An invite for a free trip to Iran is impossible to turn down! If it ever comes your way, jump at the chance! I did have to get a new passport – mine had just expired, and the trip was only just over two weeks away. Luckily, it arrived hassle free and came a lot sooner than the travel details – my first experience of 'Iranian time' and it had happened before I left New Zealand! The day before we left is when I got all my confirmed travel details.
Iran was putting on the 'Presidency Tour of Tehran', a five day bike race in and around the capital, and they invited a team from New Zealand to race – five riders and 3 people in management – a team manager, a mechanic and myself as a massage therapist. Ive done a lot of this work in the past and raced for many years, hence the invite came my way.
Never one for sleeping on a plane, its a torturous 20 hours or so from New Zealand to Dubai, and then a couple more onto Tehran. We'd gotten Euros in New Zealand, and changed them into 'rials' in Iran. Iran is a cardless country – no eftpos, no credit cards and no ATM's, and a limit on currencies that its possible to change – go prepared!! Around $120NZD worth of Euros gives you a thick wad of bills worth thousands of rials – I struggled to get my purse zipped up and in the end had to leave it half undone.
As we came in to land in Iran the women onboard all started covering up, from head to toe, because Iran is a shi'ite muslim country, with strict laws on what can be shown or not, especially for women. While they dont have to cover their faces, their hair, arms, legs and necks must be covered. Traditionally, this was achieved through wearing a 'chador' – an ankle length, 'hooded cape', grasped and held together under the chin, so only one hand is ever free. Nowadays, for the more fashionable, a mid thigh length jacket / coat, (a 'montoux') buttoned up at the front, with either a scarf to cover the hair, (tied under the chin), or a 'magneh' – a traditional, black fitted hood that leaves only the face exposed, is worn, especially in the cities, and by the younger generation. They liven them up with the colours they choose and make-up, big hair, big sunglasses and fancy footwear adds the final touches. Before we went, I wondered if id get some leeway as a visiting foreigner, and allowed my 'western ways'. No way! Of course, I respected the cultural and religious requirements, but I did wear my headscarf in a bandana style, tied around my head, as opposed to covering the neck and throat, and long sleeves only when I wasnt in the team car or the hotel. Great dressing for bad hair or fat days!! but the heat got a bit much. Apparently I looked Jewish because of the way I wore my headscarf, which wasn't desirable, and the days I wore my 'thai fisherman' style pants I looked kurdish (apparently apparently!) – especially undesirable while I was in Tehran, not so bad when I ended up right up north and nearer Kurdistan. For the men, legs have to be covered at all times, the exception being if your a cyclist, then the usual of shaved legs and lycra applies.
Our hotel was the 'Laleh', which backs onto a big park of the same name. Of all the books Ive read on Iran it seems every visitor stays there. Its certainly up there with western standards though. Arriving that first day, famished and tired, we literally fell into lunch which was an amazing, tasty feast, but, after 5 days of the same things, it fast lost its appeal, especially since dinner was the same food all over again. Chicken, rice, chicken and rice, rice and chicken, rice, chicken, kebabs, breads, lettuce and carrots...
Breakfasts were a variety of breads, all of them were pretty good and fresh, soft cheese, eggs, sausages, jam and yoghurts and some cereals. It was the one time of the day we could get brewed coffee, the other alternative was 'nescafe' (yes, instant) ordered from room service, or a burnt tasting brew from the cafe in the lobby. Iran is a nation of tea drinkers and it was only through our great interpreter that we tracked down decent coffee. I dont drink tea with sugar in it but I had a go at the Iranian 'sweetening' system - you put a sugar cube at the front of the mouth and hold it there with your teeth. Every sip of tea is sweetened and the cube gradually melts away.
Early one morning I went into Laleh Park for some exercise and 'fresh air' – what sights!! The place was teeming with men and women exercising. The women were all still fully covered and there werent chic Adidas or Nike alternatives to what I saw them in everyday – the only difference in the park is they were wearing trainers. I heard voices on a microphone so assumed there was a mosque near-by, but what I discovered was 'Iranian aerobics'! It was something else to!! Big, buff, immaculate men with headset microphones taking the masses, and I mean masses, through their fitness paces. The music was cranking, the public were packed in, men and women, the women, of course, remained fully covered...
