A few days ago Friedel had the chance to talk to Chris, the host of the Amateur Traveler podcast, about our time in Iran. It was a fun hour chatting about a wonderful country and perhaps some of you would like to listen in so check on the site to download the show. Chris also has an amazing archive of over 130 shows on all parts of the world, worth adding to your “listen-to” list.

Going even further back, around Christmas we met a couple Americans, Andrea and Michael, travelling around and they did an interview with us. We haven’t seen this video yet because connection speeds are just too slow but the rest of you can enjoy it.

Some things are more enjoyable than others and for us we would rather be cycling backwards down a 10-lane highway at night than figuring out how in the world to get visas for Central Asia. What a nightmare.

It’s impossible to get reliable information (the Uzbeks tell us something that contradicts other travellers and agencies). There are several phone numbers for each embassy, any of which can be out of service, out of date, hooked up to a fax for part of the day or connect you to someone who speaks no English. Addresses for embassies are also prone to frequent change and of course you can burn many, many dollars on phone cards trying to determine just what you need and how to get it.

This morning it was only thanks to two Iranians who saw us having a fit by a payphone and insisted on coming to our aid that we finally started to sort out part of the muddle. They very kindly translated from Farsi to English where necessary and even made calls on their mobile phones to all parts of Iran to help us out. An hour later we felt slightly closer to our goal and we provided great amusement for the crowd of ten or so people gathered around us. Perhaps the biggest source of confusion is why two Canadians didn’t have a mobile phone of their own — a necessity for every Iranian.

So, for the record, this is what we believe to be true:

Uzbek Embassy in Tehran — 021 2229 1519 (hooked up to a fax until 11am)
Turkmen Embassy in Tehran — 021 2220 6306
Turkmen Consulate in Mashad — 0511 854 7066

We are still trying to figure out what the Uzbeks need to give us a visa. The Turkmen officials say we only need our Uzbek visa (no letters of recommendation or other documents) to get a 7-day transit visa, issued within a week in Tehran or Mashad.

“The awareness that we are all human beings together has become lost in war and through politics. We have reached the point of regarding each other only as members of people either allied with us or against us and our approach: prejudice, sympathy, or antipathy are all conditioned by that. Now, we must rediscover the fact that we – all together – are human beings, and that we must strive to concede to each other what moral capacity we have. Only in this way can we begin to believe that in other peoples as well as in ourselves there will arise the need for a new spirit which can be the beginning of a feeling of mutual trustworthiness toward each other.” — Albert Schweitzer

Our time in Syria is nearly over but before we roll further east we wanted to share some closing thoughts. Those who have followed our journey will know of our unsettling moments in the desert around Palmyra. We wrote about these because we believe it is important to be honest about our experiences and to inform cycle tourists in particular about what they may encounter. Unfortunately this decision to be completely open has led some readers to conclude that Syria is not worth coming to. A few people have come to the conclusion that it is entirely unsafe and we should hop on a plane back to the developed world instead of taking on Iran.

This makes us feel sad because it misrepresents a wonderful country and in fact an entire region whose people and traditions are poorly understood by the Western world.

We will leave Syria with a very strong desire to return. Never have we been treated to so much hospitality from literally every sector of society. Farmers struggling to make a living off the land and doctors driving luxury cars invited us into their homes with equal measures of kindness and generosity. Ordinary people took hours to show us around their towns and cities and truckers repeatedly stopped to load our panniers up with oranges.

Yes, we were unfortunate to meet some bad apples but we know, and we urge you to remember, that negative things can happen in any country. A relative had his van stolen from the streets of New York but we would not cancel our trip to the U.S. because of this isolated incident. Neither would we avoid all skiing holidays even though Friedel once wound up in a cast as a result of one. Why would we judge all of Syria because a tiny part of our two months here were less than perfect?

We think it speaks volumes about Syria that of all the travellers we have talked to about this country – and there have been dozens in the past few months – not one has had another downbeat incident to add to ours. No stolen passports. No aggression. Just many tales of cups of tea shared and wonderful sights seen. The praise has been universally positive.

From the point of personal safety, we have hardly ever felt more secure. It is interesting to note that when we think of cyclists killed or badly injured while on tour (thankfully their numbers are few) all the ones we are aware of have suffered at the hands of traffic in countries including Japan, Australia and the United States. It would be wrong to assume that we will be safe from harm’s way in a first-world country. There is a strong argument to suggest the opposite. We likely ran more risk cycling to work every day in London than by biking and camping on the backroads of Syria.

As we prepare to head for Iran, we leave Syria urging you not to surrender to stereotypes. Come for a visit and we think you will be more than pleasantly surprised.

We’re experiencing a very restful few days here in Aleppo and have developed a bit of a routine as we settle in for Christmas. Scrambled eggs and cappuccino for breakfast. Internet cafe to check email. Lazy afternoon watching trashy U.S. television and an evening of cooking and wine with friends in the hotel. It’s not a bad life and a nice diversion from the rigours of the road, which we will be returning to very soon as we head to Iran for the New Year.

Our quiet days though have recently been punctuated by the chaos of Eid on the streets of Aleppo. Thousands of Turks have come to the city during the Muslim holiday for a spot of cut-price shopping (the shopping phenomenon isn’t unique to Christmas!) and, while the streets are devoid of the usual number of cars and taxis, the sidewalks are full to bursting with people bargaining for huge quantities of rice and sugar. Here’s a video from the streets of Aleppo during Eid.

Today we found happiness in Damascus. Not in its mosque — gorgeous though it is — or in the enchanting alleyways of the souk, but in a cup of real coffee!! Ever since we entered Turkey it has been nearly impossible to get a proper brew. You can try, with a pleading look in your eyes, to ask for a coffee but inevitably the waiter returns with the disappointment that is a mug of Nescafe, usually made with powdered milk. Oh sure, there are the famous Turkish coffees, served in espresso cups with the grains still at the bottom and we have to admit they are nice enough, but not quite the thing when you’re craving a frothy, milky cup of latte. Inhouse Coffee to the rescue! We found a branch of this Syrian chain just off a street lined with embassies and swish jewellery shops, not to mention Syria’s first real Kentucky Fried Chicken. Yes, you read that right. In Syria, KFC occupies a spot up with the finest boutiques in town. Chicken drumstick with your Prada bag, madame? Anyway, back to the coffee. Inhouse is the Syrian version of Starbucks with comfy chairs and prices to match. A cappuccino will set you back 2 euros. Not bad by European standards but absolutely outrageous in Syrian terms. The same price would buy you three glasses of freshly squeezed juice or eight falafels from a street vendor. We didn’t care. We paid up and thoroughly enjoyed nursing our coffee among the well-to-do of Damascus. And we had a laugh over Inhouse Coffee’s Syrian quirks. The price list on the wall hadn’t been updated in some time. Prices charged were 50% above what was marked but staff shrugged it off. “It’s an old list,” they said. And when we asked for a customer card which gives you one coffee in ten free they shrugged again. “All out,” they said. The free wifi didn’t work either. No one seemed embarassed. It gave a distinctly Middle Eastern feel to this Starbucks copy. We’ve become used to the finer touches around the edges in many places lacking somewhat, all explained away with a smile and a feeling that’s just the way things are. But the coffee was good and that was all that mattered. Knowing it may be our last decent cuppa for some time to come, we’re even tempted to return tomorrow.