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Wednesday 2004-06-02 - Yazd, Iran
Getting lost
First priority this morning in Yazd is changing money - I’ve already borrowed some from Thom and Carla. So we head for the old town where the bank should be near the mosque and next to the post office. According to our city information, it’s very easy to get lost in the old town — and getting lost is exactly what we do. Not a real problem: the old town is quite beautiful and reminds me somewhat of the old town of Bukhara with its network of alleys and mud-plastered walls. When we finally find ourselves in a ‘real’ street again we find we weren’t even far off: we actually already passed the back of the Jame mosque (I even took a picture without realizing it was this mosque) and once we’re in the right street, the post office is easy to find — but where is the bank?? After walking up and down the street and asking several times we find we walked passed it at least twice already: the bank building is on the corner and they’ve just built a new wing; they are now renovating the main building - meanwhile neither building has a sign this is the bank!
We have to practically walk through a building site to get to the money-changing desk in the new wing. Changing money is a complicated affair with three forms, showing your passport, signatures and stamps, and then going back down to the other building to do the actual exchange at the cashier’s. While working through all the forms the bank employee who helps us chats with us a bit and tells us they actually do a lot of business with people from the Netherlands: Iran is importing a lot of seeds from seed growers in the Netherlands, such as for cucumber and carrots.
The Jame mosque, of which we already had a glimpse, turns out to be one of the most beautiful I’ve ever seen, with splendid tile work. It’s also a nice, cool space and we see how several students take advantage of this and sit around on the carpets and against the tiled walls with their study books.
Sunday 2004-06-06 - Shirāz, Iran
Meeting in the mosque
The bazaar in Shirāz is nice and roomy, with vaulted brick ceilings much as we’ve seen elsewhere but wider and higher (so it’s cool); shops are larger, too. The effect is quite pleasant and relaxed, though it’s easy to get lost in the labyrinth of streets and alleys. Inside the bazaar is the Vakil mosque where Carla and I go first. It’s not in use at the moment, seemingly having been neglected for a long time: we see the brick and tile work is quite dilapidated in places, and plants grow between the stones in the courtyard. But (of course) they’re hard at work with the restoration. The building dates from 1773 but most of the present tile work was added in 1820 — the strange result can best be seen in the courtyard with two styles mixed together but alas not quite in harmony: styles and colors clash. At the back of the courtyard is a large open prayer hall that’s quite nice though with its many thick and spiraled stone pillars.
When we stand looking around in the prayer hall, suddenly a man approaches us asking whether we speak German (we do) and then if we speak English (as well); his son speaks better English, he explains, but actually his English is quite good. It turns out the family (father, mother and son) are back in Iran for a visit after having fled the country 16 years ago, first to Germany where they lived for many years, then on to Canada where they live now and where the son is studying tourism. Part of the reason for the visit is a study trip for the son: he may be wanting to take tour groups here. Their view of Iran, after 16 years outside the country, forms an interesting contrast with that of other Iranians we spoke to: many people here mention the lack of information and a move back lately from earlier more relaxed rules while this family (father and mother) takes a longer-time view and note that people actually have it better than when they left; there’s more and better food and other goods, and it’s more relaxed now than it was then.
Hopefully this longer-term trend, even though it’s three steps forward, two steps back, will continue.
Saturday 2004-06-12 - Iran, Iran
Iran observations
Many of the things we see and experience in Iran are not specific to any locality but remarkable enough, I think, to make a note of. So, at the end of our trip through Iran here are some of the things I noted along the way and wanted to tell you about:
- Infrastructure
- Immediately after crossing the border from Turkey the change is apparent: infrastructure here is much better developed than in (Eastern) Turkey. Power and phone lines (above-ground) are well-maintained (we see not a single sagging pole). Roads are generally in good repair, not just being well-maintained but constantly improved as well: we see road works in many places, often to turn the (still) mostly two-lane roads into four-lane or even wider highways. There’s also Internet access in many places (far more than I expected) with no apparent restrictions.
