One of our big concerns for travelling in Iran is accessibility to cash. Because of the global sanctions foreign credit cards and plastic are useless, which means no banks and no ATM’s for us? With this in mind we ended having to look pretty hard to find a bank in Turkmenistan that would allow us to use one of its ATM’s and draw enough cash for us to live and travel through Iran. Having not been before we simply had to take a wild guess as to what it would cost. Fingers crossed

We grabbed a beaten up taxi, which dropped us at the imposing ‘State Bank for Foreign Economic Affairs’ about 5km away from the centre. The only place you can use a foreign cc in Turkmenistan. What an amazing building! Absolutely huge. Initially we thought we’d got it wrong and we were stood on the steps of a palace of some kind. Shame we couldn’t take photos ?

With money in our pockets we followed the GPS up the winding valley and up to the mountain border crossing from Howden to Bajgiran. Our documents were quickly checked at the Turkmen station and then we enjoyed the best ride we’ve had in Turkmenistan – up and over through Kopet Da for around 35km. We’re so glad that we didn’t leave yesterday, it had rained all day and this wonderful road would have been slick. Today was sunny although a little cold.

Turkmen paperwork for exiting took a lot longer that we had hoped. No problems – just lengthy- considering we were leaving the country! But we did have the young guard take us to all of the correct offices which was very helpful.

Lisa writes:

Crossing into Iran I was nervous – I’m just not too sure what to expect, or how I’ll handle it – a bit worried about the whole ‘hejab’ (head covering) thing….I am wearing a long skirt to cover up over my motorcycle trousers…cumbersome and very awkward when getting on and off the bike and probably a little over the top, but I don’t want any problems at all when trying to cross the border!

On the Iranian side things went so smoothly! Easily finding the right office, our Carnet was stamped – essential for entering Iran. (Nice to use it again as it costs us such a lot!) To our surprise but relief, each official in turn then personally led to the next office to continue the entering process.

Wow, we’re here...Iran. Just a few months ago we didn’t even think that getting a visa for Iran was a possibility, to actually be here feels a little overwhelming.

The ride to Quchan was beautiful, with valleys and stunning rugged scenery. Out of the customs area the road transformed from broken and pitted tar into a wonderful strip of good asphalt all the way to Mashhad. Approaching Mashhad the traffic increased, with our bellies rumbling we pulled over and parked up in front of a small but basic café. The initial scowls of uncertainty from the other diners quickly turned to welcoming smiles, with hellos exchanged.

The owner a large chubby man in a white vest and apron pulled out a set of heavy wooden chairs and laid a place at a white plastic table. Seeing we were chilled he placed us in front of a huge metal oil heater. Black tea washed down a simple meal of rice and stewed chicken.

As we warmed up the conversation turned to that of wives and children. As we don’t speak Farsi and with only a little broken English on their part it made for an interesting experience. Much like we’ve had before the conversation quickly focused on why Simon had a wife older than him?? Inconceivable!

Our chubby friend was instant that Simon should send me back to the UK, whilst he chose two new wives, each half my age and more obedient.

The café owner – proudly told us he had 2 wife’s and 13 children…….Simon tried to convince them that I was more than enough……and that he definitely didn’t need two and that the age ‘thing’ is neither strange or even a issue in Europe. I don’t think they believed him.

We’d left the café much later then we’d planned but the experience had been worthwhile and we’d needed the food. By the time we rode into the outskirts of Mashhad it was dusk and night was coming in fast. We were now entering the city centre in rush hour traffic. Not good!

Bedlam ensued, with insane traffic, no lane usage, and anything and everything criss-crossing. Throw into the mix pedestrians running out and trying to get themselves killed and no-one stopping…for anything or anyone. It was getting to be bedlam and dangerous for us, to make it worse we had no idea where we were going or even where we were. We’d had not managed to get a guide book for Iran prior to entering.

We ended up stopping at the first hotel that we saw. Never a good idea but the risk of staying in the roads was worse. Yeah it was that bad.

The hotel was expensive – but going back out into the frenetic traffic was out of the question.
We met Vali – but said that we couldn’t go to him as we were only here for one night and then off to Tehran and our visa for Pakistan…we hope!

We’d been stopped by an enthusiastic but slightly eccentric Iranian man last night on the steps of the hotel. Introducing himself as Vali and announcing his guest house was inexpensive and a veritable shrine to foreign travelers.

True to his word Vali turned up at 11:00 with a used Iranian Lonely Planet’s in hand (we need to buy one) and we were soon getting the low down on this excitable man and his guesthouse. 20 minutes later and we were zotting in and out of Mashhad’s traffic frenetically trying to follow Valis taxi, which was leading us to the guesthouse.

Turning finally into a small alley metal door was swung open and we drove both bikes into the basement guesthouse. We both smiled at the idea of parking the bikes up next to the beds. Ahhh...sleeping with our bikes, yeah we’re a pair of daft gits!

Ten minutes walk from ‘Vali’s non-smoking Guest House’ to give it full and official title, we knocked on the door of the Pakistani Consulate and shortly afterwards were being given the bad news. Visas are only issued to Iranians. Dam we were hoping to spare ourselves a long ride into Tehran.

Hejab here is an absolute must – as advised by Vali as Mashhad is meant to be the Holiest city in Iran.
Evening meal at the home stay was really good.

I’m already having a difficult time with the whole ‘keep your head and body covered at all times’ thing.
Women on the streets seem to be a non- entity. OK, so we’ve researched Iran, the religion and the culture and we’re still being surprised, perhaps naively.

