Planalto Cycles

My ideal would have been to wake up at 7 as at 7:30 breakfast was available. But as I had signed off at 22:30 yesterday, maybe 5:30 is all I can get. At least day 071 was uploaded before breakfast. The other guests arriving early, where two guys from the Netherlands (just guessing, they way speaking at low voice), but they looked so grumpy that I didn’t try to get in contact. An elder Chinese at least greeted when coming in, but then was occupied with her mobile phone. An Iranian woman came with the lift several times (the hotel has two (2!) floors and the lift is slow) to bring big portions to the room and then more and more Iranians dropped in but they didn’t even take notice of others. This was no problem for me as I had planned to make a sightseeing tour in the morning before it becomes too hot for a bad tourist like me. Yesterday, the manager had given me a map with sights and marked some special ones

and when I before had said “planned” I mean that:
I used kommot, connected those sights to a round trip, send it to the Garmin thing (it worked at the first try!)

and started walking with the GPS in my hand.

First of all, I want to say that not only the main roads but all roads I came through, were clean.

I came to the old Ali Gholi Khan bath, now a museum. It was closed and a man coming out told me it would open in 15min.

Meanwhile I made a walk through the small bazar nearby, also most shops closed, I saw some man doing their handcrafts.

Then I came to a small park. Nearly all parks I had seen so far in Iran, also in smaller towns, have those metal fitness machines. Here, for the first time I found something to make pull-ups and tried my best. Last time, in Burgas, I still could do 14, now it was 7. Enough reason for slight panic, how can that end? (In the next park, I tried again, this time it was 10). The interesting thing is that parallel to loss of power, fitness or agility, the motivation to do something for it decreases. I know that aging is inevitable, but I wonder to which is degree it is self-made by more and more giving up.
Back to Isfahan…
I skipped the old bath and went on along a big street with mosque Olmahdi (the sign said “masque”)

and then a small street with another mosque.

in the same building like the mosque is a studio

There, I found a sign to “Dehdashti historical house” and first wondered to find only a closed entrance looking like others.

But it would have been a beautiful old house

Going on I saw also houses in the making and wondered about that framework construction and the bricks with their holes to the outside.

Next building by chance laying on the route was the library of Isfahan, big enough!

Then it was time for the big Imam mosque.

In Vienna, when a church is under renovation I always feel pity with those who scaffold those high towers and roofs. But a dome of a mosque for sure is a big challenge, too.
And then I came to the big central square with Lotfollah mosque and Ali Qapu palace,

Here, I inserted a postcard for my dear garden-neighbour, Frau Wolf. I wonder when it arrives in Vienna!

Lotfollah mosque

First, after in vain trying to improve that pic, I wanted to abondon it. But then I liked that daring black sunshade

neighboured by the big bazar. In many shops you can see people working with metal, but I only made a video of a man working and as it was something different to all other shops, I took pictures of the Ostrich egg painting woman.

For Arash, my last host in Iran I know by Nader, I bought gaz that, if it is original, should contain gaz-angebin plants, growing near Isfahan, but for producing more and cheaper also is replaced by potatoes. I hope the difference is noticeable ?

After that square I should cross the bazar. I walked therein for a while finding no way in the given direction and decided to use the nearest exit to get new orientation – and found myself again at the big square. Later I crossed another part of that big bazar

(With parking nearby)

more successfully and came to the Hakim mosque.

After 9km walking, seeing several mosques, beautiful streets, many shops and myriads of crested wooden, metallic and ceramic objects I bought some pears as I remembered that Isfahan is famous for them. After eating, I think it was more likely Shiraz, I will try pears there again!

The rooster in the yard and my nervousness helped me to be awake early. First, I tried to upload those photos that had not been uploaded through the night but was not successful, so I decided to leave, again driven by nervousness and the idea to try to reach Isfahan in one day.
The street was sometimes empty for some minutes, creating a very special atmosphere in this dry and stony environment.

and all alone, nothing else green or even blossoming, this flower!

