The second day in Tabriz I use to walk through the city, sit in the sun and watch the daily life of the residents. It is a big city with a huge number of shops and a huge bazaar. The stores are all grouped together. For example, you have an entire street with only shoes, or a neighborhood with carpets, an area in the bazaar with only jewelry or a street with white goods. And most stores only sell one kind of products. A shop for telephones, a shop with all kinds of kit, a shop with only grinding wheels, a shop with only hats, etc. All very well organized!
Unfortunately, there are few sights and the only thing that was worth seeing (a huge, old city gate) was confiscated by the riot police as a gathering place and inaccessible.
When I get back on the bike the next morning, it is still cool, but the sky is a clear blue. I want to make some progress today and have designated the fairly large city of Zanjan as my final goal, but since I have no idea what the roads are like there, it could also be elsewhere. I can no longer book hotels or view prices, but luckily I can still see the locations on Googlemaps.
I've still banned highways from my routes, but I'm making good progress. Fortunately, the roads are wide because there is a lot of overtaking. Even if it really isn't possible. Repeatedly I see 2 cars coming towards me and once even 2 trucks. With just a meter or 3 left for me!
The worst, however, is the exhaust fumes. Almost every truck, but also many a car, carries a huge dirty black diesel cloud with it. At the end of the day, my turtleneck, which I wear over my mouth and nose, is black in the areas I breathe through. Bah. It gives me such a shit that I don't really want to go to the city anymore, because this air hangs there all the time.
On Google I see a hostel that is about 25 km outside my route, in the mountains and I decide to look it up. If it's nothing, I can still go to the city.
The road there is already a relief. Wonderful alone on the road with the evening sun and the silhouette of the mountains in front of me. The last part is a dirt road and even Googlemaps gives up and tells me that the location must be here somewhere. Nice! Fortunately I see 2 men loading potatoes and I show them the Arabic address. Come along, they gesture, and they take me to the right place in the authentic Iranian village. I would never have found!
The streets are made of sand and cobblestones, the houses of mud and the hostel is the gathering place of the village, with a shop and places to sit together. It is pleasantly busy and of course I immediately start talking. There also appear to be day trippers from the city who spend their Sunday (our Friday) here and a few speak poor English.
Two townspeople who come here more often show me the village and a little later I drink tea with another group. Late at night, when everyone is gone, the lady of the house makes me a traditional meal. It is the first time that I eat and sleep in this way. There are plenty of pillows and blankets, but luckily I have my sleeping bag, because it will be a cold night.
