Date: April 15th, 2016
Distance: 116 km
Song of the Day: Child in Time - Deep Purple

When I woke up this morning it was raining pretty good, so I was girding myself for a really nasty day of cold and wet. But by the time Darius and I had finished breakfast and packed everything up, the rain had stopped. It was even turning into a nice day.

The road out of the mountains followed a river. I am guessing this one heads toward the Persian Gulf, and not the Caspian.

One consequence of being high in the mountains is that spring was not quite upon us at the summit, so the trees were only starting to sprout green leaves. The grass on the mountain slopes that wasn't covered in snow was brown and dead. The few villages in the area stood out well, nestled under the great peaks.

Outside the settlements, things became even more stark. With few trees, and even fewer showing green leaves, the landscape was a jagged moonscape. Rocky crags loomed on either side of the valley. Some peaks were capped with a layer of snow, but most were bare. Often, the hills were topped with rocky spires, or ridges that looked like the edge of a knife. Many of them showed the layers of rock that made this range. It was unusual to see one that was actually horizontal. The bands of stone ran at all angles. Even two mountains next to each other would have their strata at radically different pitches. More than a few showed the once flat layers that had been bent into curves. It is hard not to think about the violent geological procress that must have jumbled up the pattern of sediment here.

Around midday Darius and I took a break along the side of a resevoir. Very pretty, with the blue-green waters and the bare mountainsides. Under a clear sky it wasn't a bad place to rest a spell. We also had an interesting encounter with a few guys in an old Cadillac. The two touring bikes interested them so we all got into talking. They asked where I was from, and when I told them the driver got out. He had on, and I am not making this up, a "United States of America" t-shirt, complete with the seal of the president, for some reason. The driver said he loved America. He also really wanted me to sit in the Cadillac, I guess he was very proud of it. So I hopped into the passenger seat. I forgot how roomy the old 70s cars were. While I was there he popped open the glove compartment. He placed a cup on the little door and pressed a button on the driver's side. There was a little whirring noise and soon liquor began squirting into the cup. As impressive as that was, I couldn't help but think maybe a secret liquor dispensor in your car isn't a good idea in America, let alone in Iran...

Moving on, the road went through a series of tunnels. Again, I am shocked that this road was ever built. I wish a better job had been done on the tunnels, though. Most leaked water as if they were raining. Still, at least it was downhill.

Ttraveling down the river to lower elevations, the climate became warmer. It was like watching the sping arrive in time lapse. Soon enough there were bright green trees all around and flowers bursting forth from the ground. What a lovely way to spend a day.

We got to the outskirts of Tehran in good time, which is good because getting into Tehran itself took a bit of work. Not that it was complicated, just that the city is huge. Getting anywhere takes a while. Darius and I just got on the highway and cruised toward the city center. The cycling itself was great, sunny weather and the wind at my back.



Along the way a guy stopped his car in front of us. This happens a lot here. The right lane is for slow traffic and parking your car for no reason. I was going to go around, but Darius noticed that the driver had stopped for us. He came out and gave us each a cucumber. It was a very sweet, if odd, gesture. I would have been a little more confused a few months ago, but cucumbers are a big part of the local cusine all the way back into Turkey. Plus, on a hot day a cool and juicy vegetable didn't seem like a bad idea.

We stopped at the big arch in Tehran and took some pictures. To the north, the mountains that we had just navigated seemed to tower over the city. As we rode through town those mountains seemed to be in view everywhere. Also, all over the place are Iranian flags. I mean everywhere. Not just public buildings, but bridges, parks, schools, highways. Not just one in each spot, either. At least a dozen flags each time, as if you might forget what country you are in every 6 feet. This isn't a complaint, it actually looked very cool. I couldn't help but think the company that makes flags is doing really well.

Darius took me over to his friend Mehrdad's place. Nothing fancy, just a small student apartment. For me it was perfect, though, since I am neither fancy or large. All I really need is a place to sleep, and as a bonus a shower. This place had both.

That night Mehrdad took us out for some food in a fancy part of town. The food itself was simple Iranian fare. This is the first time I really haven't liked the food here. I don't know what it was, it just didn't sit right. Oh well, I can't like everything.

