The ruins of Keshit

Bam and Yazd are very well preserved and the castle of Rayen as well. However, the village of Keshit has had its struggles over time is more a ruin than any of the other places. Nonetheless this is wear our hearts pounded harder than anywhere else. Was it the palmtrees surround the village? The fact that we were alone there? Or that it came as a total surprise driving for hours in the desert where rocks made up for the lack of trees and mirrages on the road were more common than a bypasser. Or maybe it was as simple as the fact that we didn’t have to pay an entrance fee, travelling the world doesn’t make us less Dutch 😉

Anyway, Keshit, a city in ruins thanks to time and humans neglecting to take care of it and Bam, a city half in ruins where UNESCO is rebuilding the city as if it’s new. Same Adobe but the difference couldn’t be bigger. 

BAM, a city of mud

Its amazing to walk through the now deserted street of the ancient city of Bam. Walk where hundreds of merchants once walked. Selling their goods on the small bazar, walking through the tiny alleys in search of a pub to find that one special item. I imagine a dragons egg or a phoenix feather. Its not a big city like Persepolis or Baalbek in Lebanon. But big enough to be of importance with a castle so impressive people must have feared it’s inhabitant. Or maybe not, maybe they were as amazed by its grandeur as we are today. Knowing no fear of visiting and touching its walls, walking through the gates as if the owner is a good friend. My mind goes into as many directions as did the travellers of old age. While walking the streets of Bam I wonder how it once looked, with the people who have left this earth a long time ago. Would it be smelly here? Noisy? Dirty? As were the North – Western cities back in the days. Where poverty was plenty, food a luxury and sickness thrives. But those were cold and wet cities like Amsterdam and London. What about a city built near the hottest place on earth.

As Western as I am, I imagine great looking people with sun darkened skin and bright eyes. With turbans of light colours that highlights their skin tones and long dresses that move with the wind. I imagine people selling carpets, trading goods, gossiping. Children running around, women chatting while doing laundry, men talking business in the busy bazar. While walking through the narrow alleys I almost hear them shout about their goods, smell their spices, see what they see.

Where the buildings speak UNESCO

But none of it is left besides the buildings. And those buildings speak UNESCO. “Probably the main Jewish house”, “the father of Iman built this school”, “there is a holly place inside the mosque for BAM people”. UNESCO requires these information boards but doesn’t scrutinise the quality of its content. So we stroll through yet another UNESCO site wondering if this is the best that can happen to a site of historical importance. Getting the UNESCO label; a stamp of historical, cultural or social approval. Which means UNESCO decides whatever happens, how the renovation is going, what is allowed and what not, how to preserve a site and apparently the quantity, not quality, of information boards. That, like Petra in Jordan, a site is full with shops selling the same things and offering animal abusive rides on donkeys or camels is out of the hands of UNESCO apparently. In Bam no such rides can be found – luckily – however the shops, in high season, are selling goods that have nothing to do with the cultural significance of the site or area but more with the ignorance of tourists travelling to such a place. In Petra it’s shawls, bags and knick knacks that are so called handmade by the Bedouin tribe but the ‘made in China’ tag reveals their true descent. 

Anyway, long story short, Bam would be the last Adobe city we visited. For a while at least. It’s time to sweat at the Persian Gulf! 

Love, Milene & Yuri

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Problems in the desert

After a while we decided to call it a night as we would wake up early the next day to watch the sunrise. Sun is life, as is water. And while there is no escaping the sun in the desert, the latter is harder to find, or impossible to find. We brought 20 liters with us, thinking it would be enough. What do you think?

First, sunrise. We hiked atop the highest kalout, natural phenomenons sculptured by erosion, we could find. There it was, another day had begun. The more the sun rose the smaller the shadows and the warmer the sand. Making life in the desert unbearable from 7am till far after dawn. Nonetheless we stayed a while longer to inhale the landscape until the dust made us choke and the heat took our breath away.

