A simple but cute town
Trip Start
Sep 05, 2011
1
23
33
Trip End
Ongoing
Rasht, Iran
Saturday, November 5, 2011
Farid was actually on his way to university as I spoke to him. Every Saturday night he got an overnight bus from Tabriz to Rasht, spent 12 hours on Sunday in lectures, then another night bus home again in the evening. He would then spend the rest of the week studying and writing reports, perhaps in the hope that a good final result would be his ticket out of the country.
We pulled up in Rasht at around 7 in the morning, and of course as usual we were disorientated and confused as to where to go. Not to worry though, the Iranians were there to help.
Some girls, covered from head to toe in Niqab asked us where we were going (with no English of course). We took out the map and pointed and within a few seconds there were 3 of us in the back seat of a cab, 2 in the front passenger seat, and our jolly driver laughing away as we sped into the town with complete disregard for all traffic signals and other drivers. Tom and I agreed that we should pay for the cab, so when we got to the centre of town we jumped out and grabbed our bags (loosely tied into the boot hanging halfway out the back of the car). By the time we had fumbled round for our wallets the girls had already jumped back in the cab and were off, totally disregarding all mention of us paying. Damn Iranians foiled us again.
We headed towards a hotel, which was full, so headed in the opposite direction till we found one mentioned in the guide book. At least we thought it was, as everything was in Farsi with no Roman alphabet to be found. There was a café downstairs which Tom popped into in order to ask where we should be going. A man sitting having breakfast motioned us to come in and offered us breakfast. We assumed he worked in the hotel, so we sat down and had some bread and cheese, followed by some tea. He didn't speak a word of English, so conversation was non-existent, though he did seem happy enough to have us there. Once he finished his meal he made his way over to the restaurant owner to pay, and in the process he paid for us as well, and then was off. So he didn’t actually work in the hotel at all, and again we fell victim to Iranian hospitality in all its wicked glory.
The hotel was in fact upstairs, and within few short minutes we were checked in and were wrapped up in bed catching up on some much needed sleep. It was 11 before we awoke, and Tom was keen to find a language translation book, so we set off about doing that. We found a book store which looked promising, and as Tom was inside he was again approached by a local, this time offering to take us to some other book shops with might have what we were looking for. We headed outside and he asked us the usual questions and again seemed surprised that we were in Iran. He took us to a couple of book shops but came up with nothing. In between shops he asked us back to his house for lunch, offered us a place to stay for the night, offered to take us to Masuleh – the village we were planning on visiting that day, and after politely declining all of those offers, he helped us to get a taxi to the bus station, which he sub sequentially paid for. Damn it Iran!
We made our way to the next village by minibus, and I got talking to some cheeky high school students, who seemed rather keen for me to do their English homework for them. I refused of course, but did manage to have a few laughs in the back of the bus with them.
We finally made it to Masuleh at around 4 in the afternoon, a pretty village that was shrouded in mist making it impossible to see anything beyond 50 metres. We did manage to take some rather atmospheric pictures however, and it was definitely worth the trip.
On our way back we came across a little old man who was going in our direction. He put us on all the right buses and helped us out the whole way, though he did seem to be a bit of an America hater. He also managed to get "Islam is top" into the conversation too, which we graciously allowed him to have.
At one point we were in a taxi with him, which wasn’t really a taxi at all, but a random car that would drive from one town to another picking people up for a nominal fee. The term maniac is an understatement, as our driver barrelled down the road with complete disregard for everything within a 2 car radius. Horns were beeping and lights were flashing as he sang along with his Turkish music that was blaring from his flashy stereo.
Our old man signalled we needed to give some cash, so we ruffled up the 8000 rial each that we agreed to pay. We gave it to the driver, and he seemed dismayed. An argument ensued between our old man and out testosterone fuelled driver as he screamed down the highway at break neck speeds. Out of nowhere a large blade was produced, as Tom and I cowered in the back seats wondering if it was the knife that would kill us or the impact from the impending car crash that was going to happen at some time or another. Our old man seemed to have control of the situation however, and after another 5 or 10 minutes we were jumping out of the car and everyone was a friend once again.
He then shuffled us onto a minibus that took us all the way back to the central square, just a few minutes’ walk from the hotel.
We touched base with our hotel, then went out for a dinner of meat and rice, followed by some tea on the street in the middle of the hustle and bustle of town. We made it to bed by midnight, where we both slept a solid 9 hours. And yes, we weren’t dead yet, though we had come pretty close.
