The bike saga continues…

Hi all,

Well nothing is simple when you are in a foreign land, trying to complete a less than usual procedure when you speak about three words of the local language. So in short, I am yet to claim my motorbike from customs, but I am oh so close. More on that later. I’m sure you’d all prefer to be hearing about motorbike adventures… well, me too, but it is what it is.

Day 6. Tuesday.

This day was all about visas and then, relaxation. As time progresses I will be posting more about the whole visa process for each country (for future travellers), but for now I will just relay some of the experiences. Firstly, was the Uzbekistan visa. A taxi ride to North Tehran and then onto the Embassy. It’s like Where’s Wally finding some of these places and randomly buzzing numbers at entrance gates.

It’s a pretty easy process as you already get a Letter of Invitation (LOI) online (done before leaving Australia, but received only on Monday). So providing you have the form filled out twice with a passport pic glued in, you are laughing.

It’s odd because you basically just loiter on a stairwell outside the entrance with some other locals. I spoke to one and he imported goods from China. He was traveling to Uzbekistan on business. Well dressed young man. Looked like he was doing well. He said importing from China brought huge opportunities.

Anyway, from time to time a lady emerged, took in the paperwork and would return with questions etc. But basically in under 20 minutes I had paid for and received my visa. Quite exciting when you see your passport filled with all these visas of lesser visited countries: Iran, Russia, Uzbekistan. (This may go down as my favourite passport.)

North Tehran is quite beautiful. It’s like the Beverly Hills of Iran. Beautiful buildings and streets. Clearly the most affluent area. Still some crazy traffic, but the back streets are lovely and quiet.

Decided to take the 35 minute stroll to the Turkmen embassy not realising it shut at midday. Got there at 11:00am and knocked on the visa window. Of course I hadn’t colour photocopied the newly minted Uzbek visa (foolishly hoping they would do it – no chance). I received the application and instructions from the polite gentleman then proceeded to get a taxi to Tajrish shopping complex (under advice from a random shop owner who must get these questions daily – honestly don’t know why he doesn’t buy a colour copier and make a fortune himself). We got chatting whilst waiting for a taxi and he lamented that he would love to visit Australia but can’t. Iranians have a tough time of it getting visas for anywhere and I said to him I felt bad for him and that it was quite unfair. What else can one say? They seem to take it in their stride. What choice do they have?

Traffic was a nightmare, but fortunately there is a photocopy place on the road beforehand. Ran in did my copy (plus a spare for paranoia). Had completed my application in the taxi en route along with possibly the worst written letter ever and made it back to Turkmen embassy at 11:55am. (Note: Apparently, you have to write a letter to support your request for a transit visa. Even though it is literally a 5 day visa, many, many people get rejected and no-one seems to know why. It becomes a hassle for travelers because a quick view of a map of the region reveals there aren’t too many land routes to get you North.)

Banged on door in 1 minute intervals until a local came and I let him take over. About 12:05pm the Embassy guy re-appeared and read through my rubbish. He added border points next to my dates and gave good advice on it. He said to call the number after 10 business days, maybe 11. I reminded him of my tight timeframe. He indicated it should be fine. It’s quite a weird feeling knowing I’ll be circling Iran only to have a 50/50 chance of entry to Turkmenistan to then (if I fail) have to head back West into Azerbaijan. My friends Anne and Anthony Speed (whom you will hear more about in future blog posts) are heading in the opposite direction (coming South from Uzbekistan) and our schedules mean that we will meet in Turkmenistan IF both they and I get the transit visas! How hilarious. What are the chances Phil Webster? (I know you’ll be reading this whilst having your morning cup of tea.) Three people at 50/50? Are we talking 1 in 6? Ha ha, that makes it sound quite slim!

I then continued my stroll into even more beautiful areas and parks and found myself a very nice cafe to chill and attend to my affairs on my laptop (basically, just filling in time). Some FaceTime Audio calls to family later and was off again to keep exploring. Found myself at the top of a hill looking across North Tehran to the mountains (see main picture at the top of this article) and asked some students milling about how I could get a taxi. They were quite fun to talk to and proceeded to order a taxi for me using Snapp.

When the young driver arrived we managed to have a conversation with his broken English (thank God so many people here speak English). He helped me set up a VPN so I could access the Apple App Store and other things. Iran has an Internet filter that it seems EVERYONE ignores by using VPNs. The young man wanted to connect to me on Instagram, but I explained that I didn’t have it. I’m very tempted to break my self imposed social media ban because 1) it would make it easy to post pics and 2) all the young people I meet here seem to have it and ask to share so it’s probably a nice way to open our worlds to each other. Anyway, speaking of Instagram, this young fella has 15,000 followers! I said “Are you famous?”. He said no, but that his sister is. She has 200,000 followers! I can’t quite work out why. All I know is she teaches French and studied in France for a period of time… hard to say, but yeah, for whatever reason, 200,000 followers. Incredible. Isn’t life fascinating?

