Standing in the courtyard of a 1600's cathedral in south Esfahan with christmas trees, lights and a santa in a train I am wondering whether I have entered a parallel universe. Then that horrible "Macarena" song comes on over the loudspeaker - it's a mixed dance version with "Joy to the world" interspersed in with it and i am really questioning the reality of the situation. Then I fall down some stairs and take out a chunk of my knee and my hand and I realise that this really is happening and also I am in a lot of pain. (Why do I always fall over?) Much consternation by the people around me - but just a bit of blood to clean up - which is hard because you aren't allowed to show leg here and most of the blood was coming out of my knee.
The Vank cathedral is the central part of the Armenian quarter here in Esfahan. The christians, jews and muslims have pretty much all gotten along with each other for hundreds of years in Iran. The "People of the Book" (christians, jews and mandeans) have their own reserved seats in parliament, don't have to do military service and aren't subject to the same restrictions as the muslim iranians. This picture of peaceful co-existance doesn't quite gel with how Bush Jnr and his cronies would have us think about Iran.
So anyway enough of the history and me being on my soapbox! Christmas day in Esfahan is peaceful - I went shopping and bought a very fine rug, a salt bag (for carrying your salt in the desert on your camel), and a lovely piccy of a camel painted onto some camel bone. Hope you all had a good xmas and not too many family fights. I'm off the the desert for a few days to hang out with some camels and eat some dates.
Cheers
Thursday, December 25, 2008
Scorn of the women
Bah, Sadaam, Sadaam, Sadaam wailed the old woman.
"what is she saying about Sadaam" I ask my guide Ashkan
"she is cursing him, they are all cursing him"
I am standing in a scrubby bit of wasteland near the Iraq border where some of the bloodiest battles of the Iran/Iraq war occurred in the 80's. I had no intention of being at this memorial but my guide knew I was interested in the war and thought he would take me. When we go there it was just a desolate area with some broken old tanks, lots of rusting shrapnel, rusty barbed wire and a new mosque. There was no-one else there. About 5 minutes later 3 bus loads of the wives and daughters of the dead martyrs turned up. So I was invited to a tour of the place that their husbands and fathers died over 20 years ago. We walked through the trenches, visited their trench mosque, climbed around the barbed wire together. None of these women spoke english but I was welcomed, kissed and many prayers were said for me - they even sang me a song. I was choking back tears at the sad wailing songs they were singing and the photos of their loved ones that they showed me. Then they all wanted to take my photo and kiss me and tell me they loved me. So it was kind of a carnival mixed with a sad and sombre event. Not sure how to describe it. But so far it's been the real stand out event of the trip - a random encounter of the most wonderful kind.
One woman was telling me (through Ashkan - but I could guess what she was saying through the tone of her voice and my scrappy farsi) that Iran will always be strong and that "is Israel attacks we will fight them" - but the other women around her didn't look so sure about that - they've seen enough tragedy and death in their lives already.
Oh and at the end we all put scorn on Sadaam I helped curse him as well.
"what is she saying about Sadaam" I ask my guide Ashkan
"she is cursing him, they are all cursing him"
I am standing in a scrubby bit of wasteland near the Iraq border where some of the bloodiest battles of the Iran/Iraq war occurred in the 80's. I had no intention of being at this memorial but my guide knew I was interested in the war and thought he would take me. When we go there it was just a desolate area with some broken old tanks, lots of rusting shrapnel, rusty barbed wire and a new mosque. There was no-one else there. About 5 minutes later 3 bus loads of the wives and daughters of the dead martyrs turned up. So I was invited to a tour of the place that their husbands and fathers died over 20 years ago. We walked through the trenches, visited their trench mosque, climbed around the barbed wire together. None of these women spoke english but I was welcomed, kissed and many prayers were said for me - they even sang me a song. I was choking back tears at the sad wailing songs they were singing and the photos of their loved ones that they showed me. Then they all wanted to take my photo and kiss me and tell me they loved me. So it was kind of a carnival mixed with a sad and sombre event. Not sure how to describe it. But so far it's been the real stand out event of the trip - a random encounter of the most wonderful kind.
