Goodbye Iran

I actually didn't want to write much about Tabriz because there isn't much going on here, but then we met Ali (what a surprise). But more on that later, because the flight on a 30-year-old Fokker 100 was already an experience. 80s interior, food that couldn't be identified exactly, and the emergency exit signs secured with wire :-)

During takeoff, I first thought we were going to Tabriz, as it felt like it took us 4 km to take off, and when you looked out the window after 10 minutes and saw a mountain road next to you, it was somehow strange. During landing, one of the flight attendants chatted with us, of course asked where we come from, what else we're doing, asked if we liked everything, and if everything was like on an international flight, nice landing :-)

In Tabriz, we wandered through the city and realized that all Iranians celebrate Nouruz in the south. Besides a mosque and the big bazaar (which is closed), there isn't much more to see. So we decided to continue our journey at 8 o'clock the next day. On the way back, as I said, we met Ali, who spoke to us because he heard us speaking German. He just took us through the city for two hours, showed us the empty bazaar, and had tea with us. Then he recommended a restaurant to us. Since his mother was waiting for him (he is 36), he couldn't come with us. We postponed our return trip to 12 o'clock and made an appointment with Ali. He will pick us up at the hotel tomorrow at half past nine.

In the restaurant, the chef served us a typical Iranian soup (Dizi), and since we didn't know what and how to eat it, he practically fed us, fantastic :-)

The next day with Ali to the bazaar (which is still closed except for a few shops), we bought one or two souvenirs, visited Ali's shop at the bazaar, and looked at two carpet shops (very impressive).

Ali arranged a taxi for us to the Azerbaijan border (50€ for 350 km).

We were warmly bid farewell and drove for 5 hours through snow and impoverished cities to the border.

The Iranian border control was quickly done, on the Azerbaijani side it took much longer. I was asked what I wanted in Armenia (both countries are still at war) and apparently they couldn't quite place my passport. At least the officer left with it. After about 20 minutes and a few more questions, I got the stamp. That was exciting!

On the Iranian side, there was still the hustle and bustle of life, on the other side there were immediately 20 taxi drivers around you, and I immediately felt the need to hold on to my wallet. Nobody here speaks English, not even numbers. On the other side, you could at least communicate in English and, if necessary, with gestures.

The railway station is deserted, but there are no tickets to Baku. By the way, the railway station is built towards the sea and there is no road leading to the railway station (it is located on the other side), I don't want to know why something like this is built...

After we had the first beer in the first pub on the right (run-down premises), we initially drove in a Lada, without seat belts and with insufficient lighting, at a speed of 100 km/h on horrifying roads. The driver got really angry when we wanted to buckle up again. Wildly gesturing, he pointed to himself, then to us, and then to the sky (it didn't reassure me). After another police check because of an unauthorized overtaking maneuver (fine €2.50), we arrived in Baku at 1 o'clock at night after changing to a E-Class with 600,000 km on the odometer. In total, we drove 10 hours and 670 km by taxi for only €80, awesome!

It should be noted that the south of Azerbaijan really can't do anything, it was a really dark area. Our monthly mobile phone bill alone could feed an entire family here. Quite subjectively, I would say that after nightfall, you should no longer make yourself known here as a western foreigner... But it could also be due to the really huge (negative!) contrast to the country on the other side of the border river. Ali had already warned us, 'I don't like them, they have many problems there'!