Travelling to Gorgan was more difficult than expected. It was hot, the street was a big, dirty highway with lots of cars but no one to stop. I did manage to slowly make my up to Shahrud and from there, it was going through the mountains to Gorgan.
The road was beautiful – up to some of the highest points of that mountain range, where you could still see the snow on top of some of the peaks, and then all the way down again until we reached the tree line. Trees! I didn’t know I missed them until a green, tall wall surrounded us.
Shortly before the road ended the driver asked me if I wanted to have a look around the area, so we went out of the car and into the green. I was a bit weary at first as I was alone with a male I barely knew in a forest off a small mountain road, but he wandered around the area as if it was his backyard and didn’t look at all interested in the hitchhiker following him. After a while we decided to go back to the car and arrived in Gorgan a little later.
I didn’t really know where to sleep until then as the family I should have stayed at cancelled earlier the day and was almost about to go to a hotel for the night when I finally got an answer from a girl from Couchsurfing I contacted earlier. She wasn’t in Gorgan at the time, but after we talked a while on the phone, she offered me to stay at her place anyways, her landlord could let me in. I wasn’t sure if I should take the offer, but she seemed very convinced, I had a ten-hour hitchhiking journey behind me, it started to rain, and my brain was not up for thinking on its own anymore. After a bit of organisation, I entered a warm, welcoming apartment which even without her being there made me feel at home immediately. After having dinner and organising my documents to extend my visa the following day I slept like a champ until the next morning.
In Gorgan, I quickly noticed that the world is upside down. The taxi drivers are super friendly and helpful, while the people are a bit stressful when you are a solo non-Iranian female traveller walking along the street. The taxi driver wasn’t sure where exactly I needed to go so he called his friend who spoke a little English and together with the other people in the car we finally figured it out and he drove me all the way to the immigration office.
I got there with my best hejab: Hair, ears, neck completely covered and my manteau closed to the last button. But it wasn’t enough, I was given a Chador at the women’s entrance. I kind of got used to the headscarf by now and almost know how to wear it without it always being in my way and annoying me, but the Chador is still a whole new level. Most of the time it will just not stay on top of my head and I don’t have any hand free because I’m trying to hold it up as good as possible. It mostly ends up with my hair being completely uncovered and all over the place, making me look like I just got out of bed. So there went my nicely made hejab. Luckily, the officials in the office didn’t really care. They were more surprised to see a western tourist and weren’t sure how to process my case. But after a few office doors, they did the entire paperwork for me and gave me my 30 day visa extension without too many questions.
After that I went back to the city center and stayed in a café to relax over a cup of tea, before I started to explore the area a bit. It turned out to be nicer than expected, with a beautiful fruit market in the center and some green areas and parks around. I bought some fruits and veggies and went back home. It was the first time in a while that I cooked something myself and I realised I missed it, even if it is just pasta with some veggies.
I researched the tourist attractions around the area and found an old, 2000 or something year old tower in Gonbat, a city close to Gorgan and went there the next day. Turns out the tower is not really worth to visit and the entrance fee definitely too high, but I met two nice girls who showed me around and spend the day with me. They were only 22 years old, but I kept on thinking if I had been as mature as they are when I was 22, I might have been chancellor by now. Jokes aside, it was really nice to walk around the city with them and discover the tea houses of the city where we discussed their ideas of life and living.
The next day, my host returned from her trip and I welcomed her with my best breakfast skills. She was super nice and we talked almost the entire day plus the following ones. We even went to a swimming pool together where I finally could do some sports again – couldn’t have been happier.
But I cannot stay at a place forever and I noticed it was time to move on. As I still didn’t have another place to stay it was more difficult to leave than usual. I told myself it always turns out well and so I continued my way to the northwest. I finally found a host on last-minute close to the area where I wanted to go hiking and camping the next day. Once more, I found myself incredibly lucky and happily accepted his offer to host me.
