Iran

Iran

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  • Day44

    Tehran had one final gift for us in the form of an unwelcome and unwarranted 7 hour wait in its international airport because of a flight time mix up due to two different times being listed for our flight to Yerevan. We went with the earlier flight time (getting up at 3:30am), and subsequently paid the price. However, with seven hours to kill it has given me ample time to reflect on my time in Iran.

    It hasn't been the easiest time for me in Iran for a number of reasons, but despite that it will always have a special place in my heart, and it's definitely somewhere I'd love to come back to explore further, as 10 days just wasn't enough. It has been an eye opening, beautiful, humbling and myth busting experience, providing lessons that are much needed in a world so full of fear and mistrust.

    It has made me think a lot about these emotions. Why are those who enjoy unprecedented freedom and wealth the most selfish and close minded, while those living in some of the most oppressive regimes in the world so open, welcoming, warmhearted and generous? I can't help but feel that it's down to the well established economic and psychological rule that humans fear of loss is so much greater than the pleasure of gain. We have so much to lose in the west that this rule is only amplified - fear of loss of identity, fear of others beliefs, fear of loss of social and economic status, fear of differences and fear that we just may not be as superior as our version of history suggests. Yet, Iran has shown me once again the humbling perversity that it is those with the least to lose that are generally the most honest, generous and open. It is the same for all the most oppressed and downtrodden societies I have been too, and Iran ranks right up there with Myanmar in being the exemplar of this rule.

    Every Iranian we have met, has without exception been curious, interested, open minded, warm and welcoming, which only made the embarrassment and cringe factor that much worse on hearing them exclaim with delight about how great a country Australia is and how lucky we are. The demonising and unpleasantness extended to these people by our country is a national embarrassment and anyone who thinks differently needs to come here and do it whilst having food and tea thrust upon you in the most unlikely locations and situations and being so openly welcomed into their hearts and homes.

    Ultimately of course it all comes back to fear. Fear leads to conservatism, conservatism leads to prejudice and prejudice leads to racism. Yet the fear of loss is in itself an admission that you do not deserve or justify what you have, which is admittedly true. Why do I deserve to have it all, while a person in zanjan struggles to complete a master of pharmacology while working 7 nights a week as a hotel night watchman, with little and fast diminishing hope of achieving his dream of emigrating to a better life at the end of his efforts. We are not a product of our own wit and guile, we are products of our genes and our environment. I won the lottery, being born as a white male in Australia at the end of the 20th century, I am lazy, affluent and untouched and unburdened by prejudice. For this I am blessed and extremely lucky, but it does not make me superior.

    Yet it could all come to an end tomorrow. The experience of Iranian women following the downfall of the Shah is an important lesson in how tenuous and precious my current status in life is. I haven't been able to shake the similarities between that experience and the Handsmaids Tale. To have all your freedoms, your job, your identity and your position in society taken from you overnight is something that is both utterly incomprehensible and yet utterly real. To speak to so many people who privately reject the rules, regulations and oppression forced upon them by the state for the past 40 years, yet unable to do anything about it is truely shocking to someone brought up in a free and fair society.

    This disconnect between the Iranian people and the leadership may also go someway to explaining why the common person in Iran appears to have a far better grasp of the difference between politics and the personal than those of us in the west. Without exception, they have all been able to seperate us from our countries politics and demonisation of Iran and Iranians, despite the extreme and overt propaganda on open display. Yet in the west we fail to do the same, despite our 'free' media and open access to information. The reactions both Han and I got from people at home and, for me, overseas to our plans to visit Iran were enlightening. Both of us were surprised by the number and vehemence of the objections, surprise and genuine fear for our safety. Perhaps we have our own form of propaganda in the west and it would appear to be far more effective than that in Iran. Yet in truth I have seldom felt safer and more cared for while travelling.