Two times, I came along fortresses, the second one is on video, but I am 1 month behind with the videos and want to take photos out of the videos. Once…

My plan was, to decide after the first 55km, that were uphill, if going on to Isfahan would be an option, as the rest should steadily go down. I felt quite good at that time and so, when I arrived in Daran, I was surprised to get the suggestion to stay overnight I said merci, no. But this man didn’t give up. He drove besides me with his motorcycle, showing in this and that direction where I “should” go and finally saying at least I should visit the museum for 15min. I finally agreed. The museum was closed, and I should wait for 20min until someone would come. Meanwhile, I was surrounded by a group of man, invited for tea, again invited to stay, photos had to be taken and I was counting minutes as I wanted to go on and didn’t feel to comfortable with this man who was very polite and helpful but a bit intrusive.

my helper, the man in black…

All the time a pointed up his kindness and said thank you, but when I finally could leave he not even looked in my direction. This showed me that my uneasy feelings were not only because of time stress.
In Tiran, a car with a calf stopped for a photo shooting and for another time Parastoo’s information paper was helpful.

And for the second time of this day I got an invitation for a homestay and again I said no, hoping I would not regret that in the end of the day. Would it have been a good or at least interesting experience?
At least a better one than the next “invitation”
At that time, the road was reduced from 4 to 2 lanes, but the parallel new road was almost finished and as the traffic had started to increase after the last two cities, I had changed to that unofficial alternative. A car stopped, and the man intensely waved that I also should stop. And without hesitation, with his fingers he made unmistakeable gestures pointing at me and himself. I thought, my rejection was clear but still polite and drove on. But he came again and maybe he wanted to differentiate his invitation, so I tried to be clearer. He gave up and drove away.
Maybe it is good to make clear that I pity homosexuals especially in a country like Iran where they are not only discriminated, but their lives are threatened. Even in very open-minded society it must be a challenge for adolescents or whenever someone realizes that his/her sexual orientation differs to the majority and maybe this in the further consequence explains some misbehaviour that I would not tolerate in other cases.
The afternoon had already advanced, but because of clouds it only sometimes was hot. However, the wind sometimes was so strong that I could only go with 10-14km although it was flat or even slightly downhill most of the time.
I began to be a bit exhausted and needed more food breaks. I still head some sweet breads that Fatimeh and given to me in Arak. And on the bottom of the bag I found a note she had put in…

Well, I came nearer to Isfahan and the last 40km, it became more and more urban, so that I had the feeling of arriving soon although I knew how many kilometres still lay ahead of me.

When I finally reached the city centre, I saw the sign of “7hostels” what had been my first option and only because of some obscurities I later had decided to go to another hostel. Now I was ready to agree with the higher price (double to those hostels where Nader and I had been) and accepted that in fact 7hostels is a kind of brand or so and the real name of the place was Orchid hotel.
After check-in I wanted to eat like a local. At the corner was a restaurant and the owner waved me in. Well, so I ended up eating pizza in Isfahan as my capacity to say no seemed spent for that day. At least I can say, I ate like a local and the pizza reminded me not too much at those I know from Austria.
After that I (as always after salty or spicy food) “needed” something sweet and walked along the street. In a bakery or something like confectionery, I found something covered with chocolate. Good! I ate the whole package empty although the second half only because of greed and that good taste of choux pastry covered with sufficient chocolate.
I had a good rest despite of it!

the previous record was Tehran-Qom, easier and shorter, but encouraging for more. (Now it is enough – is it?)

For the good-bye situation, I had decided to show happiness instead of sadness to make things easier. But when grandpa started crying I was not prepared for that.
Fatimeh and Parastoo came downstairs for a last photo

and a farewell ritual: pouring water behind me, so that nothing bad is left (I hope I recall it correctly).
And the I was alone on the street with thoughts and feelings…
It took me a while to recover, but when you are pedalling for hours you can overcome some things eventually
Today, a man waved from the other side of the street and mimed drinking tea as an invitation. He is a craftsman constructing pushcarts.

the showroom

He gave me food, too, and in his explanation of what this fat with orange stuff does or is, he mimed a goat and also pointed at Sibel Can and I am quite sure that he said (and meant) sex – all in all the explanation was similar disgusting as the taste of that fat and the bread that contained traces of cheese from another meal and his dirty fingers (although he kind of washed them) AND the rag he used to “clean” the plastic table cloth.

