Ko Phi Phi Ley island, Thailand.

I was filled with anticipation for our two dives at Ko Phi Phi Ley because they were our first dives that were not part of our scuba training and also our first dives not in the waters around the Thai island of Ko Tao.

The atmosphere was completely different from Ban’s Diving School. It was relaxed and calm. None of the boat crew or our two dive masters did anything very fast. They were truly living life at island pace.

As I spat in my mask one last time before preparing to go down for our second dive, our dive master asked me, “So, what do you want to see?”

“Um......I’d love to see a giant moray.”

“And have you seen a string ray?” she asked.

“No, never. It’d be fantastic to see a Lion Fish also.” I replied, thinking to myself that I must be asking for the world wanting to see all three of those creatures in one dive.

“Ok. I’ll see what I can do,” she smiled and gave me the “Okay” signal before the “Let’s go down” signal.

Chris preparing his scuba gear for his 10th dive, although Princess is the last word I’d use to describe Chris. Hee, hee.

Once we got down we had about 15 meters visibility. It was the best visibility Chris and I had ever had because unfortunately while we were learning in Ko Tao they were experiencing a bad month for visibility. I counted my breath, 3 seconds in and 5 out. I tried to relax all the muscles in my body. I tried to relax about all the things that can make you nervous under the water and have you constantly checking your gauges.

I looked at the fish swimming all around me, the school above who could only be seen as varying degrees and shades of grey silhouette’s.

“I am a fish. I belong here,” I thought to myself. I laughed a little at myself and smiled at how wonderful this dive was.

In the water you can spot one of the dive masters with a beginner diver. They were part of the group we went scuba diving with here at Ko Phi Phi Ley, the island where Leo filmed, “The Beach”.

We slowly swam above a sandy patch and hiding in a lonely piece of coral was a box fish! If you’ve never seen one before or never heard of one they are definitely worth checking out.  Their tiny fins are simply unable to control the direction of their body against even the slightest current. I suppose being shaped like a box doesn’t help their aerodynamic ability either.

Continuing above the sand I saw our dive master stop. I didn’t see a single thing but low and behold with her pointing stick she directed our attention to a stingray.  Upon seeing it I took a deep breath to ensure my somewhat inconsistent buoyancy didn’t send me downward on top of it. After all they contain a poison in their tail that they will whip over their bodies to stab potential threats. Many of you may recall the “Crocodile Hunter” dieing when a Bull stingray stabbed him through the chest.

We swam on and spotted another ray. I looked at my air. 60 bar. I didn’t have much time and that meant Chris had even less. Our dive master was motioning to us again.

“Wow,” I thought. She sure is amazing at finding the animals.

I swam closer and sticking it’s head out about 1.5 feet was a Giant Moray. Awesome!

And finally the fish I’ve liked since learning about it in Grade 6, the Lion Fish. I imagined it being around 5 inches in diameter but the ones we saw were only about 3 inches. What beauty.

I surfaced happy and content, eager to do diving again. Hopefully we’ll find a good deal in Vietnam. We’re heading there on August 15 via a 17 hour bus ride. I hope to dive at Nha Trang, but with such a tight schedule it might not be possible.

After our dive while we relaxed on the boat with hot cups of tea, another boat load of divers arrived. Before their boat came to a complete stop they started barreling off the back.

Related posts:

1. Leo DiCaprio’s beach, Maya Bay, on Ko Phi Phi Ley island in Thailand
2. Learning to scuba dive in Koh Tao, Thailand at Ban’s Diving Resort
3. The Thai island life

Our ferry started to make it’s way to the docks.  As it did so I saw ahead of us Ko Phi Phi Ley, the island from “The Beach”. Dark silky water cradled it as clouds tried to suffocate it from above.

The first time we laid our eyes on Ko Phi Phi Ley island.

Ko Phi Phi Ley island, Thailand and one of the bays that is absolutely fantastic for snorkeling.

The Viking cave on Ko Phi Phi Ley.

Chris lookin’ good on the way to the island.

Maya Bay beach, Ko Phi Phi Ley island. This is the beach used to film, “The Beach”, starring Leo DiCaprio.

Maya Bay beach, Ko Phi Phi Ley island. If you look to the right of the boat you’ll see a tiny black dot. That’s Chris enjoying a swim.

