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Tuesday, 4 June 2013

Iranian nightmares

The bazaar of Tabriz

Tabriz, Iran

After two days of road from Aleppo in Syria, following a magnificent crossing of East of the Turkey, we come to Doÿubayazit, officially pronounced "doh oo bay yah zuht" but imagine rather something that sounds like: ' dohohhbyhayz't ' a mouth full. Not a cat speaks English. It is by repeating 'Iran, Iran!"is found ultimately in a van filled with men in the direction of the Iranian border... The sky is dark, it starts to rain.

***

Warning: If you already have the flesh of chicken or cold in the back, it is strongly discouraged to read this column.

I'm serious; sensitive souls refrain.

Are you sure you want to continue?

OK, congratulations for your courage.

It is gone.

***

NAD puts a great black dress and a veil. We walk to the border post of the Islamic Republic. We check our passports for the first time before crossing a chainlink fence. The Iranian flag in the cold wind. Each click of the fabric sounds like a lightning strike. A soldier with the big rifle approach. He asks us our nationality. It takes our passports and orders us to follow... It says nothing of the journey.

Stress.

He gives our passports to the immigration officer and makes us sit to we avoid the queue!

Welcome in Iran.

You are disappointed, is not it? You thought hiding to avoid getting beaten, bâtonner, stoned and eventually impale because we come from the West... Suffering what!

I know, it is hell...

It's so hell only after crossing the border, Davidi, a man in his fifties, we kindly support, pay the taxi until the first city then we organizes the following transport.

The martyrdom...

It is not finished. The next day, we go to the tourist information out of curiosity. Visit less and less this kind of Office because it falls too often on of a well-meaning incompetent or even of the disrespectful. In short, one enters the building and Nasser welcomes us: ' enter, please!» Would you take a tea and a candy? ».

A true ordeal.

We are talking together (in French, it knows eight languages) of the few tourists who visit the Iran - he finds that their reputation is unfair. Then, he asks us if we are Muslims.

"- No, why? ''
-Because you have the air! »

As a precaution, Nad has not neglected well to hide her hair and cover its forms with black. And me, I have a sufficiently advanced beard...

He makes us understand that things change little by little and that the religious police is more what it was a few years ago. And especially for the women tourists, a scarf on the hair and non-moulants clothing is more than enough.

What torment!

Blue Mosque.

Barely arrived at the Blue Mosque, an attraction of the city, a couple offers us a part of their picnic. They do not speak English, but we understand that they want to welcome. The freshly initiated pastry, another young man arrives from nowhere and offers us a glass of soft drink. He leaves immediately.

More capable!

We are looking for an Internet cafe (to reassure our families!). Asked a man in the street to tell us the path. It accompanies us all smile until the coffee. Handles of hands.

What anguish!

A guy in his twenties presents...
«- Hello! You're from where?
-Canada!
-Do you have a few minutes, I would like to invite you to take tea in a traditional teashop. »

Scary!

A passing addresses us. "Do you like the Iran?" request t - it. "If you have a problem, need help, here is my card. Call me at any time. »

A nightmare...

I wake up.

We will have breakfast near the Bazaar in a restaurant where they manufacture their own yogurt they serve with a huge flat bread and delicious honey. We return to the tourist information to ask a few questions about our next feature on the map.

The bazaar of Tabriz

"Good morning!" Sit. Would you like a tea my friends? »

OK, it wasn't a bad dream. I am afraid that this will be so during all the stay...

-Will

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