3 weeks in Iran: Tips & Budget

From Turkey, we passed through the border post of Bazargan in Iran, just after Dogubeyazit. After the paperwork and waiting in line, we crossed the Iranian soil, on foot, for a period of three weeks. In this article oriented "practice", we hope to answer the questions that can be asked before organizing such a trip.

1. Our itinerary in Iran over 3 weeks

3 weeks in Iran: Tips & Budget


  1. Tabriz, time to acclimatize
  2. Isfahan, discovery of the Iranian way of life and a jewel of Persia
  3. Kashan, the city on the edge of the desert
  4. Yazd, its alleys, badgirs and our favorite
  5. Shiraz, Persepolis and Necropolis
2. To move
Buses and trains
It is very easy to find a bus or a train to get around Iran and jump from city to city. At the bus station, we are quickly taken care of, just out of the taxi. Then just say where you want to go and take you to the right ticket office.

There are two kinds of buses: standards and VIPs. These are very comfortable with air conditioning, space for the legs (especially in version 2 + 1) and reclining seats to sleep well. A snack is always provided on the bus with a drink, all for free. When we took the night bus between Tabriz and Isfahan, a meal was included in the price of the ticket.

We also took a night train between Shiraz and Tehran. We paid for the meal in addition to the price of the ticket but a snack with biscuits is distributed free of charge, just like tea. Our compartment was composed of 4 berths, it was a very comfortable trip.

Summary of our travels in Iran:
  • Maku - Tabriz: bus (145,000 rials / person)
  • Tabriz - Isfahan: night bus (720,000 rials / person)
  • Isfahan - Kashan: bus (175,000 rials / person)
  • Kashan - Yazd: train (325,000 rials / person)
  • Yazd - Shiraz: bus (320 000 rials / person)
  • Shiraz - Tehran: night train 1,150,000 rials / person with meal)

Taxis and the Snapp app
In town, there are many taxis, yellows, whites, officials, unofficial. Generally, they all come to you before you know for yourself whether you are taking a taxi or not! If you walk quietly in town and are waiting to cross, a taxi will always be there to say "Taxi?". Many Iranians also offer driver and guide to get to the tourist spots (like Persepolis from Shiraz). Feel free to negotiate the price if you do not go through an agency. If your driver speaks English, he can also act as a guide. As a general rule, even for a small race, negotiate the price and fix it before getting into the car. When we had a good feeling with a driver, we left more than expected and there you will be entitled to the most beautiful smile!

There is also an Uber-style application in major Iranian cities called SNAPP. The price is fixed in advance via the app and is usually half as much as an official taxi. We pay the driver in cash at the end of the race. No ambiguity possible.To download the application must do a small manipulation because it has been removed from the stores because of sanctions. Follow the instructions in this article to have Snapp.

3 weeks in Iran: Tips & Budget
The Imam Square in Isfahan

3. Staying
The main cities offer many accommodations, from the luxury hotel to the hostel. There is therefore for all purses, for all desires. You can also stay with Iranians (even if it's not allowed) thanks to the Homestay website (a kind of Airbnb) or free thanks to the Couchsurfing network or Warmshowers (for the cyclo-travelers). Small note about Couchsurfing: many Iranians charge their guests, some are very explicit in their announcement as our host in Kashan, others are less so. They also often offer guide services, so we do not know if it's the money or the meeting that takes over. It's up to you to make your own opinion via the different ads, but Couchsurfing in Iran is not the same as in other countries.

Booking does not work in this country and very little hosting is referenced on Google. We have worked a lot by word of mouth or by searching blogs and forums. Now we have to give you our good addresses:

  1. Isfahan: Ragrug Hostel
  2. Yazd: Kalout Hostel
  3. Shiraz: Taha Hostel
Shiraz Bazaar
Shiraz Bazaar

4. Feeding themselves
This is the point where we had the most trouble. Coming from Turkey, where the country is teeming with restaurants, terraces, picnics and lahmacun, it is disenchantment when one wants to eat on the run, or even find a small restaurant. In some cities, we walked long enough to find a place to eat something other than ice. There is a lot of fast food with burgers and pizzas not very good and very fat. To eat more typical, we had more trouble. But all is explained: in Iran, we rarely go to the restaurant and even less family. Cooking is a mark of respect for its guests (especially when it comes to stepmom!). In youth hostels we sometimes cooked ourselves: pasta, tomato salad and cucumbers,

But do not be discouraged, we also ate very good food and made some great culinary discoveries: Dizi, Ghormeh Sabzi, Kabab, carrot jam. Jerome tested the national drink, the Doogh (a yoghurt drink) but he preferred the Turkish Ayran (difficult to compete with Turkish cuisine in this region of the world!).

We also like to sit on the terrace and have a drink. It was done in Yazd, on a roof and in Shiraz on the square of the Vakil mosque.

Our addresses (not very many):
  • Shiraz: Qavum for a good Dizi / Joulep for a drink
  • Yazd: Baam cafe / Tourist free library (for a tea on the roof of the terrace)
Sunset from the roof of the tourist library in Yazd
Sunset from the roof of the tourist library in Yazd

5. Buy a sim card in Iran
We bought our SIM cards in Tabriz. This was not necessarily obvious because not all phone stores sell SIM cards to tourists. First we went to Irancell who sent us to a shop next door. Anyway, there will always be a solution and we will direct you to the good shop. On the spot, the seller will activate the sim card and you can come out with your new package. You have the choice between several packages in a credit call + data internet package (2, 5 or 10 GB). We took a sim card with 10 GB of internet data (the eyes of the salesman when he knew it was a 20 days!) And another sim with 2 GB.

Rate of sim cards: 400 000 rials for 10 GB of internet and 250 000 rials for 2 GB.

Before you arrive in Iran, make sure you download a VPN on your smartphone. It will serve you to go to blocked sites: Facebook, twitter, Netflix etc ...

Roof of Kashan Bazaar
Roof of Kashan Bazaar


6. Dress
Let's start with men because it's faster, it will just put in pants. You can stay in a t-shirt (we still avoid the tank tops). For women, the list is longer, it will take:

  1. Cover your legs with pants or a long skirt. I had read several times that it needed something wide, but on the spot I realized that many Iranian women were wearing slims jeans. So, I had the impression of looking like a potato bag with my clothes wide. Sometimes I swapped my pants for leggings;
  2. Cover the buttocks with a tunic, a vest or other that comes to half of the thighs;
  3. Have long sleeves that cover at least half of the forearm. Under my long-sleeved tunic, I put on a merino t-shirt for less heat and to avoid sweating too much. Rather effective;
  4. Cover your hair with a veil. Think of a light and fine material so as not to be too hot. So that the veil does not fall at the slightest breeze, I made a high bun;
  5. For shoes, you can show your feet. I stayed in sandals the whole trip and I was able to polish my tan with beautiful zebra marks!

Once there, you will see that Iranian women perfectly combine fashion with their clothing restrictions. They are very tasteful, are very classy and also very pretty. Some also have the veil very far back and let a good part of their hair appear (I noticed that it was much the case in Shiraz).

7. The detailed budget
We were in Iran in the low season, from 4 to 24 July 2018. At that time, the exchange rate was 1 € = 90 000 - 92 000 rials. Since the new American sanctions, the rate has completely changed and is only changing (for the greatest misfortune of the Iranians). To keep you updated, you can consult this conversion site (price in toman, I explain you just after the difference), XE does not have the right rate.

Toman, rials, how to cope? The official currency is the rials but everyone speaks in Toman. Fortunately 1 toman = 10 rials, so conversion is easy. A little gymnastics to have when we announce a price (convert to rials, then euro!).

As it is impossible to withdraw from vending machines in Iran, we share our detailed budget, so as to have a rough idea of ​​the cash to be had. Do not change all your money at once, because you will come out with a 70 L bag of tickets! We had no problem changing money in banks, on the street (even if it's supposedly not recommended) or in a bazaar. Sometimes we paid directly in euros too.

