Dubai: Inside the media bubble...for 3 days at least

Hello all,

I feel like I left rather abruptly last time. The last time I posted it was admittedly a retrospective look back on my time through Iran. Also, I've had the urge to write again so wanted to fill you in on what happened next. My time in Iran was a truly eye-opening place, I don't think I'd ever met people like that or been in deserts and mountains so harsh before so when I did finally run out land and boarded that knackered old boat to Dubai I was spent. Mentally and physically. In all honesty I was numb, not happy not sad, just exhausted. All I could think about was getting to Dubai and the next step to India. Oh and Christmas. And a pint. And a bed. And cheese... And....

So this is where I left you, but what happened next? 

Let me take you back...picture an orange sun-rise, casting silhouettes across a skyline above. I woke from my ferry slumber - the good men on board had given me special service and gave me two breakfasts (think they knew I was coming). Full with eggs, I stared out smiling as we docked into port. Here was Dubai, in all it's extravagant glory.

In my defence, the boat was rolling a bit ok..

I made it through the port customs without much trouble. On the other side it was like a new world. Men in shorts! I'm not a trousers man, and certainly not in 40 degree heat. So I wheeled my bike round the corner, whacked out the legs, got into my least soiled clothes and excitedly pedalled away. Where, I had, no idea, but at least in Dubai you can always follow that big building over there.

Pretty awesome 

Now, I thought I was going to hate Dubai. All fakery, opulence and manufactured lifestyles. I'd expected that after my quest for enlightenment, I would have cast aside all modern trappings and the word "serendipity" scrawled across my chest in Sanskrit. But, actually all I craved was comfort and a little bit of home. So I headed straight down the the main super highway and rolled into the nearest costa coffee. With a pint of coffee and an almond croissant, I was in heaven. If it wasn't for general sweatiness I could've easily felt like I was back in the Home Counties. In fact, this is exactly like home!

I'd planned to meet my ex's brother, who'd offered his place. I had 3 days before I flew to India and I planned to sit in a room with wifi, drink coffee and do nothing. But he had other ideas...

"Ben man! This is crazy! You gotta tell people about this, it's a big deal out here!" (He had a Swedish American accent FYI). I was nodding whilst eating a steak, not listening, but with this he took upon himself to alert the whole Gulf that I'd arrived. 

The next morning I was outside cleaning my bike and he shoved a phone in my ear. "It's the National. They wanna talk to you"... "Uhh, hello? Yep, this is Ben". So I recounted the last 4 months to this guy down the phone whilst scraping sand out of my chain. 

Who says men can't multitask? Here's my baby after a good going over

They wanted to meet me somewhere for a photo shoot. Eh? Are you serious? But apparently they were. So I asked my host Daniel where we should meet. He suggested The Hilton because they do a good buffet. So I followed Daniel across town, traversed a 16 lane highway and pedalled furiously struggling to catch his Porsche. He parked up, I sweated next to him, and we both walked off towards the hotel. Him in tight Miami shorts, muscle top and wrap arounds, me in filthy Lycra and torn trousers. We did the shoot, I cycled around again trying to look like I wasn't cycling around a car park, and we left. Daniel was furious we didn't get a buffet...

I left him, time to sit and chill. Whilst visiting another chain coffee shop I got a call from Daniel again. "Yep? TV? Oo I'm not so sure... What tonight? But what am I gonna say?...Alright ye go on..". I had to call a guy called Ray at Dubai One, the country's biggest channel. They wanted me on Dubai's answer to the "One Show" in a couple of hours. First thought I had to send him an email with all the fun, crrrazy and whacky stuff that happened to me. So I sent him that email, complete with dogs, beans, and going nuts in my tent. 

Daniel and I (by now my hard-hitting media agent) arrived at the studios, me still in sweaty clothes. "But Daniel, I don't have any socks on, I can't do this!" "Sure you can, they'll love it!". So we walked him with my bike, they sat us both down behind the camera, and the producer briefed me on what I could and couldn't say. Apparently nothing about the existence of Iran. Ye sure, thanks, there goes half my stories. All the while Daniel was scanning the bevy of beautiful fashion models lined up in the corner. "Oh and one more thing, Ben - are your trousers held up by string?" "Yes, that's right Ray.", "Ha! I love it!" 

So I sat waiting, watching the bedlam around me, Daniel coaching me in my ear. I was nervous but also not. I just thought, well if meltdown on that sofa and have another Turkish TV debacle, then I can bury it with all the my other media forays and nobody needs see it. Sod it, I'm gonna do this! So they sat me down, I shook the hands of the cheesy presenters who until now had been flying around trying to get himself PUMPED by launching lollipops at people even thought they didn't want them. 

