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

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

And if you enjoy reading it a lot, then I'd appreciate if you'd support me with a virtual cup of coffee on Ko-fi. Cheers! :)

Click here if you want to take a look at my equipment.

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

Bleibt gesund und lasst es euch gut gehen!

>>> Zum Artikel <<<
>>> Zur Spendenaktion <<<

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 school classrooms in Darfur, Sudan. Thank you!

And if you enjoy reading it a lot, then I'd appreciate if you'd support me with a virtual cup of coffee on Ko-fi. Cheers! :)

Click here if you want to take a look at my equipment.

If you enjoy watching this video then please support my fundraising campaign to equip school class rooms in Darfur, Sudan. Thank you!
 
And if you enjoy watching it a lot, then I'd appreciate if you'd support me with a virtual cup of coffee on Ko-fi. Cheers! :)

Click here if you want to take a look at my equipment.

"What's the reason for your visit in Iran", was the only question that I was asked by the border officials.
"I want to explore your country on my bicycle", I replied.
"Okay, thank you for visiting our country!" they said and stamped my visa. "Welcome to Iran!"

I cycled in direction Jolfa alongside the Aras River which forms the border between Armenia and Iran. The river flowed to my right hand side. Directly behind it enthroned some massive mountains of the Caucasus. I felt so relieved that I finally left these mountains behind of me in which I suffered so much. On this side of the border it was even a bit warmer again. Just a bit. At least my water supplies didn't freeze anymore.

The next day I arrived in Marand in the province East Azerbaijan. Some locals took me to a hotel. After I arrived, I chatted with an Iranian friend on Instagram. I met Reyhane during my stay in Istanbul and she invited me to stay with her and her family if I'd come to Tehran.
"I'm in Iran now and will be in Tehran in about one week", I texted her.
"Awesome! We're looking forward to have you as a guest", she replied.
"Thank you so much for the invitation. I really appreciate it! Let's talk about where and when to meet in Tehran later. I'm really hungry and need to get some food. I also really need a shower."
"Sounds good", she said.

About one hour later there was no more Wi-Fi signal in my room. After I waited for a bit and also restarted my phone I asked the receptionist if there was something wrong with the router. He didn't realize yet that the internet was off. He checked the router and said that it should be fine. But still no signal. Then he did some phone calls and after a few minutes he said in broken English: "internet is finished."

"Internet is finished? What's that supposed to mean?" I answered. "There's no such thing that the internet finishes." I thought he was joking.
"No more internet everywhere", he said. "Also no mobile data."
I was puzzled but thought that there's nothing that I could do about it as just contact Reyhane the next day again.

"The price got tripled", she said. "If I was you, I'd leave the country again. The situation is bad. I can't even do my work because I'm a web designer."
Now I understood what the receptionist meant with "internet is finished" a few days earlier.

Since my visa was only valid for one months and Iran is a huge country, I decided to take a bus from Tabriz to Tehran to buy myself some time and use it to explore the places that I was excited about to visit. I used my guest houses land line phone to talk to Reyhane and to get directions where to find her house the day before I left Tabriz.

Tehran is a massive city with a lot of traffic. The local authorities raise smog alert on a regular basis. I got a bit lost in the city center as I cycled from the bus terminal to Reyhane's house. Two guys with a box of pizza came out of a corner restaurant as I stood in the rain at a junction and tried to figure out which way to go. Nima asked if I'd need some help. I showed him the address that I was looking for but he and his friend also didn't know where it was.
"Maybe you better call your friend", he said.
"Yeah, you're right", I replied, "but I don't have an Iranian sim card. So I can't call her."
"Just use my phone", he said and handed me his phone.
"Wait where you're right now", said Reyhane. "I'll come and pick you up with the car."

Nima waited with me the whole time until she arrived and even shared his pizza with me. As we waited he told me that he was about move to Germany next week to get master's degree in aerospace engineering. To my surprise he even spoke German. In the following weeks I learned that German is a quite popular language in Iran and many young well educated and talented people are studying it to fulfill their dream to study, work and live in either Germany or Austria. However, it's extremely difficult to get a visa for the Schengen area as an Iranian citizen. The boundaries are high and the process takes long. Nima was lucky and happy that he got the chance to study in Germany. Good luck my friend! Thank you again for your help on this rainy day! And also thank you for the pizza. :)

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

And if you enjoy reading it a lot, then I'd appreciate if you'd support me with a virtual cup of coffee on Ko-fi. Cheers! :)

Click here if you want to take a look at my equipment.

