Day 90 Finally – The Train!

SYNOPSIS:  A bus trip to Teheran, and an all-nighter on the train to Tabriz.  A lot of ground covered in 24 hours - from the desert to the mountains.Finally, I am traveling by train!  I was quite excited about it.  I still feel bad that I never made it around to doing this in Syria.  This would have made for an interesting comparison.  After taking the bus to Teheran and a taxi to the Train Station, I waited for Mozaffar, my visa and travel contact in Iran.  I had left emergency money with him just in case anything would happen to me or any of my cash on the road.  If he would not meet me here today, I would not be able to continue as I was down to a few dollars in my pocket.  But Mozaffar has proven to be amazing whenever you need him.  Just as he said, he was there at 5 PM with a packet of money and a train ticket in hand.  And he was willing to take another bag of extra luggage off my hands so that I could travel “light” again.  Over the last couple of weeks I have again accumulated a few souvenirs.  Despite mindful packing at the beginning of the trip, once I am on the road I always realize with how much less I can actually do.  I have been shedding stuff three times by now:  I shipped a package home from Syria, sent a big bag to Teheran with Nicola, and now passed on another small bag to Mozaffar.  The real trick will be to get it all back home in a few days.  I will cross that bridge when I get there.The train station in Teheran is a big, somewhat older, but well organized and clearly labeled – that means bilingual – place to find your way around.  There is everything you need from a restaurant, to luggage deposit, ticket counter, information, to waiting rooms, bathrooms, etc.  Very much like everything you would find at any cosmopolitan train station anywhere in the world.  But in addition, there is a park where you can camp – and yes, there were some of those mini tents there and people picnicking - and prayer rooms.  And I had to pass a checkpoint with the immigration police who made sure that my visa was in order before I was ushered onto the platform.  Needless to say that everything was spotlessly clean.Each wagon of the train had its own attendant!  At my wagon, it was Hammad who came by every so often to check if anything was needed.  He would bring tea, blankets, help with the TV in the coupé and woke us up in the morning.  Around 10 PM he came by with a fully cooked Iranian dinner; rice and chicken kebab.  What did I pack all those cookies for?!This was service, of course, which was only extended to first class travelers.  We had a coupé with two TVs holding four people with two fold-out beds whereas the same coupé in second class had to accommodate 6 people sitting with no TVs and no beds.  I felt transported back to the only other overnight trip I once took from Germany to Russia in 1981.  This train probably was from the 70’s or 80’s.  It had that retro feel to it.  The speed of the train was not hair-raising either.  But in 13 hours and to the minute punctual, we reached Tabriz.  Aside from the personal service and food, one unique stop we made was for evening prayers.  There was a mosque at the train station and the loudspeakers announced 10 minutes worth of prayer time for all.  Since the announcement was in Farsi, this would have completely gone unnoticed by me, had I not had a young woman in the coupé who explained it.A good number of people left the train to pray, but many of the men just used the opportunity to smoke.   As anywhere else in public, it is not allowed to smoke on the train.  I have gotten conflicting information on smoking.  Ahmadinejad seems to have banned smoking in most public places countrywide.  What I did not realize is that the smoking of the water pipe, the hookah, or nagileh, has also become illegal in public places!  According to the British social worker, two protestors of this ban had their throats slit publicly - which put an end to the debate of weather the nagileh could be an exception from the ban…  However, I have seen two small tea houses where there were a few people smoking the water pipe… Is that a form of protest?  Is it another expression of pushing the limits to see how much you can get away with before getting caught?  Or is it a sign that the ban is not quite as rigorously enforced now as when it started?  Lots of questions to follow up on.The young woman who translated for me, her mother, and her 2 year old son, were on the train to visit her sick grandmother in Tabriz.  They are Bahai, she told me.  Bahai is one of the few religions which are illegal to practice in Iran even though it originated here, in fact, in Tabriz.  She told me that her higher education was through home schooling and that no Bahai can occupy any positions in government or public life.  Her husband runs a small shop selling watches.  She is raising her son.  Her family has been following the Bahai tradition for several generations.  She explained that she researched and studied the religion carefully and then chose to be a Bahai herself.  It is a matter of pride for her and others to declare their faith publicly and to accept the consequences.  My compliments; that takes courage!I had the entire coupé on the train to myself for about an hour.  I had turned off all the TV and radio channels, opened the window for fresh air and enjoyed the ride into the sun set.  When this three generation family entered, I was less than happy.  Immediately, the TVs were turned on, the cell phone rang seamlessly followed by long conversations, and the window had to be closed.  The 2 year old got cranky and demanded attention over the phone conversations…  Just my kind of an environment; I wanted to enjoy this!  But as it turned out, I adjusted to the changes, the young woman spoke enough English for us to communicate and the little boy could be kept busy pushing cars back and forth on the seats.   At night, I plugged my ears, took one of the upper beds and went to sleep.  I must have gotten a good 7 hours of sleep as the coupé attendant had to wake us all up – the sun had just started to rise.By 8 AM I had checked into one of three possible hotels.  I choose the “luxury” option – meaning that I have my own bathroom attached to the room.  I have learned my lesson.  It’s one thing to have a shared bathroom just about anywhere in the world.  It is another, if you have to dress up scarf and all to get to it.  After this long, long time in transit, it was time for a shower and laundry.  As I opened the door to my private bathroom, two huge – and I mean huge – cockroaches crawled into the corner!   Scarf or cockroaches?  I chose the cockroaches and I am trying not to think of them.  Where you see two, there are of course, two hundred…Good morning!