I tried again and again at other shops, restaurants and street vendors. Every time I got opposed with similar reactions. Nobody let me enter his shop let alone wanted to sell me any food. Being confronted with such reactions only because I looked different than the locals triggered a mixture of feelings inside of me. First I got irritated and nervous but also mad the more I got refused and was yelled at. I felt like an alien which the people seemed to rather let starve instead of selling some food so that I could simply leave their country.

I tried to keep a cool head but was anxious on the inside since I didn't know when and where to get food again. I hoped it would be in Laos at the latest and tried to think about out my options right now. My only reasonable idea was to ration the little food I had until I'd reach Laos. I checked my panniers and found half a package of crackers and two oranges.

With an empty stomach I pushed my bicycle slowly up the steep mountain road to Nam Phao International Checkpoint.

I reassembled my bicycle the next morning and started to explore the city. Since I just came from Oman, where was barely any traffic, Hanoi was another story. The streets were crowded with scooters. At first it seemed chaotic but I quickly realized that it was actually quite well organized and the traffic was always flowing. Cycling between the scooter masses and with the traffic stream turned out to be a lot of fun.

A few days later I pedaled out of Ha Giang and followed a river. The road was flat and I wondered why everyone said that it would be a hard ride. It didn't take long to realize why! The road turned into a steep and windy mountain road. I slowly pushed my bike uphill. The Exertion made me do ugly grimaces. :D

It took me six days to make it around the loop via Dong Van, Meo Vac and then alongside the Gam River back to Ha Giang. Without the help of some motorbike drivers it would have taken me longer. It occurred three times that I got towed to the top of the next mountain or town. I found myself often sitting knackered on the side of the road and wondered why I was doing this to myself. But whenever I reached the next peak or view point I got rewarded with spectacular views and immediately forgot about the pain until I faced the next slope. Some views were that spectacular that I got goosebumps.

The hostel owner, as well as some other small business owners, told me that about 90 percent of tourists in Ha Long come from China but since they were not allowed to enter the country anymore the city and their businesses were besically dead.

A guest house manager and I already agreed on the price for one night but then he changed his mind and said that he can't accept me as a guest due to Covid. I was a bit puzzled since just a few seconds earlier everything was fine. I crossed the street and checked into another guest house for the night. The owner, an elderly lady, seemed happy to have me as her customer.

It got already dark as I finally found a small home stay that was willing to host me. The young lady asked me for how long I was already in Vietnam. As she realized that I was already for a while in the country she said: "I think you can stay here but I also need to convince my mum. She's afraid of the virus." A few minutes later they showed me my room.

"Can you please not leave the room tonight anymore?" asked the young lady. "Officially we're not allowed to accept any guests right now due to the virus and we don't want to get in trouble with the authorities if a neighbor sees you and reports it."
I assured to stay inside. "But I also need something for dinner."
"We'll cook and give you something", she said. "Oh, and one more thing. You also have to leave before eight tomorrow morning."

A little bit later she brought me a tray with a home cooked meal. Hiding in a room didn't feel good at all and now I got nervous how traveling on a bicycle would go in future.

I thanked the home stay family for taking me in and left early the next morning. From now on more and more people covered their mouth and nose with their hands and turned their backs at me when they saw me coming down the street. Kids pointed at me and shouted: "Corona, Corona". The more often I was confronted with such reactions the more I didn't feel welcomed anymore in Vietnam. Thus I cycled from sunrise to sunset the following days to cover as many kilometers as possible to make it out of the country in hope the situation would be calmer in Laos.