    We didn't pry, but a surprising number of people were open about politics and their views. Admittedly we were talking to people who spoke english, so we can assume they have more education than average, but without exception the views expressed were that how the society treats women is wrong, a strong nostalgia for the days before the overthrow of the shah, a strong desire for greater freedom and a genuine feeling that things were improving and tentative hope for the future. The one topic of politics that we felt ok talking about and sharing views on was, of course, Trump. A man trying so hard to divide, yet providing the one safe topic of political conversation with Iranians that wouldn't put us or the locals in any trouble with the authorities.

    In truth, Iran broke down a lot of stereotypes for me. I would like to think that I hadn't bought into the propaganda we are fed, but Iran has been far more liberal, more educated, less religious and less militant than I would ever have imagined. I have been comparing it a lot to eastern Turkey, and would have to say that on all counts its far more progressive. Where in eastern Turkey I could not find a person speaking english, here it's common; where in Turkey there were countless mosques where I was viewed with suspicion, here there are few and we were made welcome; where in Turkey Burqa's were common, here they are rare; where in Turkey the military and police were a constant sight and there were numerous roadblocks and ID checks, here you are far more likely to be called over by a group of young soldiers off duty relaxing in a park wanting you to sit with them, share tea or shisha and joke around; where in Turkey I could not access foreign media, here it is widely available including the BBC on every TV. Until our last 24 hours in Tehran I didn't once feel like anyone was trying to rip us off, or have anything but a genuine concern that we feel welcome, safe and supported.

    I have also been reflecting on the irony that as the west increasingly looks to close its borders to trade and people, Iranians are desperate for the direct opposite. I marvel at the perversity that the people most gung-ho about punishing Iranians with trade sanctions are the very same people calling for greater trade barriers and protectionism at home. Anyone wanting to voluntarily impose sanctions on themselves in such a way needs to simply move to Iran, where they can live in their utopian vision of a self sufficiency, subsidies fuel and a booming domestic manufacturing sector. Where they can buy an overpriced shitbox SABA or JAC or, most impressive, Paycan to drive home to their home built with substandard locally produced materials and to a terrible standard all while getting paid an abysmal wage working in unhealthy and unsafe factories churning out every conceivable luxury a 1970's household could want. Actually, I'd go one step further and offer a one for one swap, for every trade protectionist sent to Iran in return we'll take a young educated pharmacologist who worked 24 hours a day doing 3 jobs with the hope of emigrating to a better life.
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  • Day10

    We've come to the end of our time in Iran as we did at the airport ready to fly to Yerevan for our Lada adventure through Armenia and Georgia.

    Yesterday was really just made up of making our way back to Tehran where we went out to Darband Mountain which is a mountain at the end of the metro trainline. There are long taxi cues to take you to the top in ridiculous traffic. Once up there, it's about 1-2km of mountain side that is terraced and covered in teahouses and restaurants along a stream. It has potential to be spectacular but instead the workmanship is shoddy, rubbish is building up in the stream and the stalls are selling cheap imported tat. Despite this, there is a wonderful variety of people drawn here - the walking/mountaineering group who have their retractable poles, ropes, helmets and the earnest hiker look; hipsters making their way to the open areas at the top for shisha; trendoids wanting to be seen, taking selfies in the middle of the stream; and domestic tourists at the end of their sightseeing days.

    I was pleased to have an experience true to today's Iran to finish, especially as it was relaxed and gave time for some reflection. I'm very glad we reduced our time in Tehran, it's an entirely charmless city rivalled only by Jakarta in my experience. The traffic is solid and once it gets moving would rival any South East Asian city for chaos and disregard for others. It's the first place in Iran we negotiated with taxi drivers, were overcharged or felt like targets (is walking wallets), unlike what we experienced in the North, there's a sense of competition at the expense of others. Not uncommon in large cities and to be expected but was an uncomfortable transition from the relative ease we had experienced elsewhere.