  • Transport (bus and train): 5,670,000 rials
  • Transport (taxi and snapp): 2,244,000 rials
  • Accommodation: 10 350 000 rials + 137 €
  • Outings / Visits: 7,210,000 rials + 20 €
  • Meals: 7,715,000 rials + 18 €
  • Various (races, souvenirs, sim cards ): 4,389,000 rials
Amounts are for two people over a period of 21 days.
Vang Vieng charmed us

Former stronghold of debauchery Australian backpackers, opinions are rather mixed on Vang Vieng. Today, the city has cleaned up the image of a giant nightclub where drugs and spirits reigned.

Our experience in Vang Vieng is very positive. Not for the rafting on the Nam Song River or the buggy rides that fizzle in the villages, yet quiet. However, we were attracted by the nature that surrounds the city and its karstic rock landscapes. As well as being direct, Vang Vieng offered us one of our most beautiful visual slaps.

It is also in this city that we met Krystel, from the blog Part Part Du Monde . The moments spent sweating together on our steps, getting completely wet from a shower, or just sitting in a hammock are memorable. In short, Vang Vieng has more and we even stayed one more day.

But what do we do in Vang Vieng?
Climb to the peaks of karstic peaks
The karst peaks around Vang Vieng are the undisputed charm of the region. We were captivated by this scenery, but especially the views offered by some hills on which we can climb: Pha Ngeun Viewpoint and Nam Xay Viewpoint.

We rent bikes with Krystel to go to the foot of the hill and climb on foot. We are still in the rainy season and the humidity in the air makes us perspire to have the clothes soaked. The ascent is not easy, but taking the time, it is easy to get there. Three views are offered and the panorama from the highest point is incredible. We take the time to go down in temperature, but especially to appreciate the sight, before beginning the descent on a muddy and thus slippery ground (I finish 4 times on the buttocks).

Vang Vieng charmed us

Admission fee: 10,000 kips

Nam Xay Viewpoint
We ride alone, Krystel and I to the Nam Xay point of view. Jerome being migraineux, he passes his turn for today. The ascent to the summit is faster than the day before (between 20 and 30 minutes) but also steeper and the ground is again muddy. Walking shoes are strongly recommended (we have however seen people in flip flops). We climb in this overwhelming heat that enkyloses our muscles but the arrival at the summit filled us with joy thanks to the beauty of the places. The view is one of the most incredible I've seen ( Ala Kul in Kyrgyzstanstill in top position) and just for this visual slap, you have to come to Vang Vieng. I was so excited that we went back Jerome and me the next day, so that he too could enjoy this panorama. We stayed more than 1:30 on the platform.

Vang Vieng charmed us


Vang Vieng charmed us

Admission fee: 10,000 kips

Ride a bike or scooter
It was by bike or scooter that we moved around Vang Vieng. By bike, we joined the two points of view, passing by the rice fields still green and sparkling.

For our last day in vang Vieng, we rent a scooter and go through the Laotian countryside. To cross the river, we did not take the paying bridge of Vang Vieng but another further south. We cross the bridge unhindered and the road turns into a perforated track where the goal of the game is to slalom around the holes. Some puddles suddenly flood our way and we splash when we roll in, as quickly as possible, to avoid putting a foot on the ground. We almost miss our face because of the mud. The road is painful, tiring but we can say that we were "off the beaten track". The return on the asphalt is a blessing, but this day to cross small villages, to meet young Laotian schoolchildren all smiles, bombarding us with "Sabaidee".

Vang Vieng charmed us


Chill in a hammock
We bask several times in the hammocks of Smile Beach, facing the Nam Song River. In the off-season, the place is quiet, only a few tubing fans finish their race around the fire concocted by the bar. Sometimes, we see nostalgic residues of the old Vang Vieng, those who stagger again and have not desaoulé since 2012.

Useful information
Getting to Vang Vieng
We took a minivan from Luang Prabang with a pickup truck to our hotel. Price: 120,000 kips per person.

Sleep
Chillao Hostel: Hostel more than average. Shabby room with a mattress on the floor as a bed, pool on the street (no barrier to hide), average breakfast. Yet it has potential, but I have a theory, an inn that has had its glory years during the Vang Vieng festive and mantenant indulges like the nostalgic of the city!

Eat
Happy Mango: great restaurant;
The sandwiches in the bui-bui of the main road: we enjoyed these sandwiches, very well supplied for a ridiculous price.

What we did
Pha Ngeun Viewpoint - 10,000 kips
Nam Xay Viewpoint - 10,000 kips
Bike ride and scooter

What can we do more?
Caves and lagoons: Tham Phu Kham Cave and Blue Lagoon, Tham Nam, Tham Chang Cave ...
A balloon ride. Tubing, buggy, all that, all that!
A day to visit Ulm

Signs along the highway to Munich, that's all we had seen in Ulm, a city in Baden-Wuerttemberg. Well away from the motorway, we reach Ulm by bike from the Donau Bodensee Radweg cycle route. First city where we take a whole day of rest after 9 days on our saddles and 565 kilometers. First city of our bike trip where we take the time to visit.

The heart of the city and its majestic cathedral
The cathedral of Ulm (or more precisely, the main church) dominates the city and the world thanks to its arrow, with a height of 161,53 meters. Impossible to miss the emblem of the city as its architecture is imposing. We sit for a moment on a bench facing her, watching her details and listening to the chime melody.

A day to visit Ulm

The cathedral that we see everywhere
Inside, we are surprised by a concert that resonates inside the building. The atmosphere is captivating, we let ourselves be seduced by the music.

Going up the 768 steps, you can have a view of the city and the surrounding area thanks to the platform located 150 meters high. In good weather, the Alps are also visible.

The fishing district, Fishviertel
That it is good to stroll in this district where the charm of half-timbered houses, small alleys, take us to another time, plunge us into a medieval atmosphere.

A day to visit Ulm

Beautiful half-timbered houses
We wander through the small streets, the bridges, without following a precise route. Only our instinct serves us as GPS. We pass next to the leaning house (Schiefes Haus), one of the curiosities of the city located at the edge of the Blau river. It would be today the most leaning hotel in the world with a slope of 9 to 10°. Even the rooms are tilted, but fortunately not the beds!

Along the Danube
If there is one thing we particularly like about a city, it's the shoreline for pedestrians and cyclists. In Ulm, you can easily walk along the Danube or on the ramparts that mark the entrance to the city. On weekends, friends and families meet on the grassy corners to picnic or play Mölki. In short, the frame invites relaxation.

A day to visit Ulm

To see the city from another angle, we crossed the Danube to walk to the side of Neu Ulm, his Bavarian little sister.

On the other bank of the Danube
The banks of the Danube are also the crossing point of Eurovelo 6, the European cycle route from Nantes to the Black Sea. It is one of the best-known cyclotourist routes and we have traveled to Bulgaria.
From Belgrade to Istanbul by bike

5 days in Novi Sad and Belgrade we are ready to hit the road, even in the rain. This morning, it's raining a little, but we go to the train station to take the train to Belgrade and leave on our bikes from the Serbian capital with the goal: Istanbul. But before you get there, the road is still long and the possibilities of numerous itineraries: the perfect wedding for the changes of plans!

The Belgrade exit is not the most fun. We cross a bridge with heavy traffic. Fortunately, the sidewalk allows us to roll on it to avoid some useless frights. To our surprise, the signs of the Eurovélo 6 are rather present and also offer alternative routes with always a short description or quote. To avoid the road, we take the track between the fields and small villages where the free dogs bark on cyclists who dare to enter their territory. A storm surprises us while we are in the middle of nowhere. At the first lightning a little close we go to take refuge in a hunter's cabin and abandon our bikes to a hundred meters from us. Sitting in the cabin, we wait for the storm to pass before we go to Pancevo.

Waiting for the storm to pass
The next day, the day begins with a puncture for Jerome because of a piece of glass. Time to disassemble the wheel, realize that we do not have the right tubes, put the patch and put it all together, we leave Pancevo around 11 o'clock. Between dogs that bark and try to run us, we walk without much motivation and alert, whistle in the mouth and ready to draw the stick. Smederevo and its surroundings do not leave us a good image, even if the seller of the bike shop (where we buy new tubes) saw the match Strasbourg - Lyon. What a coincidence ! Fortunately, the hospitality of the Serbs and their respectful behavior quickly make us forget these misadventures. In Pozarevac, we are invited to have coffee on the terrace and we talk about cycling during this break.