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A fast forward about cycling four months across six countries in the Middle East and Caucasus region.⁠
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After I already cycled from my home town Flensburg, Germany all across eastern Europe to Istanbul, Turkey, I continued my way to Oman.⁠ On this leg of my cycling the world journey I faced challenging steep mountain roads in the freezing cold Caucasus region and also had to push myself through some extremely hot and windy deserts of the Middle East. I was lucky to meet Patrick the way. So we teamed up and pedaled together across the Emirates and Oman.⁠
⁠
I came across Turkey, Georgia, Armenia, Iran, United Arab Emirates and Oman.⁠

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Heavy winds were blowing in our faces the next morning. It was everything else but an easy ride. It took us three hours to cover the first 30 kilometers although it was all flat land. To escape the burning sun during the hot midday hours we sat in the shade outside of a village mosque. The mosques caretaker welcomed us and boiled a pot of water for us so that we could make soup and coffee. Visitors walked in and out of the mosque and always greeted us with a friendly "Salam alaykum" or stopped for a short chat. With only one exception, we were always welcomed by the mosque caretakers or Imams during our stay in Oman. They often offered us coffee, dates or at least a pot of hot water to make our own coffee and food.

The head wind situation didn't change the next day. Sand blew straight into our faces and also wafted in waves across the road. Patrick and I barely talked. Both of us were too focused on ourselves to make it through this. A petrol station employee outside of Ibri told me that it was low wind season. I thought he was kidding but he was serious. I didn't, and still don't even want to picture cycling across the desert during high wind season. That must be a real mind challenge!

As we were about to leave, Jahawer also gave us a big bag of dates, a bottle of milk and a thermos of coffee. The dates were delicious and lasted us for another week. We finished the coffee within a few hours until we arrived in Bahla. After visiting Bahla Fort we set up our night camp in a suburban neighborhood.

I looked into Patrick's tired red eyes and he into mine the next morning.
"Did you also barely sleep last night", I asked.
He laughed. "Not really! This damn coffee caused me palpitation!"
"Yeah, it was the same for me!"
He was on his phone as we had breakfast. "I just googled Omani coffee."
"And? What about it?"
"Apparently you're only supposed to drink 2-3 small cups per day because it contains so much caffeine. It's actually more an espresso."
We both looked at each other and just laughed.
I said: "I think each of us had one liter yesterday."
He nodded. "At least!" We kept laughing and finished our breakfast.
Tired but in a good mood we continued our way.

The rest of the time we spent exploring Muscat and watching movies in our living room which we also called "The Cave" since it was so dark in there. It only had a tiny window to a shady two square meters backyard.

Getting out of Muscat in direction Sur was quite a challenge since this his area is very mountainy. The first day we made about 1,000 meters of altitude and then followed the coast line. The rocky and bumpy dirt path alongside the coast turned out as a dead end. Thus we had to return to Yiti and then follow the main road. This detour included some extremely steep mountains which forced us to hike our bikes uphill at times but it also included a beautiful night of camping on the beach at the Gulf of Oman. During sunset we could observe local fishing boats on the seas surface.

An Imam invited us to rest his mosque's coffee room and a visitor joined us after some time. "Are you going to the Bimmah Sinkhole?" he asked. We affirmed his question.
"Don't jump in the sinkhole", he said. "I work at the hospital and just had another patient who did. If you understand. Swimming is okay but please don't jump."

Swimming in the Bimmah Sinkhole with its cool and clear water was a more than welcomed affair since it was a hot day and we once again had to push our bicycles against strong head winds. Thus, it felt like liquid heaven. The sinkhole is only a few hundred meters away from the sea and locals believe that it was created by a meteorite. However, it was actually formed by a collapse of the surface layer due to dissolution of the underlying limestone. Although the sinkhole is a popular tourist attraction, admission is free.

We did a quick stop at Wadi Shab - which you can only access if you take a boat - and bumped into a Spanish cycling couple as we were about to leave Sur. Bego and Hugo just finished their five years bicycle journey around the world a few months earlier but since they left out this part of the world they were already back on the road. We teamed up and cycled together to Ras Al Jinz Turtle Nature Reserve. Two cyclists from Switzerland also joined us along the way. As we cycled towards the reserve we also decided to camp together that night and try our luck to see some turtles. As we were near the beach one of the Swiss guys said: "Oh no, I don't camp. I booked a room in a nearby hotel" and simply pedaled away. :D

Bego and Hugo recommended - as also Robin in Dubai before - that I should apply for at least a 30 days visa for my next destination Vietnam and not to leave out the north of this country. So I did! Thus far I only considered to take the free 15 days visa, fly into Hanoi, cycle a bit down alongside the Vietnamese coastline and then turn west into Laos at some point.