    [warning: the next bit is overly verbose, long winded and really just random thoughts rather than anything thought through... in other words, feel free to skip if entirely!]

    I've been reflecting a lot on Iran, what we've seen and trying to put together some coherent thoughts. In no particular order:
    - cars and vehicles are great indicators of relative wealth and this was very true across the four towns/cities we spent time in. In most areas and particularly outside Tehran, Paykan rules the roads. The Iranian made vehicles are clearly what happens when your country is embargoed and you quickly need to start producing your own. Personally, I quite like the look of them and if I had the skills to modify engines and gearboxes, would happily take a body home. Most are in terrible condition. From there you have the knock offs - Saba (Saab), Peuge (Peugeot), Jac (Jag) and BWM (BMW). We saw some of these in Tabriz but there were even more in Qazvin as we got closer to Tehran. And then there are the 'brand names' - Kia, Peugeot, Renault, Toyota, etc. These were most common in Tehran. We didn't see many luxury vehicles even in Tehran - and largely these were BMW.
    - there's a shoddiness to a lot of the craftsmanship across the country. Whether it was traditional crafts such as silk weaving, knife grinding or carpentry, or modern construction/manufacturing. Everything was just poorly constructed, a lack of care or attention to detail. One of the reasons I loved the caravanserai in Qazvin was the proliferation of local modern designers who were evidence of people putting time, effort and skill into creating objects of beauty. The need for beauty is a human thing but in a culture that reveres poetry and the arts, it feels sad to be buying manufactured crap that will fall apart immediately.
    - from what I've read and heard, Iran has a long history of progressiveness and liberal thinking, and it would appear some of this is filtering back into the culture. There was a Guardian article published while we were here about women removing the hijab in cars in Tehran, but we also saw it here. Hijabs are loose and in some cases cursory, ankles/wrists are on show even in more conservative rural areas. No one blinked an eye when in answer to their question about our religion we said 'no religion'. And there is a respect and aspiration for learning and education. English was spoken widely with many speaking 3 or more languages and people studying for higher degrees, or speaking of friends studying abroad
    - there is a warm and seemingly genuine love for australia, I've never been gladder for my citizenship. So many we spoke to wistfully expressed a desire to come to Australia anda few were already making plans. It is at once humbling abc at times embarrassing given our politics and position in the world
    - while I've always felt travel highlights the difference between citizenry and government, it was stronger and starker here than I've experienced. It meant the local Iranian people we spent time with would not only distance themselves from government policy but they also pass this on to others. There is a deeply ingrained understanding that these are separate points of view and aren't to be confused (understandable given their history).
    - picnicking is the national sport and every Iranian appears to be an elite athlete at it. Carpets, shade cloth, kebab grills, butane, etc. are all lugged up hills and into parks for long lunches. The only other place I've been that comes close is South Korea but even they pale in comparison!
    - as a gross generalisation, Iranian women are the most elegant on earth. The attention to detail (matching shoes/trainers to scarves or details in their chameez, scarf tying/folding, mixing of patterns etc) and the pride in appearance leave me shamed

    Finally, it's no surprise that gender has been on my mind since being here. I've always found Muslim countries are more visibly male - on the street, on transport, etc. you see more men than women. But this is further confounded due to the dress laws. I've whinged about the scarf and made jokes about it, but in reality it goes deeper than that (of course). While the dress rules are grounded in modesty, the experience of having to follow these rules and wearing the hijab was, for me, constantly distracting and an overt reminder of needing correction.

    By constant distraction, I don't mean the irritation of a fly buzzing around and distracting you lightly. I mean the girl in the nightclub in a dress that is too tight and riding up so she's constantly pulling and tugging and playing with her clothes. It's a constant stream of thought that is policing the placement of the fabric - how it is wound around your bag handle, if it's stuck on the chair back, has it dropped off completely, is it choking, etc. Now, I'm the first to admit that some of this would become second nature with longer term use but it's never something women are unaware of. So few carry bags and their hands are often hovering either actively fiddling or ready to catch it if it falls. For me, I've felt this hampered the way I processed where we've been and what we've done. In both my photos and my memories there's a distance, I haven't quite been there. For my photos I've fought this hard to try and really focus and grab opportunities but I'm really feeling it in my memories which feel removed rather than fully lived.

