All Roads Lead To Podgorica

Casey writes:

The pleasures of driving a hire car in Eastern Europe:

1. I've tried to get in the passenger's side door 7 times.
2. I've turned on the windscreen wipers instead of the indicators only about 54 times. 
3. I've cruised along in the left hand lane - wondering why I'm being honked - at least 10 times.
4. Doing a left-hand turn in a capital city at peak hour scares the hell out of me!

After ten days of driving our beautiful silver chevloret from Sarajevo to Split to Dubrovnik to Kotor to Budva to Pristina to Skopje to Kragujevac and back to Sarajevo, I finally feel like I'm a master of the Eastern European roads. Cars overtaking on single lane country roads, bearing down on me with metres to spare before they squeeze back into their lane, no longer faze me. Pedestrians dashing onto the road from behind parked cars without looking, are fine now. Cars pulling out in front of me from side streets with just enough space for me to slam on my brakes or end up in their back seat, are stock and standard. When we arrived at our new accommodation each night, Richard (as the navigator*) and I (the driver), were exhausted, a little stressed and incredibly relieved. We sometimes were even able to muster the energy to give each other a High 5.

But despite all of this, driving around the Balkan States has been lots of fun, and a huge adventure. The scenery is magical, and it is so much better to enjoy the beauty of the mountains, trees and lakes rushing past us from the front seat of a car, rather than be couped up in a bus.

I've realised that the civil engineers in the Balkans never learned how to design a straight road. We've spent ten days weaving around the tightest of bends, and marvelling at the stunning ocean views from cliff tops roads that rival Victoria's Great Ocean Road. The average speed on the speed signs has been 50km/h, with 30km/h on the bends. The average Balkans driver sticks to a mandatory 80-90km/h, without any variance in speed on the bends.

Upon leaving Sarajevo, our first stop was Mostar, to see the famous and World Heritage Listed Stari Most Bridge. We were so impressed by its grandeur and picturesque views. The pretty cobbled streets of the Old Town made walking difficult (and slippery), and we were amused by the daredevil young men collecting money before leaping off the 25m bridge into the shallow waters below.

Our first border crossing went smoothly, and soon we arrived in Split, Croatia. Our hostel owners were a fantastic family who simply rented out rooms in their family home to backpackers. The father's first words to us were to insist we drink a shot of grappa as a welcome gesture. The figs he encouraged us to eat after the shot did nothing to take away the horrible taste of the grappa! The mother was equally friendly and their two teenage children were incredibly polite, but our favourite members of the family were their hyperactive dog and the human-like cat that followed us hundreds of metres all the way to the main road when we went for our evening meal. The city of Split is the second largest in Croatia, behind the capital Zagreb. Its location on the sea, with an excellent mix of old town charm and beach vibe, made it a lovely place to wander around.

Dubrovnik on the other hand, unfortunately disappointed us. Again, a quaint and picturesque walled Old Town with postcard perfect views of the Adriatic Sea, but it was so overrun with tourists, had such rude workers, and its food and drink was so extortionately overpriced, that we stayed one night and left early the next morning, keen to get to somewhere more relaxed.

The border crossing into Montenegro consisted simply of a bored customs officer waving us through, with no need to even flash our passports, let alone search bags! We by-passed the five hundred signs that pointed us towards the capital city, Podgarica, and made a beeline for the famed coastal resorts in the south of the country.

Our time on the beaches of Montenegro was calm and chilled. And hot. One day in the Bay of Kotor we spent simply sitting on the beach (in front of our idyllically located hostel), reading and eating and not much else. The night before had been a huge bi-annual festival with fireworks, parades and plenty of alcohol fuelled tourists, so the beach took quite a while to liven up around us. We shared a hostel room with two other tourists - Ash, a vibrant young Sydneysider who had been teaching in London, and Padraig, an Irishman whose company we enjoyed immensely. Together, we all hiked to the top of the town wall fortress, enjoying panoramic views from the mountain. We were exhausted in the heat, but agreed that the reward at the top was well worth it. The next day we did a group tour to the north of the country, to see Durmitor National Park and Tara Canyon (the second largest in the world behind the Grand Canyon).

From Kotor we drove briefly along the coast to another 'tourist trap' called Budva. Again, the thousands of tourists spent their time eating ice cream, drinking coffee, swimming and sun baking. We embraced this attitude completely, immersing ourselves in a day of water sports. Firstly we did a tour on a semi-submarine (or more simply, a glass-bottomed boat with a submerged viewing area), although apart from hundreds of tiny fish, we didn't see a great deal. The highlight of our day however, was going parasailing. The adrenalin rush as we were pulled into the air was awesome, and the views of the sea, the mountains, the town of Budva and Sveti Stefan (a luxurious resort island where Novak Djokovic recently booked the entire island to get married) were amazing. 