And we're on air in 5, 4, 3, (silent) 2, 1. "Welcome back, and tonight we're going to meet a man who's cycled here tonight from the UK. Ben Smith, thanks for joining us." And the rest... Well I can't really remember, it just happened. All I can recall is the bright lights and being conscious that the camera could see the bean juice down the front of my shirt. 

Dead man walking. This was the moment it really dawned on me.

We got back home, and I was welcomed by Daniel's family who were hanging out the door. "It was amazing!" "Really?", "Yeah, we all watched it, and we recorded it". So I watched it back on an 80 inch projector screen with cinema surround sound. And all I could think was "wow, am I really that posh?". But actually it went alright, In fact I loved it. Maybe a career in front of the camera beckons. The next time though I will definitely remember socks.

If you would like to read or see and of these ridiculous things then here they are. My 5 minutes of fame. Once in a lifetime stuff, that's for sure...

http://www.khaleejtimes.com/kt-article-display-1.asp?xfile=data%2Fnationgeneral%2F2013%2FDecember%2Fnationgeneral_December172.xml&section=nationgeneral

http://www.thenational.ae/uae/tourism/briton-cycles-8-000km-from-london-to-dubai-for-charity

http://vod.dmi.ae/media/244856/Studio_One_Season_4_19_12_2013

From here I boarded a flight from Dubai to India on 21st December. Christmas was coming, and I couldn't wait! 

....Oh and it wasn't all hard work ;)

30 days in Iran: Part three

Esfahan to Bandar Lengeh

Met my first proper cyclists on the road out of Esfahan. This is Akbar and the three of us exchanged bikes for a bit. I think mine with all the bags weighed 10 times their carbon bikes. They equally could barely get mine to move.

As we were going in roughly the same direction I had some company on the road for the first time since Istanbul and I'd missed it.

That night I was invited back for dinner. Akbar spoke cracking English, Medi didn't. But he did give a half decent massage. He took me to a hammam before dinner to clean me up, throw me about and pound my body like a meat tenderiser. He was a factory worker by trade and had the calloused hands of an Irish navvy. I was also given the surreal treat of a facial shaze with a bic razor - I had to close my eyes so as not to dwell on the intimate moment we were sharing. But alas, after my "treatment" I'd never felt so soothed yet strangely violated.

Here's their 95 year dad kicking back in front of the fire

Tea time and here i have the choice of 4 different types of sugar.

It was ridiculously windy leaving the next day and Madi and Akbar did well to bother accompanying me for even 25km. Akbar's leaving present was a book entitled "fitness and healthy living" - an unsubtle hint I feel. 

I remember the cold wind that day and at night i had to seek shelter behind a disused oil drum. It was bleak but fantastically liberating. I could see whole galaxies of stars in the unspoilt night sky.

I did 160km the next day 100km was before midday. But soon after i hit the hills again. I'd heard about "cadging" lifts on to the backs of slow moving trucks - a little like a ski lift. I couldn't quite the hang of it (no pun intended) so stuck with piston power.

Once over and down the other side I was welcomed by my first UNESCO World Heritage site. Well, it was a long lens job from behind a fence as I couldn't afford the entrance fee. This was an ancient part of the Persian capital of Persopolis...

That day was a real highlight. I found a new lease of life and any lingering grumpiness or melancholia had passed and I took in as much as I could. That's the thing, some days you're ready to pack it in and there's nobody to pull you out of a slump and the next you wake and feel so lucky to be there. It's fair to say I learnt the value of "tomorrow's another day"...

So cycling through what must have been the greenest and most lush valley in all of Iran I was hailed down near the town of Sivand by this man. He pleaded with me almost to the point of tears to stay the night with him and his family. I declined at first as I didn't trust his wild red eyes or his shaky and erratic manner. He reminded me very much of the gloriously drunk Oliver Read on the Parkinson talk show.

But once again, I heard that voice saying "take every opportunity" and I cautiosly followed him through the pastures. I must say the pastoral scene was more akin to 'Pride and Prejudice' than deepest Iran. . 

We sat for dinner cooked by his doting mother.

He actually turned out to be a warm and funny guy who was mad about football. He relished in reciting from memory, from goalkeeper to substitutes, the entire England squad from Italia '90. 

