013Today we hitchhike to Trabzon. The stress is rushing through our veins. Will we get our visa? There were times we wondered about how it'll go and elaborated various hypothesis, some more realistic than others. I was wondering weather Iran will discover that I'm also french. It's not that hard to search my email and discover tons of french forum posts and whatnot and probably not too difficult to figure out that I also have a French passport. And Iranians don't like double nationalities and they seem to like the french even less.Or they could just have forgotten to ask us some information needed for the visa and we'll have to wait one more week. Don't I know administrative officials are useless as hell, I've lived in France long enough.So we entered this iranian embassy after eating brunch with our last driver (another free meal) at a local restaurant, it was really great food.
There was a woman who, I am sorry to say would look her best in a burka and had an obvious hormonal problem. She asked us for a reference number, how the hell are we supposed to know that? The last guy a week ago asked us the same question at first but when we told him we had no such thing he didn't seem to care that much and just took scans of our passports to send to Tehran.
The woman came back after a while and told us just this:
"No reply from Teheran. No visa."
When we asked why and what should we do she just said "No visa, I don't know. This month no visa maybe next month visa." At least she should learn proper english when you work at an embassy.
Next month, easy for her to say, we have to cross Iran, we can't wait a month for it. We don't even want to stay in their stupid country, at least not right now and not in our current mood. We just need to cross it and be on our way.
 |
| No visa to Iran |
We've heard such wonderful things about the Trabzon consulate, now they just seem to be incompetant assholes with no clue whatsoever.They should at least have known that we don't stand a chance without that reference number or they should at least have sent us an email to say that Teheran was not responding, they said so much the first time.
So we searched for a wifi spot again and signed up with key2persia, a travel agency which obtains these reference numbers.
We asked them if we could retrieve our visa in Yerevan, Armenia. This way we can at least travel east and leave Turkey behind even though it's full of good memories.
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