    On the other hand, the dress (along with cultural behaviour) have made me more aware of the overt differentiation of being female. That sense that in being female there is something 'not quite right' at best and downright immoral/incorrect/disliked at worst. The dress and behaviours compound as overt symbols and reminders of this 'lesser-ness'. I see it in the women here as well, they are friendly, generous and gracious but shyer, engaging less readily than the men. The men when they approach us speak to Tom directly, glancing at me. In some ways it suits me because it puts me more in the role of observer which is where I'm comfortable... but it also is muting. And it's there in micro-interactions as well. Where western men will often make space for women, here it's men nudging women aside or standing in a way that pushes me into a corner or out of the way. I don't have an answer in terms of which is 'better', there are issues with both - any system that is based on constituted differences rather than mutual respect feels destined for problematic power dynamics to me. But the change from one system (covert) to another (overt) has made me more conscious (for now) of my gender and what that signifies to others.

    Finally, it's not that the men we've spoken to have left me out or shown me disrespect - I'd never want that to be misunderstood. In fact most, especially Sharrom and Hosein, went out of their way to open conversations with me or draw me in to what they were talking about with Tom. These observations are based more on the accumulation of things - rather than one off examples.
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  • Day7

    We travelled down to Qazvin by bus, the network here is so efficient and there are so many of them that we haven't needed to book in advance, merely show up and find our way on to a bus. Similar to the buses I caught when I was in Myanmar - the VIP buses have large seats like a business class domestic flight and more legroom than I know what to do with!
    Yet again, the drive took us through spectacular landscapes and scenery. I can see why Iran makes a good location for filming.
    After sorting our hotel and dropping our bags, we went for a wander into the bazaar for lunch, finding a great version of the local cuisine qimeh naser - a beautiful lamb stew, served inside a mound of rice covered in sliced pistachios, orange rind and barberries. Insanely tasty and jewel-like to look at.
    Walking through the bazaar later, we were leapt upon by a carpet dealer who was making his way home for lunch. We were soon gathered up by his energy, as he proudly proclaimed us as his third son and third daughter (having two of each already). Sharrom was lovely, very sharp having taught himself English and is enamoured with foreigners. At one point he called his eldest son who is a doctor in Hong Kong and put us on the phone with him. His son sounded bemused but not surprised saying his father had been inciting foreigners home at every opportunity. "He is very friendly" was the understated description. We passed a pleasant afternoon in Sharrom's apartment being plied with yet more food, tea, fruit and being shown his carpets (the most expensive of which were hidden under cheaper versions on the floor.
    We showed him pictures of Mum and Pete who he then claimed as his brother and sister. And when he returned to his shop, we walked back with him and discovered the restored caravanserais. There is a distinct jump in wealth here, is noticed the proliferation of Western brand name cars, cleaner/shinier apartment buildings, fewer black shrouded women and more trendy/hipster outfits. It was no surprise when we were told this is a retreat area for wealthy Tehran-ites to get away for the weekend. I mention this because the caravanserais demonstrated this beautifully, sensitively restored with gorgeous shops showcasing local designers and makers. It restored my faith in local handicrafts which I thought might have disappeared given the cheap Chinese, Taiwanese, Pakistani, etc products in the bazaars.