As the option to run away or other kinds of impoliteness would not fit to an invitation I thought that I can eat what he can eat and did it.
As a last favour, he wanted to screw in the protruding screws of my gear shift. He was too fast for my explanations and later I had to fix that again (was better before but works again)
Later, a truck stopped, and the guys asked for a photo session. Btw., it was the 2^nd time for my introduction letter that Parastoo had made for me.
The road was most of the time good and offered enough space and there were less cars than on the roads before.

The wind and the elevation allowed smaller progress but until noon I needed breaks very rarely, so I reached Khomeini early enough.
In the city centre, some guys were provocative, standing in the way and not moving, etc. One of them jumped on my top bag to go with me. I asked him to leave as I feared that it would be to heavy for the bike with all the luggage and me and him. When I moved on, he suddenly jumped again on the bag. I stopped again and thought if getting angry would be an option but some bystanders tried to calm me down and the guy made off anyway. I am glad about the quality of the bags, as they didn’t tear apart or so during this attack.
When I was about to take a dirt road to follow the route a car stopped, and a man said that the better road would be on the left.
For the GPS route, I had left the main road that now was on the right, so I hesitated to follow his advice. When he was away, I consulted my phone for other options. Soon some men came to talk to me in Farsi and to help me. In this situation the man came back and said that he had waited for me at the crossroad. Now I stopped thinking about other options and followed him.
He left me, showing the directions and on the way, I saw this clay building. I guess it is for storage. I forgot when the older buildings more and more were made of by clay instead of stones, but the first I saw was in the garden of Hadi in Zanjan (see 060)

In the end, GPS route and his route united and I could go on to the hotel. When I arrived there, it was no hotel, but a restaurant. The owner helped me to find another hotel somewhere and then asked if I would like to eat something. I was not hungry but felt obliged, because of his help and agreed. It was Abgousht (see 051 in Tabriz Bazar) and I could easily finish without being hungry.

The communication was led indirectly as a guest could speak English and knew even some German words.
I followed his route for a while but then it became obvious that something was wrong and I looked for alternatives and found something. Again, a car stopped, this driver showed me the way in another direction but then another one stopped and the driver new the way. I followed him for a while, then he said that I just had to go 2km straight to find it. There was even a sign, pointing to a dirt road. I followed for a while, but the only entrance on the way was locked. When I turned back to leave, another man helped me to find the right entrance and finally I found myself in a nice garden

and a friendly young man, Mayhar, responsible for the place, showed me around including a small museum.

When I was in my room,

they try to integrate the facilities in the old structure

“fighting” with the poor internet connection (but still glad that there was any) for uploading my blog diary, I heard interesting music played on the melodica. So, I came out to talk with Mayhar, who is not only manager of “Karbalaei fereidoun guesthouse”, but a musician, arranger and composer, playing several instruments and dreaming of an accordion and because of that, as a compromise, using the melodica.
He told me about arranging for some theatres in Tehran, and orchestra, originally consisting of 80 musicians and now active with still 20 and a band project, mixing Iranian traditional music with western style pop. And above all looms the censorship authority…

This morning, Parastoo had English testing and Fatimeh and I went with her. A car stopped and we used it as private taxi to get to the institute. Until the test finished, Fatimeh and I walked around, later also buying some fruits.

green doesn’t mean unripe but another sort

Fatimeh also wanted to get halim for me, but when we finally arrived at the only place for miles around usually preparing it, they were sold out. But with Fatimeh’s charms and me being a tourist the gave us the extra portion they had reserved for themselves privately. Then we went back to school and waited for Parastoo. We did some exercise in the school yard. Fatimeh “lost” her head scarf (as usual) and 3 women were looking very “earnest”, for sure they think they are better….
At home, a late breakfast was ready and soon after, Rasoul went with me to town again. It was funny to go back to Bazar, now livelier, and one shop keeper recognized me, and we greeted again. Rasoul had bought some melons and now bought a 10kg bag of rice and other stuff, so his bike was fully packed.
On the way back, we visited his friend Nader in his office (remember it is Friday and everything “should” be closed. Nader first wanted to give me a beautiful but heavy book about Iran for tourists, but additionally, it was Farsi and we would not have space left for transport. So he changed it to a prayer chord.