Bleibt weiterhin gesund und lasst es euch gut gehen!

>>> Zum Artikel <<<
>>> Zur Spendenaktion <<<

It was easy to find camp spots along the way. On the country side I pitched my tent off the roads while I was surrounded by massive mountains which tops were covered with snow. I cooked quick and easy meals such as canned soups and had some bread on the side and then wrapped into my sleeping bags to stay warm.

I sat on the stairs in front of a historic building as a girl approached me.
"Are you here for the film festival?" she asked.
"Film festival? What film festival?" I answered.
"There's a European film festival and it starts today. The premiere starts in one hour. Do you want to come? It's for free."
"Sounds great!" I answered. "Where is it?"
She laughed. "You're sitting right in front of the entrance".
It turned out that the historic building was the Moscow Cinema.

"Are you from the press?" a lady asked as I was filming and photographing inside the building.
"No, I'm just a regular guest", I said and regretted my answer right away. I thought: I should have said yes. Just to see what happens. Nobody knows me here. I can be who and what I want. I wonder what kind of funny or weird situation I missed. Maybe I'd have gotten a better seat or would have gotten the chance to talk and shake hands with the filmmakers and officials. I'll never find out but I'll for sure say yes if I'll ever get into similar situation again. :D

I already climbed 20 of a 30 turns serpentine, as I sat totally knackered and frustrated on the side of the road. This steep road was the hardest climb that I experienced thus far - physically and mentally. I really wanted to give up and go home. A car stopped. The driver opened the window and handed me a bottle of water. In this moment I was so overwhelmed by this little gesture that I was close to tears. It took several hours until I arrived the top of the mountain and as soon as I arrived there a pick-up truck stopped in front of me. The driver got off the car. He didn't speak a single word of English but it was clear the he was asking if I'd need a lift. Since I suffered more than enough I gladly accepted the offer.

We rumbled over the forested mountain road alongside the border to Azerbaijan and as Igor maneuvered his car through the winding roads, he gave me some juicy apples and some self-made vodka. Later he even bought me pizza, lemonade and coffee in a cafe. Thank you again for everything my friend.

My last night in Armenia I stayed in a Hotel in Meghri from where I cycled the last few kilometers alongside the border fence to the Iranian border crossing. I was nervous regarding what to expect in Iran due to everything I ever heard about this country on the news but I was more excited since I always dreamed about visiting the old Persia.

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

And if you enjoy reading it a lot, then I'd appreciate if you'd support me with a virtual cup of coffee on Ko-fi. Cheers! :)

Click here if you want to take a look at my equipment.

If you enjoy watching this video then please support my fundraising campaign to equip school class rooms in Darfur, Sudan. Thank you!
 
And if you enjoy watching it a lot, then I'd appreciate if you'd support me with a virtual cup of coffee on Ko-fi. Cheers! :)

Click here if you want to take a look at my equipment.

I checked into M55 hostel in the city center. Throughout my trip people told me that Batumi is known for its casinos. "It's the Las Vegas of the Caucasus", they said. Well, I'm not a gambling person but now I was excited to see and experience it.

It was a Sunday when an ATM in Khoni ate my credit card. I was devastated since I didn't have any more cash in my pocket and had no clue what to do. All I wanted to do in this moment was to smash the ATM. Guga, a local guy, realized my desperation and invited me to stay with him and his family for the night so that I could try to get my credit card back the next day. Tamu, a friend of Guga who speaks fluent German, helped me to interpret at the bank managers' office and luckily I got my credit card back. Thank you guys! That was amazing! Khoni people are the best! ;)

At sunset I arrived at a village community center and asked the guys who hung out on the patio if there's a hostel or a hotel nearby. Only one of them spoke very little English. He was a bus driver and told me that his Friend Rezi would like to invite me to stay with him and his family. They helped me to load my bike into his mini bus and drove a few kilometers back the direction that I just came from. We arrived in a village, walked into a backyard and entered his cozy house. His mother and brother welcomed me, offered me chair near the oven which created the center of the living room to warm up and to dry my wet clothes. Their cat snoozed under the oven. His mother created a feast for dinner. I got a huge portion of fried potatoes and beans. There was also fresh bread, cheese, tomatoes and a big pitcher of grape juice on the table. For dessert we had delicious walnut dish and a few glasses of homemade wine. It was delicious.

