So here I am, back in Iran.
I’m at the border when a guy comes up to me, his name is Hamid, he is a tourist guide. Quite to my surprise, he doesn’t want any money from me, he just wants to help out. The border guards barely speak a word of English and I’m glad he’s with me. He speaks a little English and regulates the whole border process for me. Nobody cares about my car, nobody wants to know anything. Hamid tells me to wait here till my police escort arrives. It takes a good 2 hours till they get here. Unlike in Pakistan where I was escorted by the police, in Iran the army accompanies me from the border to Zahedan. From here on I can go on my own.
A proper convoy: 2 bikes in front of me, a truck with 4 soldiers behind. They take me to Zahedan and drop me off at the tourist hotel. I remember the hotel well, since last year I stayed here for one night, the place was dirty and overpriced. As soon as the army is gone, I leave the parking lot and look for somewhere else to stay. I’m driving down the main road, when a car honks from the left. A young Iranian asks me if he can help me with something. Yes, he can. We pull over and I explain to him that I am looking for a good restaurant. Emad takes me to his friends restaurant, a small but delicious kebab shop. Iranian kebab is not what we assume it is. They have all sorts of meat on skewers, which are then grilled. Beef, lamb, chicken, offal, fat and vegetables. In general, it seems to me that the Iranians do not eat a lot of vegetables. At least I do not see much of it. Here I also meet with the first Afghani, he looks at me then comes in the restaurant and takes a seat next to me. We both speak different languages but seem to understand each other. More and more people come in when they see me- they are very curious to meet foreigners.
In the evening I meet with Hamid at the hotel, I’m the first tourist since the Iranian New Year- Iranian New Year is on the 21. The Manager of the tourist centre of Sistan and Baluchistan greets me with flowers. Unfortunately, the guy speaks almost no English and our conversation ends quickly. Actually, the hotel does not want to let me sleep in the parking lot, when they see that I am a guest of the Tourism Commissioner they change their mind. In the evening, I meet again with Hamid and he takes me to a gas station outside the city where I get 130 liters of diesel for free. He’s a real hero, this guy.
The next day I meet with Emad again, and we go to the mechanic together. The mechanic is super friendly, busy working on my car all day. When I ask him how much money he wants for the work, he denies politely with a smile. The next day I make my way to Chabahar. The city is located southeast on the Gulf of Oman. The Iranians love camping; there are tents everywhere-literally everywhere… on the roadside, in front of the supermarket, in the park and even in front of hotels. When I drive to the beach there are at least 200 other cars. Many families and friends sit together at the beach having BBQ´s and enjoying the warm weather. As soon as someone notices me, they invite me to join them. I always get asked the same questions; Where are you from? What are you doing here? How old are you? Are you married? No? Why not? Why are you traveling alone? All alone? For them it is a crazy idea to drive by car from Germany to India. Why do not you fly? They ask. This is much faster. I got used to the whole questioning thing. Quite often the language is a barrier, but that does not bother anyone – we just use Google Translate. Often the translator brings out very funny sentences that everyone laughs about.
t is bloody hot in Chabahar, I still haven’t fixed my air conditioner- shit. I pick up two hitchhikers on the way to Darak, young Iranians from Tehran. I am very happy that they speak a little English, so we can have a conversation. We sleep right at the beach; behind us is the desert, a brilliant place. We meet another guy from Tehran, he drives a very beautiful Toyota forty series. We spend the evening cooking together and after a while we realize that we all smoke. Immediately the weed appeared on the table. With good food and a joint we enjoy the peace and the stars.
The next morning I say goodbye to the two hitchhikers, they are going to stay a little longer. Essi and I continue together. As soon as we are we back on the road, my car has strange misfires. Somewhat perplexed we drive on, it gets worse and worse. Essi tows me 180km to Jask which is the next „biggest“ city. There we try to organize a tow truck, but this turns out to be more difficult than expected.
I meet Motesar, a nice guy. He and his 3 brothers have a forwarding agency, they invite me to stay with them for a few days. Motesar studied in India and also in Germany. Now he has come back to run his father’s company together with his brothers. He tells me that this is more fun for him than any other job. 7 months a year the company is extremely busy, when he has to work 14-15 hours a day, and other 5 months he is off, spending time with his family and friends.
While I am here, it’s the season for watermelons, every morning the farmers and customers are at his office. Every day 50-60 trucks leave the yard, packed with freshly picked watermelons from the area. My car stands in the yard for 3 days but when I try to start it, it looks like problem has gone… for now! I say goodbye and make my way to Bander Abbas. I think the issue came from the dirty Iranian diesel, which is cheap but also extremely bad quality. I change the fuel filter and it seems that the problem is solved. While I am having dinner, a father from a family that is sitting next to me, sends his 2 children to talk to me. They come from Bander Abbas and invite me to stay in their apartment. They give me the phone number of Mehdi, their older brother, to let him know that I’m invited to their home for a short stay. Crazy. Late in the evening I meet Mehdi and his friends in Bander. Medhi tells me that he is a gamer who plays many hours a day and that’s why he speaks English.