One woman was telling me (through Ashkan - but I could guess what she was saying through the tone of her voice and my scrappy farsi) that Iran will always be strong and that "is Israel attacks we will fight them" - but the other women around her didn't look so sure about that - they've seen enough tragedy and death in their lives already.
Oh and at the end we all put scorn on Sadaam I helped curse him as well.
From the heart - pt 2
I'm not sure what to write about.....
Tabriz
Tabriz
Lovely city in the top left hand corner of Iran. Bloody cold though. While the city only has a couple of "must sees" it is a very friendly place for an introduction to Iran.
Highlights:- breakfasts of yoghurt and honey in a shop in the bazaar. Sounds simple but when eating this sitting in a busy little shop where no-one speaks english but they all smile at you and want to make sure you like Iran, well it's just lovely. One morning I asked for Chay (tea) and the young boy just shook his head and said Na - the place only seemed to serve warm milk - but his boss/father admonished the kid for not helping me and a cuppa quickly turned up in front of me from the shop next door. bless.
- Watching an 8 year old girl totally lose it when being put on an escalator for the first time in her life. The family must have been regional because the little girls where in the full chadoor, and at that age that is not common. So they've got 2 girls (8 and about 10), mum, dad and grandma and they are trying to get grandma and youngest daughter onto escalator to go down (the up escalator wasn't working so they had to use it as stairs) - grandma is holding onto dad with all her might with hers eyes tightly shut, the older daughter is having a ball and the little one is just screaming and crying. They all stopped at the bottom - causing a mass pile up - and there was no way the little one was going to be able to get off the escalator - so i grabbed her under the arms and carried her off to her parents. I am not sure whether she was more scared of me (prob never seen a whitey before) or the escalator.
Decent cups of coffee: 0
Friday, December 19, 2008
From The Heart
Oh Iran, what a wonderful place you are!
Finally, after about 10 years of wishing and 3 years of trying I made it in.
Small victory dance done on border much to bemusement of border guards.
OK so its been some time since I last blogged but oh well.
Got into Iran 2 days ago from the Dogubayazit border in east Turkey. I'd not seen a fellow backpackers since I left Palmyra about 2 weeks before and there on a remote border town getting into the same minibus for the 30k hop to the border was another backpacker. The convo went something like this:
"Hi"
"G'day"
"So another Australian"
"Yup, where you from?"
"Melbourne"
"Same, whereabouts?"
"East Brunswick"
Me: "North Brunswick"
So what are the odds of that happening, another person who lives 5 minutes from where I live.
So my fellow Brunswickian (Adam) and I got into Iran easily and got some serious help, with getting a share taxi and some fantastic lunch, from 2 Iranian guys who sorted out all the details and got us the same price they paid - one was a student and one was a lawyer. Wonderful guys. We had this lunch at what looked to be a dive in the backsteets of Mako. You'd never eat there in a million years. But it's where the cabbies go and my god it was good. A kind of osso bucco with chickpeas, piping hot with bread, a pickled salad thingy and a cuppa for about $3.
So, first impressions of Iran.
Finally, after about 10 years of wishing and 3 years of trying I made it in.
Small victory dance done on border much to bemusement of border guards.
OK so its been some time since I last blogged but oh well.
Got into Iran 2 days ago from the Dogubayazit border in east Turkey. I'd not seen a fellow backpackers since I left Palmyra about 2 weeks before and there on a remote border town getting into the same minibus for the 30k hop to the border was another backpacker. The convo went something like this:
"Hi"
"G'day"
"So another Australian"
"Yup, where you from?"
"Melbourne"
"Same, whereabouts?"
"East Brunswick"
Me: "North Brunswick"
So what are the odds of that happening, another person who lives 5 minutes from where I live.
