In search of Persia: Polis, Isfahan, time to rest

Journal entry
27 October 2011
Kermansham (Harmadan) in North West Iran a university town. 
The region is on the borders of the tribal lands Kurdish and the Turkic People.


We were watching the weather closely. Citt was trying out her new knowledge as a meteorologist  with daily forecasts looking at the charts and the weather patterns. (Hmm... Pretty well got the weather right every time). Her cheery predictions snow and low temperatures for this region in the coming days.  (What a bright little button she is. That is what every back packer wants to hear).
Now we needed to get to Esfahan and get some miles into our journey as we had a long way to go and the days were running out.

Harmadan to Esfahan (Names are spelt differently in all the books.)

After a quick look around the city of Kermasham (Hamadan) we made our way to the bus station on the outskirts of town. The bus station was a modern enough place however we found the people not so friendly nor helpful. We had an hour to kill so headed to the cafe for some cay. Here we met some strange people. We were not sure what was their problem but in hindsight we now realize this is the start of the regimes  strong area. Up to this point we had been in areas where the Ayatollahs had little or no authority. This is a different ball game.


Like all good travelers! Mind our own business (zip it up).


The bus was two hours late and we looked forward to a 10 hour journey to Isfahan. My map showed it was a cross country type of route not a direct motorway at all. The road wound through the industrial areas of Iran into Isfahan. 


You would have be living under a rock to not know that Isfahan was the center of Iran's' nuclear program. Of course all foreigners would be watched especially a media specialist from the UNU "Citt Williams". 


Eventually the bus arrived at near midday and it was full. 
The booking office always made sure we were up front as that is where foreigners and women sit, (We are finding out about Iran real quick. Either up front or on the engine box.)
Anyway a whole lot of people were haranguing us on the Iran Government and what it is doing to them in this place. 


(We feel a bit isolated and alone for the first time in our travels. One never knows who is watching and how the system works.We are fully aware the back packer Americans were arrested just west of here and that they had just been sentenced. The papers were full of it. The papers were running stories on an attack from America and Israel. The locals were like us being filled with propaganda.) 


Our minds go ahead to Isfahan. At this rate we will be in that city near midnight. We have no booking and are not sure if the holiday tomorrow will make getting a room difficult. 
We decide to wing it. It will be OK don't you think?

Take a good look at the door

The bus journey.
Every time we get on a bus an adventure begins, this one is no different.
The rules seem to be. 
There are road blocks about every 70 kilometers or so. The bus driver must stop and take his manifesto into the Polis. 
Not sure if there is a tariff to pay as I did not go into the polis station. 
Cars are stopped at random and trucks are held up for a long time.  
Women cannot travel without the written consent of their husbands or fathers. Women must not travel alone, 
This is as I figure it.
Off we go with our sweeties and and water in our bag.
Isfahan some ten hours away
The journey.
The road took us through the Industrial areas of Iran constantly changing highways. Along the way we are entertained by some really good videos.The music hip hop Iran style with lots of drums and strings. I liked it and wondered where we could get copies. 


My question was answered but not quite how I expected.


The bus was constantly stopping for road blocks and at one of these stops it took a little longer than usual. 
Suddenly the polis entered the bus.
Walked up the bus and down the bus,
Looked carefully at each passenger.
Then a strange thing. 
They talked to the jockey and he handed over the whole package of Video and Music that we were enjoying, 
The Polis then ceremoniously dropped each disc on the floor and stood on each one separately. 
After emptying all the sleeves he scooped the poor broken DVD's up and put them in a box, Then looked at all of us like "you bad children and left the bus". I sort of hoped he would fall and break his neck. Or even better get run over on the the road by one of those big trucks. (I thought bad thoughts to him).


There was stunned silence........ a man speaking English whispered to me. That the DVD's were pirate. I thought Iran does not adhere to Piracy law. I questioned the speaker and he explained that the contents of the DVD's CD were underground Music and Videos and they were  not authorized by the regime.

 I am in search of Persia this is it. It is not all good news.


The incident galvanized the passengers on this bus. I think that an informer was on the bus and the passengers were not happy. I guessed he had gone
 As we traveled on into the night a group of guys grouped around us and started asking questions about what the international  press is saying about Iran. 
It turned out we were on a bus full of teachers. Kermansham is a center for Teacher education and this mob were on their way home. Teachers come from all over Iran to learn at the university and the teaching institutions. 


It worked in our favor as teachers like to learn and teach. We were interesting fodder.


In Citt they found a font of knowledge the discussion was of climate change, politics, and the role of the UN. Women joined the group to discuss their role in society.. 
They wanted to know all about our home-land Australia our beaches, lifestyle, customs and our religion.
Some had relations in America Europe and Australia. The hours passed quickly and the information on both sides was like pouring water into a sponge. 
We came in search of Persia. "sometimes you gotta be careful about what you ask for".. 


We were exhausted when the bus dropped us in the dead of night on the outskirts of Esfahan. A teacher hopped off the bus to make sure we got safely into a taxi before rejoining the bus to finish his long journey home another 9 hours. 


For us Persian hospitality has no boundaries.


Esfahan
Not a mouse was stirring on the streets of this Beautiful city. 
Our recommended hotel was full. Bugger.
We had a back up and it worked. But if you arrive late you have no bargaining power and this was expensive. But we got bed/breakfast and internet connection to check in to Oz. 
Besides it was to be the most flambouyant hotel I have ever been in. 
Take a look. The restaurant was amazing.

The guide book said it was gaudy but you know!

Blessed.
Shower and Bed 1.00AM

In search of Persia" >thumbing it in the mountains of Kurdistan Iran.

I wrote this in Iran and emailed. This is a shortened version.
Iran Government blocks all interactive internet applications Flickr, Facebook, Blogger, Twitter 

The road across the west of Kurdistan

Hoofing it. Waiting for a lift.