With around 17 million population, Tehran is so big and sprawling I never really got a sense of where 'town' was – like any huge city, everywhere was a busy hustle and bustle. The smog sits like a thick snot over the city – and much as I felt for the guys racing in it, I even found it difficult to breathe myself. Ive never experienced smog like it, a dry mouth and throat that no fluid can 'quench'. Ive since read that every day, 27 people die from pollution related illnesses.
We drank only bottled water, and although all teams were told that under NO circumstances were any riders to urinate on the side of the road because of Islamic culture, it was a rule that couldn't stand the length of the tour. Especially because most of the racing was done on highways, so there were never toilets nearby. I even had to bend the rules myself and take hasty squats, rustling around in the grasses and bushes, like a dog, to get as hidden as I possibly could.
There was no shortage of race spectators and being a kiwi was a sure fire way of receiving attention. The Iranians seem almost paranoidal in how they think the west perceives them, but they are definitely a warm, hospitable country and as per the usual in a foreign land, if they can practice english with an english speaker, they do! I learnt by about day two that its 'normal' to be asked if you're married, but not so normal for me to answer no, especially when Im working with a team of men and Im not married to one of them.
It would be fair to say our performance was average – for various reasons. There were teams from the likes of Uzbekistan (easy to spot from their mullets), Kazakhstan, Japan, Germany, Qatar and numerous Iranian ones. Iran is at altitude, the lowest point we got to was 1200m – the highest around 2600m (further north). Needless to say, living and training in altitude meant the Iranians were a formidable lot on their bikes.
During our stay we got invited to a 9 day race in Azerbaijan, Irans northern-most state. Only one of the riders could extend his stay and I could also – jumped at the opportunity. So, when we said our good byes to the rest of the boys adventure number 2 began!
We spent a couple of nights holed up at Irans huge Azadi sporting complex, on the outskirts of Tehran, before heading north. Along with other stadiums there was an outdoor velodrome and the national football stadium – with seating for 100,000. Athletes live-in for training in their various sports, and we were eating all our meals in their dining hall – the food was surely a step up from the hotel and fresher. I noticed only about three other females during our stay there. I was quite comfortable there because I had been given the coaches suite to stay in at the velodrome – a certain luxury when compared to what the men were sleeping in in the 'bowels' of the velodrome.
To get to Tabriz, the capital of Azerbaijan, we were promised a flight but put on an overnight bus, about 9 hours, another sleepless night for me, and deposited at the 'Petro-Chemical Hotel' – with a name like that you cant help but wonder if you're going to stumble across a nuclear secret, but we didnt. Petro-Chemia are a major sponsor of one of Irans better cycling teams.
This race was quite a different experience to Tehran – a test on patience for both myself and riders, due to many and varied reasons. Its where the saying 'en'shallah', heard in all muslim countries, was really put to use. It means ' as God wills it' and it was their answer to everything from trying to organise tickets to get my fresh lot of riders over from Europe, to organising management, gear, team clothing etc .... in the end, after being promised a mechanic and an interpreter, I did the job of three people, a massage therapist, mechanic and manager, rolled into one. Also, while every team had six riders, we started with only four, after the Iranian federation reneged on their offer of lending us 2 Iranians. All in all though, it was a great opportunity for a good look around Azerbaijan – most nights we were staying in different hotels so it was a lot more varied than Tehrans tour. On the second to last stage there was about 20km of racing along the Iranian, Azerbaijani and Armenian border, quite unique and spectacular mountainous landscape of deep earthy tones, rich blue sky and occasional armed soldiers. It was while on this tour that we had a short sharp lesson in a couple of things, like supplying our own coffee because it just isn't to be found at any of the hotels, and not being one minute late to breakfast or wed be left unfed. Need something from a chemist? It seemed nothing was impossible to get with stacks of drugs available over the counter and a well informed chemist ready to serve. We had nights of not enough beds and days of feeling left out of the loop. There were less interpreters and fewer people speaking English, so one question could take hours to be answered. I was the only female but was treated very well. The one thing that seemed elusive was our details for flights home, and we found them out the day the tour finished, three hours before we were due to leave.
Five hours later (Iranian time again!) we were loaded onto a bus with the Kazakh team, bound for Tehran. We stopped for dinner at a road-side diner (Iranian style) and had chicken, rice and bread...
