Wednesday, June 23, 2010

Daily Notes
Pizza lunch for two: 57,000 rials (~$5.70)
($1 US = 10,034 rials)
Bus from Quazvin to Tehran for two: 30,000 rials (~$3.00)

Chris and I got an expensive hotel last night for $66.00. We needed a little western feeling to re-coop and collect ourselves. We had Internet and BBC in the hotel room. It was glorious.

Today we decided to head for Tehran and skip the excursion to the Valley of the Castles. We didn’t have it in us to take a taxi on a winding mountain road for 110 kilometers and them be stuck in a small town. So here I am sitting on a rather hot, packed-full bus bumping along the highway to Tehran.

Northwestern Iran landscape, somewhere between Tabriz and Zanjan.

Hordes of young Iranians were gathered at the bus station. We had to push our way through the crowd to make sure we didn’t keep getting squeezed to the back of the line. A young man who helped us find the right bus to get from Qazvin to Tehran, was already on the bus. Chris and I were unsure about pushing and elbowing too much because we didn’t want to insult anyone. We slightly widened our stance, to keep from being pushed over as we stared longingly at the door of the bus. Seats were running out fast and this was already the second bus in the matter of a few minutes to fill up to the brim. What if the third bus to Tehran didn’t come for a while....or hours? This thought alone made me push and elbow a little more than usual. The heat of the day was hightened by the exhaust of the bus and my headscarf and hot, conservative clothing put me into a bit of “survival of the fittest” mode. Chris and I were going to get on that bus.

Suddenly, the man who helped us find the bus called out and waved. We pushed by a handful of people to get on. The man had saved us two seats. Relief and thankfulness swept over me. As we scooted into the dusty, sand crusted, torn seats, I heard him giggling and taking with his girlfriend and other friends.

In front of me a couple are cuddling and caressing one another. The young man has his arm around the woman’s shoulder. Her head is nestled in the crook of his arm. He gently strokes her face and the part of her hair that is showing. Kitty-corner from me, another young couple is doing the same thing, although I’m convinced they’ve snuck in a few kisses.

The bus is overflowing with hip, young Iranians; the new generation of Iran. Some young ladies have enough make-up on their faces that I could carve my name into it. This outward, public display of affection and western ideal of make-up is surprising to see but it also makes me feel like I could somehow communicate better with the individuals on this bus than the older individuals we’ve met so far in Iran.

Related posts:

1. Laura’s Diary Entry: in Zanjan — June 19, 2010
2. Photos from around Tehran, Iran
3. National Museum of Iran in Tehran

Saturday, June 19, 2010
Daily Notes
Breakfast: 14,000 rials (~$1.40)
Taxi to bus terminal: 20,000 (~$2.00)
Bus tickets from Tabriz to Zanjan: 90,000 (~$9.00), about a 4-hour ride
Hotel in Zanjan: 450,000 (~$45.00) Dinner: 33,000 (~$3.30)

Chris exchanged $300 US at a shop located in what appeared to be a gold souk.  The exchange rate was $1 = 10,034 rials.

The bus from Tabriz to Zanjan doesn’t actually pull off the highway into Zanjan. Instead, it pulls over on the side of the highway where a bunch of taxi drivers are waiting to shuttle you off the highway into town. The taxi from the highway took us to another designated taxi area where it was apparent we had to cross the street and find another taxi, a city taxi, to continue.

As we crossed the street somewhat confused, due to the order of things, a lady in her late 20’s recognized our confussion and gestered for us to share a taxi with her. Shrugging our shoulders, “Why not?”, Chris and I got in. In her beginner English she asked us where we were from. After that, conversation pretty much seized for the remainder of our 5-minute ride. She ordered us to get out and insisted on paying for the taxi ride. She then proceeded to walk us to a hotel. When I hesitated to cross the street she smiled and looked at me lovingly like I was a young, innocent child. She grabbed my hand and lead me across the weaving traffic. When we came to the next big intersection she instantly did the same thing. I felt silly being guided by this petite lady who was a foot and half shorter than me, but who’s bravery/experience with road crossing was four feet taller than I. Her name was Meana.