No sooner had we said farewell to Montenegro, that we arrived at the mountain top border with Kosovo. We drove on to the city of Pec, to see the Patriarchate of Pec, a beautiful old World Heritage Listed monastery (four churches in one, each with its own unique and vivid frescoes). We spent the night in the capital city, Pristina. Now, Kosovo is still developing as a country (it's the second youngest in the world behind South Sudan), following the 1999 crisis and it's people are by no means wealthy. Many cannot afford to eat in the many restaurants along the pedestrianised city centre, so instead, they dress up in their best clothes, and simply walk up and down the strip, hoping to be noticed. In fairness, Richard and I were trying to save cash too, so we avoided the fancy restaurants and joined the throng of walkers in the balmy night air.

Our brief stint in Kosovo was very pleasant, and as we crossed the border into Macedonia, we were excited to visit yet another virtually unknown capital city - Skopje. Its surrounding mountains boast the largest cross in the world - the Millennium Cross - which sits perched on the mountain edge, overlooking the city. Skopje's other claim to fame is as the birthplace of Mother Theresa. Suffice to say, her head pops up everywhere you look and every corner you turn. Unfortunately it was a public holiday, so we couldn't visit any museums, but we did find our way to a semi-underground church (Sveti Spas) with a ten metre wide intricately designed wooden iconostasis, depicted many scenes and identities from the Bible. The reason for this historic church being underground is that the Turks banned any church being taller than a mosque, therefore from the outside it looks like a normal house, but inside opens up into a grand chamber.  

The speed limit signs (or lack of) have been a constant source of frustration and amusement for us. So when we entered a motorway upon leaving Skopje bound for Kragujevac, we did a double take when a speed sign said 130km/h. After days of winding roads, we were ecstatic, but it took me quite a while to accept that travelling at 130km/h was safe and legal. I shouldn't have worried, because once I was doing the speed limit, cars and trucks were whizzing past me, doing speeds of goodness knows what. Given that we were heading towards the Serbian border, we thought we were very smart in changing all of our Macedonian cash into Serbian dinaras the previous night. We didn't count on two tollways, virtually at the border, the first demanding one euro in fees, and the second expecting one euro and fifty cents. We were out of cash and threw every last coin we had at the officer, who must have felt some sympathy for us and just rolled his eyes and let us through.

After a full day of driving, including a quick stop at Studenica Monastery, we arrived in Kragujevac for the night. Here was another low key town with a nice atmosphere, and we rose early the next morning to set off for Sarajevo.

Another full day of driving with a stop to see the World Heritage Listed Visegrad Stari Most bridge, we arrived in Sarajevo in time to return the car.

After ten days of driving the Balkans, we've had a brilliant experience of hospitality, friendliness and stunning sites, and we now look forward to the challenge of organising transport to Tirana, Albania, which is apparently easier said than done... but we will see!

* Upon reading this blog, Richard's only feedback was that I didn't make enough of a fuss of his perceived excellent navigational skills whilst we were on the road. He asked me to add more adjectives to describe his role as chief Balkans navigator. Fine. My driving was impeccable. His navigational skills were adequate. So there are two adjectives for you Rich... But, in seriousness, without his efforts, we would have ended up down dead end streets and wrong turns hundreds of times (instead of the only twenty times he caused us), and his constant scrutiny of our maps (both on paper and his ipad) plus his exceptional navigation, made our crazy driving experience work out perfectly in the end. 

War, More War, Beautiful People And A Money Box

Richard writes:

We are absolutely loving Europe. Every place we visit we seem to like more than the last, and we have only just started this leg of the trip.

I write this blog from Sarajevo, an absolutely fascinating city awash with history and infamy. Despite growing up with the Balkan conflict plastered all over the news, I have to admit my knowledge of the complex causes and consequences of the terrible wars between the Balkan countries in the 1990s was pretty sketchy. In an attempt to put this right, we followed the recommendation of our Lonely Planet and signed up to a three hour tour that would explain the politics of the region as well as showing some of the most significant places in Sarajevo, during its siege between 1992 and 1995 (the longest ever siege of a city in Europe's history).

