Asia

As I was cycling into Marand, I was a little nervous. Anyone who remembers this story can understand why. All the way from Croatia I had been on a mission which would succeed or fail here. I was entering Akbar’s hometown. Would he find me? And if not – how could I find him?

With another 10 km or so to the actual city, yet another car stopped me by the side of the road.

‘Helloooo! What is your name?’

Inside the car sat a small family of three, with kind faces smiling from ear to ear. One minute of conversation and it was settled, I was about to have my first Iranian homestay. Escorting me the last 10 km of uphill back to their house turned their 10 minute drive into an hour long one. But noone seemed to mind as they all were smiling and waiving to me though the car windows.

Then – of course – he was there.

Sure, this unknown man standing with a bicycle by the side of the road could in theory be anyone. But I instantly knew. That’s Akbar – waiting for me. Some of his 100 of so truck driver scouts had tipped him off, and he knew I was coming. What he didn’t know though, was that I had a delivery for him. Like every other cyclist, he invited me back to his shop, but as I was already taken we made plans to meet up again before I left Marand.

Yey. Mission Akbar was a success! (Well, almost. I still had the coin).

On this trip countless people have showed me absolutely amazing hospitality. But this family – taking an hour to personally escort me instead of just showing their house of my GPS – was a first. By now I’ve learned that this really is how things are done here. Hospitality and kindness is showed to a degree can sometimes drive you crazy, and probably would if it wasn’t for the fact that you know it comes with the best of intentions.

Another typical example of this came just as we’d finally made it to their home. For everyone’s sake, they let me jump straight into the bathroom. Mid shower – I hear a firm knocking on the door.

‘Fika? (my nickname) Fika?! FIKA, OPEN!!’

What’s happening’s going? Is the place on fire?! And what about the dress code? Quickly I wrapped myself in my way to small towel, opened and peeked out the door. Outside is Leila, the mother of the family, yet again with a huge smile on her face.

‘Fika. COLA!’

Before I knew it, she had shoved a class of Cola Cola in my hand and quickly closed the door again. And there I am. Soaked, with tears running down my face because of all the shampoo I have in my eyes – holding a huge glass of coke I have no idea what to do with.

Only in Iran.

The next couple of days were absolutely amazing – probably the best ones I’ve had so far on the trip. I’m not even gonna try to tell the stories from them here, but I will share a few photos.

First night, on our way to the family garden for iftar

Puja. The most charming little guy I’ve probably ever met

Neda. Puja’s awesome big sis.

See the scarf? This is one of the coolest things I know. Whether they want to or not, women in Iran don’t have a choice but to wear the hijab or chador, and conform to the rest of the Islamic dress code. But they are pushing it, slowly but surely moving the boundaries. Showing off the most incredible hair styles, wearing open mantaeus, and refusing to be to anyone’s victim.

There is so much so be said on and around this matter. And meeting girls and women in my own age, listening to their stories and struggles, have made a way bigger inpact on me than I was ready for. More than feeling fortunate and greatful for being born in a country like Sweden, I just feel so incredibly sad and heartbroken about the fact that they’re not.

I’ll write about this after I’ve left Iran. But please. If you haven’t already joined the ActionAid fundraiser – please consider doing it. This is important.

New day. New garden.

Sahar. Strongest girl I’ve met in my entire life.

We spent a long day hanging out in Sahar’s family garden

Some with more energy…

… and some with less

Yet another crazy thing. Someone had just found out that the Samsung phones most Iranians use are being sold tapped. With a small add on to the battery, the authorities keep track on the activity on the people’s phones – all without the owner knowing.

Those with Samsung’s of course checked their own phones, and sure enough. Underneath the battery sticker they found something that for sure wasn’t supposed to be there. Scary.

Evening fell, and more and more people showed up at the garden. In the end we were totally between 40 and 50 people, and soon enough I found out that most of them were there to ‘see the tourist’. Haha.