So my fellow Brunswickian (Adam) and I got into Iran easily and got some serious help, with getting a share taxi and some fantastic lunch, from 2 Iranian guys who sorted out all the details and got us the same price they paid - one was a student and one was a lawyer. Wonderful guys. We had this lunch at what looked to be a dive in the backsteets of Mako. You'd never eat there in a million years. But it's where the cabbies go and my god it was good. A kind of osso bucco with chickpeas, piping hot with bread, a pickled salad thingy and a cuppa for about $3.
So, first impressions of Iran.
- A suprising amount of tinsel for sale for a country with not many christians and not much need of christmas decorations.
- Insane traffic. The rules are: Ignore all traffic lights, reverse up one way streets (at speed), drive onto the footpath with no regard for pedestrians and use your horn as much as possible. The only way to cross the street is to be careful and make sure you cross near an Iranian with them closest to the trafiic.
- Very friendly people. I got conscripted into helping with an english language converstaion class yesterday. Was just ambling about a museum when Neema pounced and asked if I would come along to the class she teaches. It was great. Just went out to the El-Goli park on the bus and a lady (hamadhi) who wasn't actually going to the park insisted on coming with me and then showing me the right bus. Then a young girl, about 16, insisted on paying my bus fare back to town.
- Buses are odd. Men go in the front door, women in the back - you have to pay the driver at the front door - get out of the bus then go into your entrance.
- I'm sick of my headscarfe already.
- Can't do anything without being offerred a cuppa.
Had some interesting conversations with people in their 20's about religion and politics - taboo subjects here - but they wanted to discuss those topics. Fascinating stuff.
Ok well enough for now
Friday, December 5, 2008
Merhaba
That´d be Turkish for hello.
Stuck wıth a Turkish keyboard so pls forgive any random spelling, missing punctuatıon or odd looking letters.
Am currently in Malatya. Possibly the friendliest cıty ın Turkey. Got here 2 days ago and have been looked after so well - no-one speaks much english but there is generally always someone around who does speak some.
Ive been fed so much tea that I am sıck of the sıght of it - and have got another 2 months of tea beıng constantly fed to me. Oh well,if thats my only complaint........
So far not too much excitıng has happened, but there have been a few crınge worthy or laugh out loud moments that are worth sharing.
Palmyra
Im a bıg fan of Syria and quite love Palmyra (2nd AD on - lots of ruins - generally a tops place). I thınk the photos should be up by now.
So Im wanderıng around Palmyra and get accosted by an older bloke who wants me to pay him to guide me - I decline. But hes up for a chat about the Mumbai attack. I am coughıng and have blocked ears from the lurgy Ive had for a couple of weeks so Im not much up for a chat. Anyway he wants to know what frux means - frux I say through coughıng and splutterıng, yes Miss, frux. Oh Ok I say and then burst ınto major coughing attack. He says thanks and wanders off. About half an hour later I realıse that he was askıng what flux meant as ın state of flux (ıe Mumbaı after attack) and that I have left him wıth impression that flux means coughing. So the next tıme he and his buddıes are watchıng BBC and someone says the the sıtuatıon ıs ın a state of flux they are goıng to thınk that there ıs a state of coughıng and wheezıng.
Just doing my bit to further confuse non-englısh speakers all around the world....
Dier Ez-Zur
Survived not being bombed by Americans at the sıtes just near the Iraq border. Happy about that.
It was raining and muddy. While exploring sıte of Mari (google it - very old and imp sıte) I slıpped over and fell ınto an excavation pıt. Fortunately dıd not break anythıng ımp (lıke old bıts of 5000 year old pottery or any of my bones). Luckily only bruised my ego and was glad that there was no one around to see me humiliate myelf. When I got back to my taxı my driver he was trying not to laugh at me - he and the 5 villagers that lıved there, attempt to clean me up wıth a hose wıth a trıcklıng of water and a box of tissues. Needless to say that had little impact of the worlds stickiest clay.