The tour was fantastic. Our 28 year old female guide was aged between six and nine during the siege of Sarajevo, and her personal memories and reflections really made a difference to our understanding of the sheer horror of living in Sarajevo between those years. For those unaware of what the siege entailed, the city of Sarajevo is in a valley completely surrounded by mountains. These mountains were almost exclusively occupied by Serbian forces who day after day shelled the city, for nearly four years. Within the city itself positions were held by Bosnian Serbs (citizens living in Bosnia, but considered themselves of Serbian nationality) who fired upon civilians (including women and children) attempting to go about their daily business. Our guide explained that she lived very close to what was described as sniper alley, and it was common for victims to be shot in the legs to entice others to assist them, before being shot themselves, to increase casualty numbers. What I found particularly disturbing was the fact that many residents of Sarajevo, who identified themselves as Serbs rather than Bosnians turned so quickly and violently on their neighbours, all in the name of a "greater Serbia". The pain and wounds of war still remain, even after 18 years of peace, with an uneasy coexistence of the three main ethnic groups in Sarajevo, of Bosniaks (Bosnian muslims), Bosnian Serbs and Bosnian Croats. Our guide explained that when meeting a Bosnian Serb, who was alive during the siege, most Bosniaks, would not ask what they did during the period, as the truth might be too painful.

During the tour, we visited the medieval fort above the city, that superbly demonstrated how exposed the city was to shelling, various cemeteries that buried the over 11,000 souls that were killed during the siege and the tunnel dug by the residents to enable much needed supplies to be brought in from outside the city. The tour was concluded by a short video that vividly demonstrated the horror and violence of the siege.

For myself, one of the most interesting aspects of the tour, was not just hearing of the war itself, but the political truce drawn up to end the conflict. The Dayton agreement, divided Bosnia into two regions, a Bosnian republic home to Bosniaks and Bosnian Croats and a Serbian Federation home to the Bosnian Serbs. Each region has amongst other things, separate public holidays and police forces, whilst sharing a currency and a flag. Even more complicated, is the presidency of the country. At all times, there are three presidents, one for each ethnic group. Every decision that goes before the "president" has to be agreed by all three. They each take it in turns every eight months to be the figurehead president, which involves representing the country abroad, but this role does not have any greater power. A very very different political system to what we are accustomed to, and one borne of a desire for peace and compromise in the face of war.

Other than learning of Bosnia's recent bloody past, we also visited the spot that is probably the most infamous in all of Sarajevo history . . . the site of the murder of Archduke Franz Ferdinand. Right in the centre of the city, is the very spot that with justification can claim to be where World War I started. On June 28th 1914, a Serbian member of the Black Hand organisation, Gavrilo Princip, murdered Archduke Franz Ferdinand, the heir to the Austro-Hungarian throne, and started a chain of events that saw Europe descend into war and bloodshed until 1918. I was absolutely fascinated and awestruck to be standing in a place I had read so much about through my studies of history.

There is more to Sarajevo than war however. Sarajevo in 2014, attracts swarms of tourists, and has an abundance of drinking and eating venues; many of which we frequented! The old town is beautiful, with narrow cobbled streets and cute ramshackled buildings. It had a genuinely lovely feel, even if the people were not quite as friendly as we had been promised by travellers we had met that had been there already. This is not to say they were unfriendly, just not as friendly as the Serbians and Bulgarians we had met in their respective capital cities. A few buildings still require repairs after damage sustained in the siege, but on the whole the city has been completely rebuilt.

I mentioned the friendliness of the Serbs in Belgrade. Belgrade was a very happy surprise for me. I had read of an unattractive city, and I knew the Serbs are meant to have many similarities with the Russians (which didn't bode well on the friendliness front). I left the city, bound for Sarajevo, with a completely different image of a city full of smiles, friendliness and beautiful architecture. Every time we produced a map and accompanied it with a furrowed brow, a local would appear from nowhere, and in perfect English, ask if we were lost and help direct us the right way.

In terms of sightseeing, we didn't do a huge amount in Belgrade, but we more than made up for this drinking cheap beer and eating ice cream, pizza and the local sausage specialities. Restaurants, bars and cafes were everywhere all brimming with tourists and locals alike, with it appearing that everyone was stuffing themselves with as much food and drink as they possibly could. This was puzzling for me. Despite the levels of consumption however, Belgrade is one of the thinnest and beautiful cities I have been too. The vast majority of both men and women wore incredible physiques and were disgustingly good looking. Where on earth do they put the calories? Any more time in the city, and I would have required a new camera with an extra wide lens, just to get my bloated face in a photo. Whatever Belgradians are doing, to keep the spare timber at bay, I want some of it, as the food in the city was out of this world. Casey was in agreement too, with every visit to a cafe, resulting in desires for iced coffees filled with ice cream, fruits, whilst topped with cream and chocolate.