After iftar (the breaking of the fast during Ramadan) the night turned into a big party. Music blasting from the cars and everyone laughing and having a good time, no matter if we were sharing a language or not. Soon enough the rain was pouring down, but that didn’t stop the dancing and singing one bit.

Finally we came home and fell asleep Persian style. Carpets and blankets all the way!

I really miss these people.

Before leaving Marand I passed by Akbar’s shop to officially deliver his coin of luck, which I had been carrying with me all from Croatia. And man, this dude is cool.

I was Akbar’s cyclist No. 599

Now this is what we call a Trail Angel. Perhaps the biggest one of them all

Akbar decided to ditch the shop for a while and join in for a stretch

So. What do you say?

• MISSION COMPLETED.

Fredrika

Hi guys.

This post is written by a very happy girl, sitting in a hotel room somewhere in Doğubayazıt, Turkey. I’m smiling, sneak eating cherries before sunset (Ramadan) and singing along to Swedish music. Things are really good right now.

Why? I’ve had a 5 day visit from my Dad.

I don’t have to say much more than that, right? What started out as a joke about 6 months ago actually turned into reality. He didn’t only come to Turkey – he actually jumped onto a bike and joined me for three full days of cycling.

From Erzurum to Doğubayazıt – the last outpost before the border to Iran – he has been pedaling alongside me and I couldn’t ask for a better way to end my long stay here in Turkey. I’m absolutely stoked to have gotten to show someone close to me kind of what my days look like.

I wanted my Dad to see it all. The downhills, the headwinds, the people, the weird stuff – everything.

But sure – three days is only that much time to get to see and experience the different aspects of life on the road. And to suddenly afford to stay in hotels every night make things a whole lot more hassle free and eventless than what I’m used to. But still I am so happy with the days we spent together, working the Turkish roads.

The start of Ramadan naturally ment days with less çay than ever before. But luckily that didn’t stop the Turks from being as generous, upfront and talkative as always. And my Dad got to experience some of the never ending hospitality and curiousity from random people.

As well as the constant presence of animals hanging out on the roads

And even a Chinese fellow bikepacker, going in the other direction

My Dad is many things, but an athlete is not one of them. Starting I was a little worried that the cycling would be too much. But without hesitance, he joined in for a couple of pretty cool mountain passes.

…and even got into it enough to join in for the dorky (but mandatory) pass pics!

Of course though. This also meant that he got to enjoy some pretty tired legs by the end of the day.

Not just tired legs, it turned out

Is he …dead?

Apart from cool adults and other travellers, he got to meet a bunch of sweet kids welcoming him to their country.

And then see the same kids being horribly cruel to animals, just for kicks.

Yes, this one is seconds away from getting it’s head badly beaten with the stick

Luckily for me, Dad decided not only to experience Turkey – but to also bring some of Sweden to me. At home people were celebrating the national holiday Midsommar, and he made sure to get us into the right spirit.

On the third day of cycling, we rolled into Doğubayazıt where we had time to spend one day off the bikes.

That we would go to check out Mt. Ararat was pretty much a given from the start. With its’ 5100 meter it’s the highest peak in Turkey, and according to the legend where Noah’s ark stranded. Ahmet – the owner of our hotel joined as our guide and we had a absolutely great day walking halfway up the mountain.

Awesome days to say the least. However, having him leave early this morning was so weird.

‘Thanks for coming. Say Hi to Mum and my brothers! See you …sometimes.’

Quick hug and then he jumped into the taxi and drove off. And that was that.

I usually have difficulty saying goodbye to people I’ve met and spent one evening with. Saying goodbye to my own Dad, without having any idea when I’ll see him again, was something else. However, I’m absolutely thrilled he was here, and I really feel like I’ve gotten just the boost of energy and confidence I needed as I’m taking a new giant step already tomorrow morning.

I’m entering Iran.

With everything from visa to hijab in order, I’m ready to do this. I’m as excited as could be, and next time you hear from me I’ll be on the other side of the border.

Wish me luck!

Fredrika

Even though my week along the Black Sea coast was nothing short of amazing, it was time to shake things up. However, getting off the coast prooved to be a bit more complicated than expected.

