A Telegram from Tashkent

We have been stuck in Uzbekistan without being able to move for 10 days. In Tashkent we have been 4 days and will probably be here until Monday, 31st.
We are having many problems with the visas for India, Pakistan, Kyrgizistan but the most difficult is the Chinese one. We already have the Indian visa but the dates are wrong. On Friday we expect to get the one for Pakistan and if a miracle occurs we may ask for the one for China. If another miracle occurs, on Monday, we may get the one for Kyrgizistan and if a third miracle happens we may get the Chinese Visa.
These days have been very trying for us, psychologically, physically as well as economically. Otherwise, we are fine … if you can call this being fine.
We looking forward to getting on our bikes and getting away from the city.
Peace, courage and may the sun shine in Asturias.

A few curious facts

Kilometres seem to accumulate together with our tiredness, the heat and the personality of the Uzkebos. All this is slowly leaving traces in our state of minds. Our legs seem to know what they have to do but when you pedal at 47º C and you can’t find all the water you need, your head is not all there. With regards to the Ukbekos, one could write volumes about them and very little would be in their favour. In summary, I will say that they are jealous, distant, selfish and like to take advantage of foreigners. Of course, I am referring to those who have a business or some kind of relationship with foreigners. There have been times when we have been asked to pay three times the normal price and they didn’t even twitch an eye. When visiting some of the monuments you need to pay as much as 10 times the price and often they do not give you a receipt so they can keep the whole amount. To get a train ticket has an extra-official price of 500 soms, approximately 20 cents. I admit that it is not much but enough to get on one’s nerves. Some actually prefer not to sell than to have to sell at the legal price.

I won’t go into too much detail about historical treaties and about our daily adventures. To satisfy some of the curious followers, here are a few technical facts:
• Flat tyres in Emilio’s trolley – 3
• Flat tyres in Machus’ trolley – 1
• Machus’ flat tyres - 1
• Mili’s flat tyres – 0 one of the wheels simply disintegrated
• Broken radius (Emilio) – 7
• Days that have camped in the open – 8
• Diarrhea (Emilio) – 2
• Diarrhea (Machus) – 2 though less severe
• Sunstroke – not sure but some days our heads are VERY sore
• I have got rid of the toilet paper and now I have bottle of water as my faithful friend in my most intimate moments. Soap is also a must. Machus is still having problems with this and continues to use the sandpaper they use as toilet paper here.
• Litres of water per day per person – 5 to 7
• Problems with Karro – 0
• Problems with CarryFreedom – only one althou it is recurrent
• Number of times we have repeated the word Ispania - not sure but over 1 million.
• Times we have had to talk about our trip – almost as many
• Times our bums have peeled – Emilio 2; Machus -0 (mine is like a little baby’s)
• My worst nightmare – to faint in a toilet. The most horrific are the Uzbeko’s. In more than one toilet we have had to use the floor surrounding as the toilet had been overfilled.
• Average kilometers per day – approximately 75
• Wear and tear of bags and clothes – good to excellent
So as not to traumatize the Uzbeka population we have adopted our niece Natalia and from now on she is our daughter at university. Here, the average number of children per family is 4.
Our next entry will be about Bujara, Khiva y Samarcanda, Some of the mythical cities along the Silk Route.

ALI, a true friend.

Today is our last day in Qazvin and our last day with our new yet unforgettable friend, Ali. We have already mentioned Ali on various occasions. Today is the day when something new becomes old. Not as an object would become old but as affection does. True friendships are those that are considered old regardless of time due to the intensity and the experiences lived and shared.

Those people who, no matter how long it’s been, you know will always be there to support you unexpectedly, a light in the dark, a friendly hand to hold on to in times of need. A friend who, no matter how tired he may be, will always listen to you until your soul is at peace. A friend who is courageous enough to tell you that you are wrong even he thinks that you will get angry because he knows what is best for you. Time doesn’t matter because one cannot measure time in aspects as vital as these. Our friendship with Ali has lasted, so far, 18 days, a trully short time to be able to call someone a friend but, what do you call a man who has given us a bed, has fed us, has opened up to us and has shown so much affection, love and sincerety? I don’t usually use the term friend easily as I have often made mistakes will probably continue to make them, that’s for sure, but this time, this sad-eyed man with a broken heart and a wise spirit has shown more friendship that many I have considered to be friends. We have spent hours together talking about an endless number of topics: love, philosophy, politics and culture. We have always conversed with the utmost respect and understanding. Without him, our trip through Iran would have been incomplete as it was an enigma for us and one does not know a country in 45 days, you know it trully when you have lived and have met people and that is what we have doen with Ali.

