In Yazd we also visited the oldest adobe hotel the world has known. And it’s beautiful! The walls, the buildings, the way it looks. Amazing. On the other hand; it’s not much more than houses and castles and walls made of mud, and we’ve seen plenty of those. So what makes Adobe so appealing to the eye? I don’t know, maybe because it just looks like buildings from a fairytale, it’s looks so smooth as if it’s changing forms when you touch it. 

Inside the homes it’s cool while outside the sun tries to break in. Without any luck, cause the walls of the buildings are as tick as the skin of a politician, however, rain does change the buildings. Therefore by no surprise one finds Adobe buildings mainly in countries where rain is often more a dream than reality. 

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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And a blue sky means the sun will burn the landscape below and no ozon layer saves us from the heat. So it means, we arrive late in the Lut desert, right before sunset and just in time to pick a good spot, get out our virgin mojito and sit back. And that’s all we do. Enjoying the scenery, the silence, the tiny breeze that cools us down a bit. And then the stars appear and thats the closest I get to see the balls of gas that light our sky at night. Of course we wait for stars to fall and leave a string of light so we can do a wish. A wish that only comes true when we out effort in making it come true. But, it’s a nice idea that making a wish after seeing a fallen star (or blowing all birthday candles at once) it’ll come true no matter the effort. So I guess, I have a lot of work to do, as we saw many fallen stars, thus made many wishes… 

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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The Caravanserai we look at is also known as “The mother of the Caravanserais”. Beautifully set against the blue background of the endless sky, where only the highway running next to her betrays the modern age in which we live. Once an important place on the Silk Road. A place where merchants, travelers and even kings gathered. With hundreds of camels they traveled from east to west or south to north and all passed this Caravanserai. An oasis in the desert. With halls where the breath of the camels and fires that kept the servants warm heated the rooms of others, the little rainwater was stored in a large bathroom and each stone tells a story of the lost past. The walls of this Caravanserai must have seen so much, have so many stories to tell. It is fantastic to walk through the ancient halls, to walk on the ground where Marco Polo once walked, and with him so many others. Perhaps Alexander the Great also came here to rest from his conquerings.

From caravanserai to monastery

Meanwhile the wind has returned and the desert landscape around me changes into a large sand-colored cloud. The moon dazzles the stars and the lights of the trucks on the busy highway make sure I don’t completely lose myself in 1001 nights. But it’s nice to see that the Caravanserai is still standing on an important location. This time it is not the Silk Road it is located at, but the route from Tehran to Qom and beyond.

Past and present travelers come here from the farthest corners of the world.  Then traders sold their finest products here, travelers complained about the hot desert and servants took care of the camels. We have now exchanged the camels for cars, the merchandise for cups of coffee and the hot desert for a smooth highway. But travelers still get together, sharing knowledge and talk about the most beautiful adventures late into the night. Times change but people stay the same. That restless feeling of discovering, sharing and being is still within us. The millions of stars twinkling overhead in the dark night calm us. We don’t find the inner peace we so need in cities, but in places like this.

The cool corridors of the Caravanserai not only contain thousands of footprints but also ancient memories. Men with turbans, tanned faces and beards full of sand walked the corridors in search of the finest merchandise. Camels came to rest here after many miles through the hot desert. Travelers from the west and east gathered here and cultures fused like a ring of gold in hot fire.

A plastic bag flies through the air and finds it’s way inside. I awaken from the memories of our ancestors. The conversations from then turn into the honking of cars on the road. The world the same and yet so different. This place was once a gigantic oasis in a landscape of sand-colored endlessness. Now it is a tourist attraction not far from the capital of Iran where millions of people live.

Use of the Caravanserai in modern times

We are kindly received by one of the volunteers living at the Caravanserai and shown around. We get a delicious coffee and listen to all the stories with great interest. We look at art, listen to classical Iranian music and cuddle with the dogs and the black sheep. I was already a fan of Caravanserais, and a place like this increases my love, if at all, immensely. The Caravanserai is inhabited by a community of 15 to 30 people, tourists are welcome for a night and sometimes an evening with live music is planned. But luckily it’s all still very basic. It is not a four star hotel, you will not find luxury and it is not a tourist attraction where buses full of visitors stop for a short tour. And that’s a good thing. 

How do they make sure this place is maintained? And where do they get the money to restore it? That’s because of the volunteers who live here. They have been restoring this place for five years now, without too much government involvement, but also without much money. That is why tourists can stay in rooms, you can order a coffee in the cafe and occasionally a concert is planned.  The community of artists is a special one and we think it’s wonderful to see that they maintain the place so well, that they live together here and provide such a nice atmosphere. Soon this will probably become a UNESCO heritage site and the question is whether the artists will still be able to live there. The good thing is that the beautiful and so important Caravanserai is being protected. There will never be a four star hotel here and part of the Silk Road will be preserved as it once was.