- Traffic
- A big surprise is that many road signs are bilingual: not just the directional signs pointing to cities with the name in Farsi as well as a transliteration in roman script; we also see signs like: “reduce speed,” “use low gear” (on mountain roads), “fasten seat belts,” etc. Along some roads also a nice illustration that this mostly hot and dry country (as we experience it now) can also be very cold in winter: we see many road signs warning graphically that snow chains may be needed. Also remarkable is that in many cities, as well as at checkpoints, road bumps are used to slow traffic down; most are of a standardized design so it’s rather easy to learn how to negotiate them (unlike the confusing variety of road bumps we have in the Netherlands).
- Motorbikes
- Motorbikes of all sorts are extremely popular here, and not just with the young ones. One can see whole families on a motorbike: father riding, child in front, mum behind, a small child between them, and an older child at the back. Almost no one wears a helmet - I expect it’s only a matter of time before they become compulsory though, given the obvious growth rate of the number of bikes…
- Energy
- This country has a lot of oil and natural gas - and yet we see many signs of energy being saved. In some hotel rooms we had a fridge, nearly always of an energy-efficient type. Most light bulbs (in use and on sale) are of the fluorescent type; there’s a dazzling variety of them. We even see gas lamps in many places - possible emergency lighting but they’re not antiques: they’re in obvious working condition, have been used, and in one place I saw them burning, too. They’re also extending their network of natural gas pipelines — not just for export but more use of their own gas is planned as well (it’s certainly more energy-efficient to use natural gas as a direct energy source than burning it to produce electricity).
- Iran-Iraq war
- During this war which lasted nearly ten years (1980-1988) there were very many casualties. Every village, town and city has their own martyrs of the war, who are commemorated with billboards with their portraits, usually placed at the entrance of a town. The many dead soldiers left behind many widows and orphans and collection boxes were set up all over the country for donations to support them; they still exist, but are now intended for helping the poor. The system works, since every Muslim is supposed to spend 5% of their income on helping the poor; the boxes form an efficient means to channel such donations.
- Greenery
- In a mostly dry country with two huge deserts it’s understandable that greenery and flowers are cherished. We see new trees being planted alongside many new or improved roads; in the cities roads are lined with trees, shrubs and flowers, well-watered. There are many well-maintained parks everywhere, with trees providing shade, used intensively for relaxation, picnicking, or study; especially at the end of a working day there’s always people sitting around on the grass.Some parks even have special paved circles for picnicking. There are flower shops and (small) garden centers as well, where fresh flowers and potted plants are sold, much like in the Netherlands. Iran’s national flower is the rose; rose leaves are sold on the market and rose water is used to flavor many dishes.
- Mecca
- In every hotel room (in fact, starting with the one just before the Iranian border in Turkey) there’s not just a prayer rug and clay tablet provided, but there’s always an arrow stuck on one of the walls helpfully indicating the direction of Mecca so the guest can adopt the correct orientation for praying. (We found a Koran in only one of the hotels rooms, however.)
- Water
- Everywhere in the cities there are public water tanks with drinking water, with one or a few taps, and usually with drinking cups (metal or plastic) on a chain or a string provided as well. They usually take the shape of a simple plastic or stainless-steel tank and are sometimes provided by shopkeepers, and often by the city; at times they have a quite elaborate wrought-iron fence around them. The contents are always tap water (quite safe and drinkable in Iran though sometimes with a faint chlorine taste), topped up during the day when necessary. Since it’s always hot in the cities during the summer, many people use these for a quick drink - a habit easy to take up (after getting used to the water, of course).
- Food and drink
- Many new taste experiences here, some of which I’ll try to ‘take
home’ (either by imitation if possible, or by trying to get them or the
necessary ingredients at one of the Iranian supermarkets in Amsterdam):
- Dūg
- A refreshing drink made of yogurt and water (still or sparkling). Sold in bottles as a fresh drink everywhere, sometimes fresh - the best: at one place we had a large 1.5 liter can which cost just 5000 IR: about 0.50 EUR. An acquired taste (most people in our group didn’t like it) but I’m going to try this at home! In principle, all you do is mix yogurt and water and let it stand in the fridge.