The road is improving and we do not cross any more dogs. At Veliko Gradiste we find the Danube and the Eurovelo 6 that we had left the day before. From Golubac and after crossing its majestic fortress, we enter the Djerdap National Park on a sparsely populated road along the Danube. On the other side of the bank is Romania, a route often used by cyclo-travelers. But we wanted to stay in Serbia to avoid the line of trucks to Drobeta-Turnu: a choice we do not regret.

The fortress of Golubac
The hills make the scenery sumptuous and we climb with boundless energy. This itinerary with these panoramas reminds us why we love cycling. We take the time to stop where we want and we offer a lunch break overlooking Romania. Further on our way, we can see the sculpture of Débécale in the middle of a Romanian hill. 40 meters high and 20 meters wide, it is impossible to miss the face of the last king of the Dacians, facing Serbia. We could not dream better as a road for our last days in Serbia.

From Belgrade to Istanbul by bike

The sculpture of Décebale
In Negotin, the last Serbian town before Bulgaria, we sleep in the paradise of cyclists. A guesthouse having welcomed a good number of travelers by bike and for good reason, the owner is the little care. As usual, we arrive relatively early in the afternoon to our destination. After a good shower, we are offered drinks and cupcakes. Everything is thought for the comfort of the fighters: a garden furniture, a kitchen and a washing machine. The address was given to us by an Englishman riding a bicycle along the Danube which was pedaling towards Vienna. In Negotin, we also met Paul, a young Austrian from Vienna to Istanbul, also by bike. Paul is one of those people with whom the current passes immediately and with whom we enjoy discussing.

From Belgrade to Istanbul by bike

Changes of plans in Bulgaria
From Negotin, we take the road towards Vidin, the first Bulgarian town after the border. We booked a hotel for two nights to rest the legs before crossing Bulgaria which looks more mountainous. Vidin is nothing exceptional. Some terraces to the Danube and that's it. We sit down with Beer and Sommersby when we see Paul speeding past his trusty steed. He is already far away when he sees our message and our paths are no longer supposed to cross before Istanbul.

Third day in Bulgaria. We always ride along the Danube but we see that very rarely. We cross some villages where we feel a high poverty, especially in this gypsy town where only the main road is more or less paved, the rest is only earth, pebbles and dust. And in this shambles, the villagers are outside, sitting in the shade of the sun, in front of their houses made of odds and ends. Children play, dogs sleep in the middle of bags and bottles lying on the floor. On the course, we also have an appointment with some dogs: some more aggressive than others, even down the bike. Some who see us coming from far and waiting for us in the middle of the road. Arrived in Lom, our motivation is at the lowest. We no longer have the strength, the desire to continue to find a bivouac spot, so it will be hotel. And what a hotel! A slum left in decay: dilapidated walls, unpleasant smell, a mattress on a wooden board as a bed. We leave the bikes in the place where there used to be, an indoor pool. Today, it is empty, the tiles are broken in places and a dead pigeon drags in a corner. Fortunately, the lady of the reception is adorable, it is already that. Lost in our thoughts, we navigate each of our side on the internet, without knowing that we thought the same thing: not to continue on Eurovélo 6 as we had previously organized, but to find a way to make this stay in Bulgaria more exciting. And what's more exciting than visiting cities? The decision is made, we leave by train to Sofia and will also pass by Plovdiv. To close this holiday of loose in Lom, we offer a restaurant. The card is in Bulgarian, we recognize "chicken" thanks to our translator. No bowl, we both ordered chicken livers. Fail ... we go back to sleep on our board!

Extended stay in Sofia and blow of heart for Plovdiv
5:18. We are on the train from Lom and towards Sofia. 4 hours of train waiting for us, time to dream, think and sleep. The night was short and noisy with Bulgarian music until midnight. If we had to redo these last days, we would certainly have taken another path: continue to Nis in Serbia to reach Sofia. But the past does not change and the most important thing is to bounce back in the present moment to enjoy the rest of the adventure. The train sneaks into the Bulgarian mountains, the landscape is sublime with the mist that covers the trees. For a moment, we imagine in the show "Trains like no other" with Philippe Gougler. Eyes staring out, we listen to the sound of the train, smile and impatient to get there.

By train to Sofia
In Sofia, we have an appointment with Hassan and Tania who have an apartment to lend us. We take the time to have lunch together at the trendy Made in Blue restaurant. So hip that Gerard Butler ate there at the same time as us. Fatigue invades us in the afternoon. We return to the apartment to rest, because in the evening we are out with Hassan, Tania and their Bulgarian friends. The atmosphere is good, very festive and we drink every minute with the Bulgarian. 2:30 in the morning, we are ordered a taxi to return. Lack of luck, the driver drops us in the wrong place. When you realize it, he's already gone. We will end the evening with a walk of 2.5 kilometers!

Best burger in town by Made in Blue!
The two nights we should have spent in Sofia are finally transformed into 4 to spend the weekend with Hassan and Tania in their mountain home. The other days were devoted to visiting the Bulgarian capital, strolling the streets, shopping in "Second Hand Shop" and the terraces of the city, including one with Paul (we knew he was in Sofia in same time as us).

From Belgrade to Istanbul by bike

In the streets of Sofia
To reach Plovdiv, we take the train again to gain 1 day. We had read on different blogs and seeing several photos that the city was very attractive. And we confirm, Plovdiv is beautiful. An open-air museum with many Roman remains, a beautiful architecture and neighborhoods totally different from each other. The city is one of the oldest cities in Europe, anterior to Rome or Athens and well deserves its status as Capital of Culture 2019. City to the seven hills, it is easy to take a little height to admire the sunset. We did it both nights, including one with Paul. Ah yes ! We met Paul by chance in the streets of Plovdiv, he thinks we're following him!

Bulgaria is soon over and ends much better than it started. We leave Plovdiv following a beautiful bike path that ends in the district of Stolipinovo that we cross to find the road 8. And what a shock! After some research, we learn that we were in one of the largest Roma ghetto in Europe. The difference between the center of Plovdiv is this neighborhood left us speechless. Blocks of buildings of the communist era in a row in a dubious state, a main road and unmaintained streets where pile up waste. We roll without saying a word but our eyes can not help but look at the slightest detail of this surrealist scene. She is far away the beautiful Western Europe!

First steps in Turkey and our itinerary from Edirne to Istanbul
It is through Greece that we enter Turkey with a memorable border crossing: warm welcome from the Turks, big smiles, laughter and especially tea at the time of passport control. At Edirne we stay at Can's, which we contacted via Couchsurfing. We take the time to visit the city together, the bazaars and the wonderful Selimiye Mosque. We also discover local cuisine and morning tea, noon, day, evening. What a treat, Turkey promises beautiful taste sensations. Here we are, finally, in one of the most welcoming countries in the world. Arriving in Turkey is a turning point in our cycling journey. We feel like closing a chapter of our adventure and opening another. In these new pages we learn to live with new smells, new sensations, new noises. The singing of mosques during calls to prayer, the "cling-cling" of teaspoons to stir sugar in tea, the incisive horns and the big male voices of street vendors.

From Belgrade to Istanbul by bike

The streets of Edirne
To get to Istanbul, we take the less direct path but avoid entering the city by road that seems chaotic. We go down towards Çanakkale and follow the Aegean Sea and the Sea of ​​Marmara. What a pleasure to see this infinite blue, especially after a beautiful coast and its descent that leads us right on the sea. We stay all along the E87, a kind of 2 times 2 lanes with wide band of emergency stop . Horns of encouragement are omnipresent. A small wave of the hand and we continue our way listening to podcasts. We also meet great people: this man who wants to give us money to eat, this family who comes to give us meat pieces of their picnic and with whom we spend the rest of the evening.

Altinyazi
Çanakkale is a young and tourist town on the coast. Bars, cafes and other restaurants are numerous. We stayed here for one night to catch the ferry the next morning to go to the island of Bozcaada, whose beauty, clear water and sweetness of life we ​​were told: the perfect place to do nothing , holidays in the holidays. And what a pleasure to have taken 2 days OFF where our only question was to know on which beach we would put our towels. Between bike rides along the coast, strolling through the streets of the city with the charming mixture of Turkish and Greek influences, the time has stopped and we would have liked it not to resume so quickly.

