Getting up at 2.45 AM is never a strong point of mine, unless I have a sleepless night! Of course this particular night I was in a deep sleep when the alarm went off. It took exactly FIVE minutes, from waking to being in the taxi! A record, I am sure! At this time of the morning, there was barely any traffic on the road, the occasional stray car, so we arrived at the railway station in record time.
Here in Central Asia, catching the train is like flying, countless passport checkers, luggage gets X- rayed at least twice, sometimes more. Finally I was on the train. I had forgotten to mention first class, when I booked, so I was in the third class! It was a sleeper, a thin mattress was provided, with sheets and a pillow case. My bed was rackety, broken and very uncomfortable! No longer at an age that I keep my mouth shut, I spoke up and received another bed! Made it with the thin, threadbare, often mended sheets, and promptly fell asleep!
Such a deep sleep, that I had a vivid dream of being at the border, meeting with Lucia and Lisa, I was so happy to see my friends, we laughed so much, it was so real, that when I was woken up, I had no idea where I was, who I was, and where were my friends?? Completely confused, I had to open my bag, hand over my passport, I still thought I was at the border! Not really it was just a ticket and ID check. Okay, back to sleep.
Finally we reached the border, as my passport was already collected, I thought it would be fast and easy, no such luck! Altogether it took over four hours. The Kazakhstan border patrol carries portable ID checking kits. Photos were taken, bags were searched, and just when I thought we would move on, an incident happened. A young woman with a two year old child, was crying and screaming. All I understood was the ” please,please” bit! Her two year old was crying, it was all very emotional and loud. There were no English under titles, so it was like watching a foreign movie without translation! It couldn’t be that she had no passport as they were checked more than three times before one can board the train! In the end , we went on, but the police sat with her. So something was obviously not right!
Just over the border the train stopped again, and again a bag check! Personally I thought it was overkill, and a lot of people agreed with me as the grumbling got louder and louder! When we arrived at Beyneu, the police insisted in taking photos of each and every passport on his mobile phone! The doors stayed locked, commands were given, and suddenly, this pimply, never shaven face of this young cop looked panic stricken! There was mutiny on the Bounty, people forced their way over him, the doors opened, and the whole train steamed out! Scary to see such behaviour, kids screaming, this woman detained by the police still crying, all very strange to watch!
I was the last one of the train, as I could see no valid reason why I should put myself in danger of being squashed, I just waited till the mob dispersed, and quietly left the train! There was one taxi, I went to the hotel, booked a lovely room with private bath for two nights, showered, changed and slept like a babe till the next morning! Welcome to Kazakhstan!
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Nukus is the strangest town I have ever been to! My hotel, Jipek Joli ( Silk Road)was right in the ” centre”! The street was full of apartment buildings and shops, BUT ……..they were ALL EMPTY!The whole ” centre” of town looked, well, just “nuked”! 
When I arrived it was in the high thirties. Luckily I didn’t have to walk too far. After my first three overwhelming hours in the museum, I was in need of a beverage. Across the road was a coffee shop, which was the only shop which had something in it! The coffee was delicious, and the enormous piece of cake serviced as dinner! All this for a A$1,50! My last piece of cake I promise! No more! Did I mention I get chocolate cake for breakfast every morning?? What a country! Shame that due to my knee and then my ankle, I can not walk the way I am used to and want! Also I might have mentioned the uneven footpaths and roads, that make a good strong walk rather impossible.
On my last day in Nukus, I had planned to visit the four musea mentioned on my maps app! Well, for some reason or other, I ended up at the presidential palace! Before I could knock on the door to see if he was at home, this soldier in a state of panic came running up! Thank god, no guns! Apparently one cannot , and must not knock on the White House doors! I wonder if one could do this in Washington DC? G’day Don, saw the lights on thought I hop in for a beer! Hm! The mind boggles!
After three hours of walking I gave up, found the directions to the archeological museum. According to my gadget, I was there!! The staff, Russian only, called the professor who spoke English! As he lived just around the corner, he came over, took me to the one room of restored artefacts, and explained all. The set up is paid for by the Sydney University on the initiative of an Australian professor! I was grateful for the opportunity to see it all, but to call this one room a museum, is way over the top! Nukus is one of the strangest places I have ever been to! I don’t think I will be back in a hurry!