I’d dressed this morning and was starting to feel claustrophobic. In order to gain entrance to the Holy Temple, I was now wearing the mandatory Hejab (veil; the modest dress required which should cover your hair, and neck) and a ‘chador’ (the black cloak which has to cover a woman’s body, except the hands, feet and face). OK, I’m not happy about this but it’s required if I wish to visit the Harem.

Dilemma. I am in their country so should abide by their laws……since the revolution in 1979 all women, including foreigners, are required to cover their hair and to wear loose-fitting clothing to disguise their figures……however difficult this is for me to understand and awkward to adhere to it’s the law. Ho-hum…however it’s interesting to note the interpretation of this by many Iranian women. There are many more young women showing an awful lot more hair and wearing quite tight fitting clothes than I would have imagined! I hear that Tehran is becoming even more liberal.
It appears however that the Government has a crack-down now and again though……

Before reaching the holy temple, our small group (Jay, Tatikata? And Vali and us) visited Vali’s carpet shop and saw the other carpet merchants- had tea and discussed carpets.

Using the bus was a ‘different’ experience for me, as a woman. I was forbidden to enter by the front of the bus, but had to enter by using the middle door. If I had been on my own I would have to had leant through the front door (but not put my foot on the step) and shown my ticket to the driver and then enter by the middle door. As it was, Vali had all of our tickets. I still then had to sit at the back of the bus with all the other women. Very strange and very difficult to be considered (as it is in my mind) a second class citizen. However, it turned out that I was able to have a nice ‘chat’ to the other women (actually girls) on the bus. No English but I got the jist until one girl got on the bus who did have a little English was able to translate more. It turned out that they all wanted to know why I was in Iran…what did I think about Iran (that is a question we have been asked almost continually since arriving here) and why was I wearing a Hejab, was I also Muslim? When I said no they said surely then … I was ‘free’…..and it was not necessary for me. When I explained that it was still required they were amazed. They were excited by the fact that I was riding my own motorbike…and then asked when I mentioned Simon they all knew straight away which man he was…he was the only tall fair-haired guy around! When we got off they all were giggling and told me quite shyly that ‘your husband is beautiful’……(he has been getting many stares and looks on the street!)

Of course I told Simon…he told me if I didn’t be quiet, as any ‘good wife should’, that he would arrange for the locals to stone me! Nice!

The carpet visit was nice. Everyone knew that we weren’t there to buy just to see and take photos – Vali made sure of this!

Wow – we saw some absolutely beautiful carpets for less than a 1/3 rd of the cost they would be in the UK. Vali said when we are ready for carpets to let him know – however many years that may be – I might very well take him up on that offer because the selection was just so wide and quality seemed to be so good.

Vali is a carpet merchant but was a carpet repairer for many years too so he should know his stuff! We took a ton of photos – had tea – and then left to have a snack in the Jahan hotel restaurant as this has great views over the Harem. Got some OK shots. Food was OK but not that great nor that cheap – not surprising though.

Dumped our bags at the baggage deposit (not allowed to take in anything) and I donned the chador. I had already been wearing the hejab as advised by Vali. When Simon turned around from the bag depot he had real trouble in locating me as I looked just like all the other women there.

As we went through our separate sex entrances I was met with a wall of black. A hundred women not forming any kind of queue were just pushing and shoving to be the first through into the first square of the Harm. First however you have to be frisked (very nicely I may add) by a female inspector. During all of the pushing and shoving some ladies waiting to go in ( in a group I think – a day’s outing as it was Martyrs Day) were passing around sweets – I was included as one of the group. I found that the wearing of the chador was making me accepted without question. Yes, of course I don’t look like a local – but that didn’t matter I was wearing the recognizable uniform of a woman in this part of the world. Once through Simon and Tatikati were waiting -Jay had gone on.

We crossed the huge Razavi Grand courtyard – non-Muslims are allowed in the outer- courtyards we understood but not in the inside complex of the Holy shrine or Gohar Shad Mosque nor the Enqelab or Azadi courtyards…….However….as we walked along none of us were stopped from entering. Quite suddenly I was swept up in the wave of women who were all pressing hard to enter where the shrine building where Imam Reza’s tomb is. It was not an area that I intended to enter but upon reaching the doorway there was absolutely no way I could even turn let alone stop. The throng of women around me led me straight in – I was in a wave of human bodies that would sway back and forth and then rush onwards towards the ‘zarih’ – the gold-latticed cage which covers the tomb. There was no way out and so it took quite a few moments to extricate myself and push my way back towards the entrance. As you walk you have to be careful not to tread on the many women who are there sitting on the floor praying and reading the Koran – some it appears have been there for hours and hours – maybe even longer. Hundreds seem to be in a trance like state. I’ve not seen anything like this before.

Simon had also made his way back out stating that it didn’t feel quite right to be here – especially as it was for the Iranians such a religious day! To be a tourist on this day wasn’t something that we felt good about. It felt disrespectful.

Walking back to Vali’s home stay there were many things that were confusing us. Considering the restrictive dress code for women why were there so many clothing shops selling wonderfully sequined and glittery evening gowns and matching shoes and also tight fitting trench coats and high-heeled boots and so on….?? Why would any woman buy this if it was required to be covered?
Later on we met Masoud, a friend of Vali’s, and we posed this question…..his answer was interesting to say the least.

Stopped for the night at the ‘Sharud Tourist Inn’ after a reasonable ride fo 314-miles and settled in a quite area in amongst the pine trees as heavy rain socked us to the skin. At GPS: N36 26.079 E54 58.249