    Today we'd organised with a local guide to go out to Alamut Valley to see the Assassins Castles. The landscape was monumental, the valley is in the Albers Mountains which are dry and rock encrusted with deeply green spring fed valleys. We visited two castles, the first was a relatively easy 10min walk while the second involved climbing the side of a hill on rock stairs that kept winding their way up. The Castles were part of a network of roughly 50 that were built in the valley in the 12th Century for the Ismaili followers of Hasan-e Sabbah. The sect he lead and the castles have formed the basis of many myths over the centuries and movies/video games today (Creed of Assassins and Prince of Persia).

    Stories of Hasan-e Sabbah's time here and the mercenary organisation he ran are numerous, some more sumpathetic than others. At best, he headed an Ismaili sect that championed a free thinking, pro-science Islamic tradition. At worst, he used hashish to bolster his mercenaries courage and foster visions of secret gardens full of maidens that would await them for following orders to murder or kidnap political and religious leaders of the day. The use of hashish gave the mercenaries the popular name of 'hashish-yun' which is the origin of the term assassin.

    Despite heavy fortifications, elaborate cistern systems and food reserves which meant the castles could survive years-long sieges (17 years being the longest recorded), the Mongols managed to capture them using 'diplomatic trickery'. To avoid future difficulty, the Mongols went on to destroy much of the castles and their cistern systems leaving only bits of rubble, foundations and ruined walls today.

    Standing in the ruins of each of the castles, you could easily imagine the strategic advantages of their lines of sight. The landscape necessitates a single entry/exit point focussing all defence manoeuvres. And the height of each within the valley means they could see for miles.

    Like other parts of Northern Iran, domestic tourism seems to account for the bulk of visitors. Being closer to Tehran, we have seen a few more Western/European tourists but it's only a handful even here. Some may not feel the bits of ruins justify the effort to get here but I hope in an effort to drive tourism they don't succumb to creating reenactment versions or easily reachable car parks. I don't think we'd have understood the reality of these fortresses without walking the route ourselves... no matter how intensive it can be, especially in full heat. Mind you, I say that well aware that we had a warm but crisp day so the shade provided proper relief from the sun. In full heat, our guide said it the climb to the top is 'hell'.

    Please excuse some of these photos - the intensity of the light meant metering and exposure were topping out and I was reliant on the histogram to check exposure as the camera metering was struggling. I'll get better control once I can process the images from the Nikon...
    And photo spamming starts now
    Read more

  • Day41

    GUEST BLOG - Hannah

    We travelled down to Qazvin by bus, the network here is so efficient and there are so many of them that we haven't needed to book in advance, merely show up and find our way on to a bus. Similar to the buses I caught when I was in Myanmar - the VIP buses have large seats like a business class domestic flight and more legroom than I know what to do with!
    Yet again, the drive took us through spectacular landscapes and scenery. I can see why Iran makes a good location for filming.
    After sorting our hotel and dropping our bags, we went for a wander into the bazaar for lunch, finding a great version of the local cuisine qimeh naser - a beautiful lamb stew, served inside a mound of rice covered in sliced pistachios, orange rind and barberries. Insanely tasty and jewel-like to look at.
    Walking through the bazaar later, we were leapt upon by a carpet dealer who was making his way home for lunch. We were soon gathered up by his energy, as he proudly proclaimed us as his third son and third daughter (having two of each already). Sharrom was lovely, very sharp having taught himself English and is enamoured with foreigners. At one point he called his eldest son who is a doctor in Hong Kong and put us on the phone with him. His son sounded bemused but not surprised saying his father had been inciting foreigners home at every opportunity. "He is very friendly" was the understated description. We passed a pleasant afternoon in Sharrom's apartment being plied with yet more food, tea, fruit and being shown his carpets (the most expensive of which were hidden under cheaper versions on the floor.
    We showed him pictures of Mum and Pete who he then claimed as his brother and sister. And when he returned to his shop, we walked back with him and discovered the restored caravanserais. There is a distinct jump in wealth here, is noticed the proliferation of Western brand name cars, cleaner/shinier apartment buildings, fewer black shrouded women and more trendy/hipster outfits. It was no surprise when we were told this is a retreat area for wealthy Tehran-ites to get away for the weekend. I mention this because the caravanserais demonstrated this beautifully, sensitively restored with gorgeous shops showcasing local designers and makers. It restored my faith in local handicrafts which I thought might have disappeared given the cheap Chinese, Taiwanese, Pakistani, etc products in the bazaars.

