An Afternoon in Kashan and a Night in Isfahan

After about an hour’s drive we arrived in Kashan, an oasis city in the desert.  We had a nice lunch of kebabs and rice at a traditional Kashan tea house and then walked to the Borujerdi House to discover it was unexpectedly closed.  The only thing we saw was the old wooden doors with two unusually shaped door knockers.  Milad explained that the two distinct shapes make two distinct sounds.  A man would use the knocker on the right and a woman would use the knocker on the left.  The woman of the house would then know the sex of the person at the door and could answer it if a woman was knocking.  If a man knocked, a man would answer the door.    

Moving on, we went to the fabulous Tabatabei House, a jewel in a city full of beautiful old traditional homes.  Here we were definitely not disappointed, every surface of this house seemed to be ornamented and embellished by fine stone carvings, elaborate stucco work or mirror mosaics.  The pale walls and mirrors glinted in the brilliant blue sunshine.

It was lovely walking through the courtyards and various rooms to admire this splendid display of a merchant’s wealth.  While we were at Tabatabei House, I was approached by a gentleman asking how long I would be in Kashan.  He told me he was making a movie about tourism in Iran and would like me to be in it.  He was scouting locations and would shoot it the following day.  I regretfully told him I would only be in Kashan for the afternoon and would have loved to talk about my visit to Iran.

Kashan proved to be secretive.  We arrived at Fin Garden only to find that they had unexpectedly closed early.  Milad talked to someone through a narrow opening of the old, massive wooden doors.  He tried his best to convince the gatekeeper to let us in but was unsuccessful.  I would have to visit Kashan another time to see all of her glories.

Before leaving Kashan, we made one last stop to see the Agha Bozorg Mosque & Madraseh. We entered the mosque through a wooden door said to have as many studs as there are verses in the Koran. Once inside, we saw the mosque has an unusual sunken courtyard. I could only imagine how beautiful it would be in couple of weeks when the bare trees and plants in the courtyard have leaves.

It was late in the afternoon when we left Kashan and we had plans to meet a friend of mine in Isfahan. Tara and I were both planning trips to Iran, asking questions on the TripAdvisor Iran forum when we started exchanging emails.  It was nice to have someone to share my excitement and enthusiasm with, especially when so many people were skeptical about Iran as a vacation destination. When we realized that we would be in Isfahan at the same time, we asked Mojtaba, who organized our tours, if we could meet.  Plans were made to have dinner at the Abbasi Hotel, a former caravanserai turned into one of the most glamorous hotel in Isfahan.

Dinner was supposed to be at 7:30 but Isfahan traffic had other plans for us. It seemed everyone was in their car, trying to go someplace all at the same time. We sat, stuck in traffic, while time flew by. Eventually we did arrive, almost an hour late. Fortunately, Tara, her husband Simon, and guide Mehdi waited for us. 

Introductions and hellos were exchanged and we had a lively conversation about what we had seen and liked during our tour so far. We ordered Ash Reshteh, a special dish the restaurant at the Abbasi is known for. It is a thick soup made of chopped green herbs including parsley, spinach, cilantro, and dill. Kidney beans, garbanzo beans and noodles are also in the soup and it is garnished with kashk (fermented yogurt), crispy fried onions and dried mint on top. The reshteh or noodles represent life’s many paths and Ash Reshteh was the perfect thing to have on this special occasion. 

photo courtesy of Tara

photo courtesy of Tara

Our guides, Milad and Mehdi, graciously picked up the bill for dinner (or was that taarof?) and then we all walked out to the central courtyard. At night, the lighting highlighted the beautiful garden and surrounding building and created a enchanting space. After photos to mark the occasion were taken and farewells exchanged, we left to go see the Bridges of Isfahan.

photo courtesy of Tara

The first bridge we visited was near the Abbasi Hotel, the Si-o-se-pol.  A bridge of thirty three arches, the Si-o-se-pol is a graceful structure and was especially beautiful at night when the arches were illuminated with a golden light. Buildings and walkways along the banks of the Zayandeh River were also lit and the atmosphere was magical. Many people were gathered here to relax and sit beside the water rushing over the locks of the dam under the bridge.

  

We then went to see another one of the eleven bridges which cross the Zayandeh, the Khajoo Bridge. Milad said this bridge was even more beautiful and was his favorite. Similar to the Si-o- se-pol, the Khajoo was a bit smaller with a span of twenty four arches. People were gathered here too, strolling along the top level and singing in the arches below. When people heard us speaking English, we became the center of attention. Many asked us questions about our visit and whether we were enjoying our time in Iran. Some ask to exchange email addresses and to become Facebook friends. It was a heady experience and it felt nice to be the recipient of so much good will and friendly curiosity. It was a good end to a long day. The next morning we left for Yazd, a place described by Marco Polo as “a very fine and splendid city.”