26/10/11 Journal entry
We overnighted at a place called Howraman. There was no transport from here to take us to Pavou. So we thumbed it down the dirt road. It was the best day for us. We were picked up several times in small hops until Nivin. 

A beautiful family. We had lunch with them. In time their world will be shattered as the dam will flood their home.

We had had tea (cay) with two families. Lunch or brekkie (we could not agree) with a family of 4 before 12pm.  No one would take a penny for fuel or food.

A Kurd village where the roof is the floor of your neighbour.
Then our luck ran out outside of Nivin or so we thought. We walked for 12 kilometres on the stony mountain road. (Citt is great company in these sort of situations makes it all seem like a huge adventure).

Our drivers and friends to enroute to Parvou.

There was not a car in sight nor a soul and the weather looked like closing in. The packs got heavier and the shoulders began to ache. We rounded a corner expecting to see the next village but it was straight 

up..... no village.

Then we heard it. Unmistakable, a vehicle. Round the corner puffed an old wreck of a Peugeot 1500. Two characters were in it with half the farm in the boot and the rest on the back seat. Not to worry as always out went half the farm and in we went. The car stalled and it would not start. The car runs on gas and I think it has something to do with the vaporization in the carburetor or at least that is what we hoped.

Citt waiting for a lift

Try it 100 miles from anywhere and do not know the language do not really know where the next town is nor what the weather is doing. But these guys are Kurds and nothing stops a Kurd and they know Harry Kewell. Right! (:

Poppie and grand son

The road to Pavou

These engineers gave us a lift part of the way and practiced english.

Lunch stop 2.00pm, in a building at the bottom of a ravine. The biggest bloody rocks I had ever seen hung over this building and Van had just had an earthquake couple of hundred miles away!

Not happy Jan.  I got indigestion, Citt got the giggles. Eventually after cleaning up their plates We were off.
No earthquake.Yes!
We continued to the biggest cave with spring water gushing out. Fabulous.

They were going all the way to Pavou. The journey was a constant stall and start process. The poor old Peugeot had trouble on the 15% grades (had to get a good run at it) and the mountains kept going up and up.

Some miles out of Pavou we rounded a corner and we were stunned......
There in front of us was a huge construction site. This whole beautiful valley was to be flooded. The construction site was a hydro scheme.

The dam work site. Does not make a rats where you live, the corporate will get you!

All of the people in this traditional Kurdish valley with whom we had shared cay and laughed and joked with would be homeless. We were dismayed.

Crest fallen we puffed into Pavou. There the guys put us on a bus for Hermasham a 3 hour ride. We bid them goodbye.  We all had had such a good time together riding in that old Peugeot in the mountains. The old Peugeot coughed and spluttered off up the road. Citt and I looked at each other and burst out laughing.

The day was not over. There was more to come.

It was dark, raining buckets and cold. We were contemplating how to get to a hotel while sitting in the bus as we approached Kermasham, a medium sized city with not a lot to offer.

We were deep in conversation when a gentle voice said "Hello where are you from"?.
Where are you going?
Then he asked "where are you staying tonight"?
Then he said, "I have a hotel in the Teachers quarters. Please come and I will get you a bed. And so it was we were in the University quarters for the night. Sheets, hot water and he even ordered pizza for us.
Gosh how to repay hospitality like that it makes us humble.


27/10/11 Journal entry
Kermasham to Esfahan
10 Hours by bus.

Our coach awaits us for the journey to Esfahan. 

The carvings at Kermanshan.
Celebrating the triumph over the Romans 200 AD

So on and up the road to Esfahan,  Capitol of the Persian Empire from 1200 AD till 1600 AD. 

We hope you are enjoying our journey 



On the bus journey we have an experience with the teachers and the polis board the bus.

In search of Persia: Into the mountains of Kurdistan.

Our journey from Tabriz to Sanandoj then onto Merrivan form there to Powe to Kermanshan

25/11/11 Journal Entry

Sanadoj to Merrivan then Hawraman on the Iraq border. 

(Do not worry there is a huge mountain range between us and Iraq, one road). We are safe, 2 military checkpoints and a police road block to go through.

As usual an early start and another magic brekkie of tea, biskit, honey and fetta. We got some good advice from a passer by and got a taxi out to the mini bus stands and onto a bus on the spot and we were away front seat and all.

Arrived Merrivan and a good Samaritan told us there was a new hotel at Howraman which is where we wanted to go. 

But how to get there. 

Easy hire a driver and car. 

Our car and driver

Right on the spot.

Off we go.

Nosoud. 

Then the hotel. 

Hotel Howraman wowwie.
No problem we were the soul inhabitants of a 35 room brand new hotel.

No food 

No heat

But hot water and a loo. 

Yes, gold at last.

Carpets and all. Our hotel fabulous felt rugs.

Now who are these foreigners. A local watches us.

Time to explore as it is mid afternoon and we have had nothing to eat since brekkie.

We found there is no eating house in this village. 

Enter this young samaritan. This guy and his mates drove us to the closest kebab shop about 30 minutes down the road and waited for us to finish then drove us back. 

Our good samaritan, or angels as we called them.
30 minutes to the Kebab shop and back.

Citt with the girls at school

This old fellow. Which one is oldest?

Tomorrow we leave this place. 

Howraman and the valley

Is this the last bastion of true Kurdistan?

Houses on steep hill. The roof is your neighbour's floor

National costumes 

Kurdish tongue

Hospitality like no other

No power 

No running water 

But heaps of heart and passion. 

They have told us there is no transport and the road hardly exists from here to Pavou. 

So we are just gunna wing it again. 

Citt reckons it will be OK. 

What do you think?