We leave the Caravanserai behind us and with it a piece of our heart. But the road is calling, and the voices of former times whisper to us from the ancient Persian architecture. We still have a lot to discover in the land of 1001 nights and millions of stories. We are also a bit tired of the gadflies and the poor (internet) reach keeps us from the little work we still have to do. So let’s move on, but not before we exchange songs – and music – with one of the volunteers.  He makes fantastic creative and experimental music. Unfortunately still not legal in Iran so we keep his name and appearance a secret. But we’ll share his music with you in one of the videos you’ll be seeing soon. Be ready to be mesmerized and enchanted!

 Love, Milene & Yuri

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It is bare and dry but beautifully coloured mountains make the 360 degrees view around us phenomenal. And our photogenic van, Alexine, fills our heads and hearts with creative excesses. Now we only need the beautiful evening sun, but the thunder makes us return from longing to reality. I guess we have to get up early to catch the morning sun instead.

Getting up early is nothing new to us. The past few days we did not sleep so good, but our biological clock woke us up early anyway. We invariably opened our eyes around seven o’clock and brushed our teeth around seven-thirty. A good workout for when we head further south and want to beat the heat by driving in the early hours of the day, when the world is asleep and the heat hasn’t reached us yet. But let’s talk about the last few days. Finally, after months of waiting, we crossed the border into Iran. So while the thunder is closing in on us and audible like a train of trucks rumbling down a gravel path, we go back in time.

From caravanserai to monastery

And just as the first drops sound on the car now, so did the first stones on the car as we drove from the Iranian-Armenian border to Jolfa. A beautiful winding road took us along the border, first with Armenia and not much later with the enclave of Azerbaijan. The road winds through a fantastic landscape with rocks as sharp as razors, it seems. There is hardly a nicer welcome in a country. The clouds turn red, purple and pink while the sun disappears behind the sharp rocks. Night falls when we search for a gas station. Without Rials (Iranian currency) but with dollars in our pocket, we find a gas station where we fill our entire tank for five dollars. We wonder if we haven’t paid too much but quickly think about the petrol prices in the Netherlands and laugh about it.  The Azeris who live here do not speak Farsi but a branch of Turkish. So I am pleasantly surprised that I can communicate, even if I sometimes understand it poorly. The words are pronounced slightly differently, so that it is difficult for me to understand what they are talking about.  Plus, my Turkish is just as rusty as Alexine was before her makeover. But with a little patience, laughter and hand gestures we can go a long way.

And we have come a long way today, with the necessary nice stops, climbing a 2500 meter high mountain and the 2.5 hour border crossing, we arrive in Jolfa around 21:00. Here we decide not to look for a wild camping spot but a much too luxurious hotel, simply because we can, and also because we are tired.

The Imperial Hotel seems to be the best place to start our Iranian adventure.  We look a bit tired and maybe a bit lost thus people look at us strangly. In addition, we are with a Volkswagen van and come from the Netherlands. “We have visitors from all over the world but never do they arrive by car from their home country” and we get that. Of course, every vanlifer or overlander does not sleep in such a luxurious hotel. Anyway, we love to color outside the lines and color our own drawing. Which we do by having a delicious dinner in our somewhat dirty travel clothes and then jumping under a delicious hot shower after which we drink tea in a king-size bed. Sometimes you have to spoil yourself and we are only too happy to do that.

The next day we have breakfast at the hotel – yum!, then shoot a promo video for the hotel and continue our way to the first attraction. Of course in Silk Road style, we visit a beautifully renovated Caravanserai. We have already visited many, each with its own originality. This was again beautiful, the courtyard where the camels stood and drank water is now filled with brightly colored flowers.  Surrounding the courtyard were the rooms where travelers and merchants then slept and we can now drink a cup of tea.  Despite the fact that the caravanserai was renovated not too long ago, it still feels like you are in lost times.

We leave the caravanserai behind to visit the much too crowded but beautiful St Stepanos Monastery. Our first UNESCO World Heritage Site of Iran. It is a beautiful complex in the mountains with unique details. Unfortunately very busy which makes it difficult for me to hear the stories that the walls are whispering to me. Every stone touched by ancient events and the voices of time. And there, too, a thunderstorm appeared as we made our way among the picnicking Iranians. Something we will be seeing a lot more of.