Sunset on Maya Bay.

Just before the sun wet down it shined through the clouds and cast beautiful light on Chris and the cliffs of Maya Bay.

Two couples that were part of our tour snap sunset photos of each other.

Maya Bay cliffs at sunset. Look how wonderful, soft and white the sand is!

Chris and Laura on Maya Bay beach, Ko Phi Phi Ley island, Thailand.

One of our guides entertaining us with a fire show late at night on Maya Bay beach on Ko Phi Phi Ley island.

Fire show.

Our other guide showing off his skills with fire.

I’m enjoying my very own bucket. Buckets, consisting of red bull, coke and Sangsom (cheap alcohol), are pretty big around the Thai islands, but the next day usually isn’t so great.

That night we slept on the beach with a woven mat, foam pillow and thin sleeping bag.  The bucket probably helped with how comfortable it all felt when Chris and I found a spot on the sand where the tied wouldn’t get us.

Before I knew what was happening, Chris was yelling at me and I was running down the beach with the woven mat flopping behind me like a cape as I held it over my head for protection. The sleeping bag and pillow were stuck under one armpit and my hand oddly grasped my purse.

“The umbrellas! The umbrellas!” I yelled to Chris as we ran.

“What? What are you talking about? We don’t have umbrellas,” he hollered back as he bounced along the sand.

Apparently when it started raining on me while I was sleeping I started dreaming about umbrellas, and when I was half awake running down the beach I was convinced they were real and that we had left them behind. Oh goodness.

To say the least our sleep was quite uncomfortable. Nearly every part of me was wet, mosquitoes were having a feast and the humidity made the sleeping bag stick to my skin. Chris and I joined the rest of our group under the sheltered sleeping area which was made of tarps over pieces of ply wood. Besides the red bull, coke, Sangsom hangover, I was glad to wake up and enjoy looking at the beauty of the beach over a cup of Nescafe.

Related posts:

1. Scuba diving at Ko Phi Phi Ley island in Thailand
2. The Thai island life
3. Thai Food, mostly

Here are a few shots I took around Bangkok. I really enjoyed Bangkok with its huge roads, skyscrapers, prostitutes, millions of massage shops (careful which one you go in), lady-boys, cheap clothes ( bikini $6-$9), sidewalk shops and restaurants that can establish themselves anywhere.

This is the inside of the hostel we stayed at in Bangkok, called Suk 11. They converted an apartment building to look like you’re in a jungle paradise.

Hostel Suk 11 in Bangkok. For $22 CAN we got our own room, shared bathroom and breakfast.

Chris enjoying his dinner on the streets of Bangkok’s China Town.

Temple in Bangkok, Thailand.

Bangkok traffic.

The majestic roadways of Bangkok, Thailand.

Bangkok, Thailand.

Bangkok, Thailand.

The jungle of Bangkok or Bangkok is the jungle.....? Um?

Bangkok, Thailand.

Kung Po soup. It is very, very spicy, but delicious.

Bangkok, Thailand.

Bangkok, Thailand.

Bangkok, Thailand.

I thought these girls were just to cute, so I asked if I could take their photo.

Related posts:

1. Safe in Bangkok
2. Leo DiCaprio’s beach, Maya Bay, on Ko Phi Phi Ley island in Thailand
3. Learning to scuba dive in Koh Tao, Thailand at Ban’s Diving Resort

The magnificent walls of the Ali Qapu Palace in Naqsh-e Jahan Square in Esfahan.

The ceiling of the outdoor patio of Ali Qapu Palace in Esfahan.

Chris enjoying a break on the Palace patio. Esfahan, Iran.

I love the detail. Here is an example of the excellent craftsmanship in the Palace. Esfahan, Iran.

This mosque is found in Naqsh-e Jahan Square in Esfahan. Back in the day only women could worship inside.

Yazd, Iran

Chris wanted to take the picture from the perfect angle, but his guy beat him to it.

Laura trying her best to help keep the historical fort of Shiraz from falling.

Checkout the mannequins of Shiraz. This wasn’t even the best of them. Lots have real eye lashes, eye liner and hair styles ranging from the 1950’s greaser to 1990’s raver.

This lady befriended Chris and I on the bus from Yazd to Shiraz. She even gave me some hair clips and wanted a photo taken with me.