A Morning in Abyaneh

We took a day trip from Isfahan to visit two nearby places, Abyaneh and Kashan. On the way to Abyaneh, we passed by the Natanz nuclear facility where camouflaged anti-aircraft tanks sit close by the highway.  Milad told us to make sure we put our cameras away as taking photos in this area is expressly forbidden. This was one time Milad was not making a joke and we made sure to comply.

After about two and a half hours on the road, we arrived in Abyaneh, one of the oldest villages in Iran. It was a picturesque sight as the red mud brick houses are built one on top of another and the town is a maze of narrow winding lanes and hidden corners. This village is not undiscovered though and we shared our wanderings through the town with a large group of Asian tourists. 

The old women of Abyaneh came out to see if we would buy some dried fruits from them. They were dressed in unique costumes unlike the traditional black chador or more modern headscarf and manteau seen in the rest of Iran. The women of Abyaneh wore white shawls patterned with colorful floral and leaf motifs over bright colored tops and black skirts and tights. 

Milad told us that for the old women of the town, selling dried fruit was their only way of making money. All of the younger people of Abyaneh have left the village for the large cities where there is more opportunity for education and employment. I wondered if this contributes to the general air of sadness and feeling of emptiness about the town.

We walked to the Zeyaratgah Shrine where we are rewarded with beautiful views of snow capped mountains in the distance under brilliant blue skies. Walking around the shrine, I came to a small room lined with the photos of nineteen men. Milad told me these are martyrs from the Iran-Iraq War. It was a poignant and haunting sight, the deep scars of that war which exist in this small village and all across Iran.

Milad suggested we go see Abyaneh from a distance. We climbed up a zigzag path to the top of a steep hill and found a good vantage point to see the village. Here we saw the way the houses sit one on top of another, stacked and rising up the opposite hill. 

There were still small drifts of snow on the ground and on the surrounding mountains and it formed a nice contrast to the red mud bricks of Abyaneh and the brilliant blue skies. We shot lots of great pictures before walking back down the hill to leave and go to Kashan.

Isfahan is Half the World

Twice the capital of Persia, Isfahan was filled with beautiful and impressive palaces, mosques, bridges and other sites.  At its zenith, Isfahan was so glorious it became known by the rhyme Isfahan Nesf-e Jahan’ or “Isfahan is Half the World.” 

After a typical Iranian breakfast of tea, tomatoes and cucumbers, hard boiled eggs, and flat bread with jam, we went to see Chehel Sotoun Palace, a UNESCO World Heritage Site.  Milad explained to us that the name means “Forty Columns” in Farsi.  Twenty slender columns hold up the portico roof and are seen in the water of a long reflecting pool in front of the pavilion, giving the illusion of forty columns.

Chehel Sotoun was a grand pavilion, built to receive ambassadors and dignitaries by Shah Abbas II in 1647. Stunning mirror work on the ceiling and walls of the portico gave way to an equally stunning interior reception hall. Brilliantly colored murals in the style of traditional Persian miniature painting covered the walls and depicted hunting parties and battles as well as scenes of feasting and dance.

A short walk from Chehel Sotoun found us at Naqsh-e Jahan Square (or Imam Square), another UNESCO World Heritage site. The second largest square in the world after Beijing’s Tiananmen Square, it contained two mosques, a palace and a bazaar in addition to many handicrafts shops and souvenir stalls which line the long arcades. School girls were lined up to take horse drawn carriage rides around the square and the air was filled with the sounds of bells and horse hooves hitting the pavement. 

After walking around Imam Square, we then went to see the Ali Qapu Palace. There were many floors to the palace and we climbed up steep, winding sets of stairs to reach the most spectacular room, the Music Room. Instrumentalists and singers performed from high balconies overlooking the audience in this intimate space. The honey comb stucco ceiling of the Music Room was punctured by beautiful vase-like shapes and the walls were gilded and painted to dazzling effect.

I walked out onto the balcony of the palace and was met with a sweeping view of Imam Square and the distant mountains in the background. The royal family used to watch polo matches from this vantage point. The stone goal post markers for the polo field still remained on either end of the great lawn.

We crossed to the opposite side of Imam Square to see the Sheikh-Lotfollah Mosque which was built as a private mosque for the family of the royal court.  It was a space which was both intimate and grand. The walls were covered with beautiful tiles and punctuated with latticed arched windows. The patterned ceiling was most spectacular feature.  Designed to suggest an open peacock tail, if you looked closely at the very center of the dome, you could see the body and head of the peacock.  