The sightseeing we did do, involved visiting the city's only mosque as well as the largest Orthodox cathedral in the world. On the theme of the Balkan war we also saw the remains of the Serbian Ministry of Defence buildings, that were almost completely destroyed by the NATO bombing of Belgrade in 1999. Probably the biggest highlight (for me at least) was a visit to Tito's mausoleum. Having paid our respects to so many communist leaders so far on this trip, a visit to see Tito's grave was mandatory. Considering he ruled Yugoslavia for 35 years, his mausoleum and the museum dedicated to him and his wife was actually very understated, with very few visitors. I enjoyed it all the same. I also bought at the museum, what is possibly my favourite souvenir of the whole trip. A Tito bust money box. Whether it challenges the Mao alarm clock bought in China, I am not sure, but I am definitely very smitten with the luminous blue creation that I purchased in the gift shop!

Our European tour travels to Croatia, Montenegro, Macedonia and Kosovo next, all of which I am looking forward to immensely. Time will tell whether they continue to outdo the places visited so far in Europe!

How Many Men Does It Take To Change A Tyre?

Casey writes:

Iran

How on earth do these women do it? They've perfected the art of perching their scarf perilously on the crown of their head, and of course it doesn't move. They walk around looking like this, go shopping, sleep on a bus, hike up mountains and even play badminton in the park, and whatever the activity, when they're finished, they look just as glamorous as when they began. Me, on the other hand... disaster. I look up, scarf falls off. I bend forward, scarf falls off. I eat, scarf in food. I use a squat toilet... and I won't even begin to explain the calamity of scarf in toilet. Good grief, I feel like the laughing stock of Iran.

But regardless of this, Iran is a beautiful country with beautiful people, and after eight days, we are already making plans to return to see more of what it has to offer.

Border Crossing #1

After initially being dropped at the wrong bus terminal, and then making a frantic dash across the city of Tabriz to reach the bus in the nick of time, we settled into our VIP seats for the 30 hour journey to Istanbul. The drive was calm enough, except for the 1.5 hour delay on the side of the road when we stopped to help another bus with a blown out tyre. It seemed that all of the men on both buses felt it was their duty to stand around the tyre and scratch their heads, but none seemed to know quite what to do. The women stayed on the bus, performing their womanly duty of staying out of the way of the 'men's work'. I didn't dare break this gender stereotype, and sat patiently on the bus; however, Richard - the rebel that he is - did not even pretend to hide the fact that he didn't know the first thing about changing a bus tyre, and also sat dutifully next to me, feigning ignorance and claiming he had no idea what was going on. Fortunately, eventually we were on our way again before most of the men even noticed that they were one man down in the head-scratching, grunting, tyre-changing group outside.

The border crossing was both pleasant and unpleasant. It took us next to no time to exit Iran, with no forms to fill out and a quick bag scan. Given that it was 1:30am and we were tired, we were optimistic that we'd soon be back on the bus and on our way. Nope. Upon reaching Turkey Customs, we were told that the silk carpet we had bought in Uzbekistan could not be brought into the country. The first reason we were given was that we had no receipt. We produced the receipt. Then we were told it was too expensive to import and that we had two options: to take it back to Iran or to leave it at the border and enter Turkey without it. We'd  paid too much money for it to just discard it, and knew that something wasn't adding up, because the customs officers had shown us no official documentation regarding this rule they were imposing on us. We were preparing ourselves for a long stand off when an English speaking Iranian man stepped in to help us. He bluffed the officials, telling them we were with him and that we were all researchers at a university together, and that if we couldn't bring our carpet through Turkey, he'd take it back to Iran for us. Suddenly, the customs officers, realising they weren't going to score a free silk carpet afterall, gave in and with a frustrated wave of the hand said 'take it'. We removed ourselves from the border as quickly as possible and were relieved to get back on the bus and on our way. We are still eternally grateful to the man who helped us, whose name we never learned and who didn't think twice in helping two foreigners at great risk to himself.  

We reached Istanbul at 1:30am the following morning and after arriving at our hostel (and waking up the other 9 people sharing our dorm), collapsed into bed for a glorious proper night's sleep.

Istanbul

This was my third visit to this unique city, and I still haven't tired of seeing the magnificent city skyline full of mosques and palaces. It was great to meander the Sultanahmet sector without 25 students in tow like the previous two occasions. I was excited to show Richard the parts of the city I love the most, and we spent two days simply being tourists at our own pace - something we haven't been able to do for over six weeks.

The Hagia Sophia and the Blue Mosque were both spectacular as always, and listening to the echoing calls to prayer from these adjacent buildings still sent shivers down my spine. The sunset cruise along the Bosphorus River sounded so romantic when we booked it earlier in the day, but we arrived to find a mob of tourists following a man waving a sign, in scenes not dissimilar to the Pied Piper. We were herded onto an overly crowded ferry, with screaming hyperactive children and Muslim women desperately reserving all of the seats for the other thirty members of their family, and forcefully pushing us foreigners off the seats when we tried to sit down. Putting that aside, the views along the river were wonderful, and although the cruise was by no means peaceful, it was entertaining to say the least.