The shared taxi from Khiva was only thirty minutes and one dollar cost! I had chosen one of the two major hotels. The main aim was the booking of my train ticket to Kazakhstan, and organising a bus to Nukus.The train station was easy. There was no train to Nukus, that problem solved. I bought my train ticket to Kazakhstan with the help of google translator. No English was spoken. In the struggle for meaningful communication, I forgot to book a FIRST CLASS ticket! Or a sleeper! Such is life! Received the ticket. Had a pot of green tea, and walked back to my hotel. About three kilometres.
I visited a ramshackle museum, I guess it was about Zoroastrians, it was hard to tell. The old man, who did all the explaining in Russian, invited me for lunch. After my huge breakfast , I was most certainly NOT hungry, but I have been here long enough to know that refusing is NOT an option! He never caught on I spoke no Russian. I have this trick, I used for the first time in Costa Rica with a four year old. Just repeat every last word you hear and as long as nobody asks a direct questions people never catch on that you don’t speak their language! The woman, the cleaning lady I assume and her ten year old son, a staunch Christiano Ronaldo supporter, joined us for lunch. The poor lad was forced to speak more English than he could! Beyond hello, what is your name the people here don’t speak or understand English.
I met some teenage girls, on the way to a monument. They put nail polish on my nails. Chatted away, and then one of them demanded money! This was so incredibly unusual, I have not heard this in the last three months! So the answer was no! One of the girls suggested an ice cream, and I thought that was a fair exchange. They took me to a near by shopping centre.
The eldest started to pout, a habit which I find very unflattering, so first I ignored, then when she chucked a wobbly at the toy shop, I told her to stop it. The younger but more mature one, reprimanded her. They wanted to walk me back to my hotel, I told them with my maps, I knew how to find it! So go home. They kept on walking pushing me towards the wrong hotel, getting a tad shitty, I told them again GO home! They kept on coming. We arrived at the wrong hotel, and by now my patience left me! GO HOME! The pout princes demanded money for a taxi, didn’t take NO for an answer, until I let go. They might not have understood a word I said, but they sure got my drift! Thirty years in Special Education and these teens think they can turn my NO into a YES ? Fat change, babes, I have worked with the worst of the worst, shame though, but I am not a “tourist chicken”, ready for the plucking!
There was terribly little to do in Urgench, so a visit to the local bazaar and bus station, was a highlight. I met a lovely young woman, Malika, who was stirring an huge pot. It was Nishola, a sweet made from the mountain tree, which name Malika forgot. I am assuming it was the tree bark, with egg whites and sugar, all boiled together into this, teeth rattling sugary sweet, which is served like jam.
Malika also told me I could catch a taxi to Khiva, near the bus station. A taxi driver walked by and we agreed to him picking me up at eight am. To take me in a shared taxi to Khiva. I walked on in the extreme heat, and found a game park. Lovely place, for young people. Great artificial lake and a huge playground. I met a lovely woman, a mother of five, four girls and the last one a little boy. He was a twin! Time to move on! To Nukus!
Khiva was just amazing! My hotel was surprisingly lovely. Hand painted ceilings every where! My room was delightful, full of art, colour and wonderfully comfortable.
The old centre, in which I stayed, was surrounded by large mud walls. When I first arrived I thought I would never be able to find my way in this rabbit warren of little roads. My first exploring was to find the super market, which was outside the gates. There ware four main gates, and I found my way around much faster than anticipated. My hotel was literally right next to the main attraction.
First one must by a ticket, which is valid for two days at a 100.000 sum (A$ 15 ) an absolute bargain! I managed to convince the woman I needed a ticket for four days, which she gave to me without any questions!
The main attraction was the minaret, Kalta Minor Minaret build by Mohammed Amin Khan, in 1851. Due to his unforeseen early death, never finished. It was my favourite spot to go to. The big buildings are all surrounded by stalls, which sell goods to the visitors. Of course there is a lot of silk, and to be honest I am angry I didn’t buy enough silk scarves! I could have gone berserk, shopping wise. I did spend quite a lot of money, but everything is so cheap. Even so, it all adds up. Prices were much higher than in any other place, due to the high amount of tourists that come here.
People were delighted to hear that I was travelling alone and not I a group. This way I actually get to talk to the local people, rather than to others in a group. The first day I got up really early to excellent morning light. It was amazing, no people wandering the streets, just the occasional cleaners sweeping the streets in preparation for the new day. A few stray tourist, who like me wanted to catch the early light. I wandered through the narrow streets, delighted in each and every discovery. I found tombs, decorated with flags! (Which I want now at my church!) the streets are full of mulberry trees. I had my fill of ripe, juicy mulberries, with the help of a local man, who saw me trying to reach the ripe ones!