Will post adventures of Turkey soon.
Stuck wıth a Turkish keyboard so pls forgive any random spelling, missing punctuatıon or odd looking letters.
Am currently in Malatya. Possibly the friendliest cıty ın Turkey. Got here 2 days ago and have been looked after so well - no-one speaks much english but there is generally always someone around who does speak some.
Ive been fed so much tea that I am sıck of the sıght of it - and have got another 2 months of tea beıng constantly fed to me. Oh well,if thats my only complaint........
So far not too much excitıng has happened, but there have been a few crınge worthy or laugh out loud moments that are worth sharing.
Palmyra
Im a bıg fan of Syria and quite love Palmyra (2nd AD on - lots of ruins - generally a tops place). I thınk the photos should be up by now.
So Im wanderıng around Palmyra and get accosted by an older bloke who wants me to pay him to guide me - I decline. But hes up for a chat about the Mumbai attack. I am coughıng and have blocked ears from the lurgy Ive had for a couple of weeks so Im not much up for a chat. Anyway he wants to know what frux means - frux I say through coughıng and splutterıng, yes Miss, frux. Oh Ok I say and then burst ınto major coughing attack. He says thanks and wanders off. About half an hour later I realıse that he was askıng what flux meant as ın state of flux (ıe Mumbaı after attack) and that I have left him wıth impression that flux means coughing. So the next tıme he and his buddıes are watchıng BBC and someone says the the sıtuatıon ıs ın a state of flux they are goıng to thınk that there ıs a state of coughıng and wheezıng.
Just doing my bit to further confuse non-englısh speakers all around the world....
Dier Ez-Zur
Survived not being bombed by Americans at the sıtes just near the Iraq border. Happy about that.
It was raining and muddy. While exploring sıte of Mari (google it - very old and imp sıte) I slıpped over and fell ınto an excavation pıt. Fortunately dıd not break anythıng ımp (lıke old bıts of 5000 year old pottery or any of my bones). Luckily only bruised my ego and was glad that there was no one around to see me humiliate myelf. When I got back to my taxı my driver he was trying not to laugh at me - he and the 5 villagers that lıved there, attempt to clean me up wıth a hose wıth a trıcklıng of water and a box of tissues. Needless to say that had little impact of the worlds stickiest clay.
Will post adventures of Turkey soon.
Tuesday, December 2, 2008
Miles to Go
The adventure begins
Amman, Damascus, Palmyra
I should have realised that going from Melbourne to Palmyra (middle of Syria) in one haul, after a 12 hour unplanned stopover in Bangkok, was a bad idea.
Got to share taxi stand in Amman for the trip to Damascus. 3 years ago the share taxi trip to Damascus was a debacle - for those that haven't heard the story please read on - the rest of you can just skip ahead.
Feb 2006 - Craig and I get a share taxi (normal cab, 4 people pay a set price for each seat), there's 3 passengers, us and a Syrian girl. We pay our $10 and arrange to go to Baramke terminal in Damascus. The driver seems dodgy, he's sleazy and he's driving around in circles trying to get us to pay for the 4th seat so we can go. We pay. The whole way to the Syrian border this guy is trying to sleaze onto the Syrian girl, trying to stop to buy her tea and well, being a total tosser. We get to the border then the fun starts, he tells Craig and I that it's extra money from here and tries to get more money out of us. I've had it by now and get angry and threaten him with the police (lots around at this point) so he behaves a bit.
We get to the outskirts of Damascus and he announces "Damascus" and stops the cab and gets out. This is not Baramke. The Syrian girl leaves. Craig and I are standing next to the cab, with my getting angry and Craig being quiet and looking somewhat scared (of what I might do to the cab driver). Other cabs pull over, people start to cluster around, I'm refusing to backi down and in pigeon english and hand signals I am telling the assembled crowd that we pay our money and want to go to Baramke, I am getting nods of yes right and a few people having a go at the cabby (no-one likes Jordan cab drivers so they were an easy crowd to win over).