Here I am modeling the hair clip the lady gave me. Unfortunately it was so big it didn’t fit in my bag (wink) so I had to leave it behind.

The courtyard of our hotel in Yazd, Iran. It cost ~$40 CAN/night.

Beautiful Yazd, Iran.

Have you ever seen such a huge meat rotisserie? This was in a place called 110 Burgers in Shiraz, Iran.

A typical Iranian hotel breakfast consists of a hard boiled egg, cream cheese, thin bread, jams and tea.

Here’s proof that we have sent postcards to LOTS of people! This is only the batch of postcards we mailed from Iran. To date, we’ve sent postcards from Turkey, Italy, Morocco, Romania, Iran and Thailand. Hope you guys have enjoyed them! If you haven’t received one it’s probably because I don’t have your mailing address. All you gotta do is send it to me and a postcard will be coming your way.

Related posts:

1. Photos of Iran #1
2. Photos from Northern Iran
3. Photos from around Tehran, Iran

For now, enjoy these.

Handsome Chris posing in front of the majestic roof top view of Yazd, Iran.

Yazd, Iran.

Yazd, Iran.

The traditional “female” door knocker. There is a separate and different door knocker for men. This is so the person answering the door knows which sex to expect on the other side. If it is a man knocking and a woman is answering the door then she must first cover up with her head scarf and chador.

The traditional “male” door knocker. This set of door knockers was on the door an historical house in Yazd, Iran.

Some women of Yazd walking down one of the beautiful mud-brick streets.

An Iranian liscence plate.

Yazd, Iran.

Some boys playing soccer in the historical section of Yazd, Iran. Only the historical section is still made of mub-brick, everything else looks like any modern city.

One of the famous air-cooling shafts in the mud-brick buildings of Yazd, Iran.

I noticed this handprint on the wall while Chris and I walked through an historical mud-brick house that was currently under renovation and restoration.

When I saw this mirror in the same house as the white handprint I couldn’t help but take a funny photo. It looks like I’m sticking out my tongue even though I’m not.

The mirror worped and twisted my face in such amuzing ways, I just had to take another. Hope you enjoy it as much as I do.

Yazd, Iran (historical house).

Mud-brick buildings of Yazd, Iran.

Yazd, Iran.

Yazd, Iran.

A cute-ass cat that lived at our hotel in Yazd.

Related posts:

1. Photos of Iran #2
2. Photos from around Tehran, Iran
3. Photos from Northern Iran

We headed out at noon thinking that it would be a long day so we’d start later in order to see some of the nightlife in Iran. Besides being in love with the baking, Chris and I both fell in love with the fresh banana milkshakes. Chris thought that’d be the perfect way to start my special day.

Delicious Iranian baking.

More delicious baking.

Different varieties of fruit shakes are available throughout Iran. Um. Yummy!

After our refreshment we started walking through the winding, cool streets of the covered bazaar to get to the largest mosque in Iran, the Jameh Mosque.

We passed this spice store while walking to the Jameh mosque. I have an infatuation with the aesthetic of the spices.

One of many corridors in the Esfahan bazaar.

It was prayer time when we reached the mosque, so Chris and I found some shady steps and enjoyed an ice cream. It can sometimes seem impossible to find a restaurant in Iran. You can walk for kilometres before you find one. However if your diet consists of ice cream and fruit smoothies then this is the place for you.

While we walked around the mosque, a cute little boy of about 7 followed us around saying numerous things in Farsi we couldn’t understand, but also repeatedly saying “hello”, “Goodbye”, and “Holiday”.

Chris reading the description of the Jameh mosque from the infamous Lonely Planet.

After visiting the Jameh mosque, we did the 30-minute walk through a section of the covered bazaar that took us back to the UNESCO World Heritage Site, Naghsh-e Jahan Square. It is the second largest square in the world, second to China’s Tian’anmen Square in Beijing. Corridor after corridor we passed clothing stores, rug shops, table cloth shops, spice shops and ones full of many different objects like plates and pots hammered out of shinny copper or intricately painted pottery.

Fresh spices for sale in the Esfahan bazaar.

We walked and walked but still could not find a restaurant. As we hesitated at a crossroads of the bazaar a long curly-haired man yelled to us from the end of the corridor, “Come this way. It is better.” We walked towards him. He was pointing towards the covered bazaar,  which continued around the corner, as an alternative to walking in the blistering heat in the center of the square.