From Belgrade to Istanbul by bike

The Greek influence in Bozcaada
Return to the mainland at Geyikli. The wind has risen and it faces us during the three days on the road towards Istanbul, with an intensity more and more strong. It is exhausted by gusts, we arrive at Bandirma where we take the ferry to Istanbul. Finally we are there, in this megalopolis. We stay more than a week to make and recover our Iranian visa and wander in this lively, noisy but so attractive city. The arrival in Istanbul with a chaotic traffic!

Our steps:
  • J 38: Belgrade - Pancevo / 41 km / Hostel
  • D 39: Pancevo - Udovice / 65 km / Hostelche
  • Day 40: Udovice - Veliko Gradiste / 75 km / Camping Silver Lake
  • D 41: Veliko Gradiste - Donji Milanovac / 81 km / Hostel
  • Day 42: Donji Milanovac - Kladovo / 65 km / Guesthouse Sipi
  • Day 43: Kladovo - Negotin / 56 km / Guesthouse for cyclists (a great place)
  • J 44: Negotin - Vidin / 45 km / Hotel
  • J 46: Vidin - Lom / 55 km / Hotel
  • J 48: Lom - Sofia / Train / Hosted thanks to Hassan and Tania
  • D 52: Sofia - Plovdiv / Train / Guest Rooms Contact
  • J 54: Plovdiv - Alexandrovo / 99 km / Camping Alexandrovo (Great)
  • J 55: Alexandrovo - Svielengrad / 58 km / Guesthouse
  • J 56: Svielengrad - Edirne / 57 km / Couchsurfing
  • J 58: Edirne - Türkobasi / 89,5 km / Bivouac
  • J 59: Türkobasi - Koruköy / 78 km / Camping Saros
  • Day 60: Koruköy - Çanakkale / 75 km / Airbnb
  • J 61: Çanakkale - Bozcaada / Ferry / Hotel Alize
  • J 63: Bozcaada - Umurbey / 75 km / Bivouac in a petrol station
  • J 64: Umurbey - Biga / 74 km / Hotel
  • J 65: Biga - Bandirma / 75 km / Hotel
  • J 66: Bandirma - Istanbul / Ferry / Airbnb
1 month in Kyrgyzstan: a practical guide and tips

We were fortunate enough to stay in Kyrgyzstan for one month and make the most of this beautiful country. We went cycling, horse riding and walking, staying in hostels, guesthouses and yurts, camping wild. In parallel with the travel diaries, we have concocted a practical guide that contains all the information you need to organize your trip to Kyrgyzstan.

Before you start, the first thing to know is that, as French, we do not need a visa for a total of 60 days. No more excuses not to walk on Kyrgyz lands in the next few years!

Our itinerary
Our trip started cycling until we got sick and went backpacking for horseback riding and hiking. We concocted a small map with our bike route, as well as the towns and points of interest we went to.

Part of Kyrgyzstan
You can find our travel stories under the following links:
  1. Cycling in Kyrgyzstan
  2. Song Kul Lake on horseback
  3. Hiking at Ala Kul Lake
  4. Stroll in the Skazka Canyon
  5. 2 days riding on Lake Kul Ukok

1 month in Kyrgyzstan: a practical guide and tips

Move By bike
Kyrgyzstan is a country much appreciated by cyclists because the landscapes are grandiose and one can easily find oneself alone when one ventures through the mountains. The only difficulties lie in the different passes to pass (Yes, Kyrgyzstan is not flat, it is a series of climbs and descents it easily passes the bar of 3000 meters of altitude) and tracks of lands, of small pebbles or corrugated iron that hurt your bike (remember to tighten the screws regularly!). But if you come to Kyrgyzstan, that's also why.

Outside main roads, cars and trucks are few. We tried to focus on yellow roads or small red on our road map (Gizi Map bought in Bishkek in the geoID store). The driving of the Kyrgyz is rather rough, they drive fast and sometimes do not take enough safety distance to overtake. Nevertheless, high traffic portions are in the minority. For Issyk-kul, focus on the southern part of the lake rather than the north.

Before getting sick in Chaek, we wanted to do everything by bike. The route we had in mind was: to join Song Kul Lake, go back down Naryn and cycle through the valley, reach the southern part of Issyk-kul and return to Bishkek. But that was before our changes of plan, so we tested other means of travel to complete this guide.

1 month in Kyrgyzstan - Between the Kyrgyz mountains by bike
In marshrutkas
The marshrut what? It is the public transport par excellence in Kyrgyzstan. A kind of minivan, where you crowd inside. Some are even equipped with a bunk to spend the night. The marshrutkas roam the country, you can easily move using this means of transport and besides it is not expensive.

To find the right marshrutkas is simple, just go to the bus station (or a semblance of bus station in the smaller cities) and ask if it goes to your destination. We never got to know the schedules, we never booked in advance, we always went there and we were always brought back to the good marshrutkas, giving priority to the departures in the morning in case There was no transportation in the afternoon. We also noticed that there were not necessarily rules according to the filling: sometimes we were better sitting than at other times.

On some portions, as between Balykchi and Kochkor, there are no marshrutkas but shared taxi. A driver takes you in his minivan and leaves when the vehicle is full. The price is cheap and is the same for everyone.

Rent a 4 × 4 or Russian van
Many people rent 4 × 4 with or without a driver to be as independent as possible. It is a good solution for not being dependent on public transport and can cover a good part of the country. We met several people who rented a vehicle without a driver and did very well alone, provided you know at least change a tire! The only thing to know is that you will often be stopped by the police for any reason and you will have to drop a small ticket. According to a couple to meet at Tunduk, it is necessary to prepare a good bundle ticket of 200 soms, it is what they must give according to them, no more (they often negotiated not to pay more and it worked).

Another couple, also met at Tunduk, had rented a Russian van (you can see their pictures on their facebook page ), it looked really nice and the advantage of being able to sleep inside.

The stop
In Kyrgyzstan, everyone becomes a driver at the slightest thumbs up, but rare are those who will take you for free (sometimes it works anyway, but ask before the driver so that there is no confusion). In the more remote villages, the stop is a means of transport like the others also used by the locals.

We hitched up to Tosor to go to Skazka Canyon and join Kochkor. But also to Bishkek to return to our hostel and from Ak Suu to Karakol after our trek to Lake Ala Kul. Even at 5, we have always found a vehicle.

In the city
To spend as little as possible, the solution is the marshrutkas that costs 10KGS regardless of the destination. You just have to find the right mini bus and for that you can use the BUS.kg application.

Otherwise, another solution is the taxi which necessarily costs more or you can use the application Namba Taxi, the local UBER.

Housing
Kyrgyzstan is probably the country in which we have made the most of different housing. Hotel, hostel, guesthouse, yurt, bivouac or tent in a garden, everything is possible. In town, it will be more hotel, hostel or guesthouse and in the mountains it will camp or sleep in a yurt.

Traveling to Kyrgyzstan
The yurts are usually provided with blankets, but we slept all the same dressed because at more than 3000 meters of altitude, in August, it is very cool (I also put my cap to warm the head). We also had a silk sheet with us. For the more cautious, plan a sleeping bag and more. Our last night on Lake Kul Ukok was particularly cool, even with the blankets. I really missed my sleeping bag and my down jacket that stayed in Bishkek. Since yurts are not BBC, there is a risk of drafts, especially if you sleep at one end. Rates, a night in a yurt with breakfast costs 450KGS.

In bivouac, it's almost like a yurt but cooler. Our highest camp was 2500 meters above sea level. It is therefore necessary to provide quality material and keep warm, also for clothes.