I knew just about enough Farsi to cobble together a conversation with his kids who looked less than thrilled with my arrival...

Another warm and loving family. I think we could all learn a lot from the way Iranian people love and respect their family.

Then breakfast in the morning. There's a common theme here of eating. Usually an omelette and cheese, jam and honey. Also I was given sweetened lamb's fat which you spread on bread. Sounds awful but was actually tasty.

Plus these...sheep's milk balls. Never tasted anything so bad. Like drinking straight from the udder. 

And like all my stays, it was time to leave. 

This was the town, named Sivand, buried in the mountain. 

Here I am at Persepolis. This was the heart of the ancient Persian city built by Xerxes the great and once the centre of one the largest empires ever known. It was made of palaces, tombs, harems, and ceremonial halls where dignitaries from across the empire came to pay their respects to the King.

This was a definite highlight. I love a good bit of history, and understanding a country's past teaches you a lot about the people today.

Shiraz

Shiraz was alright. A little overrated. And no sign of red wine either? It had definitely gotten more dusty and I'm told before the revolution you could pick up the best local wine for next to nothing. I met nice people and my first cycle tourists since Istanbul.

Leaving Shiraz through the farm land.

I was again offered a place to stay by a passer by. 

As always, none of us could communicate properly with eachother, but you manage somehow. My host, Ahad, had a small dictionary of business English so I was able to say phrases such as "I was previously a sales executive for a large multinational conglomerate." We spent the evening teaching eachother our languages. 

They were a lovely family and even washed my clothes. The little one Zahra was adorable, she just followed me around waiting on me hand and foot offering tea.

Inside an Iranian house. 

I didn't make it far that day before I was invited for lunch. This was becoming a routine now. One which I was only happy to go along with although I was reluctant at first because time was tight. However, I was always pleased I did when I left - you can only smile at the selfless generosity of Iranian people.

Husain owned an enormous fruit orchard and gave me a couple of kilos of citrus fruits. I'm still working through them actually.

And holding another unimpressed baby

By now things were getting very tropical and all around me grew huge palm trees

I was stopped late in the day by this man. He was clearly pissed and thought it would be funny to fill my water bottles with homebrewed meths rather than water and took great delight in me wincing when I took a swig. We did end up sharing a few shots sat by the road. In hindsight it wasn't the smartest thing but again, it's all experiences ey?!

These signs are dotted everywhere. In remembrance of the fallen martyrs who defended their country against Saddam Hussein.

I stopped for lunch here about 50km south east of Jahrom. You can't see but this place was full of families enjoying their Friday off picnicking. It's nice to see but I was crowded as soon as I sat down. I wanted to switch off and stare blankly but 20 people stood around me gawping and asking questions. I felt like a zoo attraction. One downside of their inquisitive friendliness.

Yeeeeeeah

I eventually stopped to pitch my tent on a dry river bed. The hazy sun made for an impressive backdrop.

Getting very southerly now, it was very hot on the road. That's a make shift sweatband 

I was again invited to stay the night. This time it was on a farm with a young guy who spoke great English. With Dubai only  250km away I'd noticed more western things.

Sampling a local delicacy: palm cheese. Apparently a potent aphrodisiac...dangerous in Iran :-/

They took me to a mountain thermal spring, had a BBQ and passed around more illegal substances. The next day it was off again. 

A cracking descent that morning 

Clearly bloody loving it!

These are wells dotted everywhere 

The last day. A gruelling 150km with a long mountain pass. It was roasting, I had little food and water and just preyed nearing the summit of each hill that it would flatten. But no...

I are my last tin of baked beans cold from the can while a lorry driver stopped for

prayer.

And finally, after half the day sat firmly in the saddle I could look back on my mountain foe. Now only 50km of flat salt plains to the Persian Gulf

Despite a massive sugar crash I couldn't help but laugh at the laziest shepherd in Iran.

And then as the sun ducked behind the landscape for the final time I saw the sea for the first time properly since the English Channel four months ago.

And not wishing to get over emotional but be it the wind or whatever, I had a certain moistness to the eye. To be honest it was more relief than jubilation. I was creeeeeam crackered!

So how do you celebrate this? Well I don't know really. Mainly ice cream and a dream of that first pint over in Dubai.

So the next morning I arrived early at the port in Bandar Lengeh. 65USD - the last of my depleted funds. I loaded her up on board, took a seat and dozed through the nighttime crossing. When the sun would rise I'd be in Dubai and it couldn't come a moment too soon! 

...it was a long crossing

Ben