I made friends with a gorgeous young woman who spoke excellent English. Sunshine, which is her name in English, lived up to her name, with her permanent smile. Most of the time I just wandered, aimlessly through the streets. On my ticket, I had fifteen “must see” buildings, I managed to see twelve of them, but saw plenty of things that were not on the list!
I ventured out on the last day to find the palace, which was NOT included in the ticket. An extra fifty thousand was paid, steep price, but the tourist money is used to upgrade the place and that in itself was worth it to me. The throne room, without the throne, was amazing. The throne went to Russia for en exhibition, and the Russians never bothered to return the exhibit. A bit too greedy, if you ask me. The top floor was still empty, but beautifully rebuild. An exhibition space so perfect, I wanted to paint and hang the walls full of contemporary art! Art was plenty as well. I spend over three hours there. Mandalas galore, and so much small and exquisite delights.
I arrived at midday in Bukhara, after a pleasant and fast train trip. My hotel is right on the main square, mama Nazira gave me the biggest welcoming hug ever. It immediately felt like meeting an old friend. My room is beautiful and quiet. Due to the fact that I twisted my ankle on my last day in Samarkand, I couldn’t walk too far. I sat down on the square and watched the world go by. Quite content to just sit and enjoy watching the people.
Bukhara is much smaller and thus much more intimate, compared to Samarkand. People are again very friendly, and quickly I became a fixture on the square. The square has a big artificial lake, which has fountains all around it. The square is lined with ancient mulberry tree, in which the birds delight. There is plenty to see and do, I have four days here, so I decided to take it easy. 
At night the town turns into a reflection of fairyland, the big pool ref electing all the fairy lights hung in trees. The place is buzzing with life music, a fourteen year old violinist plays favourite music, the theme song of the Titanic movie is my favourite. The restaurant serves delicious meals for less than A$5 . Tourists gather to sit in the scented night air, while the heat of the day turns into a delightful coolness, appreciated by all.
Shopping is the main past time, next time I will come directly to this place, with an empty suitcase! Everything, literally everything is hand made. A delight to watch people working at their craft. Silk is very big, and a lot of the women are special crafts people, highly qualified in their trade! Artisans study to a high degree and their diplomas are often proudly on display. It is pure delight to watch these highly competent people applying their craft.
On Mother’s Day I decided to spoil myself, and booked a private taxi to Shahrisabz, which is about 80 kilometres away. On the way I came across two large trucks that had been transformed into beehives! Very interesting as they could take the trucks wherever the flowers were blooming! Half way there the rains came, and I couldn’t see the mountains. I was hoping, and wishing and praying it would clear up, so I could enjoy the sights without getting cold and wet! No such luck! So at the ancient Silk Road market, I bought a five dollar umbrella, knowing full well that the rains would now stop, this is how things work in my life. The complex was incredibly interesting, and unlike the Registan, not repaired too badly by the Soviets. I wandered around, in the rain, taking reflection photographs, as it was not too cold, it was still very enjoyable.
were looking for a restaurant to have some lunch, as it was by now about 2.30pm. After my huge breakfast I can’t say I was very hungry, but of course the driver needed something to eat too. We stopped, at what he thought was a restaurant, instead it was a BIG party. The young couple had two sons and the eldest turned ten today, which means a BIG celebration. In five minutes time our table was full of food, and I was encouraged to eat, eat, eat. The war cry in each and every place I have visited so far! The traditional plov and another traditional dish, whose name I have forgotten! And a slab of birthday cake so big I could have fed a village with that.
I was exhausted too, as the night before saw an intake of thirty six men from Tashkent ( at the hostel)who partied till about two in the morning, very loud, very drunk and right in front of my window. When I finally managed to fall asleep, I was awoken at five by some of these men, vomiting away in the toilet next to my room! Three hours sleep no longer carries me through the day as it used to do in the oldern days. I too, was suffering, and exhausted. Of course the necessary selfies needed to be taken and I was given a cloth to wear and a scarf was put around my head! When I tried to give these back at the end of the photo session, I was told it was a gift and next time I should come and stay with this young family. The necessary promises were made and Murod and I went on our way.