While getting our asses as far away from Earths hottest place (71 degrees Celsius have been measured here) a flat tire made us stay a little longer. In 20 minutes, with a lot of cursing and draining our water supply we were on the road again. Not far because I’m Shahdad we hope to change our tire. Or fix it. But it’s Friday, which is a holy day in Iran and also a day that most things are closed. Also in Shahdad, a town at the border of the desert, where any other day is also considered a Friday when summer started. Luckily someone knew someone and that someone had a key to a shop where we could repair our tire. Which we did. Changing a tire is a lot quicker than fixing one. It took us two hours in total to get our tire fixed. Which meant: the heat is out. And so we’re we.

Taking it slow gets a new meaning

Taking it slow, very slow, with multiple – make it many – stops along the way. Alexine taking the meaning of slow travel very serious and overheating quicker than a mosquito flying into fire we had to take our time. Unfortunately the road we took wasn’t as spectacular as we hoped it would be. From village to village through an uninteresting valley cleared of forests and used only for cultivation of fruits. When we we happy to made it onto a pass we had another steep climb in front of us. And when we were relieved watching the road descent we soon saw it go up again. And then with 1.5 more hour to go the tarmac road resolved into a dirt road. Giving ‘taking it slow’ another meaning. 1.5 hour became three, luckily this time the landscape was worth taking it slow. From brown mountains to bright red, yellow and white ones. From boring villages to true oasis with palmtrees, cute little houses and happy kids waving us goodbye while stunting on their motorcycles. 

It didn’t take long before we entered the desert plane, there where the only thing you see is the heat above the tarmac road. No trees, no humans, no end in sight. Just desolation. It became so hot we even had trouble seeing clearly, the UV filters of our cheap sunglasses put to the test (and failing as I later felt in my eyes).

The road went ever on and on and we could see as far as the next hill. After which we hoped to see our destination for the day but were instead surprised by another mirage of nothingness and heat in which we thought we saw palmtrees and houses made of mud. But after the umpteenth hill we finally saw an oasis of date palmtrees, of an ancient village made out of mud houses and of children as young as 10 on motorcycles. “Are we seeing this clearly?”, after rubbing our eyes a couple of times we agreed, this must be Keshit! 

The oasis named Keshit

The closer we got to Keshit, the more speechless we got. This picturesque and foregone city of Keshit made all the troubles of earlier evaporated with the heath. The energy flowed back into our bodies, unlike the water that got down to 5 liters already. The ancient village might be worth the troubles but it doesn’t offer water. Wrong!

Behind the ancient village of Keshit lies the modern village of Keshit. A village of date palmtrees, of qanats that run through the village like a vein through our body, and of people who own shops where they sell water. Saved by the oasis we decided to stay not one but two nights here. And we did that in style, between the palm trees. In the day we cooled down in the river that flows to the village and at night we ate ice cream at the roundabout which happens the be the place where everything happens. Everything being; men chatting, children playing and boys driving motorcycles. Women weren’t seen at the roundabout. Instead they were outside each other’s homes, gossiping I presume. 

That continued until late at night but long before the last call we made it back to our quiet spot in between the palmtrees next to the river and under a blanket of more stars than we could count. I can’t imagine people wanting to live on another planet if this is right here, on ours. And as long as we didn’t find a way to understand the songs of birds in the morning, I have no desire to talk to an alien. Although, maybe the songs of birds sounds so beautiful because we don’t know the words. Just like a language you don’t understand so the only thing you hear is the melody the people speak with. Once you know the meaning the melody disappears, however beautiful the language. Maybe that’s the reason I never really got to learn French. It sounds much more romantic without knowing it’s meaning. 

Some photos

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It is hot, but the shade inside the caravanserai is pure blizz. However, at the moment I am sitting on top of the caravanserai where the wind blows over the top just hard enough to cool me down a bit. Long shadows arise while the sun is setting and the mountains in the distance stand tall yet never grow. Birds are singing and even an owl shows her magnificent wings. Footsteps of foxes and goats are seen around the caravanserai and stories of a deadly scorpion are shared. 

We do not know yet what the night will bring but this moment, on our Persian carpet on top of the caravanserai is pure happiness. While the wind blows more fierce than before it takes words of happiness and gratefulness with it. The only things that’s left are indescribably emotions and feelings left unspoken. And it’s okay. While the connection with the outside world is fading the being here and now has returned. One hand on the ground and the other holding a book. No distractions, except for nature whose disturbance is ever welcome.  

