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IRAN
October 2000
Leoné donned her head-to-ankle black cloak at the border from
Armenia. Fortunately Jan noticed that although we were
stamped in for 1 month, the vehicle had been given 5 days only.
The helpful official soon rectified this.
It was late when we had completed the formalities, so that when we
parked for the night, it was quite close to the barbed wire fence
of one of the disputed regions. Later in the evening the police
came and moved us to “safety” in front of their station.
When we ventured off the next day, Jan was delighted with the
price of diesel. (Only US$0.015 per litre; 12 SA cents!). Dipli
was delighted with the smooth wide roads. However, these good
roads enabled the Iranians to do their reckless driving at high
speed.
Series III Land Rovers, left over from the 1970’s days, were not
quite as fast but in good shape. The desert scenery was broken by
brown villages set around palm fringed oases. Truckloads of
brilliant red pomegranates were for sale at every lay bye.
We soon discovered the varieties of Iranian bread. – One kind was
large and thin and folded (and tasted) like a newspaper. Later we
found the pastries, pistachio brittle and traditional nougat.
We wanted to enter Tehran early in the morning so stopped the
night before in what seemed to be a good spot. Later in the
evening a turbaned man came and bombarded us with emphatic phrases
in Farsi. His gestures and the stick wielding of his companions
made these infidels move on fast, into the dark night. Otherwise,
without exception, the Iranians were most kind and friendly.
Careful navigation (and timely braking) got us to downtown
Tehran. The excellent small Archaeological and Islamic Art
Museum charged a whopping $7.50 pp but for us, it included safe
overnight parking within walking distance of restaurants with
typical food and attractive décor.
We undertook a pilgrimage to the Royal Tehran Hilton where Jan’s
parents had stayed. They had been wined and dined there in the
days of the Shah. The name had changed (when American property was
nationalised), but the “R T H” was still inlayed on the floor of
the grand ballroom.
We found a campsite, (a rarity in Asia); near the Ayatollah
Khomeini Mausoleum. The surrounding high walls allowed Leoné a day
without the headscarf and “chador”.
By law, in Iran all females over 7 have to wear the “hejab”. The
family magazines with “girlie-covers, all featured faces of girls
with long hair – 6 years old!?. Many Iranian women seemed to move
about freely in restaurants even in the company of males. (Unlike
in some other Muslim countries, i.e. Yemen, Saudi Arabia &
Afghanistan).
The cities of Esfahan and Shiraz had glorious
mosques and mausoleums, set in picturesque gardens and magnificent
city squares. There were ancient sites, like Bam and
Persepolis where the likes of Xerxes and Darius had dwelled.
Leoné dragged Jan to numerous crowded bazaars with the aroma of
incense and spices and the temptation of Persian carpets. They
often had old vaulted teahouses (“chaykunes”) where people sat on
traditional carpets drawing on their water pipes.
We really enjoyed our stay in Iran. We felt grateful that the
country had reopened after the Islamic Revolution and the
Iran-Iraq war.
PAKISTAN
Jan waved the magic wand and the steering changed from left-hand
drive to right-hand drive! Not quite. He actually toiled for 2
hours and then longer, to get the power steering working properly
again. We had done 70 000 km, since the Kenya/Ethiopia border, in
LHD, but now the whole Indian sub-continent required RHD again.
After the surprise of some new highway, the road became a bumpy
single vehicle width. The shoulders were dangerously eroded. For
once Jan could also ‘enjoy’ the most beautiful objects in the
country, as they were coming straight at him! They were decorated
Pakistani trucks! Vintage Bedfords were astonishing works of art:
canopied, mirrored, sequinned, hung with medallions on chains and
intricately painted with pictures, poetry and floral decorations.
Friendly drivers always waved and greeted with their very loud
musical horns, before forcing us of the road! Priority is
according to size, so Dipli could at least force the few cars and
pick-ups to give way on the single lane road.
On a narrow pass we saw our first bus with a very full roof rack
of baggage and about 20 people on top of it all. Inside there was
a second layer of passengers on the laps of the first! Sheep were
in the baggage area underneath. Kombi taxis would also have a
double layer of passengers as well as some on the seat backrests,
but not more than 6 people on the roof. (SA taxis can learn from
them!). We remained amazed at this unbelievable crowding on public
transport, and saw later that in Bangladesh, where the taxis
didn’t have doors, they could fit one more next to the driver on
the road side! (and another 6 standing on the rear bumper).