Together we eat kebab, then he takes me to an apartment. He puts the keys in my hand and asks „Do you need something else? I’ll go home“. Crazy! I have a whole apartment for myself now. The next morning we go for breakfast and we spend the day at the beach. The Iranian beach culture is a bit different than the European culture. We lay down on the beach enjoying the sun, the Iranians drive their cars to the beach and drift like in Need for Speed.I really want to see the Hormuz and Qeshm islands in Iran, but the car needs to be in the running condition for this, otherwise it will not be fun. I decide not to go and head to Shiraz instead. Said and done. The sun has no mercy on me, even now ,in the spring, it is over 40 degrees. I curse and I secretly swear that I will fix my AC that hasn’t been working in months.
I am currently in a mountainous landscape and drive uphill, when I realize that my car is losing power. Shortly thereafter, it starts to slow down and steam is coming up from the engine. I look in the rearview mirror and see a big black cloud of smoke coming out from the exhaust. Damn it. This is a really bad spot to break down right on the slope, single lane and without any phone reception. I try to start the car twice, but quickly realize it will not work. Clueless, I try to stop passing cars. The third car stops. It is a family with children, none of them speak English. With gestures, I try to explain what’s going on. He drives a small Chinese 4×4 and makes hints to tow me. I try to make it clear that my car is too heavy for that. He doesn’t understand and so I put on the towing strap, he drives on, the car does not move a meter and the clutch grinds and stinks. He understood that this won’t work. Suddenly, a tow truck drives out of nowhere, I wave wildly and point at the truck. My friend and helper yells something in Persian language after the truck. It does not stop, but the driver throws a business card out of the window.
We call the towing service and haggle over the price to the next city. They say I should wait here for 30 minutes till they come to pick me up. The family says goodbye to me. So, I sit there alone and wait. Many other people stop and offer help. About an hour later the tow truck shows up, the driver gets out and loads my car on the truck. It’s a real tow truck, not some rundown lorry and I’m relieved. His wife sits with him in the car, I salute both. That’s the only thing we say. I do not speak Farsi and they do not speak any English, but I am really glad that they are here to help me. I call Essi, he translates over the phone for me. In the next town the driver drops me and my car off. With the help of friends I find a mechanic in Isfahan. The driver calls a friend to take me to Isfahan. Just when I was about to pay him, I realised, with a quick look into my wallet, that I do not have enough rial to pay him. With little Farsi and the dollar bills waving in my hand I try to make him understand. He nods. Uff, I’m lucky! When the next driver shows up with the truck its late at night and I’m already exhausted. It’s 700km to Isfahan and my driver does not speak any English.This is gonna be fun. I go to sleep and wake up a few hours later when the truck stops. We pull to the yard. Police check! Drug control. The police are quite curious and examine my car closely. Then a drug detection dog is used, he looks very interested while sniffing through my car. Somewhat annoyed, I look at the officer and explain that the dog should not jump in my bed. An officer comes up to me and asks me something in Farsi. I look at him questioningly. „Amphetamine? Hashish? “No!“ Again, he says something that I do not understand. The dog starts to bark! Hmm, I start to worry. Maybe I forgot some hash from India? Are there some crumbs left somewhere under the seat? Hopefully not! Again, I look at him confused and nod.
I’m not the only one in the police station, in one of the other cars they find some hashish. He comes to me with it and rubs it under my nose. “Do you have drugs?” “NO!” Again, another officer is looking through my car. I sincerely hope he does not find my drone. I ask for the toilet. An official scans me first, then I am able to retreat to the bathroom. After a good hour of unsuccessful searching, they finally see I have no drugs and we are allowed to drive on. I´ve hardly slept since we our last stop. This time I stay in the truck and wait. The driver comes back in 15 minutes, I ask him what’s going on. Police! Not again! This time the driver pays the police and we can continue driving. Overall, we are stopped on the way four times and searched twice. We arrive in Isfahan early in the morning. There, I meet with Emad. He brings me to the mechanic who came to the workshop especially for me. It is still Nowruz, Iranian New Year and the shops are closed for 14 days. He takes a look at my car and we make an appointment for Monday. In the yard i see many Nissan Patrol cars. I feel relieved. Anni Hostel is a brilliant and cheap hotel in Isfahan, I spend almost a week there. A friend takes me to a birthday of a friend. In Iran, a lot of stuff is illegal but it does not mean they don’t have it. It’s just a bit complicated. The party is in a private holiday home just outside Isfahan. Here, I meet many other young Iranians. Actually, each of them has a problem with the government and desperately wants to leave the country. There´s a lot of Raki to drink, the more they drink-the angrier they become about government and the situation they are stuck in. What is normal for us in Europe is far from normal here. Relationships are kept secret from parents, partying and drinking is only possible behind closed doors, with people you know and trust. They ask about our music festivals in Europe, it is a dream of many to go there. Music festivals like „Wacken, Rock am Ring, Nature One, Boom, Sziget etc .. do not exist here, the government doesn’t allow it. At the party there is a DJ who does his best and many of the guests dance hilariously. My car is fixed in 2 days and the turbocharger is checked and reinstalled. But the heat problem is not solved.