Hot, hot and hotter. Like a sauna. This was my three hours train ride to Samarkand. No air conditioner, no windows that could open! I sat next to Diane from the States. Two gorgeous little toddlers entertained me some of the way. Listening on his mother’s mobile, he danced the hours away. Diane and I chatted for a while, but we couldn’t help but drift off to sleep.
The Registan is superbly decorated with turquoise tiles, azure blue motives and stunning ceilings. It is one of the most awesome sights I have ever seen. It is still an artisanian place, craft shops, filled with everything one could ever want, fill the many small rooms which are housed in these amazing buildings. It is a photographic paradise and I do regret not being able to carry my expensive, and heavy, camera for such opportunities!
On the way to Tashkent! I shared a taxi, five hours, we had a fabulous driver, who stopped every two hours, first at a markets and then on top of the mountain. He drives daily from Fergana to Tashkent! Hard slog! On the top of the mountain he bought me wild flowers, fresh from the mountains. The trip went fast. He dropped me off at the door of my new hostel. Gulnara hostel, just around the corner of the Chorsu markets. At the market is also where the nearest metro is situated. So close to everything.
After a quick visit to the markets, buying fresh fruit, water, and some necessities, I planned my four -day stay in first place to visit was the contemporary art museum. This was closed, shame. I went to visit it three more times, not once was it open. This is something I encountered several times in Kyrgyzstan as well. Such a shame. Not too worry, there was plenty more to see. An art market to visit, a fabulous museum which is not mentioned in the Lonely Planet, but was well worth a visit. Amir Timur, a famous King, has his statue absolutely every where, and his museum was fabulous.
People are incredibly friendly and keen to practice their English. I met one portrait artist, Erhas, who lived and worked for years abroad, and had excellent spoken English. I was constantly offered a seat and a chat. Most people are horrified that I travel alone! Don’t I get lonely? The answer is no! I love to just wander, look and listen, and feel like Alice in Wonderland, most of the time! I am certainly not in Kansas any more!
I was lucky enough to met a lovely Dutch lad and an Australian girl from Brisbane. They had planned a trip into the mountains, and I offered to lower their taxi price by one third! Tagging along was great, although I did decline the rackety chairlift, which took them up the mountain! Instead I walked for a while and came across a family, who was in the process of opening up an teepee accommodation just on the edge of the mountain. After drinking a pot of tea, it is always a pot, never just a cup, I went back to the taxi and promptly fell asleep on the backseat.
Walking back to the bus station from where we hoped to catch a marsroutka to Kokand, we bumped into a lovely young girl, who asked if she could join us. She was going to the same place, was studying English and French and could do with the practise. Well, it became the best day, Sitora, from Uzbekistan, was nineteen years old. Spoke fluent Uzbeki, Russian,English and was working on her French and German. The three of us went to Kokand where we visited the palace and the old mosque and madrassa. A great time was had by all.t
After making several small purchases, we took a shared taxi home to Fergana. The high, snowy mountain range came into view, and Sitora excitedly pointed them out. Impressive with the late afternoon sun turning the snow to a golden glow. Another great day. We all went out for dinner finishing of this marvellous day on a high note.
More food was to be eaten, more dancing to be done! Fabulous. Afterwards a museum, and time to return to Fergana. Jean Claude to catch a taxi to Tashkent, Sitora to go to work and me to have an afternoon nap! All these experiences making me tired!
Just as I was thinking, that people couldn’t be any nicer than the people in Osh, I realised I was mistaken! I caught a марусжка, I have no idea if this is spelled correctly, it is the word for minibus! (Since I took two days to learn to say the word, I thought I use it here!) the border was less than ten minutes away, and I arrived nice and early. As soon as I hopped of the bus, slung my, by now ten kilo backpack ( well, may be not, but it is starting to feel heavy!) over my shoulder, looking around where to go next, I met Ali. Ali is from Kyrgyzstan, but his parents live in Uzbekistan, while he now lives and works as a taxi driver in Saint Petersburg. Ali was like Moses, the sea of people opened up and I was allowed to walk through. I felt embarrassed, but this is what people here do. Tourist are incredibly respected.