More people start gathering, clearly the most drama anyone has seen for days - but neither me nor the cabby are going to back down, we both want to save face. In exasperation the cabby goes to the boot and tries to pull out our backpacks - I hop in the boot and sit on backpacks, cross my arms and say "Baramke". The crowd quietens. Craig starts to look really worried. The driver gets his wallet out and pays another cabby to take us to Baramke. Much stifled giggling from the crowd. Our new driver is telling the story to all the other drivers as we go along. Hilarious to all the other drivers. It takes me a day to see the funny side of it.....
Anyway back to 2008.
After my last experience I was not feeling so hot about getting the share taxi again - but I'm not one to learn from my mistakes so I try it again. I'm half expecting to see my picture up with a "warning - do not take this crazy woman to Damascus".
This time I'm sharing with Mahammoud and his daughter, Rina. Rina lives in Lebanon but holds a Jordanian passport and has been in Amman for the day trying to work out how to get her new born baby daughter a Jordanian passport - Rina's husband is a Palestinian. She couldn't get one and is keen to get home to her baby. I should add Rina is in full burkha, and clearly was not allowed to go to Amman without a male relative. I decide to pay for the extra seat so we can get a move on. M and R are just lovely. I have somewhere to stay in Beirut anytime I am in that town. We get to Damascus and an argument starts between M and the cabby - something about Baramke is all I call tell. Yep, he doesn't want to go to Baramke. This I cannot believe. Argument continues. And continues. We stop and get out. Argument continues. But no theatrics required this time. Cabby hands over enough for the fare to Baramke to M and we head off.
Anyway M takes me to the bus station for Palmyra, totally out of his way, but he really wanted to help. He gets me to the right counter for my ticket and bids me farewell - what a sweet old guy.
I head over to bus. Strap on backpack breaks, I stumble and fall over, backpack falls to ground in mud puddle. humiliating. Find sewing kit and sit on steps, with a growing audience and do some emergency repairs.
Was very happy to get to Palmyra that night - some 50 hours after I left Melbourne.
Amman, Damascus, Palmyra
I should have realised that going from Melbourne to Palmyra (middle of Syria) in one haul, after a 12 hour unplanned stopover in Bangkok, was a bad idea.
Got to share taxi stand in Amman for the trip to Damascus. 3 years ago the share taxi trip to Damascus was a debacle - for those that haven't heard the story please read on - the rest of you can just skip ahead.
Feb 2006 - Craig and I get a share taxi (normal cab, 4 people pay a set price for each seat), there's 3 passengers, us and a Syrian girl. We pay our $10 and arrange to go to Baramke terminal in Damascus. The driver seems dodgy, he's sleazy and he's driving around in circles trying to get us to pay for the 4th seat so we can go. We pay. The whole way to the Syrian border this guy is trying to sleaze onto the Syrian girl, trying to stop to buy her tea and well, being a total tosser. We get to the border then the fun starts, he tells Craig and I that it's extra money from here and tries to get more money out of us. I've had it by now and get angry and threaten him with the police (lots around at this point) so he behaves a bit.
We get to the outskirts of Damascus and he announces "Damascus" and stops the cab and gets out. This is not Baramke. The Syrian girl leaves. Craig and I are standing next to the cab, with my getting angry and Craig being quiet and looking somewhat scared (of what I might do to the cab driver). Other cabs pull over, people start to cluster around, I'm refusing to backi down and in pigeon english and hand signals I am telling the assembled crowd that we pay our money and want to go to Baramke, I am getting nods of yes right and a few people having a go at the cabby (no-one likes Jordan cab drivers so they were an easy crowd to win over).