On top of the caravanserai

The caravanserai has been inviting visitors for many many years and still does his job well. Providing shelter, shadow and serenity. A place where one can rest, without being disturbed by modern times. By to do lists and notifications. By postings on social media and the business of the city. The chaos of modern life feels as far away as the nearest town. 

This must be it. How Aladdin felt in ‘Arabian Nights’ and Ibn Battuta after a long day of hiking in the blistering sun. While they sat on top of the caravanserai watching over the desert where the land merges with the sky on the horizon. 

Grains of sand in my hair, salt on my broken lips, dirty feet. No shower, no toilet, no shame. Travelling is romantic yet smelly. Sweat washed away by the wind, water too precious to have a shower with. Desert life, travel life, van life. It’s all about letting go of what is thought to be normal nowadays, about finding your inner animal, the human who could live in the wild.

Happiness in the desert

Because a hot shower, proper toilet and clean feet don’t contribute to happiness. Sunsets, clear skies and fallen stars do. Mountains, deserts and ancient buildings do. Exploring, adventure, action do. Alright alright, writing a blog and reading the reactions of friends, families and even strangers makes us happy as well. But all should be in balance. 

Back to this ancient caravanserai I’m sitting atop. A gem on the Silk Road and a gem today. In the middle of the desert a place to take a breath, to enjoy the sunset and the Milky Way at night. A place to read a book, not the news. To check the surroundings and get excited about tiny animals that crawl around. A place to put your carpet on top and marvel over the incredible view and the road that leads nowhere and everywhere at the same time. 

It’s getting more windy now which feels great but also means not to many stars will be visible tonight due to the sand in the sky. Well, I guess we have to stay another night! 

Another day at the caravanserai

Wow, things unexpectedly changed. For the better I would say. While enjoying the sunset some cars and a motorbike arrived at the caravanserai. Long story short, we were invited to dinner, had nice chats and enjoyed a campfire. The guys are from Varzaneh and come here to ride their bikes through the desert and mountains. They often sleep at this caravanserai. So instead of being with the two of us, we were surrounded by old friends (the Belgians arrived a night before we did) and new friends. 

This morning we woke up early to have breakfast and head to the mountains for a hike. Not all things go as planned and after we had breakfast with our new friends, fixed our exhaust pipe (it got lose) and cleaned Alexine it was already too hot to have a hike so instead we had a short drive.

When we came back to the caravanserai everyone was gone. So we enjoyed some alone time, catched up on some editing, read a book (I’m reading a really good and fun one about the Silk Road) and watched the birds (incl an owl) that call this caravanserai their home. 

During lunch time two cyclists entered the caravanserai. It happened to be Bob, a Belgian cyclist we met in Isfahan a couple of days ago, and his friend Mostafa. We had a nice lunch and chat and wished them well because they had another 60km to go. 

And back to the quietness of the desert again. Really there is nothing but beautiful emptiness here. The wind blows fiercely through my hair. Yeah, my hair! There is nothing but mountains and desert sand around us so besides not having internet, I also don’t have a headscarf that prevents my head from cooling down. What we do have are flies. Everywhere! Even the wind doesn’t stop them from crawling around. They don’t take lunch breaks, and love sitting around for dinner time. If one animal in Iran explores the true meaning of taarof it is the flies. Other than that we’re having the time of our life’s here. 

Far away from towns, people and internet. And that happened to be just what we needed. A break, some time off, freedom to the max! Because you ain’t really free if you have a to do list right? Our Belgian friends always say “moeten is dwang” which translates to “a must do is an undesirable force” and means ‘if you MUST do something, it’s by force not by will’. And I totally get that. Of course, there are things we must do; breathe, drink, eat, sleep. But all other ‘musts’ are forced upon you. Either by yourself or someone else.  

Deep thoughts 😉

While I’m getting stuck into what I must and mustn’t do, the shining sun turns into a million shining stars. We drink our IPA (Iran Pale Ale – 0%) on the roof of the caravanserai one last time. Tomorrow we will be heading to Yazd to extend our visa, visit a carpet weaver and be mesmerised by the first airconditioners the world has known! And they look a lot better than the ones we have now.

Stay tuned!

Love, Milene & Yuri

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