Visiting ancient capital Tabriz

We continue our way to Tabriz. Once an important trading city on the Silk Road, as we know from the stories. But Tabriz even has a time when it was the capital of Azarbin the 3rd century AD and again under the Mongol Ilkhanid dynasty. Now the city is often skipped, or visited mainly to exchange money, buy a SIM card and arrange car insurance. Three things we also did here. But, what I was particularly interested in was the bazaar. Because while many people think that Istanbul’s ‘grand bazaar’ is the largest, nothing could be further from the truth. With 8,000 shops, 70,000 hectares and 22 caravanserais, this is really the largest in the world. 

It is also one of the oldest bazaars in the Middle East. And it shows. The columns and roof that keep the bazaar dry look old, though renovated. But the architecture reveals its age. The ceiling is high and the corridors run like a maze from Caravanserai to Caravanserai. The images come to me with every scent that enters my nose. Travelers arrived with a procession of camels and on horseback. Traders couldn’t wait to sell their products here. Fresh herbs, tea, carpets made of silk were sold to anyone who was interested. Stories were shared, different languages ​​were spoken and products exchanged. While lurking on a water pipe, the most adventurous tales were told. And also tips, warnings and recommendations. The sellers have stayed, the building still stands proudly, only the travelers have changed. The Caravanserais have been converted into gardens full of green trees and cats and travelers no longer come here to buy but to step into a world that is now foreign to them.

Sunbeams flood the bazaar, women try to choose from the thousands of items of clothing sold here, and market vendors shout their goods. And as we make our way through the bazaar, we are as much of an attraction to the people there as the bazaar is to us.

In Tabriz we are camping safe and relaxed in a parking lot next to a park with toilet. It’s free and meets everything we need. Where travelers used to meet in a Caravanserai, we overlanders do so at free camping spots. The four vans cosy together. We, the Dutch, next to us a mixed couple from Italy & Moldova, opposite from us a Belgian couple and next to them two French people. We decide to go out for dinner together and are again the biggest attraction of the restaurant. We are photographed often and everyone asks where we are from.  We answer with enthusiasm but are also looking forward to the food that will soon fill our stomachs. Ramadan is still underway, so there is no possibility to eat before 8 p.m. But the longer the wait, the better the food, right?  Yes!  The food here is not only incredibly cheap but also really delicious! I eat my first beryoon and am sold. And that for only 1.5 Euro! Can’t wait to try more of Iranian cuisine.

Kandovan and police knocking at the window

After a few days of Tabriz it is time to continue our journey. After all, we want to see so much and Iran is too big to stick around for long. Our first stop after Tabriz is Kandovan. Together with all holidaying Iranians. Ramadan is over and it ends with a week of vacation. A good time to see some of your own country, right? So we, along with hundreds of others, walk through the 800-year-old town. Kandovan, like Cappadocia, is a town where people live in cave-like houses. It looks nice, but also very touristy with many shops that sell honey, clothes and other spices. We are not there too long because it is busy, cold and wet. And so we drive on to our next camping spot. One on a lake with a hot shower.

Once again we are standing with our Flemish and French friends. Unfortunately it starts to rain cats and dogs and we all quickly disappear into our vans. We cook some pasta and while we are at it the guard comes to tell us we have to leave before 21:00. Wow, we hadn’t thought of that. We quickly eat our food, take a shower and move. Not very far away because it is already dark and we are tired. We are not going to get a good rest because in the middle of the night there is a knock on our window. At 03:00am the police decide it is a good time to check our passports. Not very amused, we give them and try to go to sleep quickly afterwards, but the night’s rest is already too much disturbed.

And that brings us to today. Again we wake up early. This time with a nice sun on the van. We have some breakfast with our friends at the lake and drive quietly towards the rainbow mountains where we are now in between the thunderstorms which seem to surround us from all sides. Again we visited a Caravanserai (500 years old and half restored), we were invited for tea at a factory where they grow mushrooms and sell dried fruit. Of course we bought some fruit because yum! And we got mushrooms as a present. Along the way we also bought some bread that we could take with us for free. Which of course we didn’t accept. It’s a normal thing here. Giving things for free to tourists. Taarof it is called. We didn’t have to pay toll either. What is also normal here is waving at tourists, welcoming them to Iran and asking where they come from. 

Anyway, there we are, between the most beautiful mountains on a deserted road, listening to the thunder that comes and goes. We can’t wait to see this spectacle in the morning sun. So that means going to bed early and getting up early again. Will we ever sleep until noon? Probably not. 

 Love, Milene & Yuri

Some photos

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