Summary of our accommodations:
  1. Bishkek: Tunduk Hostel - $ 20 per double room; $ 8 tent in the garden
  2. Sosnovka: Guesthouse
  3. Chaek: Guesthouse Eco Tour (to flee)
  4. Kyzart: tent in the garden - free
  5. Kochkor: Jailoo - 350 soms the bed in dormitory
  6. Karakol: Karakol Issyk Kul Otel (to flee) - 17 € the double room with breakfast
  7. Karakol: Duet Hostel - 250 som futon in the yurt
  8. Altyn Arashan: Eco Yurt Camp - 900 soms / people (meals and breakfast included)
  9. Tosor: Eldos Ata Eco Hotel
  10. Kochkor: Saikal Guesthouse


Eat
Food in Central Asia is not known to be the finest in the world. Composed mainly of rice, mutton, fat and sometimes bowels, it is not easy every day!

Our best culinary memories are those on horseback rides or at the Saikal guesthouse in Kochkor. We could taste many specialties, sometimes as amazing as fish and pasta for breakfast. Apart from that, when you are taken in hand, you rarely die of hunger. The tables in the yurts are always filled with breads, jams and sweets, and we enjoyed tea time with fresh bread and homemade jams.

When one wants to be autonomous, there is the possibility to make some races in the towns and villages more or less large and one will always find pasta and bread, but especially of the Vodka (to 1 € the bottle) or snickers ! The choice will be quickly limited and not very diverse, especially in small villages. Vegetables are also rarer. Cycling, plan reservations because we are quickly cut off from the world.

1 month in Kyrgyzstan: a practical guide and tips

Where it gets complicated is when you want to eat at the restaurant, because we must focus on cities. Even in Kochkor we did not have much choice.

Specialties: Laghman, Manty, Buckwheat, Kumis, Kourouts

Good addresses and tips:
  • Karakol Restaurant in Bishkek
  • Supermarkets with catering party: Bishkek or Sokuluk Globus. They have the advantage of offering prepared and varied dishes.

SIM card
Upon arrival at the airport, you will be offered a free prepaid sim card and there is no trap! The sim card is indeed free everywhere, just pay the credit we put on it. Several operators are on the market: O, Beeline and Megacom. We had at first O and Beeline, then I changed to O too, because Beeline has a much smaller network.

To charge your credit, go to a terminal that can be found in supermarkets or directly to the operator:
  1. Choose your operator
  2. Enter your phone number
  3. Put a 100KGS ticket
  4. Confirm and you will receive a confirmation by SMS

1 month in Kyrgyzstan: a practical guide and tips

With 100KGS you have the right to 10GB of data internet, 5 minutes of communication for 1 week. If you do not feel comfortable with the terminal, go to your operator and ask that it be done for you.

Dress and equip yourself
By bike, it is necessary to have all the equipment to be fully autonomous, knowing that you can be several days in a row in the mountains, without going through towns or villages. You can find the complete list of equipment in our article dedicated to camping equipment for a bike trip. Regarding clothing, plan warm clothes for the evening when you are in the mountains because as soon as the sun goes down, it is quickly cold. The day, pedaling we were hot: shorts and t-shirt were sufficient. In the evening we put on the trousers, the fleece, the jacket and the hat (and even the gloves).

On horseback, we did not have special outfits, just pants in which we are comfortable and closed shoes. I favored my sports leggings because it has the advantage of being flexible and without embarrassing seams. As on a bike, you need to wear warm clothes for the mountains. I did not have my jacket with me and it was a shame, because it would have been useful several times in addition to my fleece, my long-sleeved merino and my windbreaker. If your horseback riding is organized by an agency, you do not need camping gear, however, take at least one silk sheet, at best your sleeping bag if you are afraid of getting cold.

Kul Ukok
On foot, we had the same equipment on horseback because we did not need to be totally autonomous. If you go on a trek for several days and you plan to camp, in these cases, it will obviously all the camping equipment. Even if on your way you will pass next to yurt camps, they can be full in high season and will therefore have no places to welcome you (there is not always against the possibility of planting the tent next to the yurts and share the meal). Plan good walking shoes, snacks, water and you Kyrgyz mountain.

1 month in Kyrgyzstan: a practical guide and tips

The simplest solution is to go through an agency that will organize the horse riding from beginning to end, with a guide. Several agencies offer horseback rides, the best is to compare the prices and benefits of each. We passed by Jailoo (in Kochkor) the two times we went horseback riding. CBT is also famous. It takes between 90 and 150 € for a horseback ride of 2 or 3 nights. The price will depend on the number of people in the group (up to 4 people maximum for 1 guide) and the duration of the trek. For example, we paid 135 € per person for Song Kul Lake: 4 days of horse (3 nights) to 5 people (2 guides).

It is also possible to rent a horse by the day from the peasants and leave alone. Being completely novice in the practice of the horse, this solution was really not made for us!
нохой хорио! Mongolia

I leave Zharkent, the last Kazakh city where I made a stop a few kilometers from China. I take the opportunity for a small detour by the mosque of the city, which has a strange oriental look due to its construction by a Chinese architect. A headwind slowed my progression but allows me to suffer less stifling heat. I arrive at the border after about fifty kilometers. I'm getting rid of my last tenge for a hearty meal in a yurt near the border. I have to make a big loop on a deserted road but well fenced and monitored by cameras arranged at regular intervals every fifty meters or so. 

I retrieve my Kazakh exit stamp from the officer while one of his subordinates is doing tricks with my bike in the lobby in front of his hilarious colleagues. On the Chinese side, the border post is at the forefront of modernity. Electronic control of my fingerprints, facial scanner, all with instructions given by a small speaker in the language according to the origin of the passport. Direction Huergosi, shortly after the border, where I intend to take a train to advance me. But the station does not open until 18h. I have to be patient, even though the day was a good day ahead with a time difference of two hours compared to Kazakhstan. China has the particularity of having only one time zone despite its size. I'm waiting in an internet cafe turns out to be a video game room. The stereotype of the Chinese geek is represented here in all its splendor.

Mongolia Trip
After a thorough search and half an hour of waiting, I get my ticket. But on the platform I am denied access to the train because there is no cargo car to store my bike. I thought I had made it clear at the box office that I was traveling by bike, spinning with my arms. I remember one of our teachers in physiotherapy school who compared the neurological disorders post stroke - especially dysphasia - as a teleportation in China. Impossible to understand, to be understood, to read anything. Even mimes, though often explicit, are difficult to interpret. Despite a good hour of negotiation thanks to smartphone translation applications (long live the technology), I find myself with a new ticket from another city the next day. I take the road direction Yining and sleep about twenty kilometers at the exit of the city. I lost a good time with this story. But with the time difference the sun goes down to just past 22h.

The Xinjiang region in which I am is particularly under tension because of confrontations with the Muslim Uyghur community. The police is ubiquitous and the controls are frequent. Each entrance to the town, township, station and even petrol station is provided with a police station. To which we can add the few unexpected controls to which I was entitled. It is therefore between three and five checks a day that I was imposed during the crossing of this region. Ranging from ten minutes to more than an hour, a time and a colossal energy wasted by this totalitarian regime. The most laughable is that quite often some police officers do not even know what to do with my passport that they are unable to read. They eventually release me without more explanation after peeling my visas (especially those in Arabic weirdly). The check also often results in a picture of my passport and a selfie for the road. I stopped counting the number of smartphones that contained my portrait in just one week.

I stop to eat a piece in front of a stall. The Chinese are generally not very attractive which changes radically with Central Asia. Few smiles or greetings. But the keeper comes to meet me. He puts himself in mind to taste everything I eat. At the moment of chewing on a piece of kurut that remains to me (this famous dry and salted cheese with mare's milk), he leaves to spit his bite in a jeremiade of onomatopoeia. He returns without rancor with a good kilo of tomatoes from his garden that he offers me, in addition to the kilo of plums and water from his well.

I arrive in Yining after passing the routine checks. No problem to take my bike on the train that will travel separately. I scan the first time all my bags at the entrance of the station. I am asked to leave my spray waterproof because flammable. After arguing with the policewoman for a moment, I ended up negotiating to dump her content on my business rather than throwing it away. Finally she will do it. Then I have to repeat the scan operation when depositing my load. I play cunning not to confiscate my multifunction knife by taking my basic kitchen knife from the kitchen. The gas bottle that serves me for my stove will not cut and I have to empty it. This does not delight me knowing that it is forbidden to sell gasoline to anyone who does not hold a national identity card. But every day is enough for him. My bike is ready to go, new control to access the docks, scan of my backpack, body search. I even have to take a sip in my bottle to prove that it contains only water. You have to be patient !

