After a long and fairly dull motorway drive we reach the first border post and are told to wait in line for our turn which we do… for an hour…
We then move to the actual border building. It’s changed a lot since my last visit. Then there were a couple of small buildings manned by a small number of guards taking care of just a couple of tourists during the three hours I had to spend there. A large modern building manned by at least one hundred people has now replaced them. We are told to go to the border policeman. As we enter the building we are faced with a scene from Dante’s Inferno. There are literally hundreds of people, most of them local fpamilies squatting in the various halls on mats they have brought along for this very purpose. There are many children which the mothers struggle to keep entertained. Most of the women are veiled from their head to their ankles. It seems that they have been waiting there for a long time. As we pass by, we see them preparing tea and even lunch with the gas burners they have brought along. Outside, bus drivers are cooking rice and heating some canned meat on the roadside for all their passengers. They all seem patient even resigned to the long waits which are typical of borders in these countries. It seems time has a different meaning for them. We should consider ourselves lucky to live and travel in the West. It will be a long time before any of see countries will be able to emulate life style.
When it’s my turn, I approach the booth and hand my passport over to the border policeman. There begins a charade which I was not prepared for. He cannot figure out which country has issued my passport (Hungary). Despite the name of the country being translated in a fair number of languages he starts guessing: Germany, France, England then moves on to different continents – Mongolia, Malaysia, Australia, then Costarica, Honduras and Nicaragua. Meanwhile Mattia and the other crews are giggling behind my back and making bets on how many other countries he is going to read out from the computer. Finally he looks at the cover of my passport and proudly announces: Magyarstan! and puts a stamp in my passport. Wow! I thought I would never get out of Iran until the border policeman had run out of countries…and now I realise that I too am a citizen of a “…stan”
We are all cheering as we cross over to the Turkish side, arms raised to the sky. We are finally out. We then complete the Turkish formalities fairly quickly. Not quite Europe but much better than what we went through in the previous countries.
Over 300Km to tonights hotel in Erzurum. This is after this morning’s 300Km… good roads though, far better than when I passed by here last. Pity we cannot really take advantage of them as we hit terminal velocity at no more than 85Kph!
Soon after the border we are offered the majestic view of Mount Ararat, of biblical memory. Despite the very top being hidden by clouds it’s an incredible spectacle. It rises uninterrupted from about 1,500m on the plateau where we are, to over 5,000m, the highest mountain this side of Europe. It’s a dormant volcano which last erupted in the mid 19th century.
Noah’s ark has yet to be found.
We cross a number of villages, similar to those we have left behind near the Iranian border. In the countryside more cows, sheep, goats and shepherds on horseback. Not much else of notice before we arrive other than a ruined but beautiful Ottoman bridge, then, finally, a superb dinner at our hotel in the great Turkish tradition.