He might one day visit us in Asturias, we will be waiting for him and I hope I can be up to his standards and that in return, my friends can also be his friends. In current times, it is the only way we have of breaking barriers and of trying to avoid wars and suffering amongst people. It is not the people who declare war but politicians who poison the minds of the wary.

Yesterday, we met a member of Hezbola, today we had a snack with him but that is another story. I could also make a short list of good friends I am thinking of but I would rather they include themselves in my list as I hope they are all considered included in it.

This short story is dedicated to Ali and all those who have considered themselves our

FRIENDS,

and to those who have real friends.

About to become illegal aliens, we're still stuck in Qazvin

We’ve been in Qazvin for three days anxiously waiting to get our visas extended. Thanks to a friend of ours, today we have finally got an extension for 30 days. It wasn’t easy, in fact, it was extremely difficult. Great amouns of patience and a bit of a hard hand from our friend, Ali were needed to cope with the slow, thick and paranoic state burocracy. On our arrival, a good man lent us a hand and called a friend of his so that he could help us find a place to sleep. We eventually ended up invading a small flat he has inside a warehouse. Not knowing where we were going or what we would find there, we followed him for several kilometres to the warehouse where we were pleasantly surprised to find a charming flat where we could stay. At first, we had made arrangements for one night and we were to leave early the next morning but it seems that he has adopted us. With a dark complexion, a eagle-like nose and silvery hair, this middle-aged man, owner of a frozen goods warehouse is treating us like royalty. Ever since we arrived in the city which is approximately 150 kilometres from Teheran, he has not allowed us to pay for a single thing and has even accompanied us everywhere just like any perfect aristocratic chaperone would do. His friends come over to ask how we are doing. We have spent long hours amongst clouds of ghalyan talking about this and that, discussing politics, religion and life in general. Our friends has gone through a lot and he knows what he is talking about. He clearly expresses his ideas and gives convincing arguments. His incredible convincing poweres have allowed us to enter places closed to women, he has prolonged our visa and has opened doors to us which have otherwise been closed. Our regular taxi drives are probably the most exciting part of the day because as is already well known, Iranian drivers are all completely mad and the expert taxi drivers canoot be less.

The other day we travelled with a young man who a special treat, turned up the volume of the radio full blast while circulating, without seat belts, full speed ahead amongst city traffic. He asked us what we thought of Iran and we answered – Nice, it is very nice – He, however, answers –No, No!!!, Iran is no good, Spain is good! Iran is no good – he says while he uses his forefinger to make circles on top of his head drawing an invisible turban. We all laugh and he accelaerates. It is clear that the people are not happy with the regime and they only worry about justifying it to the rest of the world. Iranian society is nothink like what one imagines. It has nothing to do with the images that the media show. People are just like people from any place in the world, probably a lot more welcoming. Yesterday, we went to buy some kebabs for dinner and we ate them sitting on the grass in the midst of the fresh green night air. Families, children, young people, elderly people and couples sat in the park enjoying the night just like we were doing. Although there are many difficulties, society is resisting what we are fed by the media daily.

Today we are in Teheran, a huge, discusting city like almost any this size. We have been looking for embassies all day and they seem to have all moved. I get really angry when I find out that Spain has also moved. I have no idea what is going on and the heat is suffocating.

I will talk about VIPs another day but for now, peace, Alha and to sleep.

