The first surprise for us ignorant people is that Ankara used to be called Angora. And then there are Angora cats, Angora rabbits and Angora-whatever. I am completely confused.
Agenda item one: getting to the Iranian embassy on time. We take the bus we know from the day before. In other words, we try to catch the right one. There are hundreds of lines, they all stop somewhere, sometimes we have to jump out into the street and wave frantically to catch the right number. At some point we are standing in our bus, squeezed in between lots of people. We realise that we are a whole head taller than the people on the bus, so we tower over everyone and have an excellent view of what's going on.
Of course, you can only pay at the front. The fact that people get on at the back is not a problem here. The tickets are constantly passed from the very back to the very front, quickly validated at the front and then the ticket is returned to the end of the bus. We watch and have to smile. How organised and individualised we are in Switzerland and Germany. Somehow, both are beautiful.
We stand in front of the embassy, have to lock up our bags and mobile phones, take a number and at some point we are called. We go to the counter, hand in the completed forms (previously printed out in the copy shop) and are allowed to sit down again. We play the whole game (stand up, go to the front, sit down) a few times. At some point, the time has come for us to pay for our visa. To do this, we insert our credit card into the slot in the window and then have to shout our pin loud and clear. Everyone present, including those in the waiting room, now knows our number. Different countries, different customs. The fact that you can have a pin consisting of 5 digits is of course unknown here. That is surprising. So we repeat it. Over and over again. Loud and clear. At some point, I write our number, which is no longer secret, on a piece of paper and hold it up to the window. Ah, five digits? Is that possible? Yes, there is! Different countries, different customs.
With our 90-day visa, we set off into the city. We visit various museums, take the bus again (pure adrenaline!), enjoy tea and chips in the President's Symphony bistro and stroll through the old bazaar.
We have to take separate entrances to the mosque; the women go through a narrow side entrance. But we can both enjoy the splendour of the mosque.
To celebrate, we end up (quite by chance?) in a street full of wool shops. I push the thought that we're only flying with hand luggage to the back of my mind and buy kilos of wool for any projects. After all, you never know if there will be any wool in the next country! Different countries, different wool, I think to myself.
In the evening, we laze around in our beautiful hotel - after all, hotels should be used extensively and not left empty. We round off the evening with piano music in the lobby.
Oh, how marvellous!
For your own memory: https://maps.app.goo.gl/E9n7ubtjhJNAW6pG6
Merci for "travelling with us
We are thinking about taking another break from travelling in the summer and visiting our families in Germany and Switzerland. One of the ideas is to organise a Lecture about our long journey to the Persian Gulf to prepare. If you would like to, what would interest you the most? We will also tell stories here that don't find a place here on the blog. We're thinking of the Bern and Berlin area - simply because we have family there. But other places are also conceivable. Feel free to write to us.
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