Topkapi Palace was yet again grand, and the Basilica Cistern was again intriguing... even more so when the lights went out and people began screaming. Just as I thought pandemonium was about to ensue, some basic lighting returned and a sense of calmness again swept over the crowd. And finally, the Grand Bazaar was chaotic, but the perfect place to buy some Turkish delight and baklava, which I'm afraid to say has already been devoured.

We spent the rest of the afternoon lazing on the rooftop terrace of our hostel, drinking Efes and admiring the spectacular views of the Hagia Sophia and the Bosphorus.

Border Crossing #2

After fighting our way through peak hour traffic on a tram and a train, and getting angry looks by many commuters (including Richard being purposefully hit in the face by one particularly vulgar man who felt that we weren't entitled to ride the tram with our backpacks), we arrived at the bus terminal in preparation for our overnight journey to Bulgaria. Upon boarding the bus I was elated to find that it had free wi-fi... woohoo! But minutes later I was wishing I could swap this luxury for something slightly more essential - seatbelts!  Fortunately all was fine and we arrived in Sofia at 5:30am as scheduled.

Bulgaria

Neither Richard or I had a particularly long 'must see' list in Bulgaria. We had planned our stopover in Sofia more of a means of getting to Belgrade than as a sightseeing destination. But in hindsight, we are rapt that we dedicated two nights in such a lovely city. Sofia doesn't have the wow-factor or mystery that many other eastern European cities have, but it has its own unique charm, and its laid back, sleepy atmosphere made us feel very much at home, and reluctant to leave.

I had only read about the Rila Monastery about three hours before we jumped in a car to travel the two hours into the Rila Mountains to see it. Built as a hermitage for a lonely hermit monk, the site of the Unesco listed monastery is stunning - perched in the mountains and surrounded by lush green trees. Our visit coincided with a huge Christian festival, so we had to beat the hundreds of pilgrims off in order to see some of the sights, but this was only a minor inconvenience (we were probably more of an inconvenience to them!)

In Sofia itself we participated in a two hour free guided tour and enjoyed the sights such as the Aleksander Nevski Church, St George Church, Presidential Palace, plus many Roman remains scattered throughout the city. We visited the Unesco listed Boyana Church independently, a fresco-covered quaint little chapel, run by a groundskeeper with very odd mannerisms. 

We'd heard that Sofia's nightlife was entertaining, with many excellent bars and pubs... so, despite a few apprehensions, we joined a Pub Crawl being offered by our hostel (it's been ten years since my last one!) We were a bit sceptical about the night, and had plans to ditch the group at the first bar if we found ourselves surrounded by hyper-active 18 year olds intending to become inebriated as quickly as possible... but we were pleasantly surprised. The three bars we visited had calm atmospheres, and we met a couple of Scottish blokes who were interesting and fun to chat with over a few beers. Far from being a crazy night, we enjoyed a relaxed roam around the city streets, and meandered home at about 3:00am.

The European sector of our trip is now in full swing, and we are excited to head to Serbia and then Bosnia from here.

Casey Has To Sit At The Back Of The Bus

Richard writes:

Wow. What an experience Iran has been. Our eight days visiting Isfahan, Tehran and Tabriz will represent some of the most memorable experiences of our entire trip due to the unique combination of its history, culture and people, combined with its social norms and laws being so different to all the other places we have visited. 

My British passport ensured that unlike Australian and European visitors, we could not travel independently, and therefore we were accompanied by our guide; Mohammad, at all times. This apparently does not reflect a lack of trust, but a fear that if something was to happen to me whilst travelling in Iran, it could undermine recent improved relations between the two countries after the low of the British Embassy being set alight during protests in Tehran in 2011. Casey, however, as an Australian, is apparently expendable. Mohammad, a 28 year old from the southern city of Kerman was a thoroughly likeable chap with relatively liberal views. As frustrating as it was, to not be able to explore unsupervised, it was fantastic to have someone who we could quiz about modern Iran, and Mohammad was fantastically open about everything we asked, and at no point did he toe the Government or Islamist line, always giving his opinion, whilst explaining how things worked in reality.

