and sent it over to us by post. Both
these guys went out of their way to
help us and didn't even accept any
money for the things they had given
us. It is amazing, this innate factor
in people to help a traveller who is far
from home.
Iran is the most hospitable country
we have visited so far. Almost every
time we stopped for a short break on
the side of the road, locals stopped to
check on us, give us snacks or even in-
vite us into their homes. These peo-
ple are so good and kind to travellers
that you must experience this to un-
derstand how you can end up at a
stranger’s house, in a huge party with
all the family, where all you do is have
fun and exchange stories.
It is a pity that the local bikers are
so restricted when it comes to own-
ing a motorcycle. We needed a me-
chanic and with the help of Ali Reza,
a friend who was hosting us, made
friends with a guy called Ali Motori.
Can you imagine, being passionate
about something that fills your heart
with joy and adrenaline … and it is
taken away from you?
This is what happened to the die-
hard bikers in Iran after the Islamic
Revolution in 1979. Since then, one
cannot own a motorcycle with an en-
gine larger than 250cc. Ali Motori is
a mechanic by profession and a bik-
er at heart. You can recognise him
from his Suzuki jacket and his crazy
wheelies on his 200cc. He previously
owned several big bikes which were
eventually confiscated and taken
from him.
Our motorcycle needed an oil
change as well as a minor repair to
the swingarm, due to a factory weld
defect. Adequate oil was a pain to
find and so was a capable engineer
TRAVERSE 50
to get the aluminium welded but,
Ali went out of his way to help. He
closed the doors of his workshop and
travelled as far as 60km out of town to
sort out everything for us. One eve-
ning, he even invited us to his house
for kebabs. Despite the language bar-
rier, Daryl visited Ali every day and
they connected as if they had been
friends forever. Saying goodbye was
very hard.
Since most Iranians do not speak
English, in most cases we could
only communicate with one or two
members of the family, who would
naturally end up translating the con-
versations. This is where the magic
happens – even though most of the
time we could not communicate ver-
bally, and even though as a woman
and due to certain cultural restric-
tions I felt I should take a step back,
the connections I felt with these peo-