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Our entry to Iran
... and walked through the metal detectors to the other side where we again picked up our bags. The security guards seemed disinterested in any of our stuff, not even concentrating on the screen as our bags went through the x-rays.
No random searches? No interrogation? No suspicious looks? Iran????
With that we were on our way again, trundling through towns and villages before we eventually arrived in Tabriz at around 11 in the evening. As we got off the bus ...
Traped with no money.
... working fine. I switched it on, found that only one of my friends is already on line, ( thanks Adam you were there), I called him and explained the whole situation. Then he called to Lars explained everything to him, then they arranged meeting in hotel in Tabriz. Lars was able to lend us some of his cash, literally saving our *****, so this way we were fixed for another few days. Just enough to pay for hotel, have some food and get to Tehran next day. There we could ...
Stuck in the middle with you!
... a cab. We refused very politely but were more than a little surprised at this generosity to a complete stranger with no way to pay them back.
We walked and stopped at another bank for advice and were given directions to the central one we were apparently in need of reaching. We were walking along, noticing the amount of Pergeot 405s there are here, there are thousands, every 3rd car is a Pergeot 405, sometimes called other things but always the same. Then, another ...
The other side
... The further you go there’s a big change. The Turks are warmer, more welcoming and friendlier. There are parts with real poverty, places with hardships it’s tough to describe, even after seeing it. Only someone living that life could really explain. In the end it seemed it was the European influence that had caused Istanbul to be what it was. The burning need to make you spend your money, the glowing lights, the flashy facade. It was all just too much lipstick on ...
Fairy Chimneys, huh?
... 8217;t make it so difficult to get a tourist visa.
I could see the affects of tourism slowly arriving in sleepy Kandovan. A few of the locals have converted their homes in the fair chimneys into souvenir stores or art galleries, but at the same time many people were very surprised to see a white tourist walking around taking photos of, to them, very everyday ...