One such topic that we discussed was the wearing of the hijab. Hijab is the word used to describe the rules regarding appropriate public clothing (for both sexes). For males, it is relatively easy to obey; long trousers must be worn at all times alongside short or long sleeved tops. For women (including Casey) however, the situation is much harder. The exposing of any leg or arm flesh is expressly forbidden, and clothes must be loose fitting, so not to show body shape. This meant that over trousers, tops must be long enough to cover the bottom. Last, but not least, a head scarf must be worn, so not to expose hair. Casey found this a nightmare in the 40 degrees celsius temperatures we experienced every day. More importantly in her eyes though, she also felt ridiculous. Iranian girls have got down to a fine art, how to look stylish despite these restrictive rules, but for someone sourcing suitable clothes before entering the country this was difficult. One morning, after Casey had assembled an outfit that didn't contravene any rules, she looked in the mirror and said: "I know I look shit, but what can I do?" The answer was nothing, anything too risqué would be pounced upon by the ethical police and she would be asked to return to her hotel to change. The penalty for refusing to obey the rules, is the lash. Casey therefore reluctantly decided that vanity had to come second.

Casey and Iranian girls in hijab clothing

Despite the repressive nature of the country's penal code we saw a people that is keen to test the boundaries and challenge the authority of the country's complicated political system. This was evident within just a few minutes of crossing the border from Turkmenistan.Whilst waiting for our passports to be stamped we sat with several middle aged and elderly women who were crossing the other way and just gone through Iranian customs. I noticed they all seemed to be fidgeting and their hands were everywhere under their considerable clothing that are required to adhere to hijab guidelines. I then suddenly noticed one large breasted lady, produce several packets of cigarettes from her left bosom, before repeating the action with her right. Her friend next to her, then hitched up her gown and produced several lighters secured by a garter around her leg. This performance lasted for ages, with all sorts of paraphernalia appearing from their under garments. At one point, one of the sweet old ladies noticed we had seen what was going on, and she put a finger to her pursed lips to intimate it was our secret, which she followed by a beaming smile. This whole performance was only a few footsteps from the customs area and surely could be seen by the customs officials. Casey and I couldn't stop laughing at the sight of these "butter wouldn't melt in the mouth" sweet old ladies using their hijab clothing to hide their considerable contraband. When it was eventually our turn to pass through customs, it was the simplest border crossing we have done to date. There was no form to fill in and only a cursory check of our bags, before we were through and into Iran ready to explore.

Our next big surprise occurred on our first proper night in Iran (our actual first night had been spent on a train between Mashad and Isfahan) in Isfahan. After a busy day sightseeing we settled down for a delicious restaurant meal of bread and stewed eggplant, washed down with a pepsi (beer and all alcohol is completely outlawed). Whilst eating, the girls on the table next to us started talking to our guide. After going through the usual questions regarding what we thought of their country they asked for photos. At this point one of the girls started showing us photos of her as a model on her iphone, these photos included several in just her underwear. Whilst we reviewed these, her also attractive sister, who had just had a nose job (this is very common in Iran, we saw people everywhere wearing the tell tale bandages) asked our guide to translate how good looking she thought I was, and if I was not engaged to Casey (we are not actually engaged! Casey wears a fake ring to avoid awkward questions) she would ask me out. Even without Casey's presence, I would still have declined her advances after reading of a German man who was recently sentenced to death for getting over amorous with an unmarried muslim girl in Iran (the sentence was eventually reduced to two years in jail). The whole experience was bizarre, and their forwardness and obvious sexuality shocked us, due to being completely contrary to our expectations.

Through my own ignorance, I was taken aback by the Iranian acceptance of Sunni Muslims, Jews and Christians in the country. From what I understood from Mohammad's explanations, persons that are not Shia Muslims are not entitled to the same freedoms in society as a whole, but to my surprise they are however free to worship as they please (including Christians being allowed to drink wine). In our trip we visited two fantastic Armenian churches. Iran has a long history of friendship with Armenia, that exists to this day. This includes the showing of support in its frequent and bloody squabbles with Islamic Turkey and Azerbaijan. The first Church we visited was in Isfahan and was called The Church of Saint Joseph of Arimathea. Its interior frescoes were stunning and challenged the beauty of the interiors of churches we visited in St Petersburg. Alongside the church there was a museum detailing and supporting the Armenian cause for an apology and reparations for the massacre of thousands of Armenians by Turkey in 1915.

The Church of Saint Joseph of Arimathea

The second Armenian church visited was the Church of St Stepanos on the Azerbaijan border near the city of Jolfa. Inside, the frescoes were simpler, but the outside was absolutely stunning and well worth the recent restoration undertaken by the Iranian government. To get to the Church of St Stepanos, we travelled the jaw dropping beautiful Aras River Valley. The valley is home to the rare Iranian tigers and cheetahs, as well as the Aras River (referred to as the River Gihon in the Bible). The most interesting aspect of the journey however was the following of one of the disputed border areas between Armenia and Azerbaijan. As we were driven along the Iranian south side of the river, we could see countless Azerbaijani villages laying empty, with their residents forced to move for their own safety to the Azerbaijani enclave of Nakhchivan to the west. Fighting had apparently been as recent as a few weeks ago, in what was a stunning landscape, which at times was less than 20 metres away from the Iranian road we were careering along at great speed (Iranian driving is atrocious).

