A few time zones later

Against all odds the Iranains let us in. Which is not to say it was easy going. It took us a good few hours pleading at various embassies in Ankara and a good bit of dollar at the border.

We had to get the Iranians to let the car in without the right papers, and the Turkmens to change the visa so that we could enter from Iran and not Azerbaijan. Fortunately, the Turkmen Consular was nothing but amicable, even when Ian sent a huge wedge of papers in his office flying. But Iran weren't playing ball, so we thought we'd chance it on the border.

It was 24 hours driving to the border. Endless kebabs on route kept the juices flowing with crazy mountain roads offering blind potholes the whole way.

Unfortunately the cops in Turkey had booked us for speeding a few day before. They even had some video evidence of the Fiesta doing 106 km in a 100 zone. After a few smiles, snaps and handshakes we thought we had got away scott free. But customs pulled us and forced us to cough up the 70 bones.

Then onto the Iranain side the fun and games really began. Fortunatley for us there was one shifty looking boy loitering around the checkpoint muttering about documents and carnets. For a mere 120 greenbacks he took us under his wing and sorted us with the right stuff. And so we danced a jig all the way to the nearest petrol station where we filled the tank for the princely sum of two squid.

Bonza.

And so to Iran, which is a constant mosaic of smiles, horn-blowing, hand-waving and salaam alaykum. We've got some time to kill as the Turkmens aren't gonna let us in till the 13th. So we're slowly heading to the Caspian Sea for a short break. Stopped off in a small town last night and now chilling with our boys, Saber and Yusef.

Until next time.

Love and hugs.
Los hombres wrongolia.