Our first dinner in Kandy. We sample kuttu roti, a mixture of roti (flatbread) pieces cooked on a flat iron skillet with chopped veggies and meat, seasoned with spices, ginger, garlic, and soy sauce.
Cutlery is optional
It’s delicious.
Next morning, we take a bus down Kandy’s main thoroughfare, Peradeniya Road.
Bus fare is 14 cents Canadian
One of Kandy’s star attractions – the Botanical Gardens – is at the end of this road.
I test the strength of some conveniently hanging vines
Swing time
There are thousands of flying foxes in the trees. They chatter and quarrel and flap their wings. Some fly from tree to tree. Pretty active for nocturnal creatures.
Ferdowsi’s work means a lot to Iranians. At a time when Arabic was in the ascendant, he’s seen as a major bulwark in the preservation of the Persian language.
Saeed and I admire the artwork inside
As is usual here, the tomb is surrounded by beautiful, well-kept gardens.
Tourist and poetI’ve downloaded this onto my IPhone
Next we visit Nishapur. This was one of the greatest cities of the middle ages before the Mongols slaughtered everyone in town in 1221.
They came to a bad end
Part of the old town is being excavated.
Our little band of travelers watch the sun go down at the edge of the Chahjam Desert.
Another nearby shrine is that of Abul Hassan Kharaqani, another Sufi master. Must be something in the water around here.
The tomb is surrounded by beautiful carpets and plants.
A four-wheel-drive vehicles takes us to the Abr Forest. We’re more impressed with the rocky hills than the forest.
Note the shepherd’s hut down the hill
Our 4WD driver insists on a group photo. We acquiesce.
Apparently, this is where saffron comes from. (I can’t vouch for the truth of this.) Iran is the largest producer of saffron in the world. (This is true.)
There are many oaks up here, stunted by the wind.
The next day dawns cold, windy, and rainy. We take a small motorboat out to an island in the Caspian Sea. On the island is a factory that processes caviar and sturgeon.
We are struck dumb by the beauty and skill of these carpets. Some of them must contain a million individual knots.
This may look like I’m practicing my bent-old-man-with-a-walking-stick look, but I am in fact examining details of this replica of the Pazyryk Rug.
The original is now in the Hermitage in St. Petersburg
Our last stop before the airport is the Azadi Tower, Tehran’s chief landmark.
The architect, Hossein Amanat, is a Bahá’í and now lives in Canada after fleeing the new regime under threat of death.
From the top, we take our last look at Tehran.
Eventually, it’s time to drive out to the airport.
Sight or Insight of the Day
We bid a sad goodbye to Saeed and Justin at Imam Khomeini Airport.
Three weeks goes by very fast. We have had a very special time here, exploring the country together.
Iran reminds me a lot of Chile in the 1980’s: Chileans are probably the friendliest, best-educated people in South America, yet they suffered under a brutal military dictatorship. I wondered at the time where they found the people to staff their torture cells: most people were so nice.
Iran is similar – a civilized, generous people being ruled by a handful of monstrous theocratic despots and their protectors, the Iranian equivalent of the SS: the Revolutionary Guard. Ruled by people who don’t care if the entire country suffers under sanctions, Hell-bent on acquiring nuclear weapons at any cost, for God-knows-what purpose. And don’t get us started on the crime-against-humanity that is the subjection of women under this unholy regime.
To counter the image that Iran has abroad, as a nation of terrorist-supporting maniacs, it’s a good thing to come here and experience the rich history and beautiful landscape and startling honesty of the Iranian people. (In contrast, in our first day back in Delhi when out running some short errands, Maria is cheated, short-changed, and overcharged five times in the space of one hour.)
And this is despite the grotesque propaganda that is the sole offering on most Iranian media. Foreigners are often portrayed as – at the very least – ‘evil’ (and Israelis as positively Satanic). We have the best of wishes for the future of the Iranian people. Thanks for your warm hospitality.
There’s a Persian pun and proverb that says ‘اصفهان نیمی از جهان است’, that is, ‘Esfahān nesf-e- jahān ast‘: ‘Isfahan is half of the world’.
It may very well have been a few centuries ago, when Isfahan was one of the largest cities in the world.
Isfahan’s main attraction is the astounding Naqsh-e Jahan Square in the middle of town. The anchor of this square is the spectacular Shah Mosque.
If the Taj Mahal is the Taj Mahal of mausoleums, this must be the Taj Mahal of mosques. It’s so grand and overwhelming that we can’t capture it in a single photograph.
‘Shah mosque’ translates to ‘Royal Mosque’
The exterior and interior are richly decorated with thousands of brilliantly-coloured tiles and calligraphy.
The scale of the complex, with its couple of madrasas and a winter mosque (whatever that is), is mind-blowing.
We recover from having our minds blown
Around the square are many shops for souvenir-hunters.
‘How much is that narghil in the window?’
An Isfahan specialty is qalamkar (spelling varies in English). Cotton cloth is decorated with wooden block prints, like in Rajastan. The finished product is very beautiful and colourful.