- Barley soup
- Based on chicken stock, some vegetables added (carrots and tomatoes are usually present but other vegetables can be used as well), thickened with barley. Many variations, but always delicious. A cup of barley soup and a small bottle of dūg make a healthy lunch; in fact this was what my first lunch in Iran consisted of.
- Faludeh
- The major discovery for someone like me who doesn’t like ice cream or someone who cannot eat any dairy products: a refreshing snack or a delicious desert after dinner. Consists of thin starch noodles (boiled till just soft), sugar syrup and rose water for a nice fragrance; our first had some poppy seed added for flavor. Served almost frozen. There are variations, such as using saffron instead of rose water for flavoring and a different fragrance, or fresh lime or bottled lime juice instead of poppy seeds; sometimes ice cream is added but you can always get it without - it’s definitely more refreshing that way. The starch noodles seem to be made from wheat, but you might try (broken) rice noodles for a good imitation.
- Iranian “beer”
- Alcohol is forbidden here (except for Armenians who are allowed to use it within their homes). You can still drink beer though: there are several brands of imported alcohol-free beer (really 0% alcohol), often from Germany or the Netherlands but I liked none of them. Much better for my palate was “Iranian beer” of which there are many variations and brands as well; it’s a lightly carbonated malt drink, often with some vitamins added, and hops for flavor. Not exactly an imitation of beer (and not really intended as such). Don’t think “beer” when you try it, just think “drink”; it turns out to be quite refreshing, because it’s not sweet like the ubiquitous Cola and Fanta imitations which make you thirsty again immediately due to their high sugar content.
Monday 2004-06-14 - Mary, Turkmenistan
Weird economy, too
The plan is to leave Aşgabat at ten this morning to go to Mary. But first the registration has to be taken care of: the government wants to know at all times where all foreigners come and go. Our guide, Bava, will take care of it, and is at the office at 7:30 am but it’s so busy, it’s 11 when he finally arrives back at the hotel.
On the way to Mary he tells a little more about how this country works. We’re riding over a very bad two-lane road with no markings: this road is the main connection from Aşgabat to Uzbekistan, all imports from there have to come along this road. In fact, all roads in the country are narrow and in bad repair except those within cities, while many millions are spent building apartment buildings with apartments practically no one can afford to live in at an average monthly income of $100: obviously not the way to kick-start an economy.
Meanwhile, farmers are not allowed to own any ground: all is owned by the government and the farmers have to rent it; a maximum of only 5 hectares is allowed. The government also dictates what can be grown (cotton or wheat) and buys the produce from the farmers who will get $200-300 extra for their families working in the fields. Near Mary however, ground is scarce, so the actual maximum a farmer can rent is only 3 hectares.
When we arrive in Mary, it’s only a few minutes before six, too late to be let into the museum (in spite of Bava’s brave efforts). Carla goes to the hotel to sleep, the rest of us go on to visit the historical site of Merv.
Wednesday 2004-06-23 - Song Köl, Kyrgyzstan
Coal and cold
Today we pass through some of the most beautiful landscapes of Kyrgyzstan that I know. At first we continue along the main road from Osh to Bishkek. Then we make a short shopping stop in Chayek (where I buy a nice shawl); this is the last occasion to shop for now: we turn off the main road onto the track that will take us to Song Köl. The track first goes through a valley but soon starts to wind higher and higher into the mountains; on the road we start to see chunks of coal and their origin soon becomes clear: high up in the mountains there’s a huge open-face coal mine — a desolate place in the middle of beautiful mountains where the workers live in old railroad wagons near the mine. This settlement (one cannot call it a village) is called Kara Kichi; we have a photo stop to record the ugliness. Once past the mine we go over a high pass and a little further on we make another short stop: nearby horses are grazing in meadows full of flowers and in the distance we can see glimmering Lake Song Köl: our target for today.
To get to the lake, we take a side track, then an even smaller track through a river bed. Here it becomes really clear why we have a “truck bus” instead of an ordinary bus: it would not make it through this terrain. The truck bus, like a bus built on top of the chassis of a heavy truck with very big wheels, has no problems with it though; such vehicles were (in Soviet times) originally used either by the military or to transport workers to the factories; now they’re very much part of the fledgling tourist industry in this country.
