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Wednesday 2009-05-20 - Esfahān, Iran
Where is the river?
In spite of the long trip yesterday, it was quite beautiful, and I´m glad we saw the petroglyphs hardly any traveler gets to see, so I don´t regret we gave up one day of Esfahān for that. But what´s left turns out to be much less than a day: instead of having a flight to Mashhad at 20:00 from here, we actually have a flight at 16:00 to Tehrān and fly from there to Mashhad, which means we have to leave the hotel already at 13:00. And with the very late night we had, we´re not getting up very early either. I totally give up my plan of walking along the Zāyande to the farthest bridge (a walk of at least two hours to get there): I’ll have to do that whenever I get back to Esfahān.
Before breakfast, I ask at the hotel reception desk about an Internet cafe. To my surprise, they tell me they have Wifi in the hotel lobby. I quickly get my netbook, and try. Sure enough there´s a signal: I just have to ask the receptionist for a WEP key (a password for the connection), and I´m in. I immediately log off again: I´ll check my email for any news from Mashhad when we get back. We quickly have breakfast, and head out for a walk: Carla, Uke, Ank and I.
Our first goal is the beautiful Si-o-se bridge (named after its 33 arches): beautiful as ever — but the river is not: it´s just not there any more! There is nothing more but a few small ponds of water, the swan-shaped water bikes resting sadly and uselessly on the mud. People are actually crossing the river across the bedding: it´s quite dry enough to walk on easily. What a strange sight! Since we have just a little time, we walk across the bridge, have a closer look at the river bed and the swan boats, and then walk back leisurely, taking quite a few pictures (at least I do, trying to catch the strange sight of the bridge crossing a disappeared river). We find out there hasn´t been this little water in 7 years: they closed the locks farther upriver so there would at least be water for agriculture, where it´s needed most.
From the waterless Zāyande we walk to the big Emām Khomeini square — one of the largest in the world an the most beautiful one I know. There’s no time to walk around (though I´d love to do that again): we have to pick and choose, so we go the big Emām Mosque. We walk around there, enjoying the spaces and unique tile mosaics here (with a bright yellow that really stands out and I don´t remember from anywhere else) — and then suddenly it´s 12:10 already and I have to rush off to the hotel to check my email before we leave. The good news is there is no mail from Mashhad, so our meet-up is supposed to go as planned (more about that tomorrow). The bad news is there is an email from SmugMug that my account there needs to be renewed by June 4th, and my credit card data is no longer valid so I need to update my account data: no problem — if only I had thought to bring my SmugMug password… that turns out to be the beginning of a long story that will be told in its entirety later.
Wednesday 2009-05-20 - Tehrān, Iran
Double oops
Our flight to Tehrān is short and uneventful; now we have some time to kill before our connecting flight to Mashhad. There´s a TV on in the large waiting hall; a football match is attracting an ever-larger and more excited crowd and I amuse myself watching the (mostly) men watching the screen which I cannot see, and write a bit for my blog.
Then it´s time to check in for our connecting flight and we go through security — men and women separate as is usual in Iran. Fluids are not considered a security risk here, so you can bring your bottle of water, and the security ladies are quite friendly. One picks me out and wants me to open my hand bag — I´m not phased by that because although it didn´t happen so far on this trip, I quite often have to open bags because of the electronic equipment I´m carrying. ¨Do you have a knife?¨ she asks? ¨No, in my checked bag¨ I say. She starts to go through my bag, takes out one of the small pouches, and produces my Swiss army knife. My mouth drops open: I was absolutely sure I´d put it back in my toilet bag! I ask if I can still check it in, and Carla supports me by remarking it´s quite valuable. Then, right behind me, Madelon has exactly the same problem. The lady gives us a good look over, quickly discusses our case with (apparently) a superior, and takes us to a small office where a man sits behind a desk. For both of us he writes out a slip, puts a stamp on it, sticks one part to our boarding card, and the puts the other away with the knife. He looks reassuring. Then the lady takes us back again, and we can board the plane with the rest of our hand luggage. We´re told we´ll need the slip stuck on our boarding card to get our knives back — how, we have no idea.
When we land in Mashhad, we´re still waiting for our luggage to come off the plane when a man in a fluorescent yellow vest walks towards our group, looking around, and carrying something in his hand: I see some green-and-yellow and recognize the slip for our knives. Sure enough, he has both our knives, each neatly packaged in a transparent plastic bag. Phew!
