A Cylcle Race in Iran - Part 1

An invite for a free trip to Iran is impossible to turn down! If it ever comes your way, jump at the chance! It did mean getting a new passport – mine had just expired, and the trip was only just over two weeks away. Luckily, the passport arrived hassle free and came a lot sooner than the travel details – my first experience of ‘Iranian time’ (and it had happened before I left New Zealand!). In fact, it was only the day before we left that I finally recieved my confirmed travel details.

Iran was putting on the ‘Presidency Tour of Tehran’, a five day bike race in and around the capital, and they invited a team from New Zealand to race – five riders and 3 people in management – a team manager, a mechanic and myself as a massage therapist. Ive done a lot of this work in the past as well as having raced for many years, hence why the invite came my way.

I’m not one for sleeping on a plane, so the torturous 20 hours or so from New Zealand to Dubai, followed by a couple more onto Tehran were tiresome to say the least.  We’d gotten Euros in New Zealand, and changed them into ‘rials’ in Iran. A word of advice….Iran is a cardless country – no eftpos, no credit cards and no ATM’s, and a limit on currencies that its possible to change – so go prepared!! Around $120NZD worth of Euros (Approx. EUR50-70) gives you a thick wad of bills worth thousands of rials – I struggled to get my purse zipped up and in the end had to leave it half undone - so another tip…take a large wallet with minimum amount of junk cards in it!

As we came in to land in Iran the women on-board all started covering up, from head to toe, because Iran is a shi’ite muslim country, with strict laws on what can be shown or not, especially for women. While they don’t have to cover

Iranian Women and Child in Traditional Dress

their faces, their hair, arms, legs and necks must be covered. Traditionally, this was achieved through wearing a ‘chador’ – an ankle length, ‘hooded cape’, grasped and held together under the chin, so only one hand is ever free.

Nowadays, for the more fashionable, a mid thigh length jacket / coat (a ‘montoux’) buttoned up at the front, with either a scarf to cover the hair, (tied under the chin), or a ‘magneh’ – a traditional, black fitted hood that leaves only the face exposed, is worn, especially in the cities and by the younger generation. They liven them up with the colours they choose and make-up, big hair, big sunglasses and fancy footwear adds the final touches. Before we went, I wondered if I’d get some leeway as a visiting foreigner, and be allowed to express my ‘western dress’. No way! Of course I respected the cultural and religious requirements, but I did wear my headscarf in a bandana style tied around my head, as opposed to covering the neck and throat, and long sleeves only when I wasnt in the team car or the hotel.

Unfortunately my good intentions didn’t quite make the favourable impact I had hoped for. The heat got a bit much. Apparently I looked Jewish because of the way I wore my headscarf, which wasn’t desirable, and the days I wore my ‘thai fisherman’ style pants I looked Kurdish (apparently apparently!) – especially undesirable while I was in Tehran but not so bad when I was right up north and nearer Kurdistan. For the men, legs have to be covered at all times, the exception being if you’re a cyclist, then all traditions are forgone in luie of the usual cycling attire: shaved legs and lycra applies.

Our hotel was the ‘Laleh’,which backs onto a big park of the same name. Of all the books Ive read on Iran it seems every visitor stays there. Its certainly up there with western standards though. Arriving that first day, famished and tired, we literally fell into lunch which was an amazing, tasty feast but, after 5 days of the same things, it quickly lost its appeal, especially since dinner was the same food all over again. Chicken, rice, chicken and rice, rice and chicken, rice, chicken, kebabs, breads, lettuce and carrots…

Breakfasts were a variety of breads, all of them pretty good and fresh, soft cheese, eggs, sausages, jam and yoghurts and some cereals. It was the one time of the day we could get brewed coffee, the other alternative was ‘nescafe’ (yes, instant) ordered from room service, or a burnt tasting brew from the cafe in the lobby. Iran is a nation of tea drinkers and it was only through our great interpreter that we tracked down decent coffee. I dont drink tea with sugar in it but I had a go at the Iranian ’sweetening’ system - you put a sugar cube at the front of the mouth and hold it there with your teeth. Every sip of tea is sweetened and the cube gradually melts away.

Early one morning I went into Laleh Park for some exercise and ‘fresh air’ – what sights!! The place was teeming with men and women exercising. The women were all still fully covered - no chic Adidas or Nike work-out gear.  The only difference to their everyday attire were the running shoes! I heard voices on a microphone so assumed there was a mosque near-by, but what I discovered was ‘Iranian aerobics’! It was something else to!! Big, buff, immaculate men with headset microphones taking the masses, and I mean masses, through their fitness paces. The music was cranking and the public were packed in, both men and women (the women, of course, remained fully covered…).

Competitors Lining up for the Start

With a population of around 17 million, Tehran is so big and sprawling I never really got a sense of where ‘town’ was.  Like any huge city, there was that busy hustle and bustle feeling. The smog sits like a thick snot over the city  making it difficult to breath.  I felt for the guys racing in it. Ive never experienced smog like it, a dry mouth and throat that no fluid can ‘quench’. Ive since read that every day, 27 people die from pollution related illnesses.

We drank only bottled water, and although all teams were told that under NO circumstances were any riders to urinate on the side of the road because of Islamic culture, it was a rule that couldn’t stand the length of the tour. Especially because most of the racing was done on highways, so there were never toilets nearby.

There was no shortage of race spectators and being a kiwi was a sure fire way of receiving attention. The Iranians seemed almost paranoidal in how they think the west perceives them, but they are definitely a warm, hospitable country and as per the usual in a foreign land, if they can practice English with an English speaker, they do! I learnt by about day two that its ‘normal’ to be asked if you’re married, but not so normal for me to answer no, especially when I’m working with a team of men and I am not married to one of them.

It would be fair to say our performance was average – for various reasons. There were teams from the likes of Uzbekistan (easy to spot from their mullets), Kazakhstan, Japan, Germany, Qatar and numerous Iranian ones. Iran is at altitude, the lowest point we got to was 1200m – the highest around 2600m (further north). Needless to say, living and training in altitude meant the Iranians were a formidable lot on their bikes.

During our stay we got invited to a 9 day race in Azerbaijan, Irans northern-most state. Besides myself, only one of the riders could extend his stay so we jumped at the opportunity to extend our stay. So, when we said our good byes to the rest of the boys adventure number 2 began! …

……  Part Two of this blog will be published tomorrow

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