As I had taken a right, onto a road leading me inland and up the mountains I was stopped by car after car, with people telling me I was going the wrong way. Their intentions were all good of course, and this was just a continuation of the overwhelming Turkish hospitality and willingness to help out.

However, this hospitality can sometimes become very close to unbearable. Even in the weirdest situations assistance will come, whether you want it or not – and turning down these helping hands isn’t always all that easy.

When for the 5th time I found myself arguing with a car full of strangers wether or not I should turn around, I caught myself thinking ‘WHY can’t just people be like in Sweden? Stay to themselves and simply not give a damn about others?’

Very soon though, I would take this silent wish back, a thousand times over.

The road up the mountains soon became small, graveled and very, very empty. Apart from the occational truck driver passing by, leaving a big cloud of dust for me to pedal through, I was alone. With the dogs. By now I’ve gotten pretty used to aggressive and angry dogs, and on this particular road they were many. However, staying on the lookout and fending them off kept me busy and entertained enough to not think so much about the steep climb I was on. I was happy.

Then – suddenly and from nowhere – a big mob (or perhaps army is a better word) of something like 10 huge and absolutely insane dogs appeared. Coming up from both sides of the road they quickly had me surrounded and scared shitless. I was totally caught off guard and as they quickly closed the distance between us, you could tell. They knew they had me.

It took a couple of seconds for me to get my mind to grip the situation. Shouting like a mad woman, I was kicking gravel towards this one dog going for my left back pannier. All while trying to pick up some stones without letting any of the others go for my hand and arm.

They were everywhere, and I felt like I had been thrown right into the middle of the old Disney movie The Lion King. You know when Simba and Nala are just about to be ripped to shreds by hyenas?

Still shouting, kicking and waving I tried to keep the distance as best I could. But I just had a really bad gut feeling about the whole situation. I was not in control.

‘I did get that Rabies vaccine, right?’

Then, in the middle of the loud, dirty chaos that I still clearly didn’t have control over – it came to save me. The Turkish helping hand. Or Mufasa. Depending on if you want to continue the Lion King reference or not.

Just as the dogs had appeared from nowhere – so did Ahmet. With one hand on the horn, Turkish music bursting through the speakers and the roaring engine of his tractor he made quite an appearance, leaving both me and the dogs startled.

Before I think neither of us had really understood what this Turkish carneval on four wheels was about, Ahmed had gotten out to show exactly why he was there. With the authority of Cesar Milan himself, he gave the mob of dogs the yelling of a lifetime, and in no time they all left, looking ashamed they had even come in the first place.

This is where I quickly and silently appologized to the whole Turkish population for ever thinking they were being too much. Before my heartbeat had even gotten down to its normal pace, I was sitting in Ahmet’s home – having dinner with him and his wife Hatice. It’s funny how things work sometimes.

The dog rescue had turned into dinner. And dinner soon turned into a full night of laughs and friends – and in time also a comfy bed. None of them spoke a word of English, but we still managed to have the best of times together.

The next morning the rain was pouring down. In that stubborn way that immediately let’s you know that it has absolutely no plan to stop. I think the whole house was kind of happy about this though – Ahmet & Hatice was enjoying having a foreign guest, and I desperately needed rest. I don’t even think we ever talked about it, that I would be staying an extra day was a given.

I really enjoyed this homestay. Everywhere I go have pretty much been welcomed like one of the family. In this house though, it was for real. And being one of the family ment helping out with the work.

This was a family living without any extras. They had a few very skinny cows for milk, and some land where they grew most of their food. And to make ends meet they had opened a Lokanta (like a small roadside restaurant) in their house, feeding the passing truck drivers. And I got to help out with all of it.

Cleaning, and milking the cows. Cooking for and serving the truck drivers. Helping Ahmet patch up the leaking roof. I wasn’t just a guest they wanted to feel like home. I was home – and it was amazing.

After a long day, when darkness fell and the last Lokanta guests had left. We all sat down to relax for the first time since waking up. These experiences are still the best thing I know with this weird way of travelling. So utterly rewarding and humbling.