When we arrive at the lake we stop near a yurt to have our picnic lunch. The woman who lives in the yurt (she welcomes us traditionally with fresh bread and cream) recognizes the family in the pictures I took here two years ago: their yurt is a distance away, but maybe I can walk over there this afternoon.
In summer, grazing is good on the meadows around the lake (a nature reserve) and many nomads bring their horses here then. However, the lake never completely freezes and in winter fishermen camp out here in the harsh cold to fish the lake. Lots of birds also take advantage of the fish in the lake. Unfortunately, it’s so cold now (like it often is around the lake, even in summer), we decide to move on and camp in the valley across the mountains where it will be a lot warmer. Alas, that means I won’t be able to deliver my next set of photographs either.
We go back along the side tracks and continue on the main track again which soon takes us into the mountains up to another high pass. There’s a very steep descent with a spectacular road winding down the face of the mountain: some of the turns are so narrow, the truck can’t round them at once. The pass marks a striking change in landscape: while the high plain around the lake is completely bare of trees and even shrubs, right from the pass we see a landscape with mountain sides dotted with shrubs and trees, both deciduous and coniferous. During the steep descent, the changes in vegetation are remarkable, too: buttercups are replaced by white clover; small compact alpine plants are replaced by big sturdy ones; flowering wild roses appear farther down. Our camp is a way into the valley, where we ford the river to reach our camping spot: no problem for the truck but not so easy for humans to get through! Next to our tent is a small meadow with lots of purple orchids, and in the field between our tents are lots of bunches of blue irises (probably Iris germanica): a lovely spot to camp!
Wednesday 2007-04-11 - As Sirrayn, Yemen
Shared riches
According to my map (copyright 2003), the road into Wadi Do’an stops in Al Khuraybah but it doesn’t — not anymore: A nice asphalt road leads us up and out of the wadi and it looks brand new.
Every little village here belongs to one family and it’s visible people here are wealthier than in other areas: the houses are more richly decorated, and the decorations are more colorful. Of every family here, one or two members work in Saudi Arabia, where they earn well, and send money home. As our driver Hussein tells us, just like the rich Al Kaff family financed the road from Wadi Hadramawt to the coast (and much else) in the 1930s, one man named Abdullah Boshan who got extremely wealthy in Saudi Arabia finances a lot of development project in this area. The new road we’re now following, which ultimately connects to the main road from Sey’un to Al Mukalla, is just one example of those projects. He also finances schools, drink water supply, and things like all the food during the Eid ul-Fitr celebration at the end of the Ramadan month. Also, if a couple wants to marry but doesn’t have the money for the wedding, he pays it for them.
We make a short stop at the fork in the road from where we can look down on his village, As Sirrayn; his house clearly stands out: an enormous family house, whitewashed with parts of walls painted in various cheerful pastel colors. Below us the road continues along the Wadi Do’an river to the village, while we just to the left fork which takes us up and out of the wadi.
Once out, after a steep climb, we’re on the high plain of the desert, the jol. Suddenly the landscape is totally different: the jol is almost flat, arid, with only very sparse vegetation — the green and fertile wadis with their rich palm groves completely hidden from view. You can see gullies eroded by water (when it rains, a lot of water flows, and there can be dangerous flash floods), but nowhere is there a view straight down. Yet, if you’d follow such a gully down, eventually you’d end up in a green wadi. For the early travelers in this area, the difference must have been astounding. During a short stop I take a few pictures of typical plants found on the jol.
The first part of this road probably follows the track indicated on my map, but farther on we dive down another steep pass at a point where there is not even a track; a sign says we’re at Mount Aballa Arib. Many hairpins later, we end up on the wide plateau along the south coast. Now we’re going down slowly, and after a while we can see the Arabian Sea in the distance. Along the road we stop for tea in Ladouas, a small village not found on our maps. The we join the main road from Wadi Hadramawt to the coast, and later turn right to Al Mukalla.
