Yazd - the old and the new

  Yazd, Iran
Saturday, November 8, 2008

Yazd is apparently one of the oldest towns on earth (wonder why they keep saying "on earth". Are there towns on other planets which have been kept secret from us? Just one of the questions I ponder, like why people talk about someone having a smile on their face! Where else would their smile be?). Anyhow, I digress.
 

our lunch venue

Lunch in this wonderful historic city with its sun-dried mud brick buildings, replete with its intriguing badgirs (my spellchecker keeps changing that word to the wild black and white animal variety!) was to be found at Malek-e-Tojjar, Panjeh-ali Bazar on Qeyam Street. I feel it important to give you the address in case you're ever down Yazd way. Check out the many photographs on flickr to whet your appetite for this alluring dining (and accommodation spot).

the saffron sugar man

Our route to Malek-e-Tojjar took us through a fairly deserted bazaar. Deserted other than for a man in his small "factory" producing saffron sugar. Mohsen engaged in conversation and clearly had secured tasting rights for us all as the man produced a tray of saffron sugar pieces. Wonderful stuff. He wasn't so keen though on his photograph being taken. Or maybe he wasn't keen on the women of the group taking his photograph. As you see from my photograph his "factory" isn't big, and is fairly typical of a bazaar unit's size.
 
Onwards though to Malek-e-Tojjar, a converted "old house" and which features heavily in Lonely Planet.
 

Malek-e-Tojjjar inside

It was very Persian, down an alley with huge wooden doors, and wonderful Persian architecture. The courtyard surrounded by a verandah which led to a small viewing area over the city. This would be a great place to stay. Central. Dripping with character and not overly expensive for a room.
 
Lunch at a table, much to my disappointment was great. All manner of food was produced as were the much-lauded sherberts. Unlike the alternative group's review the sherberts were awful. Watery, foul tasting (in the case of the mint sherbert) and definitely not to be recommended. Quite how this was a place that would make your visit a night (or day) you would never forget is beyond me.
 
Yes a pleasant, relaxing and peaceful experience but no Shang-ri-la!
 

the rigours of travel!!

A sole traveller arrived on the divan (that is what you call the raised seating, isn't it). The waiter service appeared to die the death upon his arrival, and oru divan got chatting with him. Turns out he was a Paussie doing a tour on his own (how mad is that?) before heading back to Perth, Western Australia. His parents (and him) had moved to Perth in 1991 which accounted for his polite English accent with a hint of Australian. Thankfully he did get fed, and we informed him of our dinner location that night if he was free.
 

old city house entrance

Mohsen continued his tour through the old city. Red/brown mud covered walls and buildings in a narrow maze of streets combine to almost transport you back in time. Ian, and more importantly his wallet had a near-stolen experience with three Afghan refugee children. Thankfully having changed some dollars, his wallet was bulging with much Rials, and the sensation of a moving wallet in his pocket alerted him to the 7 year old girl's attempt at theft. She didn't even blink when caught on!
 
Ian had just moments earlier enquired as to the Persian for go away. Relying on Lonely Planet I told him that gom sho was "go away".
 
"No no" said Mohsen, "Very rude!" We never did find out just how rude, but I'm guessing you're already making up your own answers! Guess LP doesn't get everything right. No. If you're wanting to tell an Iranian to go away you either say "Enough" - "bass-tey" or "Away" - "borro".
 

hotel courtyard

The brush with the underbelly of Yazd behind us Mohsen led us into a hotel converted from an old merchant's house to view the courtyard, and a groovy photograph taken of his previous group with everyone (apart from one loner) pointing a camera at the person taking the photograph! Met another group of Germans - they were being led around by an Iranian speaking what sounded to me like fluent German!
 
Alexander's Prison was next. Was it used by the big lad to imprison people, or famous because of its inclusion in a Hafez poem? Sometimes the reality can be just too boring, so I didn't ask!! Our final tourist stop today was the Jameh Mosque. Yet more friendly Iranians, including Reza who wanted a photograph taken (by his friends) of him standing beside me, his trophy Westerner. No problem at all obliging his request, although I wonder if I met an Iranian in Belfast on his hols would I want a photograph taken with him?
 

Khan-e 2had restaurant

After refreshing ourselves back at the homestead a fleet of taxis whisked the fabulous 14 headed out to the Khan-e 2Had restaurant.
 
To be honest we'd no idea where we were being taken. The taxi headed off on the usual remake of the Whacky Races, only to pull in to what seemed the side of the road, before heading down a wide alley. Suddenly I spied a besuited gentleman and a security guard at the door of a building. The taxi stopped. We got out and were instantly heartily welcomed, with much hand shaking to the restaurant.
 

our dining room

The converted merchant's house is in two parts. Each is made up of a huge room. The first, to the left as you enter is dominated by the central rectangular pool and fountains. The latter is smaller, although that is relative to the former! Ornate. Marble everywhere. Ceiling to the sky. Astounding. The food matched the interior and crowned a visit to a most engaging and alluring city. My description of the restaurant can only go so far. I was going to tell you to visit its website, which features on its really posh business card >www.khan-e-2had.com and see for yourselves, but it would seem that the website address is no longer valid, and I can't find it using the all powerful google. If anyone knows its alternative web address do let me know. Now this IS somewhere that you'll remember for the rest of your life!

Mohsen serving dizzi

 

Ian, Julia and myself shared a taxi back to our hacienda! I started chatting with our driver who had cheerily responded to my salaam and shab beheyr with a hearty handshake. "Esmatun chi-ye?" Mohammad. Now there was a surprise! Turned out he was married with a boy and a girl, aged 11 and 8 respectively. The boy likes football. "Manchester United" he announced with great glee as the team he, Mohammad, and no doubt Mohammad Junior supports.
 
When I told him, "Man Irland-e hastam" he said, "Ah, Belfast" and then went on to list Scotland, Wales, England! Funny how much enjoyment four people can have when there is only minimal understanding of each other's languages. I guess the joy comes from the use of the other's language, paying them respect by using their words and seeing their reaction and responses. Just one of the many reasons I live for travel.
 
His choice of music was great and I asked him who was singing. He said, but I didn't understand. This was taking place as he came to a halt at our motel. He ejected the cd and gave it to me. I hadn't noticed it was a copy, and offered to pay him for the cd, or give him a tip. "No, no" he insisted putting his hand on my hand which was heading for my wallet. Top bloke. Then again he is just another example of the generosity and kindness we have met without fail on this visit.
 
And so it came to pass that Greta and meself fed our cats the overpriced tuna she'd talked me into buying, and headed to our respective chalets for a night's rest. Night all!