A few days later I found myself on an airplane at the airport in Muscat. Ready for take-off. Next stop Hanoi. Vietnam.

PS: Thank you Patrick for being an amazing travel companion! It was a lot of fun cycling with you! I hope we'll ride together again in future.

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As soon as we arrived in Sharjah, all passengers were guided to a small white painted wooden building for the immigration process. We had to wait several hours in the waiting area which provided a water dispenser a disgusting piss smelling toilet. Women and men had to sit separate from each other - even married couples. Frowning looking guards made sure that everyone followed the rules and that nobody would leave the building.

Someone told me that it would take longer today because the immigration officials were having at lunch. While the fine immigration gentlemen enjoyed their four hour lunch break, there was no chance for the passengers to get any food. There wasn't even a vending machine. Luckily Patrick and I bought enough snacks before departure.

After we got our country entry stamp we had to wait another hour until we were allowed to leave the building and to pick up our bicycles and luggage. The luggage was scattered and piled up in the arrival hall. The whole immigration torture finally took an end after another hour as we finally got through the luggage control. So far I didn't feel very welcomed in this country. The whole trip from check-in in Bandar Abbas until here took 24 hours.

Patrick and I attached our panniers onto our bicycles and cycled separately out of Sharjah since we had different destinations in Dubai but agreed to stay in contact and to cycle together to Oman in one week.

I flagged down a taxi outside of the station and asked the driver for the price for me and my bicycle.
"Bicycles aren't allowed on the taxi", said the driver. "Try the metro."
Uhm yeah! Brilliant idea!

For a moment I thought I was on the UAE version of the hidden camera TV show. Slightly irritated I jumped back on my bike and kept pedaling. My navigation app lead me a down wide alley with a huge mansion at the end of it. I already knew that I was wrong there but wanted to give it a try anyways. Just to see what will happen. :D

A security guard in a suit got out of his white SUV towards the end of the alley and approached me.
"You can't cycle here", he said in a very friendly way.
I played a bit stupid. "But my app says that's the way to the Palm."
He laughed. "I know. That happens a lot. It's an error with all the navigation apps. Cyclists come this way every day but this is Zabeel Palace so you've to go around it."
"Can't I take the shortcut through the garden? I'm sure nobody will even notice."
He still laughed. "Sorry! You must go around." Then he explained to me in a very calm and friendly manner which way to go. I turned and made my way around it.

My phone rang. It was Robin.
"Where are you now?"
I gave him my location.
"Alright. Just stay there. I just left the office. I'll come and pick you up."

About half an hour later we cruised in his big red Jeep through Dubai downtown to his place. It was such a relief not to cycle in this traffic madness anymore.

The metro provides a first class cabin - called Gold Class - and the view from Burj Khalifa - the tallest building in the world - makes you realize what a massive place Dubai is. I was even lucky talk to Gulf News about my journey and fundraising campaign. Thank you again Falah for this opportunity and thanks Robin for having me! That was absolutely amazing!

Patrick and I filled all the empty pannier space with supplies and pedaled out of Dubai. The further we got out of the city the less traffic there was. Already in the suburbs it was a way more relaxing ride than in the city. But to turn left kept being a challenge. :D

Two days later, after a rather monotonous ride, we arrived at the border town Al Ain. The roads coming here seemed endless long. Every time it felt like ages until we arrived the next turn just to continue on another endless straight road on which we had to deal with strong head winds. The sand that constantly wafted across the road blew straight in our faces. The greatest highlights were for sure our excessive lunch breaks to get out of the burning sun and the appearance of camels.