We have been traveling in Saeed’s car since Shiraz. Back on the road, we greet a truck full of friendly field workers.
Daily we are pleasantly surprised by the friendliness and welcoming attitude of Iranians. Good thing we have Saeed with us: everyone is curious about how we find Iran, but few people speak English.
Arriving at the Zeinodinn caravanserai, where we spend the night. Caravanserais were inns – located about 30 KMs apart – where travelers would spend the night.
Holiday Inn
It’s on the old Silk Road.
We are told merchants would keep their goods on the central platform
We visit the water museum. Of course, water has always been a concern in the arid parts of Iran.
Down to the well
In the heat of the afternoon, the Dowlat Abad Gardens beckon.
The tower is a windcatcher. Many buildings in Yazd have them.
Next day, we stop in the town of Varzaneh to see the old bridge.
Varzaneh Bridge
There’s also an ancient pigeon tower.
The interior is remarkable.
In days of yore, the dung was collected and used on the fields.
Sight or Insight of the Day
Across the street from our hotel in Yazd is a girl’s school.
The self-effacement begins early
It’s difficult to understand the motive for the startling difference between what men can wear (virtually anything) and what women and girls can wear (the more concealing, the better).
This is taken from an Iranian talk show on the TV in our room.
After a day visiting Persepolis and Pasargadae, we stay in a small local place (the Ojagh e Seyyed Karim Inn) in the village of Saadat Shahr. It’s run by a family of friendly women.
Room and board
We’re treated to an impromptu concert from Saeed and a fellow guide.
The village of Shahdad is the last village before the desert. We stop to check out its arg. This may sound like pirate-speak, but an arg is a fortress-like structure. There are many in Iran.
There are women selling crafts at the entrance. We purchase a beautifully-embroidered Tree of Life.
Maria and the maker
We continue into the desert and see these formations called kaluts.
We come across a pair of camels waiting patiently. No sign of their caretaker.
We love deserts. We can barely contain our enthusiasm.
Airborne
Lots of wide open spaces as we drive to Kerman.
In Mahan, we go to the shrine of Shah Nematollah Vali, a 14th-century Sufi mystic.
Beautiful gardens
People in Iran are so honest. When we are unsure of what things cost, we hand over our wallet and the merchant delicately extracts the exact amount and hands the wallet back. This is very different from India.
(Money can be confusing here: besides a lot of zeros, costs are sometimes in rials and sometimes in tomans.)
We make another stop in Reyan to explore the fortress there.
Notice my new hat – the fourth for this trip so far. I left my latest one on the plane to Calcutta.
Kid with a new lid
The city is at least 1,000 years old. People were living in it up to 150 years ago.
Looks like a biblical city
It’s a great place to simply wander around.
Denis, Maria, Justin, and SaeedView from the walls
Near Kerman, we pass through some very Australian-looking scenery.
Sight or Insight of the Day
We see this unlikely sight in the village of Shahdad.
Maria clowns around the mystery jet
Near the oasis that we stay at is this BAE jet aircraft incongruously parked – well, in the middle of nowhere. It looks like it just landed, but there are no runways around that we can see. We try to wrangle an explanation from locals. One says it was ‘landed here by a crazy pilot’.
We go for a stroll in the the UNESCO-listed Eram Garden.
Shiraz is the home of our tour company, Pars Tourist Agency. We drop in to meet the people Maria has been in regular email contact with for two months.
Denis, Maria, the wonderful Aliye, our traveling companion Justin, and Roya
We board our Oman Air flight in Delhi for Tehran, via Muscat.
This is what Oman looks like from the air.
Man, Oman
We are greeted by the jovial Saeed, our guide for the next three weeks. On the way into town from Imam Khomeini Airport, we pass the mausoleum and shrine of the great man himself.
Tehran looks like Manhattan in comparison to the post-nuclear apocalypse appearance of Indian cities.
There are street signs and clean sidewalks, well-kept boulevards, plentiful trees and parks. And lots of carpets.
‘What if everything is an illusion and nothing exists?’ ‘In that case, I definitely overpaid for my carpet.‘ – Woody Allen
Our hotel is near Ferdowsi Square. Ferdowsi is the Persian poet and author of the Shahnameh.
Mural of an episode from the Shahnameh
People in Iran are very welcoming and generous. While strolling through Laleh Park, we meet this friendly couple who offer us tea and sweets.
Tea with Ali and Ghazal
We discover that many people are like this here. Iranian honesty and openness is a refreshing change from the daily harassment and hustling we experience in the last few months.
This gold cup is interesting. Decorated with three lions in single file, the heads are riveted onto the body for a 3D effect. It’s from the Necropolis of Kalardasht, near the Caspian Sea.
From Varanasi, we take an overnight train to Khajuraho.
Khajuraho is famous for its collection of temples built by a relatively minor dynasty about a thousand years ago.
The surviving temples have some of the most skillful carvings we’ve seen on this trip so far.