I take a night train to Urumqi, capital of the province with its two million inhabitants. The arrival station, a little out of the way, forces me to take highways and other interchanges. I find a bus station to get me out of this ordeal and move me a hundred miles. Eighth check that lasts a while for me, always because the police do not really know what to read or what to do. We can leave while everyone has been waiting for me for more than half an hour now. Arrived at Jimsar, I have the right to the reception committee. I am at the police station for a new check and report in proper form: the places where I slept, the trains and buses borrowed, the officer seems very young, but nevertheless conscientious. However, I obey the rule obediently because a subordinate speaking good English allows us a complete exchange. I keep his number for future checks.

Finally released, I take the road, the wind in the back. I find a gas station that accepts to fill my bottle of gasoline after having parlay a moment and left a nice ticket.

нохой хорио! Mongolia

New police control at canton change, fast for once. I arrive in a village that I go through quickly. But at the exit a police car quickly caught me, new passage by police station, investigation ... although I give them the contact of the previous officer. I take this opportunity to fill my bottles of water and leave with a kilo of grapes. Officers will be sure to make "souvenir" photos that I have no doubt will be diverted into propaganda. After a few kilometers I stop on a stretch of sand to camp. I enter a desert part that will extend to Mongolia. The weather is cloudy and the setting sun blushes the damp haze over me. J '

A new hot day, my thermometer announces 39 ° C. I have a little underestimated this part which is by far the most arid that I had to cross. Fortunately regular police checks provide me with drinking water every time. I end my day at the edge of an abandoned border post, which is recent, it seems. The night is calm and the silence of the desert gently invokes me.

The next day I quickly reach a career of ore, which probably explains the many trucks that run at full speed in a metal crash. At the entrance, a pantry offers a basic restoration. The elderly couple serves me bread and a teapot of green tea, served salted with milk... the couple speaks Kazakh and we exchange some banalities. There seems to be a large Kazakh community in this part of China.

I leave without having to spend a penny, with some reserves for the day including extra bottles of water that I can not refuse. The standard format is 50cl here, and we do not clutter with the waste.

The population consumes only bottled water that it throws on the roadsides where plastic bottles are lying with yet no houses nearby. The kilometers are slowly dripping. One of the good things in China is the return of the road numbers that allow me to find me because otherwise all panels are in Chinese. But the milestones display a distance that decreases slowly, slowly.

I always drive through this desert that takes lunar aspects, I finish my day near a small cabin sheltered from the wind that rages at the end of the day. I decide to sleep in good weather, the weather is clear. But in the night I am awakened by drops gradually humming my face, slowly wetting my down. After waiting a moment hoping that passes, I have to take out the tent that I pass over to finish the night under regular showers. 

I finally reach a city the next morning, after more than two hundred kilometers without housing. Of course, new control at the entrance. Municipal police officers do not fail to call the police at the borders who arrives arrogantly. I am inspected, questioned and then I am invited to eat in a restaurant in town. My breakfast is less than two hours long and I am served a double portion of pasta on which rest at least three scrambled eggs. All to be enjoyed with chopsticks please. Fortunately my fervor for oriental cuisine allows me not to make the affront to go get my cutlery. A soldier who speaks a little English even offers me food for the rest of the day.

After a cold start to mark the authority I am generally well received with sometimes even a "welcome to China! What irony! Like once an officer slips me "it's for your safety! After reviewing all the photos on my phone and camera ... of course! But the pinnacle was an officer, who, not speaking a word of English, naturally took me from the world to write down his question on paper, but in Chinese! If only I could explain to him what the expression "it's Chinese" meant for us.

A day with a strong headwind is waiting for me. Some young people on a motorcycle regularly stop to photograph with me. The day is long and difficult. The sun tries to pierce a milky veil in a pearly halo. I find a nook behind a bridge to camp. The veil rises and the light of the setting sun goes through all the variations of color from yellow to violet.

The next day I am awakened by the whistle of a man who works the fields around. He will stay close to me until I have lunch and pack, stoic, watching my every move and refusing my proposals to share my snack. The road takes a right angle and I find myself with the wind in the back and chained the kilometers.

I therefore end a rather trying crossing of this unknown region and I had little information. In addition to the tense political environment and increased repression, the Xianjiang is a pretty hard part to ride. These long straight lines in the middle of a rather desert landscape were particularly surprised to me. It is not less interesting and I let you discover this region in image. 

Xinjiang
I thought I would cross the border the next day. But pushed by the wind I reached it in the middle of the afternoon. Added to the increased surveillance around the border of the country, I prefer to go to Mongolia the same day. The Chinese side is naturally provided with several controls and I am much less docile and lovable, my patience arriving slightly to its limits. Mongolian side, a stamp and go!

I drive to Bulgan about fifty kilometers from the border. The road is still paved but the traffic, already not very dense, is becoming scarce and I find the calm of the immensity of the steppes. A warm evening light is always a desert landscape. The wind pushes me and arriving in town a high rocky hill and overflown by a multitude of birds of prey who exploit this wind in a quasi stationary flight, slow and quiet.

Bulgan
I thought to take a break but the rates of the only hotel invite me to take the road the next morning. Always wind back, but not very strong yet, I'm the road that leads me to the East. I take a lunch break in a hut made of some wooden poles half broken, covered with sheet metal that shelter me from the hot sun. I improvise there a nap until being woken by the declining sun whose rays come to lick my skin halted. I hitch my bike under the creaks of the cabin that the wind now very strong does not fail to fly. I leave the road for a secondary school without leaving the tar. I arrive near the bed of a dry river where I planned to establish my camp for the night.

Some yurts proudly enthroned and seem destined to restore passing road and other travelers. Many are not inhabited and I decide to camp under the stars near one of them which offers a flat-faced porch in this universe of rocks.

On the other side of the road there is atmosphere, some young people came on their motorcycle to get drunk. They appeal to me, at first comely, then finally won by an insolent petulance of their libations, they become rather hostile and aggressive. Fortunately they are quick to hit the road on their motorcycles, after recovering one of them half unconscious. It seems that alcohol is a scourge in Mongolia and there were many times I saw drunk men on the verge of coma.

But bad encounters often hide a better one. As I help one of the girls to bring back the water she has just found with a wheelbarrow, the keeper of the yurt returns from his day in the steppes with his flock Goat. Dressed in a traditional salmon pink deel, he has sparkling eyes and an imperceptible smile. He comes to sit near me to share a tea and some biscuits. While smoking in silence, we are joined by a couple of elders, also traditionally draped. The conversation is going well between them. I listen to them silently, imagining words I do not understand from this guttural language. They are happy and will end the conversation in the yurt once I

I take the road after making my water reserves in yurts where women (mother and daughter) are busy milking.

The Mongolia that I cross is always lunar in appearance with immense straight lines that force to meditation and contemplation. The landscapes are linked without much change. However the lack of altitude keeps a discreet scroll of the landscape that gives the feeling of progress. 

I arrive at a village. Refresh the water in a stream under the guidance of young Mongolians and go up the watercourse that traces a valley. The stream comes from a small river where cattle graze. Better to have your stomach hooked. Water brings with it life. Yurts follow one another during my ascent. I am sometimes hailed or stopped, but people are still relatively behind. However in those with whom I exchange some banalities as I can, they are all fascinated by the lighthouse of my bike. To each country its particularity, in Central Asia it was the GPS which attracted the attention. Everyone asked me to see my navigation map, without knowing how to read it in many cases, or even be in their own country. But here the fascination is for this light powered by a dynamo in my front wheel. I camp near the water which is now a trickle of water, a few kilometers downstream of the pass.

Arrived at the top of the pass I take a moment near a famous ovoos. Literally translated as "pile of stone" but whose meaning extends to "owner of the nature", the one to whom nature belongs. Places of worship and offerings that proudly stand up to the sky to communicate with spirits. It is customary to add three stones in order to wish that the trip is without any trouble.