The mechanic assumes my pistons have a scratch. I’m not so sure about his judgement, so I drive on to Tehran to meet another mechanic there. Friends convey me to the Sarpolaki Group – they are father & son: Salim & Soroush. They immediately take me to their workshop. I quickly realize they work differently to the other mechanics in Iran. The workshop is clean and tidy, everything has its place. We’ll do some testing and see if the pistons really let oil through. The theory of the other mechanic is false, and I’m pretty happy about it. I get a new catalyst and a heat shield. I spend almost a week with them. Every day after work we sit together in the workshop for dinner and drink home-made Raki. I leave behind a really good new friend. I hope to see you in Germany Soroush! Salamati Doostan.
At the Turkmen Embassy, I apply for my transit visa – the process is specific and somewhat complicated. At the first visit I get a form to fill out, this is only available here, not online. For the visa you need: the application and colored copies of the current visa and visa from the destination country, in my case-Uzbekistan. The Uzbek Visa in Islamabad, Pakistan, which was easy and quick. At the embassy I am told that I should wait 10 days and then call and ask for my visa. I don’t have to pay anything yet, only when the visa is confirmed.
In Isfahan I get new filters, fuel, oil and air filters. Friends bring them from Slovenia. It is incredibly difficult to find parts for a Nissan Diesel in Iran. I didn’t expect that.
The car is finally running again and I am on my way to Yazd. I like the city, there is a lot to see and in the area there are great off road opportunities.
Here I meet Andrej and his wife Alina with their 3 children. They are traveling with friends and drove from Slovenia to Iran by car. They are traveling with 3 cars and have a total of 7 children. We make a plan to do a desert trip together. I’m glad I met them, being alone in the desert is too dangerous and having company makes the whole thing more fun.
We meet again in Kerman to prepare for the desert trip. It has been raining a bit over the last few days, which is good, because it’s not so hot in the desert. Let’s go now! We leave the paved road, lower the tire pressure. In the convoy, it’s just 3 hours until we reach the dunes. Again we let air out of the tires, up to 1 bar. Now the fun begins. Welcome to the Desert – Dasht-e Lut دشت لوت, which means „Emptiness Plain“ in English. It is one of the hottest and driest places in the world, in summer the temperature rises to over 70 degrees. Driving through the dunes is a lot of fun, but can be quite tricky.
4 days we race through the desert, dunes up dunes down. When the sand is hot it becomes soft & harder to drive and my car is not the lightest one. But after 4 exciting days I’m happy to leave the desert. There is nothing here except sand; no water, no life. Back in Kerman I´m deep cleaning because there is sand everywhere, especially in every small column. I spend a whole afternoon cleaning and find a lot of stuff that I thought I’d lost. For the guys at the carwash, I am the star of the show. They watch me curiously for hours waiting to see what would I rummage next out of my car. It must be very interesting for them.
Meanwhile, I have already been in Iran for 6 weeks and I think it´s time to go. I make a short detour to Tehran- a 600km detour- but the fuel costs nothing here. On average, I pay 0.05 cents per liter of diesel! Sometimes more, sometimes less. Sometimes I even get a full tank for free. „You are a Tourist!”. The dollar rate has skyrocketed after the Trump announced the withdrawal from the nuclear deal. People are angry and worried, within a few days they have lost 20-30% of their savings. Inflation is high, many traders are not selling their goods out of uncertainty. Maybe it’s worth 20% more tomorrow. Government licensed exchange shops are closed.
From Tehran on I go West, through Irani Kurdistan. The last few weeks are dry, hot and sandy. In the west, on the other hand, everything is lush green and it rains a lot. I spend my last few days in Marivan. While eating kebab, I get into conversation with an Irani. He takes me to a hookah bar – he only speaks broken English and so we mostly talk through the Google translate – All Hail technology! He complains about the government, the life and bad job opportunities. When I ask what his job is, he says: „We’re all smugglers,“ pointing at the other men. He points to one man „He’s smuggling beer and liquor, clothing, and drugs – mostly opium from Afghanistan. There are no jobs and everyone has a family to feed. We are not criminals but we have to feed our families”- he complains. I play a few games of backgammon with them, then say goodbye and make my way back to the hotel. Oh yes, I stayed in a hotel for free. My friend Behrouz found out I was going to Marivan and told his friends. They let me stay for free in a hotel. How cool!
My plan for the way back changes , instead of going via Turkmenistan I drive home through northern Iraq. Iraq? I have no idea what to expect there, on the internet I try to find out information and itineraries. I hardly find anything, I rely on the statements of Markus I met a few weeks ago, here in Iran. He rode his motorbike through Iraq and only said good things. Is Northern Iraq safe? A few months ago I read reports about the IS becoming aggressive in Mosul. Although Mosul is not right on my route but pretty close. I find some recent reports that give me confidence and a bit of security. Well then, the decision is clear, Iraq instead of Turkmenistan. On I go.
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