    Today we'd organised with a local guide to go out to Alamut Valley to see the Assassins Castles. The landscape was monumental, the valley is in the Albers Mountains which are dry and rock encrusted with deeply green spring fed valleys. We visited two castles, the first was a relatively easy 10min walk while the second involved climbing the side of a hill on rock stairs that kept winding their way up. The Castles were part of a network of roughly 50 that were built in the valley in the 12th Century for the Ismaili followers of Hasan-e Sabbah. The sect he lead and the castles have formed the basis of many myths over the centuries and movies/video games today (Creed of Assassins and Prince of Persia).

    Stories of Hasan-e Sabbah's time here and the mercenary organisation he ran are numerous, some more sumpathetic than others. At best, he headed an Ismaili sect that championed a free thinking, pro-science Islamic tradition. At worst, he used hashish to bolster his mercenaries courage and foster visions of secret gardens full of maidens that would await them for following orders to murder or kidnap political and religious leaders of the day. The use of hashish gave the mercenaries the popular name of 'hashish-yun' which is the origin of the term assassin.

    Despite heavy fortifications, elaborate cistern systems and food reserves which meant the castles could survive years-long sieges (17 years being the longest recorded), the Mongols managed to capture them using 'diplomatic trickery'. To avoid future difficulty, the Mongols went on to destroy much of the castles and their cistern systems leaving only bits of rubble, foundations and ruined walls today.

    Standing in the ruins of each of the castles, you could easily imagine the strategic advantages of their lines of sight. The landscape necessitates a single entry/exit point focussing all defence manoeuvres. And the height of each within the valley means they could see for miles.

    Like other parts of Northern Iran, domestic tourism seems to account for the bulk of visitors. Being closer to Tehran, we have seen a few more Western/European tourists but it's only a handful even here. Some may not feel the bits of ruins justify the effort to get here but I hope in an effort to drive tourism they don't succumb to creating reenactment versions or easily reachable car parks. I don't think we'd have understood the reality of these fortresses without walking the route ourselves... no matter how intensive it can be, especially in full heat. Mind you, I say that well aware that we had a warm but crisp day so the shade provided proper relief from the sun. In full heat, our guide said it the climb to the top is 'hell'.

    Please excuse some of these photos - the intensity of the light meant metering and exposure were topping out and I was reliant on the histogram to check exposure as the camera metering was struggling. I'll get better control once I can process the images from the Nikon...
    And photo spamming starts now
    Read more

  • Day42

    GUEST BLOG - Hannah

    We decided to spend an extra day in Alamut when it turned out the incredible guide we'd hired for the Castles also organised what he called a Lost in Paradise experience - time in a village and a homestay at the other end of the valley.

    Unfortunately Tom was sick but I got to enjoy a couple hour hike in the mountains around the village - walking up from the nut and fruit trees at the bottom of the valley to the arid areas at the top. It was beautiful walking through the orchards and we were lucky enough to bump into some people who were picking apricots so we're invited to join in, then enjoy the haul under the trees.

    Old landslides were evident along the route, at best this meant paths that skimmed the top of what was essentially a cliff edge, at worst there were homes you could still peer into, though morbid seeing bones in there that haven't been retrieved.