Arrival at the pass
I reach the plain at the foot of the pass after a long and exhilarating descent. I leave the asphalt to cut across the steppe. Fortunately the track continues to descend and I sink easily into an emerald green steppe lit by a pale sun. I find a stream to replenish water and eat a bit. At the end of my snack, the water disappeared, the stream dried up. The next houses being more than one hundred kilometers away, I was almost without water because there is no source on my road to come.

New route
I climb a small jump to reach a plateau. The track splits in two. I have the choice between corrugated iron and sand. Cruel dilemma for a cyclist. But the dog will reach its climax when the two tracks meet again and offer me an association of these two enemies. It will be necessary one day that one explains me to me how such a combination is possible. I continue on a slight descent which allows me to maintain a certain pace despite that I often have to set foot on the sand. I find the plain and the steppe as far as the eye can see. No or little relief now, a desert vastness as far as the eye can see. I camp on the edge of the track in the middle of nowhere, not being too disturbed by traffic.

The only vehicle I will see on this portion is a motorcycle passing all berlingue after dark. His wrapped passengers are quickly swallowed in the darkness of a cool night covered with a creamy light from the full moon.

The next day I continue my route on this track more and more saggy. I'm struggling between the sand and the corrugated iron. The kilometers are long and tedious, the wind against me and makes the progression even more difficult. With my head in the handlebars, I unplug the brain and advance, haggardly, into this sterile immensity. It's probably the hardest part I've had since I left. In the middle of the afternoon I still have not crossed souls who live and I start cruelly to run out of water. I need to find a solution before it becomes problematic. The same goes for my reserves of food that come to exhaustion having found nothing to refuel me. Fortunately I ended up seeing a car in the distance, which looks like a miracle. Its driver is perched on the roof, a long view in hand. He seems to be looking for lost animals. He lets me fill my empty bottles with a tin that drags in his car and allows me to satiate fat donuts and dry cheeses.

I thank him warmly and resume my journey for one last straight line. A second car passed me and slowed down at my height. The man is all smiles, his wife breast-feeds a disheveled baby. They offer me to load my bike to advance me. I would have given everything a few minutes earlier to leave this ordeal. But as my goal approaches and my water problems are resolved, I decline politely since it would probably take us as long to get my horse into their city car as to finish my journey. The man leaves, always smiling, without having forgotten to offer me water. I reach a crossing at the end of the day, after eight hours fighting on my bike. A small stall allows me to refuel for the evening: cake, chocolate, beer. I catch up a little! I set up my camp near the muddy water court, under the onslaught of mosquitoes. This does not prevent me however from enjoying the rest after this crazy day in the warm light of a late afternoon sun that illuminates the plain.

No sooner did I return to the road the next day than a car stops at my level. The whole family watches me with a smile as the woman hastens to fill my bottles of cold tea before leaving. The first problem of the day is solved ... the second solution will come in about thirty kilometers when I left this infernal track and found the asphalt. Finally ! The time to drink greedily tea ... salty. I had forgotten this detail. But the wind has strengthened, I'm stuck to the road. After battling for a moment I yield to temptation and reach out. I finished the last forty kilometers aboard a minibus in the company of a family, the three charming children whose youngest will pass the ride installed on my bike saddle.

I arrive in Altay exhausted by my last two days. I have accumulated twelve consecutive bike days since I left Kazakhstan, and as we say ... a break is needed.

нохой хорио! Mongolia

My day off is disrupted by a program upheaval. It seems that I am not able to extend my Mongol visa because I would have had to register in Ulaanbaatar within seven days, which in my case was impossible. So I have to shorten my planned stay in Mongolia to extend the one in China. But scheduled appointments block me in Beijing and I must find a solution to occupy my days around the Chinese capital, on vacation. Because of reducing the length of stay in Mongolia, I decided to take a transport and to advance the next day of 400 km and avoid a portion of road crashed. Eight hours seem necessary to cross this hell bus. Buying the ticket is not easy in this country where English is unusual. But I think I managed to negotiate a trip for the next day. Indeed a bus to Ulan Bator is on departure the next day when I get to the station, I would have to go down to my chosen destination. We left with a good half hour late, the time to refuel the bus and tank. The coach is decorated with fushia pink curtains and windows topped with pale pink valances. The seats covered with a red-orange cover give a kitsch look. The luggage is mainly stored under the seats, the bunkers being filled with packages. Young children are usually on their knees. We drive about two hours before the first pee stop, in the middle of the steppe. Men are relieving themselves online at the bus exit, while women are moving away from thirty meters to hide summarily behind a small mound of earth. We leave in the smell of cold tobacco that soaked the passengers during their nicotine shoot. After a few kilometers we leave the asphalt for a chaotic track. The bus takes ship movements badly damaged by the swell. The horizon wavers through the windows in the pitching movements of our ship. Added to the vibrations of the carcass as we fly over the corrugated iron. It is also less unpleasant to suffer through the seat fleece than my saddle leather. The eyes are closing little by little. The children are lying across the seats, their heads resting on the knees of strangers. I am fascinated by the

We win a village for a lunch break in the middle of the afternoon. Meanwhile the driver inspects his engine, a noise accompanies us for a while. After being satisfied with the other passengers, I discover that half of the engine is disassembled in the parking lot. Far from being an expert in mechanics, the sight of the radiator disassembled and leaking leads me to think that we are not ready to leave.

Indeed I understand that a second bus was chartered to finish the journey. All we have to do is stay locked inside the roadside restaurant, the rain falling violently, accompanied by gusts of wind. I'm learning the national card game, as I often do. 

After five hours of cardboarding, our new bus arrives. This one is just as colorful but rather in gold tones. We transfer the contents of the bunkers. Finally, especially the others, because I quickly feel like a hair on the soup not understanding too much the instructions in this hustle and bustle in the rain.

Soon the light is out and we are off again in the dark night. The driver tries to catch up by pushing the engine speed, but it will be quickly dissuaded by the vomiting of several passengers. We continue to hurt ourselves for hours.

It is two o'clock in the morning when we arrive at my destination. I am deposited at the exit of the city with all my package under a fine rain. Luckily a passenger with whom I sympathized helps me find a room in a nearby hostel. I fall like a mass after these fifteen hours of travel. A quick glance at the sky early in the morning tells me that I can play overtime. Then when I emerge again later, the sky starts to clear and I start again.

Asphalt road, I left the lunar side in which I evolved a long time. I find a hilly and green Mongolia in which it is equally pleasant to progress. The air is pure, washed of its imperfection by the rain of the day before. The road is much easier. Drivers are also more welcoming, smiling, not hesitating to greet me sometimes with a disconcerting frenzy. But the most characteristic are these many men on their Chinese motorcycle, often dressed in their traditional and colorful deel. I evolve with lightness, probably thanks to the rest and the gaiety of heart that wins me. These landscapes are in every way representative of the image of Mongolia that I was looking for. The kind of day where everyone smiles ... where everyone smiles.

Arrived at Narinteel I find a yurt that offers a few snacks for passengers passing buses. I can enjoy a plate of Buuzs-the equivalent of Kyrgyz mantis-freshly prepared. The family is smiling, loving without a doubt. I also attend the preparation of Tsuivan, a spicy dish made of fresh pasta. First pre-cooked in the form of thin slices, then carefully cut into thin slices with a chopper. Each has its place.

I camp near the river not far, where a dark, brownish water flows, silently waving under the setting sun.

I take the road by a small ascent which ends with a plateau where I am greeted by torrents of water. Then there are ribs and descents in an immense and infinite landscape. But the road remains pleasant despite the prevailing wind.

The next day it is the same wind, forcing, that compels me to shorten my day. I arrive at Arvayheer stunned by the squalls that rang me all day long. I take advantage of a hotel to recharge the batteries. I meet three very nice Swiss who travel with the family (the father and his two sons) and motorbike. This allows me to reconnect with the world of travelers I lost from Kyrgyzstan. The next day the weather is clear and the wind has stopped. I swallow the first twenty kilometers in the hour. Those I planned to do the day before and that would have taken more than two hours because of the wind. I leave the main road to plunge into the steppe by a dirt track. The road is easy since no corrugated iron or sand. After a pause in the intoxicating silence of these countries, I enter a valley. An end stream meanders in the middle of a greasy grass, creating some ponds where come to drink yaks and horses. A few flocks of goats and sheep scattered on the flanks graze peacefully.

