Astara, city divided by Azerbaijani-Iranian border. Therefore it wasn’t a surprise when two officers in green uniforms driving parallel to me were shouting and waving to stop. I stopped close to long drainage ditch. I wasn’t alone. For last 3 days I stayed with Hossain, Iranian guide I met on the Turkish border…… He recommended that cheap hotel in Tabriz. On Sunday morning when I was ready to leave for Tehran, phone rang in the hotel. Moosa answered, it was Hossain. He tried to contact me for 2 days. He invited me to his house for few days- to Astara on Kaspian sea. Well I thought I was not in a hurry and I was tired. What happened in Turkey and mileage in recent days aged me a bit. I needed few days of rest.
But going back to policeman…….. Motorbike this big is a rarity in Iran. Wherever I stop I attract public curiosity. One person becomes 40. Everybody take photos with their mobiles. In the country where motorcycle limit is 200cc huge bike like my is a big attraction. Gentlemen from Customs ask for my documents. My only document was polish ID. “You will come with us” I heard. F*** I thought. And I knew that I have to carry passport with me all the time. We arrived at big square with ugly dirty building in the middle. We walked between Azeri waiting for their turn, up to first floor. There we met officer, Mr Big Shot, The Kingpin. We sat down and tea has been served. Hossein was answering all questions while I tasted the tea and played with clod of sugar. After 10 min I was send home to bring my passport. Getting through the city, and then to the village and back was close to 20km. When I came back with passport, Hossein and Mr Big Shot behaved as best friends. I showed all the papers I had, we were apologised for wasted time and fuel and let free.
The only internet café was slower than first computer ever. Uploading one photo takes ages, so I’m sorry my posts will be without them. I will try to catch up in Pakistan. I couldn’t even check mail.
In the evening we decided to have a blast to the other, unknown side of the village. Deeper into mountains. When tarmac ended and road became beaten clay with rocks, I felt like in Cappadocia. Fresh air, light breeze and beautiful greenery. Twisty road….only that deadwood behind (Hossain) didn’t fit. We drove to the point where bulldozer and truck blocked the road. U turn and back to the village. I like places where you can sit with locals smoke shisha pipe. Even if you don’t know their language it seems to be so natural. Everybody communicates with everyone. This kind of place was at the end of the village, where the tarmac ends. It was enough to stop, and everyone who could see it was already there. Tea after tea, Hossein answered the same set of questions, apple taste shisha….. We spotted a party earlier on. Now, one guy told us it were women of the bride and groom families celebrating. Tomorrow is the wedding and they will be delighted if we come. Well I thought ….how many times I will have the opportunity to go to Iranian wedding? Twice! I found out later. We arrived there at 8pm. It was raining cats and dogs. The party was under tent specially built for the wedding. 2 rows of plastic garden furniture and big table for the band at the end of tent. We sat next to the wall. Food was served, chicken leg with rice and some sauce, plus small bowl with veg in vinegar. Pitchers with transparent, water like fluid arrived at the table. It supposed to look as water……but in fact it was made from young wild vines….. For one hour I was treating myself with “water”. All eyes at me, what tourist would do? It was obvious, and I was ready for that, that they would like to see the tourist dancing. For a while I observed what they do. It was enough to spread hands, stamp your feet and all will be OK. I rushed to the dancing floor (read: mud). Started dancing to the rhythm of music that hurt my ears. Some people were coming from the watching crowd and giving me money, handfuls. Applause and whistles never ending… when the song ended I took the money and gave them to music band. That’s what they do. The groom appeared with company. People were approaching them and throwing money on their heads or touching their foreheads with money before putting on the table. I liked the later option, the groom was surprised when a guy in 46 Rossi shirt presented him money. Later when we danced together he hugged and kissed me as family. I have to add here that after an hour or so food and drinks disappeared from the table. If you are hungry go home. Anyway most of the Iranians were drunk already.
Somebody came to us and said that there was another wedding tomorrow and they invite us. I went , why not. Since then I was recognised everywhere in the village. It is nice in here.
I’ve spent a lot of time chatting to Hossain. His daughter and her husband were here for few days. Hossain has his website. He is a guide in Iran, you can find him even in Lonely Planet. www.iranoverland.com . I will stay here until Monday and than to Tehran. It was raining non stop last few days, I didn’t leave the house. Only TV with 1000 channels. BBC, Polsat2 and “ the world according to Kiepski” polish sitcom. And tomorrow F1 finale in Brazil on the Romanian TV. Unfortunately all good ends quickly. My visa expires in 3 weeks. I gave myself 10-12 days more in Iran and than to Pakistan.
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