I’m running out of a two-month visa and to get to the only border crossing between Iran and Pakistan, I hitchhike. Out of the beaten track. I am leaving Iran with great regret. I was treated like a celebrity and so I’m leaving.
After two months, I have a million memories.
Tehran also has subway carriages with the words: only for women.
Tehran is also fear when I rush with my friend on a motorcycle and at high speed other motorists.
At the border crossing, a currency trader was waiting for me, he wanted to shout at me that I should sell him all the dollars, because it’s the last moment. Yet this is just the beginning of Iran. How hard it was to believe. I still remember this actor’s face.
Iran is a French couple who did not stop when I wanted to hitchhike. The woman had a scarf on her head and quickly covered her face so that I would not recognize her, pretending to be Iranian.
When I think about the evening, I have dry plants in my head and there are plenty of them here. I collect them to make a fire.
Iran is a taste of absolute security where people take their faith seriously and it has an impact on everyday behavior.
Iran is a car crash for me because of the discolored brakes and the pain of bruised, torn guts for another week. In fact, he is subject to a deduction every day, it can only be one and the last time.
The most memorable, however, is the Iranian ride through the virgin Zagros Mountains whose range is 1,300 km. There is really nothing there, villages every few tens of kilometers. And then there is great silence. No sounds. An absolutely purifying experience.
And also fear, will it be possible to reach a human settlement before dark, when I have to climb uphill before me? Or maybe wild animals will attack me at night? Even no one would find me later.
My final stage is Persian Gulf… Cycling the world.
AloJapan.com