Random Rambles

We take the train from Kandy to Ella. We almost don’t make it – we are issued tickets for the wrong date. In the end, Maria saves the day.

It’s a five or six hour journey.

The cars are comfortable enough.

We journey through Sri Lanka’s hilly tea country.

Sri Lanka Railways has been serving the country since 1864.

It’s a rainy day in these hills.

We arrive in Ella. Our hotel looks out on the mountains.

A short hike brings us to the Nine Arch Bridge.

The bridge soon comes into view.

We look down into the valley.

This bridge attracts all types of locals and visitors.

Maria does her ‘Damsel in Distress’ imitation.

A coconut vendor offers refreshment.

Next we hike to Little Adam’s Peak.

Also surrounded by tea estates.

More tea-pickers at work.

Sight or Insight of the Day

Maria, Pete, and Judith attend a Sri Lankan cooking class in town.

The raw ingredients.

The instructor promises to reveal a useful website for further Sri Lankan recipes. They’re all ears. ‘Now take this down – w-w-w-dot-g-o-o-g-l…’

He has a sense of humour.

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.

It’s delicious.

Next morning, we take a bus down Kandy’s main thoroughfare, Peradeniya Road.

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

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.

This is a giant Queensland Kauri.

All kinds of interesting flora and arbusta.

A red-faced monkey steals Maria’s package of biscuits while she takes a photo in the other direction.

Maria’s outage is softened when we see that the monkey has a little one.

Sight or Insight of the Day

In the afternoon, it’s time for a visit to a tea plantation. Geragama tea estate is just a tuk-tuk ride away.

This estate was founded in 1903. There are plenty of teas to choose from.

It’s all the same place. We fly from Delhi to Colombo, Sri Lanka.

The next day, our friends Pete and Judith arrive, after a grueling flight from Canada via London.

We stay in Negombo, a beach town that is closer to the airport than Colombo and a good place to recover.

Negombo is pretty low-key in comparison to the average urban tropical beach.

Except for the odd trinket-vendor, and the odd stray dog, the beach is pretty empty at this time of the year.

We have not seen each other in a long time.

Kandy is our first destination. It was the last capital of Sri Lankan royalty.

There are still a few colonial structures around. Like the Queen’s Hotel.

After arriving on the train, we make our way to our hotel.

First stop is the Temple of the Tooth.

At the entrance, floral offerings are sold.

The actual tooth is in here. According to Wikipedia:

‘The tooth relic is encased in seven golden caskets, which are engraved with precious gemstones.’

We watch the acrobatic monkeys leap from fence to tree.

The floral offerings on sale at the entrance? They end up here, at the upper level of the temple.

The afternoon monsoon rain drives us inside, where we rest on the marble floor.

People light butterlamps, a Buddhist tradition.

Sight or Insight of the Day

We take a train from Colombo to Kandy.

We begin traveling into the hills.

We look forward to a longer train trip from Kandy to Ella.

From Isfahan, we fly to Mashad on a McDonnell Douglas aircraft that was built in 1994. I can’t remember the last time I saw an MD civilian aircraft.

Mashad contains the Shrine of the Eighth Imam. Once again, Maria has to go full chador to enter.

In nearby Tus, we visit the tomb of Ferdowsi.

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.

As is usual here, the tomb is surrounded by beautiful, well-kept gardens.

Next we visit Nishapur. This was one of the greatest cities of the middle ages before the Mongols slaughtered everyone in town in 1221.

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.

A herd of camels crosses our path.

After a night in Shahrud, we visit the shrine of Bayazid Bastami, another Sufi mystic.

People come here to pray.

Sheep wandering on the road are an occasional hazard.

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.

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 fly from Gorgan back to Tehran. Next morning, our first stop is the superb Carpet Museum of Iran.

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.

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.

After a few days driving in Saeed’s car, we come to Isfahan.

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.

The exterior and interior are richly decorated with thousands of brilliantly-coloured tiles and calligraphy.

You could pack 10,000 worshipers in here.

The mihrab points to the direction of Mecca.

The scale of the complex, with its couple of madrasas and a winter mosque (whatever that is), is mind-blowing.

Around the square are many shops for souvenir-hunters.

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.

This is the view of square from the Ali Qapu palace, the dwelling of Shah Abbas I.

Across the square is the Shah’s private mosque.

The supporting columns of the palace verandah roof are single timbers of cedar from Lebanon.

There are Western-style paintings for the enjoyment of Western visitors to Shah Abbas.

We cross the square to see the Sheikh Lotfollah Mosque, the private mosque of Shah Abbas I.

Again, there are many representative-type paintings of human figures. Not strictly Islamic, but OK in the royal view, safe from the pious masses.

Sight or Insight of the Day

The Khaju Bridge is where we spend the end of the afternoon. It spans the Zāyanderud, which means ‘life-giving river’.