“I am nomad, but now I live in city. You want carpet? This is very nice carpet shop. Here is card for the Flying Carpet. Oh, you are hungry? I know very good restaurant. Come I’ll take you to it.”

He led us to one of the nicest restaurants we’ve seen. It seemed the perfect place for my birthday lunch.

Suddenly another man from the carpet shop had emerged. “If you like lunch then you come drink tea with us in shop. But if you don’t like lunch then you don’t come drink tea with us. Sound fair?”

We laughed and nodded, thanking the men as we entered the restaurant and the two of them backed away with smiles and waves as they were once again sucked into the business of the bazaar.

I had to get a photo with this over sized pot and cup in the restaurant. Chris says: “For once in her life, Laura really is a little tea pot.” I’m a little tea pot, short and stout?

Chris and I made ourselves comfortable on one of the wooden platforms in the courtyard of the restaurant. Sure enough we enjoyed some of the best food we had in Iran. Yogurt mixed with diced shallots, mint and garlic. Beef kebab and rice lightly seasoned with saffron. Salad with huge slices of cucumber and tomato accompanied by a French dressing and a baked aubergine in a rich tomato sauce. It was delicious.

Laura and Chris relaxin’ on a rug covered platform for lunch.

When we left the restaurant we exited through another door. My hopes were to avoid the carpet salesmen. I hurriedly ducked around displays of the intricate crafts made in the bazaar. I was only 3 meters from the end of the section when suddenly I heard, “So, did you enjoy your lunch?” the carpet man rested with his arm casually against a displayed carpet.

“Yes, very much so”, Chris replied “So I guess we better take you up on your tea offer.”

To my surprise the three men in the store were about our age and extremely relaxed. They were not pushy like the Turkish salesmen. None of them moved quickly, or without unnecessary reason. Without an order given or even a head nod one slipped away into the backroom almost without notice and presented four small glasses of tea and a sugar bowl on a silver tray. The traditional way of drinking tea is to place one of the rather large pieces of sugar in your mouth and then sip the tea through the sugar.

We chatted for nearly two hours and had such a great time that we tentatively put two kilim carpets aside for us. However the cost was $600, so we weren’t convinced. We left the carpet shop with many smiles and handshakes and took no more than ten steps before we stood in front of the great Imam Mosque.

We paid 5,000 rials each (roughly 0.50 cents) to enter. The ticket guard looked at our tickets and grunted to me, “Chador”. I went back to the ticket office and kindly asked for a chador. A chador is typically a black piece of fabric women drape over themselves, but the one he handed me was white with flowers.

The door knockers on Imam Mosque in theNaghsh-e Jahan square.

Chris and I were amazed with the size  and the artistry of the mosque. A few minutes after entering a man from the mosques religious school started to speak with us and offered to interpret the mosque. I found some of the stuff he said most interesting.

“How do you find the chador?” he asked me.

“Well, I don’t know how to wear it properly, but it’s fine.”

“Do you know why muslim women cover themselves?” Chris  explained his understanding and the man continued, “The beauty of a women is only for her husband. So this beauty must be covered.”

These words flittered in and out of my mind throughout the rest of the day and the next day. Does this mean that men are ugly and that women don’t want to look at men and that’s why they don’t need to cover up? And what about the 6 and 7-year olds I see with head scarves and the rare one in a chador? I’m guessing she doesn’t have a husband to protect her beauty for. When I told Chris this he told me, sarcastically, “You’re not suppose to use logic and reasoning.”

I thought that perhaps having to wear a headscarf for as long as I have (June 17 – July 10) I would have  a better understanding, but honestly it still complexes me like it did before. I understand that it is a religious thing. I understand that it is a conservative thing. I understand that black is the “most religious” colour because it draws the least attention especially for a women with no make-up and no hair showing.  However, in the temperatures we have been enduring day in and day out I cannot help but think it is one of the most impractical religious practices I have come across in our modern world. It is not only hot, but also extremely annoying in a car with the windows down or simply on a windy day. Not to mention you do not hear properly.