I was rather peckish, so I found a fast food restaurant. And as I can say “hot chips” in Russian, that is what I ordered. Most food is made with meat. I have had meat soup and a meat pasties. It is not that I dislike it, it is my body that protests violently. Since the times that my stomach has complained, in ways that I leave up to your imagination, I stick to potato dishes. As I was waiting for my chips, I just started drawing some people in the restaurant. Unbeknown to me people were gathering behind me, looking over my shoulder. Suddenly there were four people all wanted to be drawn! We started talking, with google translator, as no English was spoken. I managed to ask how much the strawberries were as one woman wanted 15,000 сум ( som) which sounded awfully expensive to me. Before I realised what was happening I was taking by the hand, dragged across the road, and I received about three kilos of strawberries for only seven сум! (This was ONE Australian dollar I found out afterwards!)
The flight to Osh was magic! I did get a window seat, and the overcast clouds lifted long enough for me to see the majestically mountains! I now also want to go to Switzerland! Osh was sunny, friendly and outgoing. My hostel is clean, simple with incredibly friendly staff. I had a free pick up from the airport. Fabulous service.
Trading still goes on along the river banks, like it has done right through out the ages. People were keen to communicate, with their English and my Russian and a lot of charades, we all managed quite well. The questions, of course are always the same, where are you from? How come you travel alone? Do you have children and grandchildren? What about your husband?
One of the market sellers offered me his friend’s hand in marriage. The man in question had a mouth full of golden teeth. Golden teeth are very popular here and I must admit, that I have difficulties looking away.
The sweet bread, however, I the main staple of my diet here. Almost all the food has meat in it. I have tried, but my body violently rejected that idea. So meat free it is. This cuts down nearly 90% of my choices. I do like the noodles with chicken and vegetables. However, most of the time I have terrible stomach troubles after! So no blogs about the food. Boiled eggs, sweet bread and bananas is my staple. Very boring, but necessary.
When I first arrived in Bishkek, I have to be honest, I was not too impressed. It is grey, cold and buildings are crumbling. I found it depressing and after Iran, very un- inviting. It is amazing when one arrives somewhere with expectations. It took awhile. Slowly the weather warmed, the clouds lifted, the trees started budding. Like Camelot, the snowy mountains appeared! Stunning! I walked, a lot. The city is full of sculptures, statues and empty water fountains. Parks, full of blossoming trees, crooked footpaths, and crumbling walls. The birds singing, the bees humming and those stunning snowy mountains in the background. Majestic, silent and very impressive.
I booked a one day trip to Burana tower. In the fields near Kegeti, there stands a tower which is about 24 meters high. It leans slightly, like the famous Pisa tower. It used to be twice as high, but lost half to the invading Mongols. There is a grassy mount, which used to be an ancient citadel, Balasagun.
There is also a collection of 6th to 10th century balbals, Turkic totem like stone markers, which according to my guide, were portraits of killed warriors! They didn’t look to happy, about having their portraits carved into stone. Each of them holding what looked like a wine goblet. That however, could have been wishful thinking on my part! ( have not had a drink for over two months now!) There were also some mausoleums, but only he foundations were left, all the rest was destroyed.
Horse sports are very popular in Kyrgyzstan. The most favourite game is called Kok boru, ulak-tartysh or buzkashi, which is a Kyrgyz term that means ” grey wolf”. It started as a hunting exercise. It is a full on team sport in which riders and horses can get hurt. The object is not a ball, but a headless goat whose body needs to be thrown into a circular ” goal”. I was fortunate enough to come across a game in full play. Danar stopped and explained the game to me. Yes, it was gruesome, but it is a tradition that goes back all the way to the time of Ghenis Khan. The goat was already dead, so there was no blood flying around. I was mightily impressed with the horsemanship, e backdrop of the stunning mountains and the beauty of these magnificent horses.
Danar’s English is fantastic, so he could explain a lot of the Kyrzyk customs. The main one is, that the youngest son ends up living with his parents and looks after them in their old age. The other main one is that he has time until he is thirty to find himself a wife, failing that, his parents will find him one!! He MUST be married by thirty. Girls get till twenty five, and then parents will interfere. The youngest son and his wife will move in with his parents, and look after them until they die! No old folks homes here, utmost respect and the tradition is NOT questioned! Parents just tell you from an early age on how it is going to work out for all of them! Hm! What about rebellious natured sons?? What if the son’s wife doesn’t like his parents? Eh?? Not possible! The parents ALWAYS come before wives or husbands! What I want to know is HOW do parents do this?? Pure brainwashing?