Church of St Stepanos

Iranian/Azerbaijani Border

It would be no surprise to hear that we visited several mosques and madrases during our stay. They were equally as stunning as in Uzbekistan, but in many ways a lot less grand. Some of the domes we witnessed from the inside were hugely impressive however, especially in Isfahan (where we were lucky enough to be photographed with and chat with a couple of friendly Shia clerics). What I was more surprised about was the number of royal palaces that have been preserved since the Islamic Revolution in 1979. The Iranian government promotes its history with pride (regardless of whether it is viewed positively or negatively). We saw several palaces in Isfahan and Tehran, but the highlight for me was the Golestan Palace in Tehran. The opulence was reminiscent of what we saw in Russia, but with a Persian twist of tiny mosaic mirrors adorning the walls in the reception rooms, making them glisten and shimmer.  

Friday Mosque - Isfahan

Blue Mosque - Tabriz

Inside Golestan Palace

Tehran is a largely ugly and characterless metropolis of 15 million souls, that we absolutely loved. I don't know what it was about it, but we felt so excited to be there. The word Tehran conjures so many images of a city that is portrayed as the political antithesis of our own countries. We spent our first evening meal in a restaurant overlooking the city as the sun went down. As the natural light was replaced by streetlights, the size of the city became apparent, trailing off into the distance. We got to see the size of the city again from the Milad television tower, which had equally as spectacular views. On a city tour we got to see the Azadi Tower (often the focal point of demonstrations), the Iranian National Museum (largely made of archeological finds from the Persian Empire) the parliament, and the former British and US embassies. For those who can remember the siege of the US Embassy in 1979 or have seen the film Argo, it was strange to see the site where it all unfolded. Outside the walls of the former US embassy there are murals depicting negative images of America including a Statue of Liberty adorned by a skull rather than the usual head and crown.

One of our highlights of the whole trip was a visit to the house of one of Mohammad's friends; Shayan. On our last evening, before catching the overnight bus to Tabriz we were treated to a whole manner of treats including leather fruit (a sour strip of fruit), yoghurts, fruit drinks, nuts etc with his wider family. Casey also received a homemade bowl as a gift from Shayan's mother. Their hospitality and sincerity in wanting to look after us was humbling. It was also great to talk with Shayan's uncle, who knew all about Matthew Le Tissier and other Southampton players past and present. Amusingly, Shayan also described how if he wants to watch football he has to go to his room as his mum and sister hog the TV to watch soap operas (some things never change, wherever you go in the world).

An Iranian Family

It has been impossible to cover everything in detail that we did in this already lengthy blog. But in addition to what has been already mentioned, we climbed to Babak's Fortress, a medieval hilltop castle near Tabriz, visited the village of Kandovan, which is carved into a hillside, shopped in the gorgeous and characterful bazaars in Isfahan and Tabriz and spent an evening meandering around a flower garden. All of which were unforgettable experiences in their own way.

Babak Fortress

Kandovan Village

Tabriz Bazaar

We can without reservation say we loved every moment of our time in Iran; it is without doubt one of the most spectacular countries we have visited. There are however aspects to the country that leave a sour taste. For what is in so many ways a modern and sophisticated country, its attitudes to women and law and order seem medieval. The clash of medieval and modern can be summarised by a bizarre television show that reviews murder cases that Mohammad told us about, that is shown during Ramadan. Fans of Big Brother and the American show Judge Judy, would be in their element as it combines court evidence and telephone phone-ins to assist the decision maker on what they should do. The particularly sick twist however, is that the punishment if the murderer is not shown mercy, is execution. In Iranian law, it is the victim's family that gets to choose whether court decreed sentence of hanging (sometimes in public) is carried out. The television show chooses cases where guilt has been found, but there might have been mitigating circumstances (such as self defence), and the public has their say through a phone vote before the husband/wife/mother/father of the deceased, decides whether to show mercy or not. This aspect of the penal code combined with the administering of lashes for being found drunk or not wearing the hijab as well as possible execution for homosexual activity, seems completely at odds with a modern society.

The levels of sexism, are incredible. Amongst the sexist rules, women are not allowed to attend sports events, sing in public or ride bicycles, whilst it is legal for men to have up to four wives. On a personal level we experienced what seem to us as very backward and sexist rules. Whilst travelling on public buses, men sit at the front and women at the back (having said this Casey was in her element, yacking away to her new friends on a bus in Tabriz). On our final day in Iran we had stored our bags in our guide's room as our checkout had been earlier. When the three of us went to go to his room to retrieve them Casey was told she couldn't come with us as she could not be in the same room as Mohammad as she is not married to him (they obviously assumed we were married!)