It’s a real ‘people place’. Families and young people hang out, have picnics, sing and dance. Away from the disapproving eyes of the Mullahs.

One family insists we participate in their family photo.

Then it’s time to drive out to the airport and catch our flight to Mashad.

From Kerman, we continue up the road. In the village of Fahraj is one of the oldest mosques in Iran.

It has that plainness of most early-period religious buildings, before they turn into palaces.

Next stop is Meymand village, where people live in caves.

There is an underground mosque.

Reminds us of Matmata in Tunisia.

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.

It’s on the old Silk Road.

This is the corridor lined with rooms.

Next day, we arrive in the desert city of Yazd.

Like many desert places, it’s pretty conservative.

Zoroastrianism has a visible presence in Yazd. Zoroastrianism was the religion of all classical Persia before the arrival of Islam in the 7th century.

Inside is a fire said to have been burning since 470 AD. It was first lit in the time of the Sassanian Empire.

Close to town are two Towers of Silence, where Zoroastrians used to expose their dead.

From the top, you get a good view of Yazd.

We attend a session of zoorkhaneh, which is part sport, part exercise, part theatre, part religious ceremony.

Maria dons an obligatory chador when we visit the Shazdeh Fazel shrine.

We visit the water museum. Of course, water has always been a concern in the arid parts of Iran.

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.

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.

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.

You can barely hear the poor woman’s mumbled responses.

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.

We’re treated to an impromptu concert from Saeed and a fellow guide.

The next day, we drive to the Lut Desert.

On the way, we pass through Rafsanjan. Rafsanjan is a major centre for the production of pistachios.

We see some nomads along the road.

On arrival, we stay in an oasis.

The accommodation is in tents, but they’re pretty snazzy. And fully air-conditioned: this is one of the hottest places on Earth.

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.

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.

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.

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 have lunch at the lush and lovely Shazdeh Garden.

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.

The city is at least 1,000 years old. People were living in it up to 150 years ago.

It’s a great place to simply wander around.

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.

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’.

In Tehran, Justin from New Zealand joins our little group. We take an overnight train to Shiraz.

The train is one of the most comfortable we’ve been on in a long time.

Early next morning, we arrive in Shiraz.

Saeed is happy because Shiraz is his home town – he gets to see his family.

We enjoy a breakfast of local bread and ‘ash‘ (pronounced ‘osh’ as in ‘OshKosh B’gosh’.

First stop is the Nasir-ol-molk mosque.

It’s famous for its stained-glass windows, which tourists love to photograph.

The unlit side is where the serious praying gets done

The streets are alive with commerce.

The Qavam House has a beautiful garden. Gardens are a Persian specialty.

The alleys provide shelter from the sun.

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.

We come across the Vakil Mosque.

The courtyard is burning hot.

But it’s refreshingly cool inside.

Most Iranian mosques are covered in colourful tiles. Easy to see where the carpet patterns come from. Or maybe it’s the other way around?

We visit the mausoleum of the poet Hafez, one of Shiraz’s most famous sons.

He would be disappointed by the absence of wine in modern-day Shiraz.

Sight or Insight of the Day

I’ve had a lifelong interest in visiting Persepolis. I can now cross that off my bucket list.

It’s constructed from house-trailer-sized blocks of stone.

Alexander the Great is supposed to have burnt it down in 330 BC. What remains brings to mind the poem Ozymandias.

The main gate has fascinating graffiti from the past.

Up the road at Pasargadae is the tomb of Cyrus the Great.

This pillar from his palace reminds us of the monolith in ‘2001 – A Space Odyssey‘.

Inscribed on the pillar is ‘I am Cyrus the king, an Achaemenid’ in Old Persian, Elamite, and Akkadian.

We board our Oman Air flight in Delhi for Tehran, via Muscat.

This is what Oman looks like from the air.

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.

Our hotel is near Ferdowsi Square. Ferdowsi is the Persian poet and author of 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.

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.

We visit the National Museum of Iran.

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.

We also drop in on Golestan Palace.

Tehran is an interesting blend of old and new.

There are many inspirational billboards throughout Tehran.

We go up the Milad Tower for a panoramic view of the city.

So that’s it – a quick roundup of our arrival in Iran.

Sight or Insight of the Day

We visit the former American embassy, now a museum since its liberation by Iranian students.

It’s interesting to see historical events from a different perspective.

And to think we once thought of Ken Taylor and his exploits as heroic!

The souvenir shop is full of improving literature.

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.

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.

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.

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.

We hire a car and driver one afternoon and visit Sanchi.

Sanchi was built by King Ashoka to house some Buddhist relics.

The gates tell, among other things, tales from the life of Buddha.

The remains of one of Ashoka’s pillars.

Next day, we depart for Delhi on the train.

Then it’s off to Iran.

Sight or Insight of the Day

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’.