    It was a quiet day, nothing big or notable happened but I really enjoyed it, again I was struck by the generosity and hospitality of the Iranian culture. Each village we walked through came with offers to come and sit for chai, women wanting to show me their handicrafts and men wanting to welcome me to Iran.
    Read more

  • Day8

    We decided to spend an extra day in Alamut when it turned out the incredible guide we'd hired for the Castles also organised what he called a Lost in Paradise experience - time in a village and a homestay at the other end of the valley.
    Unfortunately Tom was sick but I got to enjoy a couple hour hike in the mountains around the village - walking up from the nut and fruit trees at the bottom of the valley to the arid areas at the top. It was beautiful walking through the orchards and we were lucky enough to bump into some people who were picking apricots so we're invited to join in, then enjoy the haul under the trees.
    Old landslides were evident along the route, at best this meant paths that skimmed the top of what was essentially a cliff edge, at worst there were homes you could still peer into, though morbid seeing bones in there that haven't been retrieved.
    It was a quiet day, nothing big or notable happened but I really enjoyed it, again I was struck by the generosity and hospitality of the Iranian culture. Each village we walked through came with offers to come and sit for chai, women wanting to show me their handicrafts and men wanting to welcome me to Iran.
    Read more

  • Day13

    Wir hatten in Sarein Mohammad und Ali kennengelernt, die uns überall hin chauffieren und nicht von unserer Seite weichen. Es stellt sich dann heraus, dass Ali Multimillionär ist und wir bekommen in Tabriz eine Penthouse Wohnung, die er nur für Liebschaften und Eskorteservice benutzt. Hammer.

    Natürlich chauffiert er uns am nächsten Tag noch zu dem Ort, in dem die Menschen seit über 1000 Jahren in Steinen leben. Cool.

    Das gepunktete Laken im Appartement mussten wir erstmal abziehen. Bilder hiervon gibt es erst beim Iran Vortrag.

    "wenn ihr geht, legt einfach die Schlüssel auf den Tisch"
    ach ja , und nächstes Jahr ist seine neue Wohnung fertig, eigener Stock für Gäste, ein Stock für Partys.
    Read more

  • Day3

    3,6 Mio Riad, und die sind immer im Rucksack
    Zum Glück gibt es im Iran keine Verbrechen (außer die Taxi driver)

    Muss mich korrigieren: es sind 36 Mio. Riad, bei diesen Summen blickt man auch nicht durch.
    Auch mit den Iranern blicke ich die Währungsangaben nur verzögert, manche lassen eine Null unter den Tisch fallen, andere gleich 3 Nullen.

  • Day7

    ok, aber grenzwertig, doch für 14€ das Zimmer mit Frühstück ok.

    Die Betten hier sind anders als in Europa, hier gibt es nur ein Brett mit einer Decke drauf. Das kann über die Zeit der Dunkelheit ganz schön hart werden.

You might also know this place by the following names:

Islamic Republic of Iran, Iran (Islamische Republik), Iran, ኢራን, Irán, إيران, ܐܝܪܐܢ, İran, Іран, Ісламская Рэспубліка, Иран, Iraŋ, ইরান, ཨི་རཱན།, Írán, Den Islamiske Republik Iran, ཨི་རཱན, Iran nutome, Ιράν, Ισλαμική Δημοκρατία του, Persujo, Iraan, ایران, Éran, An Iaráin, ઈરાન, איראן, ईरान, Islamska Republika, Իրան, Íran, イラン・イスラム共和国, iran, ირანი, Uajemi, អ៊ីរ៉ង់, ಇರಾನ್, 이란, ئێران, Persia, Yiraani, Irâ, ອີລ່ານ, Iranas, Ira, Irāna, Īrāna, ഇറാൻ, ईराण, အီရန်, इरान, Iran (Islamitische Republiek), ଇରାନ୍, ايران, República Islâmica do Irã, Irã, Irani, Iran (Republica islamică), Iräan, ඉරානය, Iiraan, ஈரான், ఇరాన్, Эрон, อิหร่าน, ʻIulaani, ئىران, Ісламська Республіка, Eron, Lirän, Orílẹ́ède Irani, 伊朗伊斯兰共和国, i-Iran

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