People are working so damn hard compared to anyone back home. And still they have so little. Stuff that is. When it comes to joy and fulfillment – I am probably ready to state that the roles are reversed. You don’t need money to laugh, love and dance. That becomes very clear by spending time with people like this.

To support me in my struggle with the Turkish language, Hatice decided it was only right for her to also learn Swedish

The second morning the rain had finally given in. And after a big breakfast I was ready to leave. Ahmet thought it was too soon. In one month he would have me fluent in Turkish – and then I could continue. Haha :)

This was another one of those goodbyes. Still not used to them. After a bunch of hugs and kisses I jumped onto the saddle, and continued my slow climb up the mountain.

A little sad. Very, very happy.

And – on the lookout for dogs.

Fredrika

After spending a full week being stationary in Istanbul, I was ridiculously excited to get moving again. However, no matter how much I wanted to hit the road, I did so with a lot more hesitance than usual. Just a couple of days earlier, a fellow long distance cyclist had been hit and a killed by a car, just days of riding from Istanbul.

I have no words to describe how tragic and absolutely horrible this is, and having the news fresh in my mind as I was pedaling my way out of Istanbul made things even more nerve-wracking than they would have been anyways.

Thankfully my host Ali gave me some pretty aweome directions which let me go a couple of hours by the seaside before I actually needed to get into traffic at all.

But once I did, I was again reminded of how fast things can go so terrible wrong. On my way out of town I passed not just one, but two scenes of accidents. One which I came to way too early to even want to consider taking out the camera.

Definitely a day of reminders…

Luckily, I made it out of Istanbul without any close calls, and I was so so happy to finally be able to relax and actually enjoy the road. The day couldn’t have ended any better as I hit another jackpot when looking for a place to sleep.

When darkness started to close in I pulled up to this random restaurant by the side of the road. Kind of empty, but it just seemed to have a good energy to it. And it did! Before I had even really gotten to asking if they knew where I could pitch my tent, Hamit the owner had gotten me a seat, pulled out the grill and declared me as his new Swedish little sister. A sister that was in need of food!

Hamit and his cousins also working in the restaurant

After a huge Turkish dinner Hamit’s 16-year-old daughter came to pick me up, and we went to hang out in their home as Hamit finished off work. This was just a few days after Sweden had won the Eurovision Song Contest so I couldn’t have had better timing in order to be cool in front of her and her friends. Having the same nationality as that gorgeous Swedish singer was more than enough for them – and I was instantly part of the gang.

Måns played on repeat through the whole night

This was one of the funniest nights in a long time, as these guys made me feel sooooo… old! Haha. I usually consider myself being young. But just the thought of the unabashed selfies taken during this night makes me blush, and I was totally the granny in the group.

After a good nights sleep, a big breakfast, an even bigger lunch and a bunch of cays, I was ready to hit the road again.

I was now aiming for the Black Sea coast. Probably the most popular destination for long distance cyclists touring in Turkey. Usually the place is described as ‘hard work – but worth it’, and I definitely wouldn’t want to leave without seeing it for myself.

By now Turkey had already started to get really hot. So I was happy to get a day of rain and ‘cold’ weather as I was making my way to the sea.

Cycling in rain doesn’t bother me. But setting up camp kind of does. Luckily though – I didn’t have to worry about this. Because now I had family in Turkey, and Hamit just wouldn’t accept that his little sister would sleep outside. In rain?! No way.

‘Sister! Is raining! Tonight, you sleep, hotel. OK? Sister. OK?!’

If he had not given me way to much already, Hamit set me up with a hotel room for the night. I mean. What? Turkish hospitality – sure – but things are getting kind of crazy.

After showering like a mad person, and having the comfiest nights sleep in ages, I got in the saddle and rode the last kilometers to the coast. Super excited to see if it would live up to the hype or not.

As I’m writing this I’ve already gotten off it – so I kind of know it did. But I’ll tell you more about that next time.

Until then,

Fredrika