Aleikum Salaam !
Thanks for reading this new issue of my newsletter. I hope you'll enjoy it as much as the previous ones, even if it not so much about biking this time but mere backpaking through Iran !
3... 2 ... 1 ...
... My first days in Tehran were peaceful and easy : Payam took care of everything for me ! We spent a merry Friday (our Sunday's equivalent in islamic Iran) with many of his friends in a green park near the megapole... So much warm and spontaneous friendship were a real delight after those days of relative lonelyness. I also placed my visa application into the Turkmen Consulate in Tehran. It would take 10 days before it is issued, so I decided to have a break from my bike and take some free time to explore the marvels of Iran.
After I made sure my bike was safely stored at my friend Payam's house, I soon took a bus to the South of Iran. I went first to the legendary Esfahan, then to the easy-going Shiraz and finally to the mysterious city of Yazd.
I arrived in Esfahan after nightfall. It did not easen at all my quest for a free and cheap room in a city where tourists (mostly local or regional visitors) were still plenty.
Well, I ended up -without knowing- into THE Lonely Planet-recommended backpackers' hostel (!!), where I was at least very lucky to meet with Monica and Hainer - 2 German travellers with who I shared the room for 2 nights. We soon become good friends and we were lucky to meet again in Yazd... You may want to follow their great adventures at www.gesichter-der-erde.de if horse-travelling does interest you !
I spent the next couple of days wandering around, from the majestuous Imam Square (formerly Shah's Square) to the bright blue Friday Mosque. I also passed over the old bridges, went down to the New Jaffra district - the very relative "libertine" Christian quarters, with its unique oriental-style churches - and also along the narrow and crowded alleys of the Bazaar...
Esfahan is a large and busy city with wonderful remains of the great old times; I loved to stare for hours at the blue ceramics of the many and magnificient mosques this city has.
I left Esfahan at dusk and traveled all night long South to Shiraz. I arrived at dawn there and it was a marvel to walk in those silent streets while the sun was rising and life was waking up...
If Esfahan is blue, Shiraz is pink. Walls, houses, the old city seems older.
Ceremics are far more floral than purely geometric. Life seems easier. There is less traffic and also less noise. Altogether, this an easy-going place. Shiraz can be said more provincial I guess, despite its 1st class treasures.
This is also the city of 2 of the most famous Persian Poets, Haffes and Sa'adi. Both are buried in their native town and Iranians visit deferently their mausoleum in family, groups or alone as for a pilgrimage. Poets are adored in Iran.
It was amazing to observe - and soon be part of - such an intense devotion to those men of beauty and peace.
Shiraz is also the base-camp to Persepolis, which was a city of the antic Persian Empire. The world rediscovered this major site in the XIXth century only. And old stones are old stones, so you say ?
Those are still powerful and impressive as they once were a - THE, I should say - symbol of power of the Kings of Kings. It still feels so, even now, after thousands of years, after Alexander the Great's complete burning and after the "borrowings" of the British colonial troops.
Regarding this point, I must say that the nicest and finest pieces are indeed placed and extraordinary well preserved in the British Museum in London. But Persepolis keeps the grandeur and the majesty.
Again another nightbus to Yazd : One gets used bumpy journeys as quickly as to hard and uneven ground to camp on, so I slept a bit and rather conveniently in there. The bus arrived at 4.00 am. It was still complete darkness and I finished the night on a bench, out of the bus station. The outside temperature was mild and only the first rays of sun could awake me. No one bothered if you want to know, Iran seems to be the safest place on earth.
Again, my early wander through the silent city was a breath-taking experience. Yazd has the narrowest streets and the highest walls of mud. The Old Yazd, where I was soon losing myself, comes from another age. During my journey, I met no one but lonely cats and some swift birds flying around the many windtowers - used as passive cooling system of the once wealthiest houses. Some fully veiled women, hidding from me or running after an unknown house-work were dark shadows, black ghosts. I felt nothing sad or revolting this time, it was part of the whole exotic picture. But still : why ?? ...
Yazd is a peaceful and the perfect place to rest. Time expands. Space stretches. It was good to stay for hours in the patio of my 200-year old hotel -now absolutely empty, just to smell the air and listen to the slightest breeze whispering into the windtowers. We were a merry group of European friends wandering in the streets, Monica and Hainer, and Bothild and all the many others - once met in Esfahan or Shiraz, as western tourists mostly concentrate in those three cities. We formed a strange community of foreigners walking along the same alleys and taking the same pictures. This was also rather funny to go from one distant city to another and repeatedly meet with some people you already knew : As a matter of fact Iran transforms a dirty biker, a long-haired traveller into a kind of Jet-setter having together dinners in this hotel, wandering in that bazaar then playing chess in another!
Zarathoustra... The Cult of Fire and Purity. The 2 Towers of Silence just out of Yazd were a most striking experience. Go there at dusk if you want to feel the same: The place is as desertic as the moon can be. And it is heavy.
The towers are actually 2 large circular platforms built at the top of steep and desertic hills. Not a single noise to be heard but the wind whispering. There were left the corpses of the Zarathoustrian community till they would desintegrate. This is an aerian cemetery. It was empty but crowded. Air was heavy. But pure. Air was thick. Butabsolutely silent.
I watched a final sunset on the roofs of a minor Mosque located in the middle of the muddy labyrithm of uneven alleys of the old city and I jumped into the night train back to Tehran... Where I arrived at... 4.00 am again ! My only comment would be that Yazd benches are fare more comfortable than the outer marble of the Tehran train station to finish a short night !
I have been happy to understand early this morming that my Turkmen visa would be ready tomorrow Monday and would run for 7 days (Waoooh!)
I shall ride my bike not later that Tuesday at dawn again, heading to the base camps of Mount Damavand and later towards the East, towards Central Asia !
Dear friends, I hope you'll follow me there !
All the best to you,
Barth
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