It is said that learning a language alters your brain! Indeed this is so true! Learning a language ” fries” your brain! So I suppose that you can call that altering! It has been a week now, that for some reason or other, I thought it was a good idea to learn Russian. Why not? I thought, since I can’t go on a horse riding trip, I can’t go and sleep in a yurt. The main mountain passes in the country are still closed. They will not open until the end of May. So what to do? This is my best planned vacation! Hm! I think I am going back to UNPLANNED vacations!
Early in the morning, the dawn had not yet made up its mind to rise, I arrived in Bishkek,Kyrgyzstan. It had obviously been raining all night, and it continued to do so all day as well! It was Easter Sunday in Australia. Here, because of the Russian Orthodox church, Easter will be next weekend! This was great, I crawled into bed, determined to sleep most of the day away, feeling secure in the knowledge that life would go on with or without me!
I have decided to curb my sweet tooth, and from now on, no more cakes! Life has been a little too good lately, and I am determined to leave a few more kilos behind while travelling. Iran, with their fabulous sweets was an exception. Here the traditional dishes are all diary related, which I don’t want to eat too much of. I spend a whole day at the markets, looking at traditional dresses, wedding dresses, and local produce. A lot of horse hair is turned into felted products. Lovely and not at all over priced considering all is hand made.
Such a shame, but not too worry, flexibility is my middle name! While I sort of planned my trip I was going to spend the first three months travelling through China, then cross into Kazakhstan, and travel down. Today I have decided that I will cancel Tajikistan, not because I don’t want to go there, but because the famous Pamir pass will be closed till July!! Instead I will study Russian for the next two weeks, booked accommodation at the language school, and fly to Osh on the 23th of April. Osh is on the border of Uzbekistan, where the weather is more pleasant and the snow will mostly be gone! Uzbekistan gives a forty day visa if one pays money, and so the month of May will 
be spend there.
Bishkek is lovely in Spring time, but the broken up, uneven footpaths are hell to walk on. I walked more than four hours yesterday, and didn’t eat cake! Yes! This is how it will work! The buildings are not really remarkable, being, grey, square and Russian looking. But the trees are in flower, people dress colourful and the birds are singing. Spring is here!
The first day, I must admit I did nothing but sleep! My body, although my knee is do much better, after the use of my daughter’s magical comfrey cream, the rest of my body is complaining severely! So sleep I did! It was afternoon before I ventured outside. Lovely and warm at 35C found a supermarket, drank a sweet lassie and entered a travel agent ! I collected information, decided the things I wanted to see and do. Then also decided that those one day tours are absolutely over priced, and one of the delights would be to learn how to use the metro!
The second day I explored the old part of Dubai, the Dubai museum, the coffee museum and an amazing gallery. I just wandered, looked and enjoyed. Until the old legs gave away and miracle over miracle, I was able to find my hotel again! The third day I went to the old souqs, and the Dubai mall. I had started at nine in the morning only to ine out that the metros don’t go on a Friday until 10.00 am. So I caught a barge instead and became a time traveller.
Good bye, Iran! It is hard to leave! All the birds are singing in the sky, the trees are nearly in blossom. Only two more weeks and all will be green! I have to go. My heart is breaking!
That is for sure! I haven’t written about the birds who tell you your fortune! In Farsi of course! If you follow Allah, you will have riches, true love and fabulous health! Well, there you go! What else can a person want? I shall miss the people, first and foremost ! The architecture, the beauty and the magicical history of this amazing country! I shall miss the food, the sweets, the music, the smiles, the constant “welcome to Iran” , the genuine people, so pleased that you spend your money visiting the country they are so proud of!
So many things, lots of things I forgot to mention, how every little village, town and city honours their martyrs from the war with Iraq. Each place has paintings of the martyrs who died. Some of them no more than children! I forgot to tell you that plastic surgery on noses is enormous here in Iran! Hmm! The mind boggles! 
The bus trip to Yazd was uneventful. I slept most of the way. I arrived late in the afternoon. The back packer hostel is clean, central and incredibly friendly staff. Dropped my gear, hot shower and change, and time to explore. Tonight at a quarter to eight is the beginning of NoRuz. I first went for a walk. A shame it went dark so fast. So not too much wandering around. The hostel is next to the amazing Amir Chakhmaq Mosque Complex. An absolute central location. All the places of interest are just in walking distance. Tonight is the night, the night of the beginning of spring. The Persian new year. At exactly 8.45 and 22 seconds, or at least something like that. Each year the date and the time changes.