After all this time I still don’t understand. I’m not a religious person. I find certain aspects fascinating and interesting about religion but when it comes down to it I feel they strip the individual of individualistic thoughts. I despise how they are cult-like, contain brainwashing-like characteristics and can be the cause of conflict. I know there are good qualities about all religions; to me they are simply outnumbered by the bad.

But enough of my rant and back to the story. From the mosque and back into the blistering heat of 7:00 pm we did not get more than 15 feet from the door before our long curly-haired nomad beckoned us once again.

“How did you enjoy mosque? Very good.”

He started to point out minor architectural differences in the mosque, showing us how the mosque is in fact asymmetrical when at first glance it appears symmetrical.  “Look at the mosque. See on one side it is a mosaic but the other the same design is on large tiles? It is thought that the mosaic was by the master and the tiles were done by the student. Look here. You see this vase shape and how it is very detailed but on the other side the vase is plain. Perhaps master and student again, but also only Allah, only God, is perfect. That is why the mosque is made this way.”

“See over here there are motorcycles parked, but on this side there are none, only God is perfect!” He chuckled at what must be one of his most common jokes for the tourists.

We thanked him for sharing his information and proceeded to walk around the fountain in front of the mosque.

“Don’t go this way. There is nothing over there.” One of the young men from the carpet shop yelled at us as he sat on a nearby wall.

“Really? There’s nothing this way.” Chris said.

“No, because our carpet shop is that way.” He pointed back to the carpet store we left two hours ago but only managed to get 40 feet from.  We chuckled and bade him “Hoda Hafez”, essentially “Goodbye.”

As we crossed the street of the grand Naghsh-e Jahan square, six horse drawn carriages jingled past. The horses trotted the same path for the countless time but the passengers were fresh and jolly like all the ones who came before them.

We were just taking our first few steps across the 500-meter long square when we were approached by two young men, one rather tall and other quite petit, both with gaping grins reaching from ear to ear and a politeness that surrounded them.

“Hello. Welcome to Iran. Where are you from? Do you have some time to speak with us for a few minutes?” said the smaller fellow.

By this point Chris and I both felt a strong need and want to get to the tea shop across the square. We had been trying to reach it for two hours.

“Thank you. We are from Canada.”

“Oh wow! We have been coming to this square nearly every day, every weekend for the past two years and I think that you are the first Canadians we have ever met,” gleamed the taller, stockier fellow.

“We would like to speak, but we have been trying to reach the tea shop over there for almost two hours. We’ve only made it 40 feet because we keep meeting people. But perhaps we can talk for five or ten minutes.” Chris replied.

“Oh yes that would be very nice. We both studied English in university but finished two years ago. So we like to practice it when we can.” the petit man replied.

“You know. Why don’t you come to the tea shop with us? Please would you like to come? It will be our treat.”

Both talking at once and over top of each other the men replied.

“Oh well. “

“I suppose we could”

“But we must leave by 8:00 pm”

“And you are our guests, so it will be our treat.”

“Yes, you’re our guests,“ they both insisted.

With that, Chris and I and our two new friends both named Ali, made it across the square, into the narrow doorway and up the uneven, winding stairs of different heights into the tea shop. We stepped out onto the patio for a spectacular birds-eye view of the entire square.  We sat down but were quickly ushered to another seat because we had apparently sat in the “bachelor” section. My presence had caused quite the stir in the regular routine of the server. It is very uncommon to find segregated areas in Iran, but tea shops are generally male-dominated.

We sat down on one of the long backless metal benches covered with a synthetic, machine-made Persian carpet. The wall of the building was to our backs and the heat of the day reflected off it making it feel as if we were in front of an oven.  Sweat dripped down my face and collected under my bangs. My jacket clung to my skin and the lack of air flow or even a slight breeze made it quite unbearable with my head scarf wrapped around my neck containing the heat.  A little part of me was cursing inside. The better part of me repressed the anger and frustration of the heat and wardrobe and tried to enjoy the view, company and tea. Although drinking tea may be easier for our bodies in hot weather on one hand, it can also be very difficult.

The men described to us “Agd”, the first stage of marriage in Iran. They have a special ceremony for “Agd” in which they say a few sentences that they both agree to marry the other. After this ceremony the man is allowed to touch his “fiancé” and see her hair. This stage of their marriage is like our “engagement” stage. “Agd” may last one year or even five, it all depends on the requirements agreed and desired by the families and when the husband has acquired the necessary funds/assets.

