Radek’s travel and photo blog

Tabriz nam pripravil dalsi adrenalinovy prujezd mestem a tezky oci palici smog, jemuz se vysmivaji merice znecisteni vzduchu s plakaty mucedniku.  Jejich barevne barometry ukazovaly zelenou - velmi cisty vzduch.  Nechtel bych tudy projizdet kdyz vylezou k cervene.
Po dvou projezdech kolem Bazaaru se nam dari parkovat a pozorovani zvedavymi pohledy se vnorujeme do mumraje tisicu a jednim kramem.  Dneska to nebudou koberce, ale kombinacky, baterky a fantasticke pistaciove orisky.  Tabrizsky bazaar je prvnim ktery jsem navstivil a kde se prodavaci jenom usmivaji, zdravi a nenuti nakupovat.  Chybi tu arabske ,My friend, my friend, very good deal for you’ a nekolihodinove prolizani kramku se meni v prijemnou udalost proplnenou komlimenty a minikonverzacema.  Nachazime malou saslikarnu a davame si prvni xxxxxxxxxx skopovy mlety kebab.
Po bazaru se snazime najit internet a vychazime do hlavnich ulic.  Nevim kolikrat slysim ‘Welcome to Iran, have a nice day in Tabriz a Hello!’a lidi ptajici se na nasi narodnost a jmena.  Jedna rodinka se tremi detmi nas zve na obed domu, ale slusne odmitame,jelikoz se chceme dostat do vecera ven z mesta. 
Nedari se najit internet a vypada toze nam neni nikdo schopen poradit, kdyz se obevi nas spasitel v podobe mladeho urednicka s velmi lamanou anglictinou, ktery slysel, ze se snazime neco najit.  Na trikrat nas provazi mestem, jelikoz plno obchodu ma zavreno - je pry dnes velky statni svatek, jehoz smysl nam unika.  Zavede nas do internet kavarny a jak se obevil tak mizi.  Ani mu poradne nestacime podekovat.  Zvladneme maily pri nabizenych datlovych susenkach a zastavujeme se na shishu, kde se hned seznamujeme a fotime s mistnimi.  Digitaly tu moc nefrci, tak za ukazani obraku na monitoru ziskavame dalsi a dalsi povoleni k foceni. Thank you, thank you ozyva se po kazdem zmacknuti spouste.  Loucime se s dedulama a ztracime se pri hledani auta.  S pomoci dalsich ochotnych Tabrizanu a mapy jej nachazime a absolvujeme dalsi pekelnou jizdu  mestem.  Jedeme jenom 40km do horske vesnicky Kandovan.  Vesnice je polozena 2200m nad morem pod 3700m vysokou horou.  Cesta je narocna a obsypana piknikujicimi Irancanami.  Sotva se tam vyhrabeme, jelikoz nam prestava tahnout auto.  Kvalita iranske nafty je opravdu slabsi.  Kandovan nam naskytne uzasny vyhled na jelanovite kamenne utvary, ve kterych se stejne jako v Turecke Kapidoncii stale bydli, pod vesnickou tece ricka u ktere opet kempuji zastupy lokalnich turistu, popijejicich caj, kourici vodni dymky a diskutujicich v kruhu rodiny.
Prijizdime opet dost pozde a stihneme akorat veceri v nejake lepsi restauraci v casti vesnicky jez byla proti vsem zakonum o zachovani tradice premenena v drahy hotel a atrakci.  Turismus nam zde nevadi, jsme tu jedini cizinci v davu Persanu.
Schazime k ricce kde jsme zaparkovali mezi mistnimi a rozhodneme se dat si caj.  Okamzite jsme obstoupeni nekolika rodinami z nichz vetsina osazenstva mluvi anglicky. 
Dostavame caj, obednavame nargilu a jsme dotazovani na spoustu zvedavych otazek na temata jako jak jsme se sem dostali, co si myslime o Iranu a hlavne proc jsme se rozhodli do Iranu jet.  Trochu vahame s odpovedi, ale nasi hostitele jsou si dobre vedomi spatneho jmena, ktere Iran ve svete ma a snazi se uvest veci na spravnou miru.  Jak situaci komentuje jeden z mladsi generace, Iran neni o vlade, ale o Irancich a my mu pri kroupani doma pecenych zakusku a misek s orisky nemuzeme dat vic za pravdu.  Toto mimojine sumarizuje nasi konverzaci u vecere, kde jsme srovnavali Irance, libyjce, Thajce a jine narody ktere jsme za poslednich par let stihli navstivit.  Zjistili jsme, ze lide jsou vseobecne dobri a privetivy, pokud k nim clovek pristupuje s dobrymi umysly a nesnazi se jim vyvrazdit rodinu bomabrdovanim z 20ti kilometrove vysky…
Pri caji a rozhovorech dostavame zajimave typy na atrakce neuvadene v pruvodcich a je nam vysvetleno, ze dnes je prvni den svatku a zitra je dalsi a jeste vetsi.  V prekladu ‘Den prirody’ se slavi 1.4. a je to s nejvetsi pravdepodobnosti privitani jara.  Lide pry na sebe hazou kvetiny a ,ruzne rostliny’ a jezdi mimo mesto kempovat a piknikovat.  Takze tu mame zitra ocekavat zastupy.
Nasi novi pratele se rozjizdeji, jelikoz jsou vsichni z Tabrizu a davaji nam kontakty v pripade, ze bychom potrebovali nejakou pomoc.
Vracime se do kempu debatujice o tom kolik pozitivnich udalosti jsme zazili za jeden den.  To jich mame pred sebou jeste dvacet.
Kemp se I za tmy zacina zaplnovat, lide se svymi rodinama posedavaji kolem ohne, nekteri zpivaji, jinni se smejou ci jen tak plkaji.  Par se s nami snazi dat do reci, ale nase nulova znalost farsi je nam prekazkou.  Varime caj, dame si particku sachu, kterou se zajmem sleduji sousedi, ale brzy zacina byt zima a tak lezeme do stanu.  Stresni stan budi dost rozruch a mame dalsi zajemce o informace.   Rano bude sranda.  Je jedna hodina v noci, auta stale prijizdeji, venku je k nule, sviti hvezdy a Iranci zpivaji.