After dinner, the three of us headed over to the house of one of Darius's friends. He was a retired professor of atomic energy. I had a ton of questions about that, but thought it might be rude to bring them up... Instead we started talking about music. I tried to tell them about all the things that I liked, such as new music coming out of Seattle. Eventually we ended up talking about British invasion rock'n'roll. Good times.

All told, it has been a hell of a day. I am looking forward to seeing more of Tehran.



-Dravis

Date: April 14th, 2016
Distance: 110 km
Song of the Day: Mountain Jam - The Allman Brothers Band

This morning Darius and I got up early. We had a long day ahead and wanted to get a good start. Since most of our host family was asleep, Darius didn't want to disturb them, but Mr. Farzad insisted on giving us breakfast. Something simple, but really good. Bread, honey, and butter. Yum.

It was raining as we left the house. That continued for the next couple of hours. It was still an amazing day, though, in spite of the rain. Iran is gorgeous. I always thought taking pictures in Iceland was cheating because of the natural beauty all over the place, and I might add Iran to that list. Everywhere I looked there was something amazing to see. The road we were on wandered up a narrow river valley. Cliffs and steep mountains lined both sides of the road. The clouds hung low, casting a mist over the upper reaches.

The rain let up before noon. Darius and I were really getting into the hills at that point, and all I can say about it is "wow". What impressive landscapes. The trees were almost glowing green in the spring sun. The mountains around us were rising up like giant sentinals. Ahead, up the river valley, I could see the white capped peaks that I would be heading through soon.

I coudln't help but think about how amazing my life is. I really don't want to toot my own horn here, but who else gets to do this? I mean, I'm biking through these spectacular mountains in Iran of all places. The sun was shining, but the chilly mountain air was keeping me just the right temperature. Beyond that, the valley was filled with butterfiles. They were zooming all around me, and it all added up to be like something out of a dream.

Darius and I stopped for lunch at a little restaurant along the road. It was sandwiched between the cliffs on one side and the river on the other. We sat out on the patio and could hear the torrent of spring runoff swelling the little creek. There was also a fairly constant "thunka-thunk" as the current swept fairly large stones down the river. I know how geology usually works, but it is cool to hear it happening more or less in real time.

After lunch the road cut through this narrow canyon. Cliffs hundreds of feet high loomed over me as I rode along. The road was even cut underneath the rocks in the truly narrow parts. I couldn't belive that this road actually existed. I kept marveling that someone had the guts to build a road here. Not that I was complaining. I took some pictures and video of the place, but it probably doesn't even come close to describing how awesome it is to actually be there. It is hard to capture what it feels like to have walls of rock looming over you on both sides, to look up and see the textures in the stone going up as far as you can see, seeing how the orange and red color of the rocks contrasts with the bright green plants in the spring sunshine. It isn't an experience that I'll forget.

After escaping from the tight canyon, the road lead up a series of switchbacks. The mountains around me had lost most of their trees so they were more like craggy jumbles of rocks. I went along going back and forth up the little road and along the way I lost Darius. I knew he was behind me, but he was so far back I couldn't see him. I kept stopping to look down at the long squiggle of road that I had just climbed to try and spot him. No luck. I pressed on anyway. I wanted to make it to the top before dark.

Along the way were two dams, I think for both power and flood control along the river. I stopped by the second one to catch my breath and a man and his wife came up and offered me some fruit and some tea. I said yes, of course. It would be rude to refuse, right? They were very sweet. People in Iran have been living up to my expectations about being the friendliest people in the world.

As I came to the top of the pass, I still had not seen Darius. I stopped to take a few pictures since I had some time to kill. Going from 0 to 2,700 meters is no mean feat, especially on a fully loaded touring bike. I am pretty proud of that. While I was there the local ambulance driver invited me in for tea. It was nice to meet the people working at the aid station there. (Although somewhat disturbing that they needed a medical station at the pass.) After hanging out for half an hour, it was time to go. I rode through the tunnel at the top of the pass and met up with Darius on the other side. He had gone past me just 3 minutes before. Riding down the mountain was almost as crazy as going up it. I think tomorrow is going to be fun.