The taller Ali explained how he and his wife have been in “Agd” for four years since she was twenty-one. He needs to save enough money to buy a house and gold for his wife before her family will let him marry her.

“Do you think we could smoke some Iranian shisha? The water pipe?” I asked. The two men nodded and taller Ali offered to order it.

“I smoked the water pipe once, but when my mom found out she got very, very angry. So I have never smoked it again.” the petit Ali told us.

We kept talking and the tea shop started to fill up. A man and his friends sat beside me, and upon over hearing part of our conversation he retorted, “There are no ordinary tourists in Iran. Ordinary tourists don’t come here.” This was our introduction to Abed. At this moment we had no idea we would build a strong friendship with him over the next four days.

When the two Ali’s got up to leave, we all stood up. They shook Chris’s hand and when I extended mine they both backed away with their hands on their hearts and said, “Excuse me miss. Goodbye.” That was my first time feeling awkward with my unaccepted extended hand. After another occurrence I stopped offering a handshake to men unless they extended their hand to me. In fact, I learned and somewhat enjoyed that many times I didn’t have to carry the brunt of conversation or small talk because that’s my husband’s job.

We sat back down and started to speak with Abed. We learned that he worked in the carpet shop in the square and that he comes to the tea shop every day. When we were about to part he invited us to come with him to the Armenian, modern area of Esfahan. Before we knew it we were in a taxi and found ourselves surrounded by the energetic, young generations of Iran.

Walking down the side walk with a cigarette casually dangling from his finger tips Abed was stopped by four men. On the ground were many hand-made necklaces with different images painted on small pieces of wood.  The hippie-like artist smiled as we picked one for my birthday present.

We continued down the sidewalk and arrived at Abed’s favourite pizza restaurant at 11:00 pm. It was packed. Every table was taken and the line to order weaved into the tables. With a wait time of 45 minutes we decided instead for my late-night birthday meal, to eat at a near-by traditional Iranian restaurant.

Abed, Laura and Chris after they enjoyed a wonderful traditional Iranian meal.

We spoiled ourselves with the traditional yogurt drink, stuffed vegetables, olives, chicken and a traditional dish of “Fesenjun” which is chicken, walnuts and pomegranate all mashed together. Chris and Abed sung me Happy Birthday, and Chris gave me candles he had hoped to find a cake for. I realized I’m to old to just buy one package of candles and we all chuckled at getting older.

Our night ended around 1:00 am with walking along the river and across the Si-o-Seh Pol Bridge (Bridge of 33 Arches).

The Si-o-Seh Pol Bridge of 33-Arches in Esfahan, Iran.

As we walked on the curving park paths we passed many families, including their small children only 4–9 years old still awake. The families were eating and smoking shisha and the children were riding bikes and playing games.

We bade farewell to Abed for the night as we jumped in our $2 taxi ride back to the hotel. Collapsing onto my bed I thought of the day and what a unique and unforgettable birthday it will be in my life.

Related posts:

1. Mosques of Esfahan
2. Photos from around Tehran, Iran
3. Photos of Iran #2

The mosques in Esfahan and in Iran in general, are absolutely beautiful pieces of architecture. Hopefully these photos captured some of that beauty for you to enjoy.

The main mosque in the UNESCO World Heritage Site, Naghsh-e Jahan Square

One of the polo markers in the World Heritage Site, Naghsh-e Jahan Square.

Inside the main mosque in Naghsh-e Jahan square.

Inside the main mosque in Naghsh-e Jahan square.

Inside the main mosque in Naghsh-e Jahan square.

While walking down the street I noticed this fantastic detail in the doorway of a mosque that was squished between shops.

The entrance of Jameh mosque. You may have noticed that the mosques in Iran are very blue. This is because muslims believe blue to be a very calming colour which allows one to relax and focus on prayer.

Some detail of the fabulous mosaic work in the Jameh mosque.

A banner hanging in the entrance hallway of Jameh mosque.

Jameh mosque in Esfahan. It is the largest mosque in all of Iran.

One of the ornate ceilings in the Jameh mosque in Esfahan.

Related posts:

1. The adventures of Laura’s 27th birthday in Esfahan, Iran
2. Photos of Iran #2
3. Photos from Northern Iran