The fun really began when myself and the rider who had stayed on from the Tehran tour, went to go through customs. We were turned around and directed to a 'police counter' – our visas had originally been given for 9 days, we were leaving 21 days after that visa had expired. Of course, this wasnt explained to us, the guys we were sent to just ignored our pleas and frustrations – thats SO frustrating!! Doubly so because this took place around 4am, straight from our over-night bus trip. Thankfully, Id been using an Iranian sim card while I was away, and who best to wake-up with a frantic call than our trusty interpreter from the Tehran tour! Eventually we we were back to the sports complex , along with the rest of the team whose flights back to Europe were a good 24 hours away, and it was a further four days before we could get a flight out. In a flash of 'brilliance' I called the New Zealand embassy to share our situation – by now the Iranian Cycling Federation were saying they werent going to pay our tickets home, they were doubly pissed at us because our 'overstay' had cost them around $900 USD. We owe a lot to our interpreter and also a Kiwi at the New Zealand embassy, he was awesome. We lunched two days in a row with him, at the embassy, and got to make calls home and use the internet, read newspapers and drink coffee etc. The worst thing about our delay was that our baggage had left Iran and gone on to Dubai – after we had been assured that no bags ever leave without passengers. This time they did, and my mp3 charger was inside, dam!
Despite the 'character-building' aspects and vast cultural differences that proved testing at times, Iran is an amazing experience, an eye opener and a massive learning curve. The people are amazing, the women, beautiful, the food basic but (apparently) organic, and I have to admit, I felt pretty good while we were there, no jet lag, lots of energy and eating food that I dont usually eat. I think the altitude helped, even at the New Zealand embassy we were at 2000m.
After a bit of pressure we were finally taken to Tehrans biggest bazaar. We got two cars and the Swiss team came with us. The drive there was something else, after four lane highways for some of the trip, the rest was on tight, busy back streets and we wondered if it was a ploy to confuse us! Our team manager was driving the second car, and though we lost him a couple of times, its got to be said, he was a natural!!! Its definitely a country of 'pick your line, toot your horn and put your foot down'! Surprisingly, we saw little carnage although the wheel arch of a massive truck did manage to rips some shreds off our taxi on a day out. 'En' shallah'!!
Tabriz has the biggest bazaar in Iran. It was also the biggest and most important one during the trading days of 'The Silk Road'. We had an afternoon there and ended up being chauffeured around by a local not only keen to practice english but also very knowledgeable about the place. 35Km of covered market, with narrow 'streets' and lots of people. Its divided into sections – gold, clothing, footwear, food etc.. As in Tehran, I couldnt help but notice how few women there were working in the stalls and shops. Even those specialising in womens wear. Even underwear, which really surprised me. Not even a common occurrence in the west.
I was stoked to be offered a gym to use in Tabriz. Advertised as part of the hotel complex guests could come and go as they liked, and we had 5 days to fill before the tour started, great! Of course, there were separate gyms for men and women but it was a gym like any other – and the weights and cardio room looked down onto a 25m lap-pool. Being 'different', I did, at times, feel like a celebrity and was treated amazingly. Each time I went, I'd be approached by a woman wanting to practice english, to know about me and to invite me for dinner or a guided tour of Tabriz. Given phone numbers, email addresses and smiles all around. In a land of raw onion eaten at most meals, it was also new to inhale (there was no escape) the smell of onion that literally 'exuded' out of these women as they exercised. Even opening the windows to get fresh air in was of little use – the windows were all 'shielded' with covers that sit just off the outside, heaven forbid a male getting a view of women exercising..
I had a massage at the gym one day, always nice to get one yourself after doing so many. The therapist did not speak a word of english but her massage was one of the best Ive ever had, albeit under slightly 'unusual' circumstances. The room was big and bare, much like the massage table, covered only by a sheet of plastic. I was told to wait and someone came to put a sheet over the plastic, it was old, worn and didnt cover the table but I didnt care. She gestured for me to take everything off, which is fine and normal, but there was nothing I could cover myself with – luckily it was a hot room, however, we must have had half a dozen 'visits' from the curious manager (who knew a little english) and whoever else wanted to come and see if I was ok, happy, at ease etc. The door wide open with these happy, smiling faces that were so eager to know that I, 'from New Zealand' was enjoying my experience.
Recommendations? Dont forget to arrive with cash on you! And keep your cultural sensitivity with you at all times. I know as 'the kiwis' we enjoyed some jokes and being the way that we are, but its not til I look back at our time there that I can see we did pushed the limits a couple of times! The small things we take for granted in the west, like being able to meet with someone of the opposite sex simply to chat, is seen in very different eyes in Iran, although theres definitely a share of people there, mainly from the younger crowd, who want to push the limits – they do know their boundaries though.