High Temperatures and Warm Hospitality In Iran

Days in Iran
Dogubayazit-Maku 57km
Maku - Qarah Ziya Oddin 80km
Qarah Ziya Oddin - Marand 105km
Marand - Tabriz 70km
Tabriz - Bostan Abad 65km
Bostan Abad - Miyanh 103km
Miyanh – A place in the middle of nowhere 86km
A place in the middle of nowhere - Zanjan 60km

Days and kilometres go by in this land of constant human surprises. From the moment we stepped in Iran, a country which is a complete mystery to the Western civilization, we have been surprised very frequently. Recently an Iranian friend asked me what I thought of his country and I answered that 75 million people cannot be the cause of all evil, perhaps a few hundred or even a few thousand but not the entire population of 75 million inhabitants. He, of course, thanked me for coming to visit his country, a country which is not easily travelled.
Our adventures in the country a combined with temperatures that can go as high as 49ºC and warm welcomes on behalf of complete strangers that take us into their homes.
It might be a coincidence but our first two families were headed by taxi drivers. The first one was in Marand and the second in Bostan Abad. The first taxi driver offered his house after we asked him the way to a hotel. That day we slept and had dinner at his home. We rested as only those who have a tired body and a peaceful mind can.
The second taxi driver offered his home after he had observed us for quite a while desperately look for a hotel without success in a town in the middle of nowhere. The day had been hell, like many of the ones we have lived so far, but his kind heart allowed us to meet yet another wonderful family. Logically, we talked about many things but the world is so small that it wiser not to speak. We dined, slept and felt at home. Breakfast helped us to continue on our long journey.
Tabriz has many sights to be visited but on our day off we got lost in the 35 km of medina the second most important city in Iran has, according to some of the locals. Its medina takes to back to the Medieval Times of the Silk Route but it also strangely enough allows you to perceive the Plastic Route of the 21st century. You can buy absolutely everything, from feathers to fill up your duvets, to plastic brought from China or Gallina Blanca chicken stock cubes.
We are in the Silk Route, enjoying it and suffering it while going through an endless International road that joins Europe and China. The road is chock-a-block with trucks releasing black fumes and crazy Sunday drivers. In Miyaneh we were lucky enough and had the privilege to meet Mozaffar Ajalli, an enchanting PE teacher and an ex-member of the Olympic weightlifting team who participated in Barcelona 92. We spent two incredible days with him, including a trekking route and an Iranian countryside breakfast.
Yesterday, in the middle of nowhere we had to set up camp instead of sleeping in a hut that some young farmers had allowed us to use for the night. All this due to a sudden attack of vicious mosquitoes.

Good-bye Turkey, hello Iran.

After a few days without news, here we are once more connected to this wide web of information. We are in Iran, a hot, immense country still to be explored. Tabriz is the second biggest city in the country with a population of approximately 1,900,000. It has a very hot, humid climate in the summer. Our first days in this new country of you Silk Route have been suffocating, in fact, I would say asphyxiating. We have had to suffer a temperature of 47ºC in the sun and 30ºC in the shade. On our first cycling day, we had to take cover under a squalid acacia tree during the hottest hours of the day. Under her “refreshing” shade, we spent three hours in and out of sleep and drinking water from local fountains ignoring the risk of our bowels going back to overworking. There was no alternative.
Turkey seems far away but our last days in the region of Agri were not easy. Each town we visited seemed to be full of children ready to pull us apart by stoning us to death and dogs eager to try some juicy Spanish flesh. Obviously, none got what they wanted. I don’t want to show off or anything but there is no Turkish dog or Kurd child born that can come close to us without permission.
As far as our experience of Iran goes, which has only been that of five days, we can only complain about the drivers. They are like madman. Once their on foot, however, we have found very friendly and helping people although they don’t always get it right.
Our first family to take us in lives in Marand. A friendly taxi driver invited us to his home. We had dinner, slept and had breakfast with him and his family. They were incredibly friendly and respectful.
At 8,30pm the Internet is switched off so it’s time for us to go.

From Agri to Dogubayazit

For those who do not like reading much, today we are leaving a small selection of photographs. We hope you enjoy them!!
For the time being, our memories will remain in our minds, our hearts and on paper for when I start suffering from Alzheimer.
In Iran, things will get a little more difficult so for now, this is a see ya later.
During our last part of the journey, Allah’s finger has pushed us till we reached 35 km per hour allowing us to get to Dogubayazit one hour and a half ahead of schedule. I certainly hope that he will be with us the rest of the way. Of course, one cannot be choosy so Allah or any other deity would be accepted.
The Kurds, the Hamam, our diarrhea and the palace of the one thousand and one nights are stories to be told.

Remember to sleep comfortably and to do good to anyone you can.