The yurts are arranged at regular intervals, traditionally leaning against the mountain or on a bute. Turning back to the slope and watching the river heading south. It will not be necessary to pray to establish my camp for the night. After being greeted by some drunken nomads to share a few bowl of Aïrag, fermented milk mare, I advance a few kilometers to find a quieter corner. The yurt near which I am is uninhabited, but the presence of a horse tells me that the owners are not far. You do not usually knock on the door of a yurt. One enters there after having announced himself orally: нохой хорио literally means "hold your dog".

нохой хорио! Mongolia

They will arrive in the middle of the night, probably after going shopping at the nearest village. The ageless couple greets me in the morning for a hearty breakfast made of salty tea, fresh bread and cream collected during the fermentation of the milk.

I continue the next day to get out of the valley to reach an agrarian expanse. Irrigation is here organized and I sometimes lose my way around a field, cultivated or fallow. It seems that we still respect the concept of fallow here. Then I found the asphalt a few kilometers from Kharkhorin where I intend to stop. Suuvd welcomes me to her yurt camp, which she runs with her family. I finally have a little advance and prefer not to arrive too early in Ulaanbaatar, which is not described to me as most exceptional. I enjoy a first day of rest in the pouring rain. Then two more days chatting with tourists, update my logbook and do some sightseeing. Kharkhorin is the ancient capital of the Mongol Empire under the regime of Genghis Khan. 

I leave the city from the north to reach Ogii Nuur. A lake that mainly serves as a seaside resort. The yurt camps are deserted with the end of the season. But some tourists from the capital are here to enjoy the peace and the fishing. I arrive in the late afternoon and established my camp on its banks.

I have to pedal about thirty kilometers to reach an asphalt road that will take me directly to the capital. The landscapes change slowly. After a rather green area, I now evolve through moderate reliefs whose grass scorched little by little. The hue of the environment takes on an autumnal appearance as summer draws to a close. The road is easy and I progress easily. I enjoy roadside restaurants to restore traditional Mongolian cuisine. The few streams that ply these plains allow me to establish my camp on a greasy and soft grass near the horses grazing quietly. Gradually, the weather is deteriorating, bringing storms that tarnish this silent and motionless world a little more.

After two days of regular showers, the blue takes a little ground in the sky. The last scattered clouds reveal a radiant sun that warms the steppe. The temperature has drastically dropped in recent days, winter is definitely approaching. My road joins the southern main road. I am quickly accompanied by vehicles that join the capital. Once again the respect of the cyclist leaves something to be desired. Mongolians generally drive well beyond the speed limit and do not hesitate to overtake with minimum distance. I leave this perilous axis a hundred kilometers before Ulaanbaatar. I fork on a small track to pass through a national park where live the last wild horses of Mongolia. Relieved to leave the traffic, I still disillusion quickly because the track becomes totally silted. I push my bike for several kilometers under the assault of regular storms. Then the lining of the track changes to turn clay made slippery by the showers. I slip and I wade in puddles for a moment. The mud quickly clogged up my mudguards and brakes. So I have to unclog the whole before I can get on my bike again under the last rays of the day.  

The park is much more laid out than I envisioned. The entrance is equipped with a gigantic camp of yurts to welcome tourists. The sight of some buses and off-road does not delight me. But the welcome is warmest. I am allowed to camp on the edge of the park and use the amenities. A hot shower, a cold beer...! If I expected it!

After a breakfast with a group of French I take the road through the park. A bitter wind sweeps the protected expanse that I cross without crossing a living soul. Like Cappadocia in Turkey, the fact that visitors are channeled and concentrated by motorized vehicles, calm reigns outside the organized circuits. I can see from a distance some horses that I let graze without coming near before joining a new valley.  

I have to disinfect my bike at the exit of the park without understanding why. But the people in charge of the operation are very surprised to see me here where no tourists pass. They invite me to share a Tsuivan that the women finish to prepare. 

I follow the Tuul River, which meanders through the plain. I arrive at an intersection between two tracks. On my right hand is a path that is supposed to cross the three arms of the watercourse that has divided in this place. I was well aware that it would be impossible to bike this season: nothing to arouse my curiosity! I turn off towards the river. After a few kilometers I reach the first arm. I probe the cloudy water and find myself quickly immersed until mid thigh. In the category of bad ideas! Not inclined to turn back I wade in several times all of my package. I only hope that the next will not be deeper. Same scenario for the second stream. I meet a woman, who guides me through crossing into the other way. The water here also until mid thigh, it changes without shame after crossing. Mongolians are generally not very modest. Her husband is waiting to accompany her to their yurt. They both move away on their Chinese motorbike through the grasslands. A common scene that I could observe during my crossing, the bike having taken a leading part in the transport in Mongolia.

Fortunately the third segment has a bridge. But before reaching it I am hailed by a couple. Off track, they bogged their vehicle in a mud while trying to cross a stream. We try to push the vehicle but we are not able to extract it completely. Help seems to be on the way. I prepare a tea without salt. But unfortunately our rescuers are blocked because of puncture. So we continue our waiting playing card. After a while, two guys come out of the thickets draped in a traditional deel. They try to keep horses apparently not yet trained.

After attaching their animals, they come to lend us a hand. We finally manage to get the car out of his fate. The young couple invites me to load my bike to join the village and offer me hospitality. We stop on the way to help repair the tubes of our supposed rescuers with the tires of their (two) flat bikes. I am welcomed in a traditional yurt, with the left place reserved for the guests. As usual the meal is hearty and the vodka generous. Some of their friends join us for the evening. 

I say goodbye in the early morning when the whole community has joined us. I'm always walking along the river, full of yellowed willows, hard to think I'm a few miles from the city. 

After a jump, I finally see the capital that I overlook. Ulaan Bator stands like a boil in the middle of the steppe. The sight of this polluted agglomeration after these days spent in nature is not very pleasant. A cloud emerges from the two main coal power plants located in the middle of the city. The weather is not good, which gives an even duller shade to this vision. 

Traffic is quickly very dense and air little breathable but I finally reach my base. Undral runs a very nice little hostel on the outskirts of the city center. A French couple (traveling for more than years) is preparing an apple-rhubarb crumble. Nothing like home to feel like home. 

I then go for a meal in the city center. I meet a friend from Serre Chevalier, with a small expatriate group for the evening. Kim, who has been living in the city for almost a year, managed to get me a contact for the physio on hand project. This was not an easy task since physiotherapy is a nascent profession in the country, with only one school that has not yet produced its first graduates. Also, teaching seems to remain very focused on traditional medicine for lack of Western influence. 

Sol, a Filipino physiotherapist who has been in Ulaanbaatar for almost ten years, will have the opportunity to present me the situation the next day.  

On Sunday, I manage to join a group to go near Terelj, in the eponymous national park, not far from the capital. A camp of yurts offers here horseback riding and I will have the opportunity to ride a few hours through the yellowing larch and a landscape that is lost on the horizon. 

On my return, another friend of Serre Chevalier whom I meet again, Sophie, coincidentally that our paths cross just at this moment. 

The next day Kim invites me to accompany him in the district of yurts, far from the buildings of the city center. Kim leads an architectural project in Ulaanbaatar. She conceptualized a yurt with a low environmental impact while respecting the traditional aspect.

нохой хорио! Mongolia

In winter, the Mongolian capital is at the top of the list of the most polluted cities in the world far ahead of Beijing. A particle concentration of up to five times the dangerous limit set by WHO.

Most of this population comes from burning coal to heat these poorly insulated yurts. In addition to architecture, Kim has integrated many aspects of local life into her project, making it complete and exciting. The opportunity also for me to discover these little-known neighborhoods of tourism and which nevertheless represents two-thirds of the population. Unpaved roads, no sanitation, the supply of drinking water is often done through wells ... A totally different atmosphere. 

Last days for me at the capital. I naturally find some travelers crossed earlier and others to find later. I am waiting to take the train to head south and begin a journey across mainland China on the East Coast before reaching Southeast Asia.