Iran - Esfahan, a small repair and the longing for the desert

Once again, we realise that we are not city dwellers. As beautiful as Esfahan is, we're not in the mood to tick off all the sights. So we take another stroll through the copper kettle alley (we're really taken with all kinds of handicrafts) and visit the Kakh-e Ali Qapu, which literally means "high gate".

From up here we have a marvellous view over the large square. We can't get into the private rooms behind it, but the huge veranda with its 18 pillars supporting a beautiful wooden roof is worth the climb up the narrow spiral staircase.

The walls are covered with floral patterns, some of which have been scratched and painted into the plaster walls. This creates a three-dimensional impression of the drawings. The younger ones among us would say: 3D look.

We've been carrying around a small compartment from our Felix in our bag for a few days now and are looking for a cobbler or something who can repair the leather and Velcro. We found what we were looking for in a shoe shop. Or at least something like this: I show him our problem child, he understands, can't help us himself, picks up the phone and a little later a scooter pulls up, takes our thing and speeds off. We spend the next half hour "chatting" with the shoe seller via googletranslate and drinking Nescafé (we realise that people here in Iran are really into instant Nescafé).

At some point, the scooter driver comes back and our part is professionally repaired. Now we all have another Nescafé together, of course we're not allowed to pay. But we are always confused: is this tarof, this courtesy, and should we be more persistent or are these real gifts? We don't want to be rude, but we do think that we should pay the man something. But even after several discussions, he won't let us pay. Instead, we have to take the obligatory selfie. You're welcome. If it's the only thing we can give back, we're happy to!

In search of money exchange opportunities, we get lost in the big bazaar, wander through what feels like hundreds of carpet shops in the specially marked carpet bazaar and then, completely unexpectedly, come out again in the big square. I could have bet that we would have been somewhere else entirely.

We stroll on through the city, try unsuccessfully to deposit money on our Iranian credit card and end up in the 5-star hotel, which used to be a caravanserai and is now really impressive. (We realise that we have a real penchant for luxury hotels from time to time, our past as business travellers sometimes catches up with us with a vengeance). However, the service is far from stellar, but that doesn't bother us over tea. We enjoy the ambience and the peace and quiet in the middle of the bustling city.

We spend the next few days working in the hostel and spend the evenings cooking, knitting, reading or chatting with the few hostel guests. The last night we actually sleep in the hostel, we take a room. The noise in our Felix, right on the street of this city of 2 million people, is so unbearable that it leads to sleep deprivation and "mood disturbances". A good night's sleep please!

Because the last day in Esfahan is a tough one: we want to change money. And sometimes I wish for the clear, almost clean Swiss precision of a bank, polished to the point of over-perfectionism. Things are different here, of course: we don't want to take advantage of the many "change money" shouters on the street, we don't really enjoy exchanging money on the street.

Of course there are bureaux de change, but our favourite one is closed. For ever? Just for today? We will never know. But Iran wouldn't be Iran if someone didn't help us. We can exchange money right next door, the rate is good (not very good, but our nerves are no longer the best after days in the city). Of course, we are invited for tea, biscuits and chocolate. And just an hour and a half later, we are millionaires again.

So, we've done everything, now what? Should we go and see all the really beautiful sights? The famous bridge over the river that carries no water? The Armenian quarter? We look at each other, I silently point to a pin in my Google Maps wish list and we agree: off into nature. We're drawn to the desert again. Gerd confidently steers our little house through the big city traffic, while I stick to the Prayer chain I received as a gift a few days ago in the hope that we would get out of the city without any accidents. Which, I can tell you in advance, works wonderfully!

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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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