1.4.
Moc jsme nenaspali.  Auta porad prijizdeji a kazetaky se zpivanim neutichavaji ani k ranu.  Vzbudime se obklopeni auty a stany.  Mirek leze prvni ze stanu a uz slysim male holcicky jak si trenuji ‘My name is Ismil…’  Sousedi se hned shromazduji a zacina kolotoc otazek, bohuzel jenom jeden z nich mluvi anglicky a nase farzi nema sanci.  Po chvili se rozchazeji, ale kazdych par minut se nektery z nich vraci s dalsi otazkou na nas, auto, ci stresni stan.   Rodinka pres cestu porad pokukuje a za chvili si nas prijdou vyfotit.  Jsme tady v Kandovanu vsichni turisti, ale mame pocit, ze my jsme hlavni atrakci.  Vyuzivame toho a vytahujeme vlastni fotaky a video.  Nikdy jsme nevidel narod ktery by se tak rad fotografoval, sami se nam stavi pred objektiv a ptaji se jestli bychom je mohli vyfotit.  Jako by fakt, ze si jejich obrazky vyvezeme ze zeme z ktere sami nemuzou nejak vnitrne uspokojoval.
Jsem pozvani na caj a vyrazime na obchuzku vesnice.  Ta je velice zajimava, shluky jehlancovitych kamennych utvaru v niz jsou vydloubany mistnosti a ktere jsou kaskadovite postaveny nad sebou a propojeny schodami a pruchodami.  Jejich obyvatele ziji tradicnim zivotem, vsude kolem se hemzi slepice, osli a musime se vyhybat hnojistim.  Mistni  nejsou moc z nasi navstevy nadseni a Iranci, kteri kempuji pod vesnici u reky sem vubec nechodi.  Necitime se zde zvani, dvakrat z nas vyloudi poplatek 10 000IR za ukazani pokoje, ale vsichni se tvari strasne otravene a tak se vracime k autu. 
Podari se me rozesmat kemp, kdyz jednoho ze sousedu, ktery cele rano spravuje kozi dech nazvu pri foceni Mechanic Iran.  Prezdivka se k vseobecnemu pobaveni chyta.
Balime byvak, loucime se se vsemi podanim ruky a nasledocnym mirnym uklonkem s rukou na srdci, jsme obdarovani dalsi hromadou orisku, ovoce a zavarenych okurek a vyjizdime.
Vypada to ze je cely Iran na nohou, auta smeruji vsemi smery a Iranci okupuji jakykolik kousek zelene pikniky.  Panuje vseobecne nadseni, vsichni blikaji, troubi a mavaji jeden na druheho, vlajky vlajou a kdekoliv se zastavime jsme opet zdraveni a vyptavani se na nejruznejsi otazky.  Dva mladi Iranci s nami toci video a nejsou k zastaveni s focenim.  Louci se s nami Irasky 3mi polibky fousy na fousy…
Na ceste ke Takht-A_Soleiman, ktery je cilem nasi cesty jedeme nesmirne opatrne, jelikoz je zaplnena  oslavujicimi lidmi a bandickami preadrelinovanych motrokaru.  Jak oznacil jeden z nasich vcerejsich spolecniku Iransky Den Prirody ‘It is a mad traffic day’.
Dostavame se taky k problemu nafty. Za A) je opravdu pochybne kvality a velmi spatne tahne, jedem vetsinu casu 70-80km/h a za B) hlavne na ceste z Kandovanu nikde neni.  Naftove cerpadla jsou u kazdeho mestecka, ale dnes nikde v okoli Myiandoabu zadnou nemaji.  Nevim jestli je to zapricineno 2mi statnimi svatky, nebo nepravidelnymi dodavkami do teto odlehle kurdske oblasti.  Z prvnich 3 pump nas vyhnali s prazdnou, na ctvrte, kdyz uz nam dochazela se nad nami smiloval mlady pumpar a cepuje nam zadarmo 10 litru. Jdeme tvrde na taktiku smutnych oci a vyrazime z neprijemenho pumpare u dalsi pumpy jeste extra 12 litru.  Na kandaky bychom dojeli asi az zpet k dalnici na Zanjan, ale nastesti u Shahin Deznu narazime na vesleho pumpare, ktery nas zdravi  netradicne ‘hi, hello, hail Hitler!’ Vesely Azeri nam k plne nadrzi a kanystrum jeste nabidne skvely caj.  Zavdecuju se slovicky a frazemi ze slovniku a jsme zase na ceste.
Ta uz ubiha poklidne, davy se pomalu rozpousteji, devcata v barevnych kurdskych dresech naskakji s rodinou na traktory a jedou domu.  My se opet skrabeme nahoru a dolu kolem 2000 metru nad morem az dojizdime do Soleimanovi.  Prvni atrakci je Soleimanovo vezeni, coz je 2600m vysoka vyhasla sopka s hlubokym kraterem smrdicim sirou.  Nahoru proudi davy jako by to bylo nejake nabozenske putovni misto.  Na ceste nahoru jsme opet zdraveni na kazdem kroku a mlady Kurd, ktery se hrde hlasi ke svym korenum nam dela pruvodce.  Zahledneme prvni evropske turisty, ale nestihneme s nimi prohodit slova, jelikoz padi dolu.  Nahore se otevre skvely vyhled na krater a okolni hory.
  Mladici se bavi hazenim petard do krateru, ktere vydavaji ohlusujici ozvenu a predstavuje se me dalsi student, kter me sam od sebe ukazuje svoji obcanku.  Zprvu nechapu proc, ale ukazuje na druhou starnu krateru a na sve prijmeni v obcance a dochazi mi ze ukazuje na male modre graffiti asi 20 metru pod vrcholem krateru.  Je to sopecny grafitak, hrdy na svuj vykon.  Lamanou anglictinou vysvetluje jak se na lane spoustel do krateru aby na nej mohl nasprejovat svoje jmeno.  Dalsi fota, podani rukou a zase fota.  Zaciname si pripadat jako hodne oblibene vladni navsteva.  Na ceste dolu nas dokonce oslovuji I devcata, kterym jsme se doposud z neznalosti pomeru vyhybali.  Jak uz popisovali jini cestovatele, opravdu pouzivaji nekolirat vice make upu nez ty evropske.  Tezko rict, jestli je to nedostatkem zkusenosti, nebo ukazkou ticheho odporu vuci narizenim, ktere je teoreticky zakazuji.  V kazdem pripade jsme si vsimli, ze vse americke je tu velmi oblibene.  Jezdi tu plno Cadilacu a nejvetsi borci nosi kovbojske klobouky typu J.R.
Odpoledne dorazime do samotneho Takhtu, ktery je pamatkou Unesca.  Je to pevnost a chram datujici se do 3 stoleti n.l., ktery slouzil Sasanske Persii jako centrun Zoroastrismu.  Jeho idealni polohu v 2200m nad morem zarucovalo zastoupeni vsech elementu zeme.  Voda, ac nepitna zde vyvera ze stareho karteru jeste I v dnesni dobe a kolem jezera, ktere vytvorila je cela pevnost postavena.  Dalsim elementem je vsudy pritomny silny vitr a diky sopecne cinosti a uchazejicim plynum je zde zastoupen i element posledni a to ohen.  Plyn stari Persane hnali keramickymi trubkami do jedne ze svatyni, kde svitl jako vecny ohen Zoroastrismu.  Ten uhasl az v 13 stoleti, kdy pevnost dobyli Mongolove.
Pamatka je to zajimava, ale ne moc zachovala.  Diky sve poloze mezi 3 tisicovymi horami, nad nimiz se konecne zvedla mlha a smog jez nas posledni 3 dny doprovazel je to ale zatim jeden z vrcholu nasi cesty.
Jako vsude jinde nam neni doprana minuta klidu a jsme fotografovani a zdraveni na kazdem kroku.  Opet se stavame hlavni atrakci pro vecne a az detinsky zvedave Irancany.
Menime puvodni plan a diky silnemu a studenemu vetru u Tashkt a Suleimana pri zapadu slunce vyrazime hledat kemp.  Prekonavame 2600 metru vysoky prusmyk s nadhernymi vyhledy na hory a o 1000 metru nize nachazime idealni misto na klidny byvak s prvnim ohnem.
Zitra nas ceka pejezd na Jih do Esfahanu, tak jdem spat at jsme cili.