-Dravis

Date: April 13th, 2016
Distance: 96 km
Song of the Day: Wish You Were Here - Pink Floyd

Things with Darius are a lot more casual than before. He hasn't been glued to me today, which is nice. If I stop to take a picture he doesn't stop and wait for me. If I get ahead he doesn't race to catch up. I feel like I can actually do what I want now, which is sort of the whole point.

Anyway, the day never really got sunny, but it did get warm. The road was mostly flat, nothing too exciting. The one big event of the day was that my back tire finally gave up the ghost. I had one flat, followed by a second flat five kilometers on. I was just going to keep riding on the thing until we got to a shop that had a new tire, but Darius had a spare so I borrowed that for the time being. I would feel upset that the tire gave up on me, but I looked at my odometer and I am at just over 9,000 kilometers. Not too bad for a little circle of rubber.

Once we arrived in Chalous, Darius took me over to a fancy gated community. They said they would let us in, but only if we didn't take any pictures. I guess the place was started during the reign of the last Shah. The best architects from all over the world were invited to design buildings for it, and the rich men of the time used it to show off their wealth. The odd thing is that it hasn't changed much under the new regime. Some of the projects have obviously been abandoned, but most are still very well cared for and there is also a lot of new construction going on. On the whole it was an odd experience. When Darius asked if there were places like this in America I could say yes.

Darius also asked me where I wanted to stay in Chalous. I didn't really know, but he suggested staying with a friend. I thought that sounded great. I didn't come to Iran to see what the hotels were like, I want to meet the people. I am so glad I did. We met up with Mr. Farzad and followed him over to his house. What a beautiful place. It looked almost like any suburban home in America, complete with a dog named Viki. We were invited in and given tea and fruit. While we were eating Mr. Farzad's two daugters, Maral and Nahal came home. Maral had also brought a friend and invited the lady next door to come and join us. They were really excited to have an American staying with them. Nahal, who is 10, was excited to have someone to practice her English lessons with. Frankly, other than the language issue it was just like going to visit some friends back home. Since we were in a private place the women could also dispense with the scarves and be themselves. I couldn't have felt more welcome or at home. It was great.

The language issues provided a little amusement. Maral wanted to know what I wanted for dinner and ending up asking me "I love you, fish?" The entire house had a good laugh about that one. While Maral was making dinner, I hung out with Mr. Farzad. We talked for a bit with Darius translating. We also sat around watching an American action movie with Farsi subtitles. (Not government approved.) The best part of the action movie was that so much of it was without dialogue that we were laughing at the same things, no translation needed.

Just before dinner Mrs. Farzad came home. She had been out with her parents all day. I guess her father was one of Darius' professors in university. They came in for a minute and thanked me for coming to Iran. What a cool place, where everyone is so welcoming.

For dinner, Maral served some fish to everyone, except for Nahal who had passed out on the couch from all the excitment. Dinner was really great. Lots of good food. Fish, of course, but also rice. You've seen pictures of the rice fields around here. We also had olives, pickles, and a tomato sauce for the rice. Plus a thin bread called "lavash". All really good. The ladies kept asking me to eat more. I did my best, but by the third helping of rice and fish I was done for. After dinner Mr. Farzad carried Nahal up to her room. I tried to help wash the dishes but I was kindly shooed out of the kitchen.

I really had an amazing evening. I kept thinking about how relaxed and normal everything was. I wanted to do something to thank the family for inviting me in, but as a poor wayward traveler I couldn't think of anything that I could do for them. The one thing I could come up with was to ask you, dear readers, to do something for me. The next time you hear about Iran in the news, especially if it is a story about something scary, just think about Mr. Farzad and his family. Remember that most of the people here are just like you or I. They are regular, honest people. They love their families and are kind to strangers. They are quick to share some food or a laugh. Think about that and hopefully things won't seem so scary after that.