More people start gathering, clearly the most drama anyone has seen for days - but neither me nor the cabby are going to back down, we both want to save face. In exasperation the cabby goes to the boot and tries to pull out our backpacks - I hop in the boot and sit on backpacks, cross my arms and say "Baramke". The crowd quietens. Craig starts to look really worried. The driver gets his wallet out and pays another cabby to take us to Baramke. Much stifled giggling from the crowd. Our new driver is telling the story to all the other drivers as we go along. Hilarious to all the other drivers. It takes me a day to see the funny side of it.....
Anyway back to 2008.
After my last experience I was not feeling so hot about getting the share taxi again - but I'm not one to learn from my mistakes so I try it again. I'm half expecting to see my picture up with a "warning - do not take this crazy woman to Damascus".
This time I'm sharing with Mahammoud and his daughter, Rina. Rina lives in Lebanon but holds a Jordanian passport and has been in Amman for the day trying to work out how to get her new born baby daughter a Jordanian passport - Rina's husband is a Palestinian. She couldn't get one and is keen to get home to her baby. I should add Rina is in full burkha, and clearly was not allowed to go to Amman without a male relative. I decide to pay for the extra seat so we can get a move on. M and R are just lovely. I have somewhere to stay in Beirut anytime I am in that town. We get to Damascus and an argument starts between M and the cabby - something about Baramke is all I call tell. Yep, he doesn't want to go to Baramke. This I cannot believe. Argument continues. And continues. We stop and get out. Argument continues. But no theatrics required this time. Cabby hands over enough for the fare to Baramke to M and we head off.
Anyway M takes me to the bus station for Palmyra, totally out of his way, but he really wanted to help. He gets me to the right counter for my ticket and bids me farewell - what a sweet old guy.
I head over to bus. Strap on backpack breaks, I stumble and fall over, backpack falls to ground in mud puddle. humiliating. Find sewing kit and sit on steps, with a growing audience and do some emergency repairs.
Was very happy to get to Palmyra that night - some 50 hours after I left Melbourne.
Away, Away
Well not quite....
Bangkok airport intervened in what should have been a 29 hour trip to Amman (Jordan) had an extra 12 hours added on.
I've always thought long haul international travel was the 10th layer of hell, so was quite happy to get upgraded to business class for the leg to Hong Kong - the individual beds and latest series of Dr Who kind as well! But that was to end, rather ubruptly with a stop in Bangkok. I didn't even know I was going via Bangkok until we landed and the crew said, "umm dunno how long we are going to be here, maybe we will leave again soon". 12 hours later we left - it could have been much worse.
There was an ugly Australian on the flight who insisted on yelling at the Thai ground staff, who also had no idea what was going on, and was really the most obnoxious person I've had the misfortune to deal with in recent times. I'd had enough of his bellyaching after a while and told him off - I had a good yell at him and felt much better after that.
I'd rather not relive the rest of the flight, had very stinky Sudanese guy next to me, crying and screaming toddlers a few rows back and a guy behind me who insisted on bringing up his flem every 5 minutes. The less said about the flight the better.
Bangkok airport intervened in what should have been a 29 hour trip to Amman (Jordan) had an extra 12 hours added on.
I've always thought long haul international travel was the 10th layer of hell, so was quite happy to get upgraded to business class for the leg to Hong Kong - the individual beds and latest series of Dr Who kind as well! But that was to end, rather ubruptly with a stop in Bangkok. I didn't even know I was going via Bangkok until we landed and the crew said, "umm dunno how long we are going to be here, maybe we will leave again soon". 12 hours later we left - it could have been much worse.
There was an ugly Australian on the flight who insisted on yelling at the Thai ground staff, who also had no idea what was going on, and was really the most obnoxious person I've had the misfortune to deal with in recent times. I'd had enough of his bellyaching after a while and told him off - I had a good yell at him and felt much better after that.
I'd rather not relive the rest of the flight, had very stinky Sudanese guy next to me, crying and screaming toddlers a few rows back and a guy behind me who insisted on bringing up his flem every 5 minutes. The less said about the flight the better.
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