As distasteful as we might find these things, this is what travel is about, experiencing cultures completely different to our own, whether you agree with it or not. We also saw plenty of evidence that views are liberalising amongst the population, so hopefully it is only a matter of time before some of the more repressive and sexist aspects of Iran change. With this in mind I would encourage anybody considering visiting Iran to just go, it is a fantastic place that simply has to be experienced, if nothing else to enjoy the warmth and sincerity of its people who are so eager to please and to be viewed positively by the outside world. So ignore your government's travel warnings (we felt completely safe throughout) and make it happen. We certainly plan to return, to visit the places we couldn't fit into our schedule such as Shiraz, Persepolis and Yazd. Thank you Iran, it was brilliant!

Counting Camels: Tales Of Turkmenistan

Casey writes:

Border formalities between any two neighbouring countries are always a little bit painful. Add a tour group of twenty people, a huge orange truck plus border security rules that include a prison sentence if you forget to throw away your codeine-containing painkillers, and five hours later, exhausted, we limped across the border and into Turkmenistan. The customs official who was convinced that I was carrying narcotics, was thoroughly disappointed when, after a complete check and the entire contents of my bag being emptied onto the floor, she failed to find any trace of illegal substances.

Our first two days in Turkmenistan involved sand, flies, heat and desert. 

"One camel, two camels, three camels, twenty camels"... the view from the window of our truck as we drove hundreds of kilometres into the Karakum desert was endlessly monotonous but strangely entertaining. Camels spit, fart and burp, so why do I never tire of seeing them perambulating across the sand dunes without a care in the world? They are truly majestic creatures - a little bit dumb and with no road safety sense - but beautiful all the same. 

We had two nights of bush camping ahead of us before we arrived in the capital city of Ashgabat. In the desert there were no toilets, no showers, no nothing. Just us, our truck, some tents and a menagerie of a few thousand ants, mosquitoes, wasps, dung beetles and dragonflies. But as usual I was in my element - to be honest it's hard to beat a campfire, a sky full of stars and a beer.

On the way to our second night of desert camping, we stopped at the World Heritage Listed Konye-Urgench. Famed as the site of rebellious fighting against Genghis Khan, this ancient city held off the mongols with such force that eventually Genghis resorted to the tactic of re-routing the surrounding rivers to flood the city and drown all its occupants. Since then earthquakes have ruined much of the site, but what still remains is a fascinating insight into life in this part of the world over many centuries of catastrophe.

Darvaza Gas Crater: SPECTACULAR! You have to see it to believe it. In the middle of the desert, miles from anywhere, a massive hole in the ground burns with thousands of semi-eternal flames... an environmental disaster which is the result of soviet-era gas exploration. Nicknamed "the gates of hell", this hole indeed conjured up images of the underworld as soon as we hurtled over the final sand dune in our 4x4 and came face to face with its brutal intensity. And with no railings, no safety measures and crumbling sandy edges, we wondered whether we might just be about to come face to face with the devil himself. We made sure we stayed well away from the edge - more so to avoid the intolerable heat than anything else. But what a sight to behold if ever there was one... it sent shivers down my spine.  

"One camel, two camels, three camels, twenty camels"... A final four hour drive and we arrived in Ashgabat. A brief wander to the Russian Bazaar on our own (and Sarah) for a doner kebab lunch, and then some much needed relax time at the hotel to escape the oppressive heat. 

Ashgabat is a quirky city.  The contrast between the old and the new makes you feel like you are moving between two different worlds. The building monstrocities that have appeared as a result of the reign of the infamous Turkmenbashi mainly consist of gleaming marble and gold ... looking out at the city from a hilltop gives you an eyeful of palace-like architecture in every direction. Sadly, entire neighbourhoods were demolished to make way for the new buildings, and we barely saw a single person or car during our time in this part of the city. After a visit to Tolkuchka Bazaar, a manic and enormous market that sells everything (including sheep and camels), we toured the city sights, in a manner not dissimilar to our sterile tour of Pyongyang some months ago. The Turkmen are very proud of their city's achievements and although the personality cult of Turkmenbashi is weaker since his death, he is still held extremely highly. We visited the Arch of Neutrality, the Wedding Palace and the largest enclosed ferris wheel in the world. The heat was oppressive as usual, but didn't explain the obvious lack of local residents who I would expect to be out enjoying their city on a Sunday afternoon. Regardless, we found the day intriguing and thoroughly interesting.

After less than a week in Turkmenistan we are now able to reflect on our experience, and contrast our time camping in the desert with the few days we spent in the city. This is definitely a country of extremes, but also a place we've loved and will be sad to say goodbye to.