Until home, we had done 20km and as a reward (and compensation for the loss of calories?) we joined in for lunch.

In the evening Rasoul, Parastoo and I made a last bike ride.

When we came back home, we joined Fatimeh and her parents in the small park near by and made some photos.

Grandma and Fatimeh wanted to give me some additional cookies for the next ride, so Fatimeh, Parastoo and I went to a shop. It was hard to limit their generosity, but the size of the bags is an argument.
Fatimeh had prepared another cosy dinner with a sad dessert and first tears came into eyes…
Maybe I should give up meeting or even visiting people, saying good-bye is always hard.

But I understand life as a single big good bye, we all leave this planet after such a short life-span, it is ridiculous how near birth and death lie to each other and how easily we waste those years in between for small nothings…

Rasoul had to leave early, the rest of the family could stay at home as Thursday equals Saturday and school is off. So, after a (too) big breakfast,

Parastoo went with me to city center. We took a taxi. You pay a fixed price per person, so we together pay double. And the driver looks for other passengers and he found a man for the front and later a woman. Parastoo was sitting left and I on the right, so I guessed the woman would get in from the left, but she didn’t care if she was sitting next to me. Parastoo told me that this is common, another small lesson for me, who had read that e.g. a man and a woman in a car without being married could get in big trouble. If you want the car for yourself, you tell the driver and pay more.
We made our first stop at the Bazar. I had been told that Arak was only an Industrial city and less beautiful/interesting but compared to Qom I would prefer this bazar.

However, for me that crossdresser is as interesting as beautiful roofs and old courts (200-250y old)
And although I was warned by Rainer and Kerstin (day 054), I still was a bit shocked to see a book with swastika
We walked on to a sports shop to replace my lost glove. For grandpa I wanted to find a kind of squeeze ball as I am convinced that he could make at least some progress with more frequent training.
Our next stop was the ethnographical museum.
On the way, I saw a man throwing a paper cup in the trickle between street and sidewalk and could not help exclaiming my displease. He just said to Parastoo that i have no idea about tradition. At least this comment made me laugh again 🙂
Then we came to houses that had been part of the former Armenian quarter.

I hope everybody knows that I have not the slightest sympathy with any dictatorship and the least with a religious one. The more am I embarrassed to find more traces of tolerance against other cultures and religion here

than in my “open-minded” country, Austria. And when I think about that disgusting hate-speech of those awful fools who are responsible for our government AND vica versa !!!) I am deeply happy about my facebook pause.

As a nice ending to our excursion, we made another stop to drink fruit juice. We went back to the square where most taxis wait. There was one with two passengers inside and the driver shouted “our” direction. So, without waiting we could go. On the way, The driver stopped to buy cigarettes.
At home, I gave grandpa the squeeze ball and he did his best. I hope he will continue…
After another (you know: too) big lunch I tried to continue writing blog, but I was so tired that I fell asleep while sitting. So, Fatimeh prepared a mat for sleeping and that’s what I did for at least an hour.

Rasoul came home earlier (you know: Thursday~Saturday or in case of our 5-days week, Thursday equals Friday), we ate cake (I don’t know where my body found place to store it) and decided to hit town again at 6pm. Rasoul, Parastoo and I took the bus. I would even have not found the station.

after we had reached this ice cream shop we went back to one we had passed before to eat. And passed again this to go to the park…

…we were sitting on the same places as Parastoo and I were sitting in the morning after museum.

Fatimeh and her parents went by taxi to a park and we should meet them there to eat ice-cream. This was the plan as far as understood it.
But in realitiy we three went to the ice-cream shop while the others were in the park.

oldest mosque in Arak

Then Rasoul went off to buy onions and tomatoes while Parastoo and I went to the park. We shortly set down to make photos

but 5min later, Parastoo and I should go somewhere to get a taxi, because grandpa started to feel cold. But the agency for the taxt was not there anymore, so we went back. Everything seemed a bit complicated and I didn’t know why, because when we were back at the park, 3min later an empty taxi stopped and we could go home. So, the original plan and reality were a bit different and I didn’t get the points when plans changed, but now I understand more about similar situations before – maybe it is not only a problem of language, when I am confused sometimes?

