Day 89 Power Travel
SYNOPSIS: I hooked up with two Brits and a guy from Holland to do a day’s worth of power travel. We passed the site of the Nuclear Reactor and visited a mosque, a shrine, three villages, a water fall, a rose water production line, and a fire temple. I had my picture taken with a big-shot from Saudi Arabia. Where minarets, distillation pipes, and canons point to the sky. I am happy to report that none of the tanks I saw today pointed their canons towards the West. We passed the area of the famous underground uranium enrichment plant near Nantanz and if you would not know that, at least you would get the idea that something very important is heavily guarded out there in the middle of nowhere desert-land. One has to wonder though – all the traffic signs were bilingual, from “Fasten your Seatbelt” to “Reduce Speed” to “Use Gear”. But the important sign – that this was a sensitive area and absolutely no pictures were to be taken – was only in Farsi and did not even have an internationally recognizable icon to go with. A crossed out camera could have done the job. But we were left to our own common sense. And since we were not there to snoop around, but to see yet another old mosque, we kept our cameras pointing down. The mosque in Nantanz is from the 11th Century. It was worth the detour as it remains almost unaltered. The sun could have been in a more favorable position, but that is hard to time on a day like this where we saw one thing after another.The hotel I am at right now, the Khan-e-Ehsan in Kashan, is not quite the social magnet the Silk Road Hotel is in Yazd. Nonetheless, it is part of the “historical texture” and foreign visitors are likely to end up right here. Over breakfast I was able to hook up with three other guests who had arrived yesterday and were willing to share a taxi today to see what there is to be seen around Kashan. To the last minute I was not sure if I would stay and do sightseeing or leave for Teheran. I felt bad not to do Kashan more justice by lingering in bed yesterday, but I did not want to hire a taxi by myself either as my funds were dwindling fast. There was Bert, a lawyer from Amsterdam who is traveling with Sarah, a British humanitarian aid social worker, and James, an NGO worker also from the U.K. We did a full day of power travel today circling South to Natanz, West from there to Abyaneh, and finally West from Kashan to Niasar and back to Kashan. I am pooped!I won’t bother you with more mosque or shrine description, but there were a few things today that deserve mention. Abyaneh, is a unique village located in a picturesque valley where there must be an unusually high iron content in the rocks. The adobe village is flooded with day-tourists who come to stroll around this charming village. These people used to be so remote – until the Lonely Planet discovered them – that the indigenous people speak a form of Old-Persian that has long died out elsewhere. The women dress in particularly wide, short skirts and in colorful head-scarves. The men wear the widest and baggiest pants I have seen anywhere in Iran.I split from the group to do my own photography – big mistake! I wandered up to the highest and most remote point of the village, to get away from all the Japanese tour groups, the Iranian school girls, and the dozens of other individual tourists strolling around - to the ruins of an old watch tower. From there the views of the village were spectacular and I was all alone. I hiked along the rim of the mountain to a castle right above the village and started my descend – only to find, that there was no path down. I faced the edge of steep rocks to get down to the village or an endlessly long detour down the back of the mountain. I dared. The rocks were irregular enough to provide platforms for my feet. What had taken me less than 15 minutes up to the single watch tower, took me nearly an hour down from the castle. I climbed a few meters down, only to find myself at an edge with no further stepping options. I had no choice but to trek back a bit to look for alternatives. This went on and on. All the while I was praying to my entire pantheon of obstacle removers and travel gods and tried to suppress my fear of unprotected heights... Additional challenges were my dangling camera and my backpack. I sweat blood and tears, but I made it. As crowded as this entire village was, nobody was there for me to call out to. Perhaps, from the bottom, a path would be visible? If there was one, I did not find it. But the deep, dark red of the houses, the absolutely stunning blue of the sky and the most wonderful white clouds that rounded up the scenery made for some gorgeous photographs.Our final stop was the village of Niasar. It is known for a Zoroastrian fire temple, a nice waterfall, and most importantly, for rose-water production. But roses are just the starting point! They make flavored water out of everything from garlic to walnuts, from herbs to flowers. These are used as cooking ingredients or as cures for every imaginable ailment. If bottles were not so difficult to transport, I would have bought a few of them. But these vendors have not yet thought of international travelers. They should make a sampler in mini-bottles and pack it tightly into a square box; instead, they are selling these potions in liter and gallon-sized bottles. The production involves the picking of the ingredients – this was rose petal time – and then, the distillation in huge bronze containers. Quite a set up! We sampled some rose-water tea at Mohammed’s shop, who spent thirty years in Washington, D.C. during the Nixon era as a limousine driver. He was happy to use his very rusty English on us.And there I had the photo-op of the day. A tall guy dressed in Arab gowns arrived at the waterfall. He must be a big-shot of some sorts as he was traveling with an entourage of three. One guy was there just for show and protection perhaps, the second was constantly making phone calls and giving directions, and the third guy was there with a camera and a tripod taking pictures. I walked up to him, held out my camera and gestured to the tall guy in white. The photographer was quit startled and did not know what to do, but the big shot nodded - I got my picture taken with him in front of the water fall!The last item on the list of things to do was the Fin Garden back in Kashan. We arrived at 7 PM. The guide book said that it was open until sunset. I swear the sun was a good half hour from setting, but the garden was closed. This is a major loss for me as this garden is supposed to be among the finest in all of Persia. In good Persian fashion, the garden was surrounded by a tall, impenetrable wall which did not allow as much as a glimpse into it. There was nothing to do but to call it a day. I have to hope that other people visited there, took good pictures, and posted some on Google.Good night.