After a decent amount of time I went back to the hostel, where the NoRuz was celebrated with lots of tea and food, of course! By twelve o’ clock I had enough of it all, and went to bed! Tomorrow I have to try to get to Dasthekhak, a small village near Zarand, which is a bigger village near Kerman!
As it is the first day of the new year, there were no buses going, even though my host had assured me there would be buses! Sanjay, the lovely young owner of the backpackers hostel, made a plan! Go to Imam Ali square first, yes bus, no problem, no bus, go to terminal. At terminal, ask for bus to Zarand, yes bus, no problem! No bus, ask for the bus to Kerman! At Kerman ask for a bus to Zarand! Yes bus, no problem! No bus, BIG problem! Catch a taxi from Kerman to Dasthekhak, cost of the hundred kilometre journey? A$20 ! Expensive? For Iran, yes, for Australians? No!
I arrived at Dashekhak at six o’clock in the evening. The taxi driver told me this is Hamid’s house! Okay, I went into the courtyard, knocked on the door, said hello to every one, had a cup of tea, lots of delicious biscuits. The house was full of visitors. Finally I asked the man who spoke English, if he was Hamid! Eh, NO! I walked into the neighbours house! I was so incredibly embarrassed.although they all thought it was lovely! I had to ring Hamid, who send his wife, to come and collect me! “Why didn’t you ring”, he asked. Well, I thought the taxi driver knew Hamid! What do I know? Duh! At 8.30 pm a lovely dinner was served and I met Anna, from Amsterdam, and Sef, from Switzerland. An early night was necessary, tomorrow Sef and I are going to see some villages, and than lunch at Fahima, Hamid’s wife, family for lunch. Delicious food was put in front of us. Mainly chicken dishes, with a delicious pommy granite sauce. Hamid told a funny story, that the first French tourist he had was vegetarian! Hamid thought it was a place in France! He had to learn to adapt a few dishes to NO meat dishes.
I had a hard time finding the place, but what a gem! The Lonely Planet glosses over the extend of this contemporary art collection. The gallery was set up by Hassan Meshkinfam. Who studied under Kamal al-Molk, the famous Iranian painter. I was fortunate enough to meet Hassan, and having a good chat about art, Iran and the importance of preserving the history of art and artists. Altogether it was two hours later before I walked out.
There were no taxies parked at the hostel, so I caught one in the street, the driver asked for 80 , when will I learn to classify toman or rials? One lives and learns. It was about five kilometres to the tomb of Hafez. We chatted most of e way, although he didn’t speak very good English, it was still better than my Farsi. When we arrived he asked for 800 rials! That is about twenty Aussie dollars! ( the fare is about three bucks) sometimes in situations like this, all one can do is laugh. Did I laugh! I laughed so much that tears ran over my face! I had to hold my belly, it was cramping! A nearby policeman came over to check what was going on. He spoke a smithering of English, I told him that the taxi driver was the funniest man I had ever met. In the mean time the taxi drive laughed sheepishly with me.
The tomb of Hafez, is a monument to the great poet Hafez. It was packed with people, due to the new year. I met a group of English students, chatted for a while, spend time taking the compulsory selfies, and went back into town. I had not yet visited the Parsi museum, nor the Valik hamman, both high on my list. The taxi tried to negotiate double the price, what is it with these drivers here in Shiraz? I gave him the right fare, wished him a happy new year and went to find the museum. On the way I met a family, with their eighteen year old son.who spoke five languages fluently. His English was just excellent. His parents wanted him to ” guide” me through the gardens,we walked around ( it was very small) I send him back to his parents and I entered the small but exquisite museum.
I love wandering, I love exploring unvisited places. I love bazaars most of all. Just looking at the range of goods to sell. Especially in an age old caravanserai. Knowing that hundreds of years ago people were already here selling their goods. I like the way people hustle and bustle , going on with their daily tasks. Here is me, timeless in a timeless place. Every where I look there is a still life, waiting to be painted. I love to sit somewhere, just watching, listening and smelling this wonderful world, which I am allowed to experience. Going to Yazd soon.
Today I visited three major sites, of Persian history, about eighty or so kilometres out of Shiraz. Ali, my driver was here nice and early. The sun was shining and although cool to start of with, it looked like it was going to be a wonderful sunny day. Ali, who very limited English, and me with my twenty sentences in Farsi, had a lot of fun trying to understand each other. Persepolis, Pasargadaes and Naqsh-e Rostam,
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