02.04.2008
Vstavame bez budku s prvnim sluncem, varime kavu a zdravime ovcaka, ktery se k nam pomalu priblizoval se svymi ovci.  Zkousim par frazi o pocasi, cimz ho rozesmeju a davame mu par malickosti, jelikoz kavu I cigarety slusne odmita.  Asi prekvapen nasi pohostinnosti nas chce pozvat do sveho pribytku do nedaleke vesnicky.  Ukazuje pri tom na male jehne s tim ze ho zarizne a udela hostinu.  Castecne z obav o nabourani casoveho planu na ceste do Esfahanu a castecne z litosti nad jehnetem odmitame.  Opakuje nabidku jeste jednou, coz asi znamena, ze to mysli opravdu vazne.  Opet odmitneme a vyrazime na na Zanjan, kde se vracime na dalnici.100 km k Z jsou velice malebne, s cestickou klikatici se horami do 2000 mnm.
Z dalnice uz je to rychla jizda smerem na Teheran.  Dalnice se plati, ale stoji asi jenom dolar za celou cestu do Esfahanu a jsou v lepsim stavu nez nase D1.  Co par kilometru sedi policista na zidli s ocelovou konstrukci se stinitkem za zady a pozoruje projizdejici auta.  Kazdou chvili je videt policista s radarem.  Bud tu maji Krystofa, nebo je to dost policejni stat, ale vliv na moralku ridicu to ma zasadni. Nikdo si nedovoli prekrocit limit 120km/h a za 1000km nevidime jedinou bouracku.  Mozna neco co bychom potrebovali doma…
 Pumpy jsou jenom kazdych 100km a ackoliv kazda ma naftove cerpadlo, ne kazda ma naftu (takze opet doporucuju brat kde je).  My museli na jedne sjet z dalnice na off-road a vratit se na spojku, kde jsme nacepovali na druhe strane dalnice, jelikoz v nasem smeru nafta dosla.
Na Esfahan volime primou cestu na jih a ne zajizdku dalnici na Teheran a v Takestanu hledame cesticku na Saveh, kde se opet napojujeme na dalnici.  Usetri nam to 200km a ackoliv je to cesta nudnou nahorni plosinou preplanena smardlavymi starymi kamiony, drzime se na 90km/h, setrime cas a dojizdime do Esfahanu za svetla.

