Calilabad – Astara - 107 kilometres
The poor road conditions persisted the following day as we ground into a gusty
breeze. Still, I was surprised at how lush and green the area was, and the closer
to Iran, the more trees emerged and the higher the mountains in the background.
We called it a day 10 kilometres before the Azerbaijan-Iran border and set up
camp behind a petrol station. As the previous evening, it felt like the entire village
came to observe us. Let me assure you there is nothing idyllic about sleeping
between old oil cans and rubbish with petrol fumes up your nose whilst being
stared at. At least the petrol station offered water and a toilet that only the brave
would use.
Astara, Azerbaijan – Jokandan, Iran – 82 kilometres
The border crossing into Iran was no less hectic than others, and the no-mans-
land a tad of an obstacle course. A misunderstanding regarding whether the
bicycles needed documentation added to the confusion and delayed us for hours.
Once in Iran, I discovered, with shock, that foreign bank cards were useless due to
American boycotts. If only I knew this, I would’ve drawn money in Azerbaijan.
Adding to my dilemma, I spent my last cash buying a headscarf and long sleeve
shirt as the law in Iran stated all women were required to cover their hair, arms,
and legs. Even though I knew the rules and chose to visit, it didn’t make being in a
male-chauvinist society any easier. I couldn’t believe I decided to cycle through yet
another conservative Islamic country. In Iran, these restrictions felt worse than in
other Islamic countries, as religion was enforced by law. Furthermore, when
speaking to people, they would entirely discount me and talk solely to Ernest. This
behaviour infuriated me endlessly.
Welcome to Iran, where Islamic laws deny women equal rights in divorce and
inheritance, prohibit women from travelling abroad without a male relative’s
permission, or attending major men’s sports events!