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Revolution

 

Revolution in Iran

 

How different can the experience of a country be in just a few short years. No visit to a palace this time.

 Below is an extract from my first trip to Iran.

Iran was under the rule of the Shah at this time, in 1975.

Mohammad Rezā Shāh Pahlavī (26 October 1919 – 27 July 1980) was the last Shah (King) of Iran from 16 September 1941 until his overthrow by the Iranian Revolution on 11 February 1979. He was the second and last monarch of the House of Pahlavi of the Iranian monarchy.

An extract from a rare letter home, from Kabul dated 14 July 1975

 At the Iranian border they did not want to let the lorry in as we did not have the correct papers for a lorry, but we eventually persuaded them it was a mobile home and they then let us through.

There were no apparent undertones of revolution on our first visit. Tehran was busy and bright. Some of the women wore a yashmak in public. The names and meanings of the different outerwear escaped us at the time. Frequently you could see the bright makeup and fashion shoes beneath the plain black of a burqa.

 In Tehran we went to the only camping site and found it was full of British lorry drivers swimming in the pool and generally lazing around in their 'units' waiting for their loads to be cleared by customs and unloaded. After a couple of pleasant days there we trundled up to the Caspian Sea which we found to be filthy.

We were told that the reason the Caspian Sea is filthy is because the Russian's dump their waste in it, and it floats across, allegedly!

When we allowed the locals to get close we found them to be amazingly hospitable.

Stayed at a motel for the night at Sari. The owner befriended us so we stayed a few more days in total luxury with servants, iced drinks on the patio, etc. One afternoon the owner, also a local landowner, took us to the "brother of the King's beach villa" for a swim and laze followed by a huge dinner. Very nice. Oh, Iranian roads are as good as British ones (A/B class).

Tourists were very rare in that part of Iran, and were fussed over accordingly. Very pleasant. Further inland the aspect become more rural. Towns and villages of mud huts.

It became difficult to guess which were homes and which were restaurants. Choosing food again became a case of walking into the tiny kitchen and pointing to a stew pot. I must admit that they seamed quite happy with this arrangement. I can't quite imagine it being welcomed in the UK, irrespective if you could speak the language or not.

Cow dung drying on the outside walls of the houses facing the sun, for later use on their fires, as fuel did not seam as strange as the bright shiny TV aerial glinting in the sunshine. Just a little incongruous, at the time. Now, decades later, mud huts are not so much of a historic building practice, but more of a good use of local materials and the weather conditions of the location.

Why bake clay to form bricks, to withstand our weather when you can miss several steps and go straight to building the wall. Furthermore, when it is time to maintain the wall, just spread another layer of mud, and let the sun bake it hard.

We stopped at a roadside cart in the middle of nowhere, where the owner was selling watermelons. We received an interesting and valuable lesson. I asked how much (Not in his language however), we worked out that we are both talking about price per kg. We negotiate. Eventually we agree on a price. All done? Far from it. Next I point to the watermelon that I want. He picks an older one from somewhere out of sight. No, I point again. Another alternative offered, but at least from the display this time. No, that one. We agree. It is put on the scales and weights added slowly to the other side of the scales. As soon as a balance is found, additional weights are quickly added. I remove the extra weights and we agree the weight of the Watermelon. This is the end of the ritual. The deal is done. The price calculated, money changes hands. A shake of hands, and all is well, everybody is happy. When time is not important, and you don't get stressed out by the process, it is a pleasant enough way to spend quarter of an hour. Glad we don't do it at the supermarket here though.

 End of extract

We had a very good time in Iran in 1975, with friendly helpful locals and brilliant scenery. Another happy two trips in 1977.

Demonstrations against the Shah commenced in October 1977, apparently, but we either did not notice anything to hint at the problem, or I have forgotten about any disturbances.

My next visit was during my first Encounter Overland trip, following the breakdown of the truck in Eastern Turkey. It was strange circumstances, and I really remember more about the breakdown than the details of our time in Iran. The truck was still broken down despite a rush across almost the whole of Turkey to get spare parts. The truck and the whole group were towed from Eastern Turkey to Iran. I can't recall if the tow was in two parts, to the border and then inside Iran, or straight through in one. The village we managed to find safety in in Eastern Turkey was Yüksekova. Apparently our destination in Iran was Rezaieh, or Rezaiyeh, now known as Urmia, a mere 95km. I assume that our tow took us to the main road. I think it was getting late.

Now for the shock. We were not very welcome initially. Another hotel down the street had been burnt down just a few days before, allegedly by the dissidents for harbouring westerners. There were tanks and army in evidence on the street. This may have given one of the hotel owners a little confidence and we had found somewhere to stay, at least for the night. Some rooms had showers, and others not. Between us we managed to sort ourselves out and gather for dinner. It was a large room with a long central table for our group. We all sat down together and the first course was served. 

Surprise!

Then, the big surprise. Another Encounter Overland truck, travelling in the same direction, caught us up and filled the hotel. Some of the new group joined us for dinner straight away, whilst others wanted to have a shower first. The two groups chatted for a while after dinner, and then to bed.

In the morning, the new truck probably towed our truck to a local garage which would commence taking the cab off for better access to the sick engine. Then the other truck set of for its adventure through Iran, avoiding as many ciites as possible. Some parts of Iran were describes as trubulent and the group did get caught up in some demonstrations, but no direct incedents involving the group. Another Encounter Overland group, travelling in the oposite direction reported that the Youth Hostel in Esfahan had been looted, but they still managed to stay safley on the ouskirts of the town.

Back to our group. The  Chief of Police of Rezaieh was uncomfortable with our pressence and thought he could not gauantee the safery and welbeing of a western group of our size. We had already dissuaded our group from leaving the hotel and exploring the area as they would normally do. The Chief of Police then told us to leave Iran. Another Encounter Overland staff menber flown out from London took the group away from the hotel and set off across Iran on public transport, chosing not to wait for the replacement vechile on its way from London, in the interest of saftey holding sway over comfort and convienience.

I continued to stay at the hotel on my own. I visited the garage each day to see progress on the perparation of the truck. Another Encounter Overland truck arrived with two drivers and the awaited replacement engine. The engine was quickly installed in the truck and fired up. Not quite sweet first time, I learnt something from the mechanics at the garage. One of them held each of the metal pipes feeding diesel to the injectors, between thumb and forfinger. He was skilled at this and could apparently feel the difference between the pulse of the pipes. The identified injector was taken out, cleaned and reinstalled. That sorted the problem. Cab craned back onto the truck, and all connections reinstated. The next day the three of us set off together in the two trucks, both under their own power, towards Turkey and England.

Out of Iran and away from the disturbances. Quickly into Europe and safety. Happy to be on the way home, but disapointed not to be completing the trip with the group.   

 

 

 

 

 

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