In Pakistan’s Baluchistan province, local men
wore intricately twisted turbans. There were no women in sight
anywhere in the villages. Leoné enjoyed seeing little Pakis
playing cricket on dusty patches in the desert. Filling stations
had cricket scoreboards.
Hotels from the colonial days offered parking in attractive
gardens. One night we enjoyed a passing fashion parade: 700 guests
were coming to a wedding feast. Two venues were decorated for men
and women separately. The maitre’d told us that the parents
arrange almost all marriages in Pakistan. (Sometimes the couple
would meet for the first time at their wedding!)
The continuously bumpy roads caused a crack in the chassis of our
vehicle and although in a very awkward position (weld spatter
falling into sleeve), the on board welding system quickly fixed
the problem.
The traffic was so congested in Lahore, that Dipli’s driver
conceded not to drive, mainly due to parking problems. So we took
a minibus tour to the photogenic bazaar and originally splendid,
but now neglected mosques, palaces and faded gardens with dry
fountains. (We wondered how much money was going into nuclear
defence to try and look stronger against neighbouring mighty
India). An evening barbecue on the roof top restaurant of the
Lahore Holiday Inn was a nostalgic (and spicy) treat for South
Africans.
We drove east towards the only open border point with India. On
the way out of Pakistan an official “Rummaging officer” was
appointed, in writing. He rummaged thoroughly inside Dipli;
whatever for we never figured out.
INDIA
November 2000
We went into India from Pakistan between Lahore and Amritsar.
At sunset we watched the daily border ceremony, where the plumed
guards of the two rival countries try to outdo each other with
exaggerated precision goose step marching and slamming shut of
gates, while the flags on either side are lowered.
Our route was: Amritsar, Jodhpur, Ajmer, Pushkar, Jaipur, Sariska
NP, Keoladeo National park, Fatehpur Sikri, Agra, Delhi, Corbett
National Park, Calcutta, Konark, Chennai (Madras).
We reached Pushkar in the desert state of Rajastan,
in time for the annual Camel fair. Thousands of these fascinating
animals were displayed and traded- and photographed! This period
leading up to the full moon was also the time for pilgrims to
bathe in the holy lake. Haunting chanting and temple chimes
continued throughout the night. During the day, local women
shopped and paraded in the crowded streets, wearing their most
exquisite saris and jewellery. Pushkar is a sacred Hindu city and
no meat, eggs or alcohol is available. Nevertheless, overland
vehicles and backpackers from all over the sub-continent had
arranged to meet, to enjoy the company and the spectacle.
We spent about two months in India and saw only a fraction of the
impressive places like the golden temple of the Sikhs, massive
forts, Maharajah palaces, stone carved buildings and a temple with
a thousand holy rats! We thought the beauty of the Taj Mahal had
not been exaggerated.
India is spirituality and exotic flavours. India is crowded chaos
and colour. Women wear bright saris and bangles and often flowers
in their hair. Stalls have petals being made into garlands, and
dye powders in intensive shades. Peddlers offer fruit, spices,
shiny chrome and brassware. White cotton is pounded and spun. Rice
fields are bright green and when harvested deep gold.
Jan, as driver, saw little of this. Markets sprawl onto the main
road in all villages. Pedestrians and cyclists have no regard for
moving vehicles. Drivers use no indicators or stopping signs.
One-way means both ways. There were always obstacles to avoid;
like wide haystacks on wheels or on hoof, pedestrians, bicycles,
bicycle rickshaws, camel carts, elephants, dancing bears, holy
cows and sacred monkeys, bulging trailers with cotton, buffalo
wagons, 3 wheelers, hand pulled laden trolleys, crowded taxis and
many many reckless hooting trucks and buses, and even some cars!
When we walked to look around it was a rare treat to detect the
aroma of spices and incense above the usual foul smell of heaps of
garbage, and water buffalo dung patties. (Used as fuel). Overnight
parking was always at large filling stations (as there was never a
square metre unoccupied).
The air pollution in Delhi was frightening. However, we
were in a pleasant suburb and were given a rare treat by a friend
at the SA High commission: an evening in a luxurious home and
South African food and wine!
Sometimes we escaped to some of the few and comparatively small
National parks. They had natural forests, unfamiliar antelope
species, like hog deer, sambar, and barking deer. Elephant rides
for game watching, was a new experience for us, but unfortunately
led to no tiger sightings. Keoladeo bird sanctuary by
bicycle was a highlight.
On to Nepal...
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