Related posts:

1. Laura’s Diary Entry: the bus to Tehran, Iran — June 23, 2010
2. Iran — First Impressions
3. We’re in a place called Bijar (“Bee-jar”)

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 visited the Behesht-E Zahra cemetery, the main resting place for men who died during the Iran-Iraq War (1980–88). There are also regular citizens buried here. The graves stretch on for kilometers. Many have corrugated metal roofs constructed over them to protect them from the blistering heat. It was stifling when we were walking around.

A glass case containing some flowers and a photo of the soldier who lays to rest just below. One of the many men who lost his life during the Iran-Iraq War.

The holy shrine of His Holiness Imam Khomeini. The building is massive and even contains stores and restaurants. The four towers are 91 meters high. They symbolize the age of Khomeini when he died. We entered and saw Imam Khomeini’s tomb.

We met this old man in a park. He asked if we would sit and speak English with him so he could practice. He is entirely self-taught. He showed us his “News Week” from 2003, which he is reading to improve his English. He had various words and sentenced underlined that he doesn’t understand, simply waiting for the opportunity to ask a native English speaker the meaning. He was truly amazing and inspirational for his skill with language.

One of the door ways of the enormous Tehran Bazaar.

The Imam Khomeini Mosque is located within the Tehran Bazaar. As we stood in front of the mosque an attendant approached us and offered us a complimentary pastry. The baking here is simply phenomenal. I was more than happy to take one.

An interesting doorway within the Tehran Bazaar.

Chris walking down the main corridor of the Tehran Bazaar. Unfortunately it was closed, so we made sure to come back the next day when it was packed solid and impossible for me to get a shot like this.

Related posts:

1. Tehran
2. National Museum of Iran in Tehran
3. Photos from Northern Iran

It’s the perfect size for a visitor to look at the entire collection in 2-hours, meaning you’re satisfied and content when you leave rather than overwhelmed and tired.

You’ll never believe how much it cost to visit the museum! It was .50 cents per adult! So Chris and I spent $1.00. Unbelievable.

The museum very professionally displays its collection of bone tools, Palaeolithic lithics (stone tools), metal and clay carvings from animals to humans and grand artifacts from the famous site of Persepolis, which we’ll be visiting at the end of our trip.  I’m simply in love with the Persepolis carvings. I love the way they carved the beards, hair and turbans. I couldn’t tell you why. I just really like it.

One shocking thing on display is this man’s preserved skull. He died in a salt mine 1700’s years ago. Scientists have concluded he was around 37-years old when he died. There is extensive damage to his skull and eye socket, estimated to have occurred before death.

A little bronze figure about 4–5 inches in height. I really liked this guy.

One of the bull heads at the top of a very classic Persian Persepolis capital. (Sorry the photo is out of focus.)

Persian lancers and archers on the outer side of a staircase that use to be located in a Persepolis palace.

A human-headed capital from Persepolis.

A relief that used to be located in the Treasury Palace of Persepolis. It’s from the 5th Century B. C.

An animal figure made out of clay. So cute.

Giant clay pots, fantastically coloured and designed from the 5th millennium!

A fantastic example of Persian artistry.

Related posts:

1. Photos from around Tehran, Iran
2. Tehran
3. Laura’s Diary Entry: the bus to Tehran, Iran — June 23, 2010

This 1500-year old site must have been remarkable in its heyday, because the fortifying walls that still stand are very impressive.  It is truly a remarkable location with its height, the view and the lake in the middle.  The site is actually 20-meters higher than the surrounding area. The height of the site is primarily due to the deposition of lake sediment!

It is still possible to walk through what use to be the Fire temple.  Back in the day, the temple contained an eternal flame which was “provided thanks to a natural volcanic gas channelled through ceramic pipes” (Iran 2008, Lonely Planet).  The site also honours the elements of wind and water.  Seeing as the site has such a great elevation there is usually an abundance of wind.  The centerpiece of the entire site is the lake.  Essentially it was the perfect location for the Zoroastrianists to worship.

The site also houses a small museum with various examples of ceramics, carvings and photos from the site’s excavations.

Related posts:

1. Photos from Northern Iran
2. Iran — First Impressions
3. Is this taxi going the right way?

People sure stare as us a lot with curiosity. Many people say “hello” as we walk by or they stop us on the side walk to say “Hello. How are you? Welcome to my city and to Iran. Where are you from?” They are the most friendly, curious people I’ve ever encountered.

My favorite things here are the fruit shakes and the baked goods. They are both delicious.