I expected to place my sleeping bag on the floor in the living room which would have been more than fine but got offered a bed in their guest room. Thanks again for your incredible hospitality.

Rezi's friend, the bus driver, offered me a ride to the next town in the morning. I gladly accepted this offer and we loaded my bicycle again into his mini bus. Loud music resounded out of the speakers as we bombed over the curvy mountain roads.

Tbilisi, Georgia's capital, lays on the banks of the Kura River and the Kartlis Deda (Mother of Georgia) towers over the city. I stayed a few days in a hostel in the old town. Some modern architecture is blended into the cityscape, artists played traditional music or tried to sell their works on the streets and the many restaurants, bars and cafes make it easy to have a good time here.

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

And if you enjoy reading it a lot, then I'd appreciate if you'd support me with a virtual cup of coffee on Ko-fi. Cheers! :)

Click here if you want to take a look at my equipment.

A guy on a motorcycle passed in the late afternoon and stopped about 200 meters in front of me on the side-strip. He gave me a sign to stop, lifted his visor and asked where I'd stay tonight. I pointed to the bag on the back of my bicycle and answered: "I've a tent and will most likely end up camping somewhere in the wild." Bulent, an elderly man, spoke only little English but with the help of Google Translate he let me know that I could pitch my tent in his garden. I gladly accepted his offer and followed him a couple of kilometers to his house in a quiet neighborhood where his wife and a neighbor welcomed me.

"So, you can pitch your tent wherever you want in the garden or even stay at our guest house tonight. It's up to you", Bulent said after showing me around.
I thought: "Did I really just hear guest house?"
"Guest house would be amazing!" I replied excitingly.
It was a cozy two room house which provided all amenities you can think of. This place was basically ready for someone to move in. Bulent brought me a set of bed sheets and made even sure that there were a few tins of beer in the fridge. Absolutely amazing!
After having dinner together we shared stories until late in the evening - mainly with the help of Google Translate. I started to realize that I was probably about to enter regions of the world in which communication will become a challenge. Luckily it wasn't an issue that night.

Both, Bulent and his wife, made sure that I was full and happy after dinner but also after breakfast. We spent the morning together, chatted and enjoyed the mountain range view from his patio until it was time for me to continue. Spending some time with them helped me to get the image of my mum's sad face out of my mind and not to look back anymore. Instead I looked forward to visit Cappadocia soon now. Thanks again for your incredible hospitality!

I spotted a remarkable looking fort on top of a hill as I flew down a road after a long right curve. Now I knew I was in the heart of Cappadocia, just outside of Goreme. I followed a dirt track and pitched my tent on the edge of Love Valley.

Originally I wanted to cycle straight into Iran after Turkey but it was a spontaneous decision during breakfast during my visit at home to make a detour via Georgia and Armenia.
Two weeks later I pedaled alongside the Black Sea coastline. Here I made my first Warmshowers experiences. One night I stayed in a room above Mustafa's cafe. He was a very kind guy, provided me breakfast the next morning and made sure that there was always some of his delicious Rize tea in my cup. I'm actually not a big fan of tea but this one I liked a lot. Thanks again for your hospitality!

Murat flagged me down the next day. He invited me stay with him in his small beach house just outside of Arhavi. He lives in this small one room house with his cat Nina and his bird Ratcho and created us a delicious dinner on the stove which was the center of the room. We talked about everything and nothing until late in the evening. Again, with the help of Google Translate.

Murat invited me to stay another day with him and to hunt atmacas (hawks). Now I had to find out that Ratcho wasn't just a pet he was the bait for the hawks.

I couldn't believe that we really caught one! So cool! I never even imagined to try to hunt a hawk. I think I can officially call myself a real hawk hunter now. Thank a lot again for this awesome experience!

After about six weeks of cycling across Turkey from West to East, I found myself on the coastal road again the next day, heading straight to Georgia!

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

And if you enjoy reading it a lot, then I'd appreciate if you'd support me with a virtual cup of coffee on Ko-fi. Cheers! :)

Click here if you want to take a look at my equipment.