-Dravis

Date: April 12th, 2016
Distance: 161 km
Song of the Day: Anything That's Rock'n'Roll - Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers

Today it was sprinkling in the morning. Nothing too bad, certainly not enough to warrant a jacket.

Darius took me through Rasht. He showed me the center of town and the bazaar. It's the kind of place that I like to walk around and just get lost. That isn't as easy to do with a guide, though. We got some good street food. Falafel sandwiches, yum. While I was there Darius was also trying to explain local football (soccer) teams. I guess one of the big rivalries is between the red and the blue. The falafel vendor was a big supporter of blue.

Darius also tried telling people I was German for a little while, because I guess there are many German tourists who come through the area. That lie quickly fell apart since I don't know anything about German football teams. I thought it was pointless, too. No one had been anything less than happy that I was from America, and most people were very excited that I had come to see Iran. Besides, if I am going to get harassed for being from a country it isn't going to be because people think I am German. I can handle it if people have grievances against the US. Not everything that my goverment has done is something to be proud of, and I am not going to take crap for what Germany might have done. (Appologies to my German readership.) If people are going to hate me for my country of origin, they should at least hate me for the right country.

After Rasht we didn't get too far down the road before I lost it. Darius has been trying to be right next to me all the time. I mean literally, just to my left for the entire trip. Having a person hang around all day like that would be annoying under normal circumstances, but riding around it can be downright dangerous. He kept saying he is trying to protect me from traffic. That just annoyed me more. First, I don't need protection. I have made it from Portugal to here on worse roads. I know what I am doing. These are even pretty good roads. Second, if some truck runs into him, by riding so close he is going to take me out as well. Third, I need room to move. There are potholes to avoid, and crap in the road: glass, people, car doors. I can't do that if he insists on riding six inches from me. I had to do something about it.

At first I thought I would handle it by just going a little faster but then Darius would speed up to stay next to me. So I would speed up. Soon enough we were both racing down the highway. Next I decided to slow down and get behind him, so then he slowed down. I slowed down even more. Eventually we stop and Darius is looking at me like he doesn't know what the problem is. I just blew up at him. I yelled at him. He couldn't ride on my left anymore. He could be ahead or behind, but not next to me. I also wanted him to ride ahead one kilometer before I would start. I need my space. It seemed simple, but it took a while to sink in. He kept going down the road and then waiting for me. A few times he tried riding on my right side like that was somehow better. So annoying.

By the afternoon we had worked things out pretty well. He spent most of the afternoon drafting off my back wheel. Still a little bit close for my taste, but he seems to be loosening up about it. If he insists on staying withing 20 feet of me for the whole trip I am afraid I am going to kill him.



-Dravis

Date: April 11th, 2016
Distance: 75 km
Song of the Day: Sweet Home Alabama - Lynyrd Skynyrd

Today was another fairly easy day. I am still working out how this whole 'having a guide' thing is going to work. At some points, I think it's going to drive me crazy. Now, I love being around people and having a good time, but I am not someone that constantly needs people with me. Plus, I have just spent three months pretty much on my own. Now I'm being forced to spend the next three weeks with another person all the time, day and night. I can't remember the last time I spent that much time with one person, let alone someone I don't actually know. It isn't like having the police watching me, it's more like having a sibling following you around and telling you what to do. It can be a bit frustrating. Still a work in progress.

The land around has been really nice. Mostly it has been flat with rice fields all over. Rice is big here in northern Iran.

One thing I've been enjoying is playing music. My little speaker has been blasting out good tunes all day. That's one thing that I can do to set my mind at ease and focus on what is around me, rather than the person following me. I am told that forms of "non-traditional" music are banned here. This includes almost anything rock'n'roll, and certainly anything American. I get a bit of subversive pleasure from playing good old American rock music while I am here. Plus, in my way of thinking, many of the songs are more traditional than the government that made up the silly law is. So, I think while I am in Iran my songs for each day will be something from before the Islamic Revolution. Enjoy.

