Iran - Dreams from 1001 nights

The desert south of Varzaneh beckons. We know that we can get in and out of there easily with our campervan, even without a 4×4. And then we read about Reza, the host of the eco-camp.

As we cross Varzaneh and stop for a lunch snack and a purchase at the local vegetable stall, we see the women with their white chadors.

The tradition of wearing white chadors probably goes back to pre-Islamic or Zoroastrian times and is possibly related to cotton production in this region. (Source: Stefan Loose, Iran)

Eco-Camp

But what does eco-camp actually mean? To our ears, it sounds like ecological, sustainable, waste avoidance and desert protection. We are curious and simply go there. Even at the end of our visit, we can only half answer this question, but at least we see Reza's great efforts and a lot of awareness for the protection of the desert. The guests, on the other hand, still have a little to learn.

A long, dead-straight road leads to the camp. The sand dunes tower up on the left, while mighty mountains rise up in the distance on the right. At some point I shout: "This must be it! Turn left." It's not really a road, more like a sandy track with corrugated iron humps. Our cutlery and crockery find new places in the camper on their own, the narrow, open shelves above the bed empty as if by magic.

But: we arrive. At the end of the road, a building in typical Iranian style stands lonely but not abandoned. We stop in the sand, get out and are warmly greeted by Reza.

"How long do you want to stay?" "Oh, just one night" "Yes, everyone says that and then stays for weeks," he laughs and pours us tea. How right he will be.

We make ourselves comfortable with our tea on the carpet lying on the floor next to the house. The girls from the two school classes that are on an excursion here sit down with us and start asking questions. Their English isn't quite up to scratch yet, the teachers help. We spend a few cosy hours chatting and singing. Some of them want to go to our Felix, they are thrilled that we even have a kitchen with us. The teachers naturally ask the question of all Iranian questions: "How many children do you have?" And we can point to our little family photo wall.

At some point - the sun slowly turns a rich evening orange - we climb the sand dunes. The sand is already a little cool, but the climb is fun. We can still see our Felix from afar and hear the girls singing. What a wonderful time here in the desert.

We spend the evening around the campfire and of course we are invited to ash, the thick soup known throughout the country. The tea kettle is passed around again at the end, the voices of the young women and girls fill the desert at night and, of course, our hearts. The conversations are sometimes tear-jerking, but perhaps more on that another time.

Last but not least, Reza takes out his telescope - astronomy is his hobby. We see all kinds of stars and constellations. If only we had been careful not to be here during a full moon. But even so, it's beautiful.

A starry night, and when all the groups go home, we are suddenly alone. All alone.

The silence is simply divine. And we feel tiny in this big world. Full of gratitude for another wonderful day of travelling, we fall asleep. Not without switching on the heating first, because the nights in the desert can get really cold.

I received the photo from one of the young women with permission to show it here.

I hope the mood also comes across with pixelated/softly drawn faces.

I hope the mood also comes across with pixelated/softly drawn faces.

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Merci for "travelling with us

We are thinking about taking another break from travelling in the summer and visiting our families in Germany and Switzerland. One of the ideas is to organise a Lecture about our long journey to the Persian Gulf to prepare. If you would like to, what would interest you the most? We will also tell stories here that don't find a place here on the blog. We're thinking of the Bern and Berlin area - simply because we have family there. But other places are also conceivable. Feel free to write to us.

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