17.05.2001 Marand - A Long Day

Cass writes...

From our table at the kebab eatery, before a half dozen skewers of liver served on a plate of bread and roasted tomatoes, we watch a crowd rapidly converge around The Limo. Two teachers squeeze their way forward, welcoming us to Iran in an extremely polite English, releasing a stream of questions about our impressions of their country. By the end of the conversation, the pavement is thick with fascinated bystanders. More are fast approaching. It's been a long day and as much as we appreciate the incredible hospitality lavished upon us recently and the curiosity our tandem has drawn, right now we're ready for a little privacy.

A serving of soft-scoop ice-cream from one of the many cake shops helps temper the hot air and keep our cool as we wheel our way through the streets, negotiating the various cries: "Hello Mister! Can I help you? ! Welcome to my city!" making our way to a typical "mehmumkune" - cheap lodgings. Just a few metres of Khomeini Square, the epicentre of every town, our abode for the night is set behind a glass front, stencilled with Arabic script and the simple word: Hotel. I wake up the manager apologetically, dozing on a bed in the hallway, who shows us to a simple room. As he pours over our passports translating them into phonetic Persian for the records, I look around. A set of tables and a giant tea urn lie in readiness for breakfast - huge discs of unleavened bread, feta cheese, olives and honey. There's a wash basin and a distorted mirror; down the corridor a squat loo but no shower - body washing is to be done at the nearest Hamam.

It's been a tough day. Not in terms of distance but more because of the oppressive heat, the build up of trucks and Rosal's unrelentingly uncomfortable leather saddle. Riding a tandem can be hard. Nerves have frayed this afternoon and we both need a rest. With relief, we lock our door and finally Rosal can remove her stifling head gear, falling fast asleep in our shoe box room as soon as her head hits the pillow.

After a clutter of truck stop towns, Marand is our first Iranian city since the border with Eastern Turkey. The perfect road we had been following, through dry rock scape and unexpectedly lush green valleys, has fast deteriorated into a series of potholes lined with cars that cram the street like blocked pores. Locals tell us fuel prices have gone up this year. But at less than three pence a litre - or well under two pence for diesel - there's little incentive for engine efficiency and fumes belch from every vehicle.

We've known The Limo would create an interest. Sure enough, all day Iranian made Paykan saloons, packed with passengers, have drawn up along side us as we cycle, oblivious to the frantic traffic around, clambering to try out their few sentences of English... and doubling back for a second round of waving and horn tooting. We smile gamely at the repetitive questions. At times like this we have to remember that we have chosen to travel this way. It's up to us to deal with the inevitable attention, as hard as this may be at times.

As night falls, we awaken and take to the street. Faces peep furtively from doorways. Hands shoot out unexpectedly from passers by, welcoming us to Marand. Women gather in clusters around gold stores, covered head to toe with black cloaks and head scarves. It can't be easy maintaining such secrecy. Mouths are used almost like beaks to hold chadors in place whilst manoeuvring bags from one hand to the other.

The bazaar is very much alive, lit by naked bulbs and neon strips. We snack in a sandwich shop - as popular as the kebab houses - then enjoy an ice cream and carrot juice in one of a line of 'milk bars' that hum with the sound of ice cream making machines. Carrying beautifully over the incessant clatter of the street, we listen to a blind beggar singing strained Arabic melodies as he shuffles slowly along gathering alms. A visit to a stall specialising in boxes of soft and sweet dates from Bam, Eastern Iran, weighed out on old scales, satisfies our sugar craving.

Then it's back to our hotel to rest for tomorrow's push to Tabriz.