Esfahan to Kashan - the Magai come home?
Trip Start
Oct 30, 2008
1
18
Trip End
Nov 13, 2008
Esfahan, Iran
Tuesday, November 11, 2008
That thought was soon replaced by the wonder of travelling through the desert. Way, and I mean 'way' over to my left was range of mountains and way, way out to my right....well, there was just the horizon. The weather was changing too. Rain soon turned to sleet and into snow.
The Paddy Wagon braked sharply. Then reversed. Mohammed No.2 got off the bus and made off along the stony ground. He was after our next passenger...a goat. It could well have been a sheep. You see in the Middle East the sheep and goats are fairly similar. And so we merrily sailed onwards, past several flocks of sheep/goats without stopping to enquire if these herdsmen owned said sheep/goat. Then again perhaps each of these herdsmen would give an automatic 'yes' whether or not they in fact owned the animal. After all, I' m sure the "don't look a gift horse in the mouth" adage applies equally well in the Middle East as it does here!
The goat joined us at our tea stop in a small mountain village near the middle of nowhere. I was intrigued by the water supply which came straight from either springs or the snow on the mountains through a clever channel system. When we arrived the sluice gates (small pieces of metal held in place with stones) was set up in a fashion to feed water to 'our' side of the street. As we supped our chai the water supply man changed plates over and shovelled the stones into their place so as to feed the ice cold fresh water to the other side of town. Simple but effective.
Our passenger was handed over the local police at a deserted police station close to the Natanz Nuclear Processing Plant. The very same one which in late 2009 was announced to the world as the latest discovered Nuclear Procssing Plant uncovered in Iran. If only they had asked me a year earlier I could have told them!
Moshen had warned us not to use our cameras as the soldiers guarding the plant would be watching our bus and would not take kindly to photography. Manned anti-aircraft guns were clearly visibile, although it did't take much imagination to believe that the real protective weaponry would be hidden well out of sight of not only passing traffice but spy satellites.
Our destination was neither the Natanz plant, nor an interrogation centre but the mountiain village of Abyanieh, some 2500 metres above sea level. The temperature was certainly well below freezing, but the charm of this beautiful mountain village more than compensated, even when it started to snow. The villagers appeared to have left for the day or else were sitting by the fireplace. However the village's sole entrepreneur wasn't sitting idle. She appeared with her simple jewellry making a killing, and even agreeing to my "Lotfan ax?" request. I really hadn't been expecting her to agree to having her photograph taken with an unrelated male sitting beside her. Probably another 76 Islamic laws breached.
Another of Mohsen's amazing picnic lunches awaited us before it was time for the reported home of the Magai, the astronomers who travelled "from the East" following the star which heralded Jesus' birth. Islam teaches that Jesus was one of the great prophets and so revere him as such - a prophet.
Although late in the afternoon there was still time to visit a former merchant's home. Astounding property, clearly indicative of the previous owner's wealth. A quick visit to the local historic baths (sauna) was followed by a dander around the formal gardens. This would certainly be a delightful walk of a summer's evening, but not so much in late autum with failing light.
The local rosewater sellers clearly had skipped merchandising class. Dirty lemonade bottles were the vessel of choice for locally produced rosewater. Mohsen clearly in an attempt to dissuade any purchases poured some into my hand to wash them, and then to taste the rosewater. He was indeed right. Not too many roses had been harmed in the production of the acclaimed "rose" water.
Accomodation in Kashan in limited. That's probably even overstating the situation. To be honest there's one hotel! And, dear reader please be assured that there's ample room for improvement in both the hotel and Kashan in general. Maybe the Magai realised this many years before.
As a few of us headed for dinner in one of the many local restaurants Julia and myself were handed a large tear-off of warm fresh-baked sesame seeded bread from a man who had just collected several batches from the local baker, and was about to get into his taxi.
It wasn't too difficult for him to note that we weren't from Kashan. "Shab bekhyr!" We replied in kind. "Welcome to Iran." He gestured to ask if I would like some bread. As a country which cherishes it's many many customs and hospitality towards strangers I thought it best to accept. Oh but the bread was good, and our latest Iranian friend seemed very pleased as well. So win-win all round! Again, at the risk of repeating myself it is these small gestures of generosity and friendship that makes Iran such a delight to visit.