At some point the monotony made us imitating camel noises as soon as we discovered a herd. Fortunately for us, the desert is almost deserted. We saw cars or trucks already from miles away and count them on one hand throughout the day. The traffic volume was the complete opposite compared with Dubai. I'm sure that if another human being would have heard our camel roaring, this person would have gotten the impression that we suffered from a heat stroke. :D

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Vielen Dank Borkumer Zeitung und Enno, dass ich euch meine Geschichte erzählen durfte.

Bleibt gesund und lasst es euch gut gehen!

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Reyhane joined me in Kashan. Throughout the next weeks we met again in Esfahan and Shiraz. In Kashan we explored the old town which was the first place in Iran how I always imagined the ancient Persia. Many houses look from the outside like its days are numbered. However, as soon as you go inside they show their real beauty. Walls and are decorated with colorful hand crafted tiles, ceilings show plaster designs and the colorful windows turn the inside of the rooms into a rainbow.

My favorite place in Esfahan was definitely the Naqsh-e-Jahan Square and its bazaar. Naqsh-e-Jahan means something like "Image of the World". Considering that it was built between 1598 and 1629 and its nine hectare area, it really must have felt like the world to the locals and traders coming from Orient and Oxidant back in the days. Like in many places it seemed like that I was the only western tourist in town. Many locals but also Asian tourists took it as an opportunity to take photos or a quick selfie with me. At times I felt like a celebrity and thought that I'd become a rich man in no time if I'd charge just one Euro per picture. :D

I pedaled through the desert to Yazd - whose old town reminded me of Tatooine from the Star Wars movies - and then in direction Shiraz. It was almost impossible to stealth camp here since it was mainly flat desert land with some little scrub. If I was lucky then there was a small pile of dirt to pitch my tent behind. If there was nothing to hide behind, I simply pushed my bike as far off the road that I felt like nobody would see me or pay attention to me. It worked out very well. I mean, which car driver pays attention to a tent or a person which is at least 500 meters aside of the road!?

I came through the city Abarkooh in which is the third oldest tree in the world - The Cypress of Abarkooh. And like in Yazd or some other places in the desert there's an ancient ice house. Yes! Ice house! People produced ice in the desert already thousands of years ago. Unbelievable! I find it mind-blowing.

"There's none", he said.
Shit! I really don't want to camp tonight. It's just too cold.
"But you can stay at my house tonight if you want", he said. "You only have to wait until I close."
"Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!" Or as they say in Farsi: "Merci! Merci! Merci!"
Saeed closed his shop at 11 pm. We loaded my bicycle into a friend's car and a few minutes later we stopped at a restaurant. After having dinner together we stopped stop at Saeed's brother's cafe and another friend's place for tea. Within no time I was included in his circle of friends. Thank you again for your incredible hospitality my friend! That was absolutely amazing! You were a real life safer that day!

So I kept pedaling. At some point I saw a road sign which stated: "Shiraz 60 km" and thought: Screw it! I'll just keep going until I'll arrive in Shiraz and find myself a guest house there.

After 12 hours in the saddle and 186 kilometers I arrived in Shiraz at 11 pm.
Reyhane and her family invited me to spend Christmas and New Year's with them although it means nothing to them since they're Muslims and Iran even uses a different calendar. For instance, the Iranian New Year starts with the spring season. They simply didn't want me to spend these days alone so far away from my family. I took a night bus from Shiraz and spent a few wonderful and relaxing days with them. Thank you guys for this wonderful time! Words really cannot describe how much I appreciate it!

After New Year's I returned to Shiraz and continued my way to Bandar Abbas at the Persian sea side in the south of Iran.

I was about to leave the restaurant in Bandar Abbas and to head to the ferry terminal as another cyclist came inside. We started the standard cyclist talk and it turned out that Patrick was also from Germany and that he was also on his way to the ferry terminal and to Oman. So we teamed up, got our bicycles and luggage checked in and cruised over the Persian Gulf to Sharjah near Dubai. The following weeks we would cycle together through the deserts and mountains of the Emirates and Oman.

Approximate scrible of my route

If you enjoy reading this blog then please support my fundraising campaign to equip two school class rooms in Darfur, Sudan. Thank you!

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