In the end it doesn’t matter, because a day has 24h and it is not so important with which experiences they are filled as long they are not bad.

In the evening, you could see an intergenerational, interculturally similar picture in the living room

Why I am not only generously hosted and spoiled, but also should deserve a present, I cannot explain, but I got those pens from this special family…

This morning I left Mohammads clinic/guest-apartment around 7 as I woke up early (if someone read more of this blog until now, he/she will not be surprised).
…and saw some messages from him that he had sent last night on his way to Tehran – he would even out of is car care for my dinner, but I had turned off my phone at that time.
For the first time since I had arrived in Tabriz, I used Garmin for finding my way and for the first time since long I stuck to the proposals and even had no reason to regret it.
Today my first personal contact with people on the street was with three guys, inviting me for tea. One of them was smoking something and for that sometimes holding a piece of wire with something on it into a flame. Whatever it was, he offered it to me. I easily could say no and also one of those guys said he doesn’t use it, the third does occasionally. For me it was surprising that they did that just aside the street in the shadow of their car. They didn’t see too much risk. After 5-6 selfies and all combinations (I had no camera at hand) I left them.

The next time it was an extremely nice man who invited me to tea.

But then he also gave me noodle salad and all he could find in his car. He is teaching calligraphy in Tehran and soon he showed me his equipment and then he made me a present – writing my name with this special pen and ink. I made a video of that and hope to be able to upload that in Dubai or latest in Kuala Lumpur after a 10days editing session on the freighter

We exchanged numbers and email and I wonder if we can stay in some contact.

The third time when people on that street stopped their car to talk to me, was group of two man and a woman. The first man could talk English, because he had been in Darwin (Australia) for 8 years. He wanted to relocate there, what for him would have been possible, but his wife would have to wait too long, so he decided to come back. When she started talking, her English was impressing, and she explained that she had studied English literature. She is from Lorestan, he is Kurd, the third man is “just” Iranian, so it is a big mixture of languages they use and speak fluently, so besides Luri language, Kurdish, Azeri and Farsi they could speak English, too. And they confirmed what I had heard before, that these people live together peacefully, only behind the border to Turkey the problems start, so they are clearly induced. The woman was wearing no scarf at all, not even at her shoulders and all of them made clear statements about politics that left me a bit helpless as always when I think about how far from change this country might be. They gave me some apples from their garden and proudly announced that they are organically grown!

I went on and for half an hour left the main road connecting Qom and Arak. There it was much quieter than on the main road. A motorcycle with a family stopped for a short talk. The man was from Afghanistan, his wife from Iran and their boy, maybe 7 or 8, had longer hair tied to a braid.
Well, then arrived in Arak, the GPS brought me to the park near Rasoul, Fatimeh, and Parastoo’s home. The latter came to fetch me and told me a surprise:
also the grandparents from Tabriz had arrived that morning, doing that long bus trip on their own! It was a warm welcome and happy reunion. Fatimeh had baked a delicious cake and with the apples, she immediately made jam for the next breakfast.

paper and cake calligraphy

Parastoo went for a short evening bicycle ride with me and when we and also Rasoul were back, it was time for Ash!

Fatimeh made it not only pleasant for taste but for the eye.

When I first had thought about staying overnight, then learned that the next day would be busy in Arak, so a second night would be the result, Rasoul announced that -at -east – I should stay until Friday (when he is off work).
Well, there is an outer dead-line, 23^rd I have to be in Bandar Lengeh, and I don’t know what lies ahead of me, but it is at the same time too hard to say no to this family and a kind invitation, so I will find a way to catch up…

Finally a took a picture of glass:
In Iran, I saw much more aside the streets than in other countries, unfortunately often also on the streets or on the shoulder, so that you have to dodge the glass from the right and the cars/trucks from the left

and finally a try to be artsy-fartsy and statistics of the today’s ride

In the later morning Mohammad and I met for tea and then he went to town and so did I (by bike). I wanted to see the Bazar and life in the city. On the way there is a big religious area I had to go around.

The bazar was smaller and less crowded as that in Tabriz but had also nice architecture here and there.