While I am on the subject of things that are prohibited here, I should probably mention the dress code again. Did I already say that men need to wear pants? Or how much I hate it? I have been suffering through wearing them while cycling. I guess the police don't care too much, though, especially for people who are cycling. I think there is a recognition that different clothes might be needed for athletic activities. This lax attitude does not extend to women, however. Women in public must always have on a scarf to cover their hair and a coat to cover their figure. There is a little bit of wiggle room in these guidelines, as many women wear their scarf so that it reveals elegantly coiffed hair in the front. This isn't strictly legal, but the police don't hassle people for it. The thing I find weird is that it isn't just for edgy young women, it's just as likely to be middle aged women daring this as it is teenagers. It feels like most of the women here use the scarf as more of a fashion accessory. The rules limiting what women can wear has forced them to dress up in ways they can, so you don't see that many women on the streets without their makeup done. Their coats, shirts, and pants are more than likely to be haute couture, or at least a passable knock-off. Frankly, the laws on dress just seem like they make women more concerned with their appearance rather than less so. Plus, if the goal of the whole thing was to keep men from staring, it hasn't worked. At least not for me. I find myself looking at women more here than other countries. This isn't because I am lacivious, but because it takes so long for me to figure out if a woman is 14 or 40.

The only group that seems to be following the rules to the letter are elderly women. Ladies over 60 tend to wear what appears to be a big black tablecloth. At least that's what it looks like to me, more a blob of fabric than an outfit. The upshot is that I can't help but think there are wizards walking around all the time here.

We called it an early day. Darius knew another cyclist from Anzali that we could stay with. Mr. Bahram is also a cycle tourist, he's done trips all over Europe on his bike. Pretty cool. It's nice to meet other people who do this kind of thing. You can usually get a funny story and some good advice.



-Dravis

Date: April 10th, 2016
Distance: 80 km
Song of the Day: Hot Pants - James Brown

The adventure for this morning was crossing the border into Iran. Going through customs and immigration in Iran wasn't scary, but it was confusing because it seemed the Iranian officials didn't know what to do. They kept walking around to different people with my passport and making phone calls. It wasn't that they were upset with an American being in their country, they just had never gone through the procedure before. It was a learning experience for all of us.

Eventually they found my guide waiting outside and brought him in. That seemed to make things go much easier. I think they would have let me in without the guide, it just would have taken longer. As it was, things took a quite a bit of time. I had to go to the local police station and get my fingerprints taken. Twice, it turns out, because the chief didn't believe that I had already been fingerprinted. Oh well, I was in Iran. I expected that there would be some difficulties or hiccups.

I should introduce my guide here. His name is Darius. The rules for my entry into Iran state that I need to be with a guide the whole time I am here (as do the British and Candians since 2011). So, I am going to have a guide for this portion of the trip, and you will probably be hearing a lot about Darius until I am out of Iran. When I had arranged this trip (this has taken almost six months of planning) they originally said my guide would be in a car following me around. Two months ago I was told my guide would be on a bicycle. I wasn't sure what to expect, though. Would they change back to a guy in a car? I was hoping it wasn't some random dude on a rusty Flying Pigeon. When I saw Darius's bike, I knew things were going to be good. It was a touring bike, complete with four handmade panniers. Darius said a friend made them and calls them his "Iranian Ortliebs". I think this is going to work out well.

While I am doing introductions, here is the Doctors Without Borders page for Iran. Yep, they work here as well. Enjoy, and please donate to them.

Riding out through Astara I was struck by how normal the place was. The city was busy and traffic was a mess. Overall things just weren't that much different from other places I have been. Now, I must admit that it doesn't feel very much like the U.S. It reminds me a lot of Mexico, actually, just without all the drug violence. (Appologies to my Mexican readership.) The way the roads are laid out, how the drivers behave, the general construction methods for the buildings, the way each little street seemed to be lined with shops, all made me think of Mexico. Sure, there are mosques instead of churches, but you get the idea. Here is a brief comparison:



Another similarity was the heat. Yes, it was a hot, sunny day. This was also my first day of having to wear pants. Even worse, wearing them while riding. I hate that. It is usually shorts or nothing for me. I am not excited about the dress code of this country.

