We were early birds, and to catch the visum shaped worm at the Uzbekistan embassy we had to ride 25 kilometers to the top of the northern mountainside of Tehran. As soon as we left our house a steady stream of cars pressed eachother from all lanes impatiently. We soon noticed that the only rule in the Teheran traffic was 'First come, self service'. We adapted easily and soon enough we were racing each other through the maze of cars. We mocked those who got cornered, yelled shrieks of happiness when we managed to cut off Iranian speeders while waving at our fans standing on the sidelines. Motorcyclists came shoulder to shoulder constantly to start a little smalltalk about our name and origin. Every now and again we even had to dodge motors going in the wrong direction, people casually walking in the middle of the road or little roadside atmosphere fires. After we had found our way through this delightful chaos, we picked up some wise advice and a letter of recommendation at the Belgian embassy before handing in our application for the Uzbekistan visa.
With our administration out of the way we could enjoy another game of 'traffic zigzag' down the hill. The sun greeted us with a warm glow, so we sat down near the entrance of the museum of contempory art, where the festival for visual arts was taking place. We enjoyed a few hours of strolling through, and even took a little nap inside the museum, which made it seem as if we were part of the exhibition. Culturally refreshed we braved the choatic stream of cars once more to be home just in time for dinner.