I went back on different streets to see more of the city

old buildings are torn down, new raised up

but I am not the type fore so many extremely religious people, so I came back earlier.

…seing thos on the way, again a surprise – zomboid, need for speed and the like – here?

In later afternoon, Mohammad returned to Tehran and we took photos with his team. Nurses here are not called sisters but daughters which had confused me before Mohammad had explained to me, because I thought his daughters were in Tehran and now they should work in the clinic?

Mohammad left and now I am alone on top of his clinic, writing blog cutting photos and uploading. Tomorrow I make a small detour to Arak to pay a visit to Nader’s sister Fatemeh + Rasoul and Parastoo. By that I change my changes to Isfahan again. The original route had been to lonesome and steep, the second variant on the highway seemed quite comfortable and provided accommodation in appropriate daily distances. Via Arak it will be something in between, at least one time there seems to be a guest house on the way and that would be enough as for me a night in the tent is ok, only two or more without shower are not what I am looking for ?

It is always hard to leave nice people who become friends so fast and after one or two days I have to say good-bye. Fanid was the first, she left to school and after another big breakfast, Javad and Shabnam both came down for a last photo.

Whenever I stay at someone’s home, the idea of being on the road again, exposed to everything what there is, like cars + noise, danger & stink and stress of finding ways, permanently controlling the surface of the road for traps, guessing what drivers will do, etc – so, the idea of being out in that real life has something uncomfortable, but meanwhile I know that I switch to to road-mode quickly.
First I went back to Azadi square where I had lost one glove when I was there with Nader. Of course, it was not too be found, but at least now I know and had tried my best.

well, if it is important for him to be on a pic of a stranger, I can live with it

Cities are not my speciality, and the less an oversized one with these grotesque pales and knots of roads where it is hard to find the correct fork when you cannot read the signs or simply do not know the street-names, it took ~20km to get out!
I feel great while driving outside, as it still is not too hot, the road is mostly flat and sometimes the wind is friendly to me. But this is not only advantage with my mindset: side-effect number one is, that just the simple presence of my average speed on the GPS-screen pushes me. I have reached 20km/h average, including the stop and go in Tehran and reduce breaks to a minimum for not losing that number. Well, at the moment, I don’t need more breaks, but what is the use of it? I wanted to go to Qom in 2 days and when I go on like this, I will have half of the way at 12 and what should I do then? And here comes side-effect two: I start thinking about going there in 1 day. I could stay there 2 nights, have more time for writing and editing and seeing the city.
While I thought about this and that and about my attitude of being on the run instead of a road trip, a car stops. The driver, Mohammad, switches to German as I say I am from Autriche and invites me to stay with him. He has a clinic in Qom and an extra room for guests. To stay reasonable, I say that I am not sure if I can make it to Qom in one day but if so, I guess to be there around 6pm. He gives me his business card and telephone number and we say good bye. But now it was clear to me that I would try to do all 150+ km today.

A Viennese collegue collect “working-man signs” all over the world. In Armenia, I had found one working from left to right and another working right to left. Here, I found one working normally and one working high-speed.

On the way I sometimes see people walking and one guy I saw three times! As I don’t believe in miracles I guess that drivers took him with them for a while. But why for a while? There is practically nothing between Tehran and Qom, so why could it happen that he always found people who could take him for a part of the way? The third time I saw him, he had a black flag with some writings on it and was singing/praying. This may answer one question and rising another. But maybe it was not the same guy?

On km85 was a station with shop. On a sign, I also had seen a symbol for a washing room but didn’t find it an so I bought 2l of water, filled most of it in my bottles and wanted to drink the rest. But it was so cold that it hurt, I had to be slow. Only half an hour later, I could not tell by temperature which was the bought water, and which was boiling in the heat since hours.
Most of the time, I didn’t suffer from the heat too much, only when I had to go uphill and produced less airstream and had to take more efforts to make progress it was obvious that I was going in Iran in September in the mid-day heat.

can you see the heat?