A woman plucks a thorn from her foot
Another appealing factor of Khajuraho is that it is a small town, deep in rural India and far from a main road. The surrounding villages are probably more representative of the way people live away from the grim cities.
The surrounding scenery is nice as well.
Like water buffalo the world over, these local ones love hanging out submerged in ponds and mud-pools.
As mentioned in an earlier entry, we spend my birthday here at the luxurious Lalit Temple View Hotel.
My birthday breakfast
Here are some more views of the Khajuraho temples.
We admire the lotus-carved ceiling in a temple that features Shiva in the form of a boar.
We take the train to Bhopal. Our first stop is Bhopal’s incredible Madhya Pradesh Tribal Museum.
(We weren’t even aware that there were tribal people in this state. Of course, there’s a lot we don’t know about the country.
This is unlike any other museum we’ve seen in India. In fact, it’s unique. Often, museums about tribal people are not much more than dusty cases of bows and arrows, with a few woven baskets and fishnets.
This museum is different. Built in 2013, it explains the lifestyle and world view of the tribes using a riot of artistic exuberance.
The displays kind of… explode all around you.
This exhibit of mountains of pottery reminds us eerily of Cambodia’s piles of skulls.
Any of the exhibits here would be a hit at any museum in London or New York.
Bhopal itself a large and rather gritty city.
Bhopal pedestriansNice sariAbandoned – but picturesque – buildingBhopal trafficSchoolkids on the move
We hire a car and driver one afternoon and visit Sanchi.
The Great Stupa
Sanchi was built by King Ashoka to house some Buddhist relics.
The gates tell, among other things, tales from the life of Buddha.
We visit the abandoned site of the Union Carbide factory in Bhopal. The deadly accident that takes place here in 1984 – long before many people were born, including 75% of Indians – is what places Bhopal on the map for much of the world.
This is what the plant looked like in 1984.
This is the main gate today. It’s not officially open to the public.
Being at ground zero of the world’s worst industrial accident is chilling.
An overgrown forest now stands where offices and administrative buildings once covered the grounds. We’re told to ‘be careful of snakes’.
Every now and then, a dead cow floats by. There’s a life lesson in there somewhere.
Normally, the riverfront serves as a landmark (watermark?) by which to navigate the labyrinth of Varanasi lanes – you just follow the shoreline.
Because the water is so high at this time of year, we hire a guide to walk us through the alleys of old Varanasi. Otherwise we’d never find our way in the maze.
The laneways are constantly thronged with chanting people carrying the deceased down to the river for cremation.
Coming through! Make a hole!
This is one of the cremation ghats. Bodies are washed in the Ganges, then cremated, then the ashes are thrown in the river. This is a good thing if you’re a Hindu. It means immediate moksha.
100 bodies a day cremated here – pyres burn 24 hours a day, seven days a week
Selling firewood for the cremation ghats is big business.
Strolling through town, we come across a school, where we take a rest in the entrance-way.
Classy
As mentioned, we hire a guide to walk us though the labyrinth of lanes in old Varanasi. When we go out on our own, we are lost within minutes.
Youth and age
This kid is leading his brick-laden mules through a part of town that is being razed (on dubious authority) and reclaimed by Indian real estate speculators. Look for an extremely ugly concrete hotel here in the near future.
Little mule-wallah
It doesn’t take much space to run a business here. This paan-seller manages with a square metre or so.
‘My name is Prakesh, and I’m a paan-aholic…’
Paan is the source of the solid encrustations of red spit that you see everywhere in India. It must be addictive, because men are always rolling it around in their palms, then stuffing it into their mouths. We seldom take a tuk-tuk ride where the driver doesn’t have to stop and buy some more from the ubiquitous paan shops.
In this temple, kids prepare plants that are sacred to Shiva.
We visit nearby Sarnath. This is where Buddha is supposed to have given his first sermon after his enlightenment.
‘Whatever is subject to origination is subject to cessation’
His actual enlightenment took place beneath a tree in Bhodgaya, a few hundred kilometres from here.
We head down to the bathing ghats. There are many, many religious items for sale.
‘My house shall be called the house of prayer; but ye have made it a den of thieves.‘ – Matthew 21:13
Bathing in the Ganges is a means of purification. Just look out for the dead cows.
One day, we visit several temples. One is the Durga Temple.
Fanboy
It is some sort of auspicious day, so the temple is packed with worshipers. They don’t seem to mind the presence of our infidel selves.
We go to the Tulsi Manas temple next door, built to commemorate a 16th century translator of the Ramayana.
Goswami Tulsidas was a sort of St. Jerome of the Ramayana – he translated it from Sanskrit into a Hindi dialect so that it can be read by the common people.
We also visit the hanuman temple. This was established by the same Tulsidas.
With so many holy sites around, there are plenty of sadhus and fakirs.
Another place we visit is the Ramnagar Fort across the river.
It is much reduced from its glory days.
Sight or Insight of the Day
In Sarnath, we visit the Archaeological Museum. This contains an excellent example of a lion capital from the top of a Pillar of Ashoka.