 
Ted vyrazime na Esfahan a pak se Vam ozvu z Perskeho zalivu ci Shirazu

Mountains we pass on the way to Esfahan

ENGLISH VERSION:
Tabriz – Esfahan .
                                               
In the beginning I will have to note that it is getting impossible to write in detail in two on the go, so English version will be slightly shorter.  I will edit it on the return to CZ and upload as a new post.

Tabriz has greeted us with the rather bad smog, defining the smog-o-meter which announces clean air and no pollution.
We diving into the bazaar, which is huge, few miles in area and which sells everything from spices to carpets.  We spend few hours browsing its tiny streets and I’m amazed how easy going local sellers are.  They greet us, but there isn’t tha familiar pressure of Marakesh,  Fes and Damascus bazaars.  No ‘Good deals’ and ‘special price for you my friend’.  Just peaceful smiles and curiosity.
I must have been the first foreigner buying here only few packs of batteries and pair of pliers, but nobody minds.  After bazaar we setting of in search of internet.  We are being

greeted, asked for a nationality and names on every step.  A family of an mid aged man, his wife and 3 children is inviting us for a lunch in his home, but politely we are refusing.   We had a great lamb kebab few minutes earlier. One young Iranian offers to take us to nearest internet café, which is turning to be a half an hour job as most of them are closed due to a state religious holiday, which meaning I’m unable to source out.