more heat, a salt lake and a shutter that doesn’t want to open

After the station, A car with two guys slowed down and they gave my thumbs up and asked if I would need anything. I was fresh equipped but as always it was so nice to have these contacts and good to know that in case of need someone what be happy to help.
Javad and Shabnam had given cookies and fruits to me and for my next “full-hour-eating break” at 3pm I wanted to sit down in a resting area announced few kilometres ahead. But then it was going downhill, I was fast and reaching the station would have meant to make a bigger detour so I decided to wait for the next shadow of one of those big advertisements along the road.
So I was nearly at full speed (today my record was 52km/h!), when I realized that a big dog was running diagonally towards me. It had the same speed and when I because of being startled accelerated, it did the same. It was the first dog that ran to me without barking and that made it appear more determined and frightening. Between us was the guard rail and the dog couldn’t jump over it as the street was on higher level in that area and when it tried to get through between the posts, it lost too much speed and gave up.
I still “wait” for the one dog that is not satisfied with angry barking as well as I “wait” for the one driver who finally is hitting me.
For me is clear, when I can meet the one driver who speaks German and invites me to his place, I also can meet the other one….

At the highway, from time to time, especially for crucial points, there are “sleepy-driver-awakening-structures in the road. I like the idea but i don’t like to go over them.

At the toll stop in the shadow of a tree I wanted to make my 4pm eating break. A man, and then his family approached me, inviting me for tea and some talking. I burned my tongue, but it was nice took talk with them. The man, his brother and his son all where around 2m tall and by no surprise playing basketball. The daughter showed me her violin, she practises since a year. As they were from Isfahan they could not help me with the way in Qom, but we exchanged numbers and they offered help in Isfahan, their home town.

only to shy to take photos of Mullahs in their natural habitat

On the business card of Mohammad, the address was only written in Farsi, so without help it was impossible to find it. First, I went on in direction of city center, seeing Mosques and Mullahs until you drop

only too shy to take photos of Mullahs in their natural habitat

then I asked some men who helped me to locate the address on what3words (something I should have done with Mohammad before!), they also gave me cool water and wanted to make photos.

Their Localization was so exact that the next helper (and the helper of the helper) only had to show me the building 20m ahead, but even when I was standing in front of it I couldn’t tell that this would be the right place. I tried to call Mohammad but only a voice on tape said something. But when I wanted to ask a man coming out the building to dial the number on his phone he apparently was informed of my arrival and helped me to the garage (3 levels underground) and then up to the clinic. Mohammad is a busy doctor, working until late evening but between patients, he always came back to his office, where I was waiting to continue conversation.

Mohammad is a kind of self-made couchsurfing host:
When he sees cyclists on the way to Qom, he invites them what happens more often as you would guess.

find the photo on the board! 🙂

He also took his time to show me an incredible room on the roof of the clinic with great view over Qom.

Later, he invited me to dinner and not before 22:30, he finally went home.

In the morning, Javad went jogging without me even noticing it. Fanid had to go to school,

Shabnam accompanied her and Javad made breakfast. He left and Shabnam came back, starting to talk to Nader, who tried to make his translation work meanwhile. Ramin came from Karaj with my missing bag.
I tried to re-plan my route from Tehran to Bandar Lengeh to use the highway and by that find more accommodations as there are more cities at the highway route than on my original route. To Isfahan that worked quite well, one night in my tent and 4 hostels are now planned in reasonable distances. To Shiraz it is a bit emptier, but at least one place is to find in between. And the last part, the 600km from Shiraz, are without highway, cities and only one place seems to have a hostel or inn. And this is the hottest and driest part of my whole one-year-trip. Maybe people will see me with their noses.
The most annoying part was to “tell” the GPS about those routes. It should work via Bluetooth and an app. And all the time the connection is interrupted, one device forgets the name of the other, I should do updates etc. Then the routes are on the GPS, I go on planning, want to transfer the next routes, and not only the same procedure starts again, no, the transferred routes seem to be away again.
At noon Fanid came home with her new books, about Maths, Quran and one called “heavenly gifts”, Science, Farsi, reading, Thinking (!?), social science, business & technology.

In her book of social science, she had to fix extra sheets for additional texts.

In the evening, Nader brought his bike to the bus station for delivery to Mashad.

I accompanied him and we made our last photos at Azadi square

and Nader went to the airport while I returned home to his cousin’s family.