The other night to help relieve some of my culture shock I searched Chris’s computer for some up beat music. I found Michael Buble! Ah, love that guy. His voice and energy put a wonderful bit of joy and cheer in my heart. While I listened, I bounced around the room as I packed and prepared for the day.

I was shocked when Chris told me western music is illegal here (according to the Lonely Planet). I wonder how many laws I broke in the first 48-hours in Iran? Today my headscarf slipped off while I was napping on the bus. I woke to a young woman giggling at me from another seat. Hee, hee. Ooooppps.

I really got a kick out of this statue outside the bus terminal in Hamedan, Iran. I just had to get a photo with them.

Related posts:

1. Crossing the border from Turkey into Iran
2. Laura’s Diary Entry: the bus to Tehran, Iran — June 23, 2010
3. Photos of Iran #1

Vlad Tepes Dracula

My imagination was going wild. I couldn’t help it. Dracula was on my brain.  Although he is a fictional character created by Bram Stocker, he was loosely based off a real man named Vlad Tepes Dracula.  Living back in the 1400’s, Dracula was the prince of Wallachia, a historical region of Romania which on a modern map would encompass the entire southern half of the country.

He was also known as “Vlad the Impaler” due to his cruel way of killing his enemy.  According to the Lonely Planet (although if this trip has taught me anything, it’s taught me to not trust every word in the widely used travel guide), Dracula had the perfect technique of jabbing a wooded stake into a person and missing the vital organs which resulted in a slow and painful death that took days.

So there I was.  Standing in front of a castle that Dracula visited, but did not live. It was not at all like the wild, child-like images I had in my head. The castle was simple looking on the outside. The sky was blue with fluffy clouds and birds chirped in the lovely manicured garden and lake at the base of the castle.

The outside of Bran Castle.

When we went inside it was quite a surprise to find the rooms so welcoming.  I have a soft spot for white washed walls and wooden beams. Encouraging my imagination, it was entertaining to read their exhibit boards about vampires and Dracula.

Light fixture in Bran Castle.

Colourful details painted onto a door in Bran Castle.

The view from a window in the tallest tower of the Castle.

One of the outdoor patios of Bran Castle. It had a few patios, some facing out and some facing in toward the central courtyard.

One perspective of the castle’s central courtyard.

Some more detail of the castle.

One of the rooms of Bran Castle.

Related posts:

1. Turkish hospitality in Romania
2. A Minor Detour: Morocco, Madrid, Romania...
3. Ceausescu’s communist country came to a crude end on December 25, 1989

Although some of my homesickness might be brought on by the fact that my entire body is aching, my eyeballs hurt and my head is pounding. To say the least, I’m glad I brought Imodium.  To make the situation even worse, Chris is also feeling like this.  I hope we get on our feet soon because we should jump on a bus and head into Iran. Right now we’re in a city called Van which is very close to the border.  To get here we took a 7-hour bus ride from Diyarbakir where we spent two nights and had a wonderful adventure.

Chris and I enjoying a break in Istanbul on some ridiculous cushions.

The crescent moon and the star are the symbols of Turkey. This is looking out the train window during our 30-hour train ride from Istanbul to Malatya.

Chris and I with Muzaffer, a man who showed us all the sites of Diyarbakir out of the kindness of his heart. He spent 6 hours with us. He was that eager and willing to teach people the Kurdish way and culture.

Muzaffer wanted this photo to look “natural” so this is the pose he chose. Hee,hee. Silly guy.

We’ve had people ask us throughout our trip if we are homesick, but honestly until recently I wasn’t.  Lately, all of my dreams have been about home.  I didn’t think I would feel homesick for Canada, especially in Muslim countries because I spent 10-years of my life in Saudi Arabia. For 10-years I heard prayer call, and felt the sweltering heat that makes you sweat just from standing in it. I loved it. It was home from age 8–18.

When my dad retired from the company in Saudi we of course moved back to Canada.  I didn’t feel Canadian. I felt like a visitor. I didn’t own a winter coat, or even more than a couple pairs of socks. Everything was strange, quiet and cold. I use to walk down 17^th Ave looking at all the people having a good time inside the warm bars. One of them even had a palm tree painted on the window. (Everyone is always wishing or thinking they’d be happier somewhere else.) I was homesick for Saudi and lonely. Of course I eventually made friends in Canada. I found a family of them in University and even a husband! I learnt the ways of being Canadian. I got use to putting on a sweater, a hoody and then my winter jacket before going outside.  Although it took me about six years to finally admit I shouldn’t be wearing a skirt in January.