Internet is very fast here and you can access any western web site.  Emails are being delivered instantly without a days ‘translation’ delay as in Libya .

From Esfahan we set of to Kandovan, the mountain village with chimney like eroded rock formations which have been used for centuries as houses.  As it is a two day state holiday as we are being explained Iranians flock to similar places in thousands.  The traffic is bad, but we are surprised by Iranians camping and picknicking on just every green area from Tabriz to the mountains, drinking tea and smoking Shishas.

We arrive to Kandovan by the dusk and pitching on the small campsite by the river in 2200m above the sea level.  We can see the reminds of snow, but it isn’t too cold.

We are setting off to check the rock houses but it is too dark, so end up in nice restaurant on the edge of the village for yet another shashlik and local equivalent of Coca Cola Zan Zan.

We stop off for a tea on the way back and are immediately surrounded by friendly and English speaking family.  They ask everything form who are we to why are we here and more.   We are being offered tea and excellent home made sweets and cakes.  More people are gathering and listening, we take some photos and after finishing the tea and shisha with locals we are let off with few phone numbers and emails back to the camp.

There more Iranians arrive, it seems they are getting ready for tomorrow ‘Nature day’.

We are too tired to accept another invitation by another family and slip to a roof tent.

We don’t sleep much.  More families are arriving overnight, the car engines mixed with loud music and singing doesn’t die off even in the early hours.

We give up trying to sleep and getting off the tent with the sunrise.  Even before we et out I hear little girl practicing: ‘My name is Ismil..’

Once we’re out of the tent we are becoming the centre of the interest.  We are all tourists in Kandovan, but it seems we are the main attraction.  People ask all sorts of question, but there is only one English speaker, so soon they start giving up.  Even then some of them return and try to chat, asking about Land Rover, roof tent and ourselves.

We pack up the tent and start to explore the village.  Iranians themselves don’t seem to be going there, they just admire it from distance and we soon starting to realize we aren’t exactly welcomed to this Azeri populated village.

We return to camp, say our goodbyes after being photographed and treated with more food and tea and setting off South to historical site of Takht a Suleiman.

This is a 300 km long all day’s drive through picturesque mountains, valleys full of partying Iranians, which drive all over the country, flashing lights, waving and smiling at each other. 

Yet again we are being treated with hospitality and never ending near child like curiosity of Iranians every time we stop off for a break or photo before we reach Suleiman.

Just before the village there is an old volcano, with massive 50 metre crater smelling of sulphur, where all passer bys from 2-102 years old seem to climb. We feel like a rock stars greeted and photographed along the way and things won’t change in actual Takht-a-Suleiman, which from the 3^rd century acted as a centre of Zoroastrism in the Sasanian Persian Empire. All the elements can be found here; the earth on which it was build, ever present wind from surrounding 3200 meters high mountains, water as the fort has been build around a volcanic lake and fire, coming from volcanic gases which old Sasanians diverter in ceramic pipes to the main altar of Zoroastrism as an Eternal flame.

The site is a Unesco listed site and with haze and smog finally disappearing became one of the highlights of the trip.

The strong wind has changed our plans and we decided to drive bit further in order to drop in altitude and escape the strong wind.  After an hour of drive we reach a small river where we find a perfect spot sheltered from wind by trees and some raised ground.

In the morning we get a visit by a shepherd and his flock to who tries to invite us to his home and he suggesting he kills a sheep for us and makes a feast.  Mostly sorry for the sheep we refuse and drive off towards Esfahan .  The day is devoted to a 800km transit mostly by motorways towards Teheran and then to Esfahan .  We are surprised by the good tarmac and a good driving behavior of  Iranians encouraged by countless police radar checks.  We nearly run out of petrol as the only pump station we find on the main motorway towards Teheran run dry and are forced to drive off road back to the junction in order to cross the motorway and get to the diesel on the other side.

The rest of the journey to Esfahan goes well and we reach it early in the evening, fail to find the hotel recommended by lonely planet as it went bust and accommodating ourselves in Hotel Pars on the main boulevard of Chahar Bagh-e Baia. The shower and European loo is a welcomed change to our camping habits and local food is absolutely delicious.  Can’t wait to explore the city itself tomorrow.