Day 97 Roof Gardens
SYNOPSIS: I roamed through the historic village of Masouleh all morning and ended up gazing across the Caspian Sea in the evening in a small village near Rasht. What's a roof to some is the garden to others.The bed was rock hard again, the pillow was hardly better, and some Hungarian tourists just had to be up at 6 AM in the morning talking loudly at their balcony right above my head… But I woke up in Masouleh, a unique village in the fairy tale mountains and thanks to the Hungarians, I did not even miss the sun rise. There isn’t much sun in this remote valley. Mist and fog shape the days, but there were about 15 minutes of sun early on and almost 2 hours, a bit later. No wonder, the entire village hugs the northern cliff, undulating along the mountain side. This exposes them to as much east to west sun light as there may be.I hiked up the southern cliff for a full scale view of the village from a distance. Really, it is at best 300 meters long and 100 meters high. The cemetery is on the southern cliff. I guess the villagers figured that in death you can live without the sun. This village seems to have fully embraced the recent onslaught of tourism. There are several tea, water pipe and coffee “hangouts” in simple and nicely appointed terrace restaurants. And there are a good dozen trinket shops and about every other local woman will wave you into her living room, where she will present baskets full of things to sell; or she will squat on the road to catch you strolling along. The “Fatimah” syndrome, if you remember the cave village of Meymand. In fact, the villagers seem to be involved in a conspiracy to offer all the same crap no matter where you turn. All the women knit the same hideous and useless socks, all the same size; and produce the same ugly knit-dolls. What about some shawls or mittens, or even sweaters? They all sell the same kitschy duck-hut-sun embroidery. What about one of their charming stacked village? But I did not care. I was here to take pictures, not to buy stuff. As friendly as they are and as eager as they are to sell you things, when it comes to having their picture taken, they are as shy as elsewhere.By about 11 AM at least three full sized tour buses had spat out about 100 tourists who now were crawling all over the village. More were on the way. I escaped by climbing up as high as I could and I am glad, I stayed overnight when the tourists for the most part left (except for those Hungarians, the doctors from Hamadan and myself). I was mistaken for a Hungarian all evening, but each time the villagers found out that I was German and traveling alone, they were more than happy to see me. And, as anywhere, when I crossed path with some of the tourists, many wanted to have their picture taken with me. No matter what the attraction, a foreigner is still equally fascinating. I calculated that about 500 people in Iran now have my picture. I wonder what that means. Will somebody somewhere in the world walk up to me and say: I know you! I have seen your picture on my cousin’s wall…?!For the rest of the afternoon I traveled: one taxi, then another, then another, then a minibus and to top it all off yet another taxi. These transit days are not my favorites. With all my luggage and all the uncertainties of the next step, I am always glad when I have arrived after all. But one thing is clear: Traveling with nothing but a destination in mind is possible and affordable in Iran. At every corner when one mode of transportation ends, there is another one at hand. Not to mention that the more time one has, the more affordable it becomes. Since I am a bit more in a hurry now as the end is near, I have often opted for my own taxi rather than wait for it to fill with two or three more travelers. I cannot imagine being on the road like this in either Europe or the U.S. Traveling is such an expense and especially in the U.S. trains or buses run on such a limited schedule. If all else fails, hitching a ride seems common, but not in the Western hitch-hiker tradition. When a person stops, they usually act as a fill-in taxi and expect some sort of payment. Owning a car is expensive in relationship to income even though filling the tank is negligible.My destination was a small village near Rasht. I am on my way to visit Majid and his family.Good night.