Day thirty eight - 08 Sept 2009 - into Iran

We only have a 30 minute drive to the border with Iran. There is a queue of lorries several kilometres long, but JC drives past, as we don't have goods to be checked by customs. This doesn't mean the contents of the truck won't be checked of course. We have already made sure that any items that might be deemed un-Islamic by the Iran border guards have been removed, such as the naked lady shaped badge that had been on the front of the truck and, of course, any alcohol, which is banned in Iran.

It takes a couple of hours to pass through the Turkey exit controls. The truck is delayed at the exit gate by a van of which the driver has lost the keys.

Meanwhile, the Iranian guard in the interim space is having a giggle at our women covered head to toe in the thick black chadors and headscarves. They are far too overdressed according to him. Iranian women wear their headscarves showing a bit of scalp apparently.

Iranian entry controls take a couple of manic hours. Mostly it is very friendly, but Pete (Scouse retired headmaster) is treated with some mild aggression. He is asked by the border official why he thinks we are all being fingerprinted. It is done because the UK does it to Iranian citizens, says the official. Promotion of tourism is clearly not a priority in Iranian officialdom. As a group, we are then asked to go into a room to fill in a survey on tourism in Iran that we are told is a part of a study by students at the University of Tehran. We decide it is probably for the best that our responses are complimentary at this stage.

After we get through the border control, we are happily surprised to find a café serving food within the border control building, as well as a boy selling flatbread. I have potted kebab for 35,000 Rials ($4). This is probably 4 times the price I’d pay anywhere else in Iran, but it is a tasty concoction of lamb on the bone, chick peas, veg and flat bread. We are surprised to find people smoking in the restaurant too, because it is Ramadan and we thought that it was forbidden during the day.

We then have to stop for another couple of hours while insurance for the truck is sorted out, with some confrontational negotiations required on JC & Lu's part.

We are too late to get to Tabriz for the evening so we bush camp in an empty expanse of hills. JC goes a kilometre or two off the road so that we cannot be seen. I decide to sleep on top of the truck again, and I sit there observing the women wearing tents putting up their camping tents. The ladies take off their headscarves and Meg dares to walk around in a T-shirt.