I got home on Sunday after a very pleasant two weeks in Tehran, where I was visiting the extremely welcoming and friendly in-laws. I last visited there nine years ago, and although in the main part my trip this time was enjoyable, it was eventful and not for the right reasons. The flights there and back were the best I have had, superb landings and no turbulance, and the foot space on the Airbus A330-200 was more than adequate. I took my old Sony A700 along and didn't use it much apart from family and candid shots.
So, how was Tehran?
Well, the road infrastructure has been improved enormously, but then car ownership has increased accordingly, so traffic jams are pretty much the order of the day, and with the cars comes inevitable pollution (Tehran is set in a dish with mountains to the North, East and West), which you can almost taste on a bad day.
The people are incredibly friendly and want to test their English on you at every opportunity.
Anyway, now to the surreal part of the trip.
The day before the Trumpard decided to pull out of the nuclear deal, we went to a local bazaar at Tajrish a couple of miles away. On the way back we picked up a takeaway kebab meal (nothing like a kebab over here), and decided to take a taxi back to the mother in-law's apartment. All very well, until we realised that the driver was not best pleased with the economic/political situation in the country and was very vocal in expressing his opinion, and worse still, insisted on driving his beaten up Saipa taxi as though we were on a special rally stage. He was obviously of the mindset, that he didn't have to give way to any other car even if that meant playing chicken in head on situations. He was also the master of the short cut, through the back roads to avoid traffic jams, which was good until we came across a baker's van which was unloading flour. Our driver didn't want to turn left like the car in front of us did, but kept the horn blaring, expecting the baker's van to move - which it didn't. There then ensued a shouting match between our driver and three of the baker's employees, which only ended, when a three legged cat jumped from a big refuse bin on my right, onto our bonnet, slid off onto the road and hobbled on its way.
This galvanised the driver into continuing the journey by turning left (as he should have done originally), and completing the white knuckle ride back home.
Having survived that experience, the following day we were treated to the Trumpard's imbecilic behaviour, and were left wondering how people would react to me when we were out and about. I am pleased to say that the local folks were as courteous as ever.
We went to a party at relatives the next day, so booked a taxi at midday. The taxi was an old but good condition Peugeot 405 GLX, and the driver was pretty good. However, in Tehran it doesn't matter how good a driver you are because there is always the other driver to watch out for. So, there we were driving down this nice, tree lined street with big houses in the North of Tehran, not much traffic, passing little streets every so often, when I reacted very quickly, turning my head and shoulders to the right - we were about to be hit by a car which hadn't bothered to give way.
This was only the third accident I had been involved in (the two previous ones involved me being rammed from behind from cars which had failed to stop), but it was by far the most shocking, the noise, the impact force and then the silence. I was already looking to my left and turning when the car hit us, so I could make sure that my wife and mother in law were OK in the back of the car (Peugeot 405's are really well built IMO). I then looked back firstly to see the windscreen crystallised, then my passenger door in the same state. I had a bit of pain in my elbow, shoulder and neck, which is not surprising because our car was now on the wrong side of the road facing a stone wall - good job nobody was coming from the opposite direction at the time.
I then became aware of three guys, smartly dressed in dark green uniforms and caps, carrying AK 47 rifles, who were questioning the other driver. One of them came over and tried to open my door unsuccessfully, so as he moved away I decided to apply some brute force and gave it a good kick, which seemed to do the job. The guy in the uniform (Iranian Revolutionary Guard) came over to me and asked me to sit down (he spoke a bit of English), and then asked me if I needed an ambulance. I felt like saying that I was "shaken but not stirred", but simply said I was OK.
I then noticed that the IRGC guys had put up a little temporary barrier to close the road, and had done the same at the next junction further down. I also noticed that there were a couple of guard posts at each junction, and it later transpired that our accident had happened outside President Rouhanni's house (which explained the IRGC guys, high walls and barbed wire).
Our taxi would probably be a complete write off in the UK, but they would probably just knock out the dents and give it a good polish in Tehran - both A and B pillar on my side were deformed, my door was knocked in by around six inches at least, the sill was deformed and the front screen and side window were scrap.
Anyway, we changed to another taxi, the IRGC guys wished us a good journey, and life went on, apart from my neck, a bruised elbow and a monumental headache for the next couple of days.
