Where in the world is Tomy?

The beginning of a long train ride into Tehran

Doctor: “I need to give you a shot. Is that ok?”
Me: “Yeh, sure whatever will make me feel better!” *pulls arm out*
Doctor: “No not there…”
Me: *Asking apprehensively* “Where…?”
Doctor: “There…” *Points towards his bum*

*Click-clack, click-clack, click-clack* Who would have thought that riding four days on a train from Istanbul to Tehran would be such an amazing experience! The station that I had to board the train had burnt down a few days before I was due for my trip out to Iran. This meant I had to find my way to the next station down the line and somehow figure out where to get on the train. Immediately arriving at the Sogcesleme Station I was greeted by a transit guard who began to usher me towards the saloon. I had no idea why he was, until I got closer and realised there was a large Japanese group. Once again, my Asian looks have got the better of me. A Turkish tour guide approached me and asked in Japanese “Are you Japanese?” to which I promptly replied “No… Australian” much to everyone’s surprise. After much fluffing about, a young boy (turns out he was 19) approached me and started talking to me in fluent English. It was great! He helped translate all my needs into Turkish and I was set. My train was due to arrive at 23:55 which presented a perfect opportunity to bond with locals in the two and half hour down time.

After tramping around for awhile, you can begin to recognise when and which local is about/wants to come and talk to you. They will generally walk around your peripheral vision hoping to gain your attention. Then when your eyes briefly lock, a warm smile will appear on their face followed by a familiar “Hello!!”. I managed to have a nice conversation (broken English with lots of hand signals) with a couple of people on the platform while I waited for my train. One of the common questions I was asked was “Turkey security good?”, to which I replied “Choc good (very good)” and I was being sincere.

Moments before my train pulled into the station, another fellow appeared on the platform. The transit officials had brought him to me since I was now acting as the official train platform translator. We both looked awkwardly at each other before I popped the standard question “English?” which was promptly replied “Yes I am, I am Canadian and I speak English”. We quickly got ourselves acquainted before we were ushered into our cabin... our little cabin to which we were going to call home for the next two days. It wasn’t long before the soft rhythmic *click-clack* of the train set like a metronome lulled me into a hypnotic state as I drifted into a deep sleep.