Day 7. Airport Day. Round 2.

So I woke wondering whether my bike would be ready and was hoping when I called that someone would answer the phone (because they didn’t the day before). As luck would have it, I got an email from the Hostel I was meant to stay at (but couldn’t due to their gas leak) informing me I had a “package” ha ha. I rang them and they said the airport had called. I explained it was my bike and that I had given the hostel’s address. I was so pumped. I scoffed breakfast and jumped in a cab and shot off to the airport.

Went to the Iranian Air Cargo desk and my good mate asked why I was back so soon?  (Cough… two days later) I told him I got notification and he looked up the system. Sure enough – good to go! Paid some fee (wasn’t much, about $15 I think) and then was sent across the road to Customs. This is where things get interesting:

Found an English speaker.
She found a guy who could take me back across the road to a different building. This guy was as cool as. He was like the Fonzi of Customs. He was waving and shaking hands with every second person.
He finds a mate who speaks English.
We three cruise into another building.
We then get sent to another area (first guy departs)
My new guy (Ali) and I cruise around the place but are sent back to the first building (where Iranian Air was)
We then get help from the girl at the Customs desk there.
We then go back to the freight yard with random crates everywhere.
Security/Police/Guards/Customs guards whomever they are, are still losing it every time I walk past with my container of fuel, so we store it in some guys office in the freight yard.
Walk into another small transportable office where some big wig has guys waiting for stuff to sign off. He signs something for me.
We go back to first building and the girl gets some other big wig there to sign something.

Along the way I discover that my Carnet de Passages (key document for temporarily importing cars/bikes) needs signing at Tehran Customs. But wait for it. That is a whole ‘nother complex 30kms away in West Tehran! By this stage it is 1pm. Customs here shut at 2pm and Tehran Customs shuts at 2:30pm. So there is no way on God’s green Earth I can get there and back today. The thought of not getting my bike for another three days (given Thu/Fri is the weekend) sinks in and hits hard. So I was determined to get this Carnet signed, so I thank Ali (a true legend, refused to let me pay him. Seriously, he was with me for hours! His only comment was “It is better if we all help each other”. These people are amazing.) and then I get on my way with another beat up taxi to Tehran Customs.

I arrive at 2pm praying to God I can get this thing sorted so Saturday will be hassle free less hassle. I kid you not. There are buildings, people and trucks everywhere. I have no idea where to go (no signs in English) and then just randomly walk around asking people. And yet again they delivered! Amazingly helpful. I eventually (after some misdirections) get escorted (that’s right these wonderful people don’t just tell you directions, they walk with you and make sure the person they deliver you to knows what you need).

I get ushered into an office to wait for a big wig. (Another one). He had some staff working in the same office and people would come and go. He arrives with a trail of people waving wads of paperwork behind him. After finishing dealing with his first guy, I get the royal treatment yet again. But nothing is simple. A few phone calls and “please take a seat Sir” (they are so polite it is extremely humbling) then we are off! Well, by this time, I think I’ve been with at least four big wigs all who have signed something or written something on a piece of paper then signed it. But now, now I am convinced I have reached the ultimate big wig. Even though the whole place is meant to shut at 2:30pm, he is in his office with a rabble outside desperate to be served next. I get escorted in with the lower big wig and again “please take a seat Sir”. (This queue jumping feels terrible, but I’m not convinced I would ever get my bike without it. The way they look after foreigners is really something else.)

I’m now seated in the plushest office I’ve seen to date (he even had a lounge suite and dining table in there) and whilst one remaining guy hovers over his desk to get his bit of paperwork I wait patiently trying to look as deferential as possible… out of genuine deference! When that business is settled, the second big wig explains my situation and the main big wig seems to update something on the computer. With that, it is done.

We depart the office and big wig number 2 explains that everything is now approved and Customs at the airport can stamp my Carnet. I reiterate everything to be certain because the airport said it should be done here (at Tehran Customs) but my main man reassures me it is approved so it is fine. For good measure I get his name and number and thank him profusely.

The long hot ride back to central Tehran was one of relief and anxiety (the usual mix). Relief that I now seemed to be one step away from finally getting the bike and anxiety that something else random might pop up. I know one thing though, I will be getting to the Airport Customs desk at exactly 8am when they open because guaranteed with a form to stamp, a bike to find, then have released, then a crate to open and a bike to reassemble it could be a whole day. But when I do finally get on that bike and ride out of the air cargo terminal it will be the best feeling ever. That’s when adventure can truly begin!

…meanwhile, back in Australia, my little nephew George is celebrating his 2nd birthday. Happy birthday little man. And I don’t care if you break my model KTM mate, it is yours to keep! Good to see you are now obsessed with motorbikes and not just tools!