Back to reality, and as I have a day off, I am going to sort out the jungle which is my front garden - it was looking good three weeks ago, where have all the weeds come from?
I will try to post some piccies when I get around to downloading them.
So, how was Tehran?
Well, the road infrastructure has been improved enormously, but then car ownership has increased accordingly, so traffic jams are pretty much the order of the day, and with the cars comes inevitable pollution (Tehran is set in a dish with mountains to the North, East and West), which you can almost taste on a bad day.
The people are incredibly friendly and want to test their English on you at every opportunity.
Anyway, now to the surreal part of the trip.
The day before the Trumpard decided to pull out of the nuclear deal, we went to a local bazaar at Tajrish a couple of miles away. On the way back we picked up a takeaway kebab meal (nothing like a kebab over here), and decided to take a taxi back to the mother in-law's apartment. All very well, until we realised that the driver was not best pleased with the economic/political situation in the country and was very vocal in expressing his opinion, and worse still, insisted on driving his beaten up Saipa taxi as though we were on a special rally stage. He was obviously of the mindset, that he didn't have to give way to any other car even if that meant playing chicken in head on situations. He was also the master of the short cut, through the back roads to avoid traffic jams, which was good until we came across a baker's van which was unloading flour. Our driver didn't want to turn left like the car in front of us did, but kept the horn blaring, expecting the baker's van to move - which it didn't. There then ensued a shouting match between our driver and three of the baker's employees, which only ended, when a three legged cat jumped from a big refuse bin on my right, onto our bonnet, slid off onto the road and hobbled on its way.
This galvanised the driver into continuing the journey by turning left (as he should have done originally), and completing the white knuckle ride back home.
Having survived that experience, the following day we were treated to the Trumpard's imbecilic behaviour, and were left wondering how people would react to me when we were out and about. I am pleased to say that the local folks were as courteous as ever.
We went to a party at relatives the next day, so booked a taxi at midday. The taxi was an old but good condition Peugeot 405 GLX, and the driver was pretty good. However, in Tehran it doesn't matter how good a driver you are because there is always the other driver to watch out for. So, there we were driving down this nice, tree lined street with big houses in the North of Tehran, not much traffic, passing little streets every so often, when I reacted very quickly, turning my head and shoulders to the right - we were about to be hit by a car which hadn't bothered to give way.
This was only the third accident I had been involved in (the two previous ones involved me being rammed from behind from cars which had failed to stop), but it was by far the most shocking, the noise, the impact force and then the silence. I was already looking to my left and turning when the car hit us, so I could make sure that my wife and mother in law were OK in the back of the car (Peugeot 405's are really well built IMO). I then looked back firstly to see the windscreen crystallised, then my passenger door in the same state. I had a bit of pain in my elbow, shoulder and neck, which is not surprising because our car was now on the wrong side of the road facing a stone wall - good job nobody was coming from the opposite direction at the time.
I then became aware of three guys, smartly dressed in dark green uniforms and caps, carrying AK 47 rifles, who were questioning the other driver. One of them came over and tried to open my door unsuccessfully, so as he moved away I decided to apply some brute force and gave it a good kick, which seemed to do the job. The guy in the uniform (Iranian Revolutionary Guard) came over to me and asked me to sit down (he spoke a bit of English), and then asked me if I needed an ambulance. I felt like saying that I was "shaken but not stirred", but simply said I was OK.
I then noticed that the IRGC guys had put up a little temporary barrier to close the road, and had done the same at the next junction further down. I also noticed that there were a couple of guard posts at each junction, and it later transpired that our accident had happened outside President Rouhanni's house (which explained the IRGC guys, high walls and barbed wire).
Our taxi would probably be a complete write off in the UK, but they would probably just knock out the dents and give it a good polish in Tehran - both A and B pillar on my side were deformed, my door was knocked in by around six inches at least, the sill was deformed and the front screen and side window were scrap.
Anyway, we changed to another taxi, the IRGC guys wished us a good journey, and life went on, apart from my neck, a bruised elbow and a monumental headache for the next couple of days.
Back to reality, and as I have a day off, I am going to sort out the jungle which is my front garden - it was looking good three weeks ago, where have all the weeds come from?
I will try to post some piccies when I get around to downloading them.