The day got less sunny and much cooler as we went along, though. At least I wasn't overheating the whole time. Even the clouds couldn't dampen my spirits. I mean, I actually made it to Iran. I have been working on this for something like six months now, working out details via countless emails. My smile was as wide as a fence rail.



-Dravis

Date: April 9th, 2016
Distance: 160 km
Song of the Day: Great Salt Lake - Band of Horses

I woke up very early today, just about when the sun was rising. Famir had been out cutting wood for the little stove that heats the tea, and he made me a good breakfast of bread and eggs. Yum. Just what I needed on another long day. I also had three glasses of tea. It's that part of the world, after all. I tried to offer a little bit of money for the food, at least, but Famir wouldn't have it. In the end I thanked him in three different languges. I hope that was enough.

Out on the road at dawn, things were quiet. Large, shallow lakes soon lined both sides of the road. The morning air was still and cool. I stopped to take a picture of the mirror finish of the water and was imediately swarmed by bugs. Right, I forgot about bugs and water. These weren't mosquitoes, thankfully, just really annoying insects. I got out of there pretty quickly.

The rest of the day was slow. The roads continued to be awful. Things were flat, but I was in from the Caspian Sea a bit so there wasn't much to look at. Mostly just farm fields, nothing to write home about. Or, you know, to you.

The one interesting thing I came across was a kind of protest in one of the large towns in the morning. Well, maybe it was more of a rally. People had gathered in the town square, all of them waving the flag of Azerbaijan, like in Baku. Again, I think it was connected to the Karabakh conflict. I still think the fighting there is pointless and stupid and the rally just made me sad about the whole affair.

I have been meaning to mention a few things about the cars here in the Caucasus. First up are the taxis. To drive a taxi here all you need is a car and a sign that says "taxi". (Though as my friend Josie pointed out, there is no need to be that fancy. If you don't have a sign, just yelling out "taxi" is also fine.) This leads to all sorts of strange vehicles, in all different colors and states of repair, being used for taxi service.

Second, the state of cars in general can be quite unnerving. In Baku there are lots of very fancy cars. Out in the country, though, anything goes. I have already mentioned cars driving around without bumpers. Quite a few also have large dents or unpainted repair work. That isn't the half of it, though. No doors? No problem. I have seen cars driving around with no lights. I mean, every light and all the covers have been removed from the car. They look like empty shells driving around. But if it drives, you can take it on the road here.

Finally, I want to mention police lights. Many police cars drive around with their lights on constantly. I don't know if this is for legal or safety reasons, or maybe they just forget to turn them off? In any case, flashing lights don't mean much. The first day I was in Georgia I watched a guy pass a cop car with its lights on. Where I am from that usually doesn't end well, but here it was no big deal. Part of this may also be due to the fact that anyone can put police lights on their car. Having blue and red flashing lights on a civilian vehicle is no big deal, you just go to the shop and buy them. I am not sure why people want them, though, as everyone seems to ignore the lights anyway.

Mid-afternoon things started to change yet again. The weather became cool, and I was riding among some large green hills. Still mostly flat, but at least it was something to look at. The flat didn't last. In short order I was riding up and down those hills. Oh well, I would take hills and an interesting view any day.

The landscape might not have been flat anymore, but one thing was. My back tire was slowly leaking. I thought of fixing it but I had less than 20 kilometers to go until my destination, so I just pumped it up and made it all the way to Astara.

I got into Astara well before sunset and I found a great little hotel with wifi. Perfect. I wasn't sure how the internet in Iran was going to be, so I wanted to get a bunch of stuff done before then. I spoke to my family via Skype for quite some time. It was good to see them all. I miss them a lot.