We were admiring the ceiling when two school girls came over to ask us where we were from and to offer us some of the snacks they had brought with them. I went and joined the girls and their friends in the middle of the mosque.  A shaft of light had entered the room from a window near the ceiling, creating a brightly area on the floor.  It was the perfect spot to make shadow puppets and we all had a good time trying our hand at it.

After a nice lunch of rice and kebabs, we visited the nearby workshop of a tablecloth maker.  The owner of the shop showed us how the canvas tablecloths were stamped by hand with carved blocks, each successive block adding to the pattern and color of the design.  This was one of the traditional handicrafts that Isfahan artisans are famous for and I had no choice but to purchase a beautiful teal colored tablecloth to bring home.

The last place we saw on the Square this afternoon was the Imam Mosque, considered to be a masterpiece of Persian architecture. Intended as a public mosque, it was an immense building with four iwan (three sided vaulted halls) on opposite sides of a large central courtyard. Turquoise, Persian blue and dark blue glazed tiles cover the walls, vaults and domes creating a serene effect. 

The Jolfa neighborhood, also known as the Armenian Quarter of Isfahan was our next destination and the first place we visited was Vank Cathedral. The nave and chancel were surprisingly small for a space called a cathedral but the interior was grand nevertheless. Elements of Persian Islamic architecture were combined with distinctly Christian decoration.  Every surface was gilded and Italian Renaissance style paintings covered the ceilings and walls. The vividly colored frescoes illustrated the story of the Bible from Adam and Eve to Jesus to the Last Judgment.  

After a visit to the Armenian Museum, a very small museum with pictures, photos and artifacts related to Armenian culture and history, we stopped at Armani Carpets to “have a look around.”  The salesman did his best to try and get me to buy one of his gorgeous carpets, incrementally reducing the price from $10,000 all the way down to $4,000 and then, finally, “make me an offer and I will throw in a husband for free.”  Milad was no help when I asked him to rescue me from this temptation.  Eventually I managed to convince the carpet seller that I would not be buying a carpet and left with my wallet intact.

We still had more to see and dropped by the shop of a miniature painter. Miniature painting is an traditional Iranian handicraft.   Painting on thin pieces of camel bone with the finest of brushes, the painter paints without magnification to produce a small, very detailed painting.  It was interesting to watch him work and he kindly gave me a small sample of his work to take home as a keepsake.  

We returned to Imam Square to see it at night and to do a bit of browsing at the Qeysari Bazaar.  There were lots of people out and about enjoying the evening and shopping. painting.  We saw a demonstration of another traditional Iranian handicraft, Minakari (enamel painting on metal) and then wandered some more, looking at shops before stopping at a small coffee shop located at a little courtyard in the bazaar.  Back out in Imam Square we took in the beautiful view under the moonlight before heading to our hotel for a good night’s sleep.

  

Picturesque Palangan

Early in the morning we drove two hours west from Kermanshah through dramatic, stark mountain scenery to reach Palangan, a small Kurdish village near the Iran-Iraq border in the Zagros Mountains.  Palangan’s flat roofed stone houses are stacked one on top of another and climb the steep sides of mountains which converge to form a valley.

Our van was met by a group of village men, interested to see who had arrived.  As we walked between the houses clinging to the steep mountainside, we were careful not to loose our footing on the rocky path.  More villagers came to greet us and a group of four girls appeared and shyly said hi. They agreed to pose for pictures and were pleased when I showed them their photo.  

A woman colorfully dressed in blue wanted her photograph taken with me too.  Somehow my headscarf had fallen down (again) and she laughed at me before tightly tying it so it would not fall off again.

At 10 in the morning the village was noisy.  Roosters crowed from all parts of the village, an echoing commotion of cock-a-doodle-dos.  We walked down winding stairs to the center of the village.  Next to a small stream, a group of boys kicked a soccer ball around and an older man with a donkey walked by.  Milad and Amin joined them while another group of boys sat nearby on a bench posing for photos.

 

Eventually we began walking back up the stairs to where our van is parked.  An older woman sitting on a bench showed us how she spins wool by hand.  Another woman showed us her small shop.  Cows mooed behind closed barn doors and a donkey stuck its head out of a window as we passed by.  After a few hours in Palangan, we begin our long drive to Isfahan.

And it is a long drive, well over eight hours.  To pass the time, we chat and Milad answers questions we had about living in Iran.  We also listen to an eclectic mix of Iranian and Western songs.  Amin makes sure we stop often for tea and bathroom breaks.  Eventually we arrive at night and it is dark.  We will have to wait until the next day to see the grand city of Isfahan.