So here I am, in weather where I don’t need a winter coat or even a sweater and for some damn reason I’m homesick for Canada’s seasons and many of its other attributes.  I’m homesick for how green and lush trees look in the summer time.  I’m homesick for the freshness and crispness of our air. And for bathtubs, and toilet paper in public restrooms. I’m homesick for a big, thick Alberta beef steaks. I’m homesick for Taber corn and perogies. I’m homesick for pork roast. I’m homesick for different varieties of food like Chinese, Vietnamese, Japanese, Italian, etc. I’m homesick for a washer and dryer. I’m homesick for a kitchen. I’m homesick for having more than 5 shirts and 2 bottoms as a wardrobe. I’m homesick because I don’t have a home.

One example of what our hotel rooms usually look like, and how we’ve been doing laundry for the better part of 5.5 months (except for our wonderful month in Italy).

This is Ayran. It’s a drink made out of yogurt, water and salt. Here in eastern Turkey they serve it in large cups or bowls, instead of the manufactured plastic cans like in the west. Just one small difference between western and eastern Turkey.

Me watching the sunset on top of Nemrut Dagi.

I’m guilty of wanting to be somewhere else on –30 degree days in Canada, but now that I have been away for 5.5 months I know that it takes seeing and experiencing other places to remind me that my home is Canada. That it is a fantastic place to live. I guess it turns out I’m more Canadian and feel more Canadian than I ever thought I was.  I look forward to coming home.  In fact, I might just kiss the ground when we get back and take three week vacations to hot destinations.

(I apologize for the quality of the photos. They were all taken with our small point-shoot.)

Related posts:

1. Feeling Fantastic in Fethiye
2. Photo Update!
3. Home sweet home

An example of the grand, ecclesiastical architecture found in Bucharest, Romania.

After our time in Madrid and Morocco, it was refreshing to see the lush environment, farmer’s fields, foot hills and tree covered mountains out the train window.  The first thing I noticed about the buildings and houses outside of Bucharest were the roofs. They reminded me of a mixture between a barn and architecture commonly found in Germany.

However, within Bucharest we were constantly surrounded by massive, sad looking apartment complexes from the communist era, huge public parks and the few buildings  (like the ones below) that survived the 35% demolition of the city by communist leader Nicolae Ceausescu when he built numerous communist blocks. Prior to his rule, from 1965–89, Bucharest was known as “Little Paris”.  I’m not sure what it looked like then, but today it is a very architecturally interesting city.

Yet another example of the ecclesiastical architecture in Bucharest, Romania. Huge modern billboards mix with an architecture from the past.

We explored the most famous piece of architecture, the Palace of Parliament, with our CouchSurfing host, Fatih.

Fatih, enjoying some shisha at the Hooka cafe he took us too.

The building is 330,000 m² (3.55 million sq ft). In 1989 they had all the materials to complete the construction.  Construction was done around the clock and workers were extremely overworked.

The Palace of Parliament in Bucharest, Romania.

After enjoying a one-hour guided tour (offered every 30-minutes) I realized the building is not just big but absolutely over-the-top. Every hallway, staircase and conference room is constructed out of various types of marbles, numerous sizes and shapes of crystal chandeliers and more gold than I ever imagined. Power. If Ceausescu wanted to convey this, he succeeded.  The only hitch is the building is still not complete! Almost 10% remains to be built because construction ceased abruptly on December 25, 1989.

The memorial to those who died during the 1989 Romanian revolution, and the building in the background is where Ceausescu gave his last speech.

The balcony in the background of the photo is where Ceausescu stood on December 15, 1989 delivering a speech to his rather upset country.  The crowds jeering and political protesting resulted in the police opening fire.  Thousands of people took to the streets the next day and before Ceausescu could do anything about it, power had slipped from his hands.  He and his wife found themselves in front of a firing squad only five days later on December 25, 1989.  With that, Ceausescu’s communist country came to a crude end, one that you can actually watch on YouTube!  In memory of the people who lost their lives during the 1989 Romanian revolution this monument was constructed.

Related posts:

1. Turkish hospitality in Romania
2. Romania: Bran Castle and the truth about Dracula
3. A Minor Detour: Morocco, Madrid, Romania...