-Dravis

Date: April 8th, 2016
Distance: 178 km
Song of the Day: Yer Not the Ocean - The Tragically Hip

The day started off with a bang, unfortunately. I was riding out of Baku when I got doored by a car. Now, I do a lot of crazy things. I ride fast through traffic. I ride on foreign highways at night. I ride dirt roads over snowy mountains. This wasn't one of those crazy times, though. I was just pedaling slowly along a quiet side street when a woman popped her door right into me and I went over the handlebars. The lady jumped out of the car and yelled at me to look where I was going. Not "are you okay?" or anything. I was fine, but it just pissed me off. After looking at her car she said that she "forgave" me because her car wasn't damaged. That really made me mad, especially after I had checked my bike and found she had broken one of my panniers. I told her that she owed me for the broken parts and she was lucky I hadn't been injured. The lady goes off on me for not being in a bike lane, which is ridiculous in that they basically don't exist in Baku. Plus, if I had been a car she would have lost her door anyway. We argued for a bit but eventually I let her go. Frankly, there wasn't much I could do. It's not like I was going to take her to court over this.

So, that was not the best way to start off my morning. It was really frustrating since I was supposed to be out of the country in two days. How was I supposed to do that with a broken pannier? I spent some time cursing, and then I got to work. It took half an hour, but I figured out a solution that would hold my pannier on. I am pretty proud of that. Ingenuity is indispensable on a trip like this.

Out of Baku, things got better. The day was warm, the road was smooth with a wide shoulder, then the landscape changed a bit. The elegant city was soon gone and I was riding through something that felt more like Africa. Dry and rocky on one side, and on the other was the Caspian Sea stretching out to the horizon.

I made some pretty good time for the first half of the day, then the road started getting worse, less maintained. I lost the wide shoulder I had been on. Ugh. From then on it was more of a slog, dodging trucks and pot holes and dogs. I was so excited when I wasn't chased by dogs for the first hundred kilometers of the day, thinking I might go the whole day without that happening. Nope, I was chased by a couple of dogs in the afternoon. The first half of the day was definitely better.

As the sun was setting, I still hadn't found a place to stay for the night. I was looking around for somewhere to camp, but anywhere I wanted to stay was either in a town or there was a dog guarding it. I wasn't sure what I was going to do, when the owner of a small shop invited me in. Now, I don't really speak Azeri, but it is amazing what you can communicate with a little Russian and some body languge. He wanted me to come and stay in his shop because it was too dangerous with all the trucks and dogs at night. I couldn't agree more. The shop was a simple place, just two rooms. One was a small kitchen, and the main one was filled with tables for drinking tea. The owner was named Famir, and his bed was in the corner of the larger room. He moved a couple of chairs for me and I laid out my sleeping pad while Famir did his evening prayers. I guess he was a religious man, which has seemed unusual in this country. We chatted for a little, me trying to communicate the best I could with the Russian I know. Eventually that gave out and I went off to bed. It wasn't even 8:30.



-Dravis

Date: April 7th, 2016
Distance: Rest day

I spent today getting some logistical stuff done, like going to a bank to withdraw money. Iran doesn't have any international banking, as far as I can tell, so I need to get any money I want before I go there. I am not sure about the money situation in Turkmenistan, either, so I had to get enough cash to get me through the next two countries. That left me with more physical money than I think I have ever held before.

I also needed to get some pants. Iran has a dress code, if you didn't know. Women have to cover their heads, men have to wear pants. Those who know me know that I am not particularly fond of wearing pants, especially while cycling. It can't be helped, though, so I went to find a tailor. This also got me out into a different part of Baku. Not the fancy areas with the nice streets, but the more run-down section where it feels like normal people live. In other words, my kind of place. I had to wander the back streets for a bit to find a tailor, and when I did it was just a guy in a basement shop with a sewing machine. My Russian still isn't that good, so it took a while to tell him what I wanted, but in the end we got it. I now have two pairs of long shorts. I know, I could have found some pants, but getting something that is comfortable to cycle in can be a challenge. It is easier just to make pants out of what I have. Also, when I am through Iran I can pull the stitching out and go back to shorts.

Speaking of stitching, I spent the afternoon stitching up my pannier. You remember the one that a dog bit through? That hole is no good and I needed to close it up. I think I did a pretty good job. I doubt it is waterproof anymore, but it should be close.

There were a couple of other little observations I had about Baku. (Sewing is like cycling, you have a lot of time to think.) I realized that while I was sewing up damage from a dog, I hadn't seen any stray dogs in Baku. In Tbilisi or in Yerevan there were at least a few stray dogs in the street. Not in Baku. I wondered what happened to them...

The other thing I noticed was that I hadn't heard a call to prayer. I couldn't think of that many mosques, either. There were a few in the old city, but not many outside of that. For an Islamic country, it isn't obvious that Islam is the dominant religion. The Soviet period did a lot to change the culture here.



-Dravis

Date: April 6th, 2016
Distance: Rest day
Song of the Day: Uptown Funk - Bruno Mars

I spent all day walking around Baku. Of course, when I got into town the first thing I came upon was a rally of some sort. There were people in one of the parks waiving Azeri flags. I didn't ask, but I imagine it has something to do with the conflict in Karabakh. When I got closer I could see the people waving flags and chanting were all young. Most were probably not even out of high school yet. I have nothing against anyone for being proud of their country, or even supporting their military, but I don't like the promotion of war, especially in a case where it seems like the conflict could have been so easily avoided. I may be cynical, but it seemed like a ploy to create the image that there is public support for the government action. I also couldn't help but think that if the fighting kept up, a year or two from now those same boys waving flags today would be on the front lines.

Anyway, I left the protest behind and went off to explore Baku. It is a beautiful city, but there was also something a bit strange about it. There is a gorgeous park that runs along the waterfont. It's not really a beach, but a great promenade along the sea, set in this manicured park. The flowers of spring were radiating bright colors under the warm sun and blue skies, and on either end of the park new construction was going up.

Baku is certainly a city on the make. Moving inland, this was easy to see. Everywhere there are fashionable boutiques with haute couture western brands, the streets are clean and freshly paved. They are doing a bunch of work for a Formula 1 race coming up. The government is very excited about it. This was a city screaming about how much money was being made and spent here, but it didn't feel like anything was real. It was all a facade, trying to make Baku into a modern western city. Not that I can blame them for wanting to be modern, it just felt like not really a part of Azerbaijan. Instead, it felt like a bit of Las Vegas. Everything was just an imitation. Baku even has its own fake Venetian canal the way Las Vegas does. None of it tells me anything about the culture and history of the city, which is too bad because the history is actually kind of fun.

There is an "old city" here that is pretty good. It took me all morning to find it. How do you hide an entire portion of a city? It isn't like it's a small neighborhood, either. You'd think that the old walls surrounding the neighborhood on three sides would give it away, but it is much easier to see them from the inside than the outside. From outside, they just get lost behind the traffic and the new buildings.

I should also point out that the "old city" is just the name. It is the historical part of Baku, but that doesn't mean it has been left as it was 200 years ago. Many of the buildings inside are brand new. The sidewalks and stairs were being refinished during my visit. In many ways it is a modern re-imagination of what the old city should have looked like. Just like the newer part of the city, it is very focused on the tourist trade. There are lots of shops selling trinkets and souvenirs. But if you get away from that and into the back alleys, you can still find locals doing laundry and tiny shops for produce.

There are a few historic places in the old city. Some of the mosques are about a thousand years old, and I'm surprised that many of the places survived that long with all the earthquakes and conquests. The Maiden Tower is probably the most famous monument. This is actually the one part of the old city that is easy to find. It is just across from the waterfront park and it stands out pretty well. The tower is surrounded on all sides by new construction. It's a bastion of history almost overrun by the newer buildings besieging it. The city walls, on the side facing the sea, were sold off a century ago to make paving stones. In its place are fancy shops and boutique hotels along the boulevard. With no fortification, this leaves the tower alone to stand against the approach of the modern world.

My favorite place was the Palace of the Shirvanshahs. I spent the last half of the afternoon there. It, again, is a re-imagination of what the palace should have looked like. Parts of it had been blown up during the First World War. It's amazing how much survived, though. The rebuilt dome had a projection built to show what patterns of tile might have covered the inside of it in historic times. It wasn't a huge place, but it was nice to see a bit more of the history of Baku.

In the evening I went to dinner with my hosts. Since they have lived in Senegal and Turkmenistan, we had a lot to chat about. What awesome folks.

-Dravis