Esfahan (or Isfahan, depending on the spelling) is said to be the pearl of the Orient. Another pearl of the Orient. We now believe that there really are many pearls, the cities are truly beautiful, they are characterised by imposing architecture, enchanting colours, various mosaics and ornaments and, above all, a large portion of exoticism for our eyes.
Esfahan, although a highlight of any trip to Iran, is rather tranquil. Most of the people shopping in the bazaar are locals, and there are hardly any (actually no foreign) tourists on the streets or in the few cafés. The city is left to its own devices. And we find it much more authentic, which we really like.
So we arrive on a Friday lunchtime and look for a place where we can spend a few days. The idea is to go to a hostel. The hostels here allow us to park in the courtyard and also sleep in our Felix. But with all the amenities of a hostel.
There's just one catch: we're too high for the hostel entrance. So we just stand on the street in front of the door and are still day guests. Here we meet foreign travellers for the first time, a Spanish couple and a young man from Kazakhstan. We spend some wonderful hours having good, in-depth conversations in the really cute café.
We were supposed to explore the city (actually and we'll banish should from our vocabulary!), but we're not in the mood. On Saturday morning, we get up and stroll through the alleyways of the coppersmiths. Esfahan is famous for its brass work, miniature paintings and minakari, the (mostly) blue enamel work. As we stroll through the alleyways, we hear the knocking and banging of tools or the hissing of flames from the individual workshops.
And suddenly, having once again lost our bearings in the alleyways, we find ourselves in the huge square, Meydan-e Naqsh-e Jahan. A rectangular square framed by two-storey buildings with beautiful arcades, two mosques, the entrance to the bazaar, historically valuable houses and so much more.
Here, for the first time in Iran, we are actually approached by salespeople. Directly and intensively. We have the feeling that if we reveal our origin, the prices of the products on offer will suddenly multiply by themselves. (The fact that we don't want to buy anything is completely ignored.) We come up with a strategy to disguise our origin and from now on, when asked where we come from, we answer "from Globalistan". We use the ensuing pause for astonishment and reflection to smile in a friendly manner and move on. Only to run into the arms of the next questioner.
However, we do make one exception: whenever children, young people or school classes approach us, we take the time to answer all their questions. One teacher, for example, thanks us and is pleased that her pupils can finally use the English they have learnt so painstakingly. So we answer the rehearsed interview questions about where we come from, our favourite food, which city in Iran is the most beautiful, whether we exercise regularly (oh, thank you for reminding us) and whether we have children. How old they are and so on. The young people realise how great it is to communicate in another language and to understand us. Maybe we can help motivate them to continue learning.
Instead of going to the famous Imam Mosque (we want to take our time and be in the mood for that), we follow a recommendation from two young women and find ourselves in a cosy café on the edge of the square. As today is Friday (like our Sunday), the city is full of people. And we long for a little more peace and quiet.
We find them immediately afterwards at the bazaar. Because after three weeks in Iran we still haven't realised that the shops close between 2 and 5 pm, we stroll past closed doors or stalls covered with huge cloths. Time for us to take a break too. We are drawn out again for dinner: the beautifully illuminated square is simply a delight!
And of course: we are looking forward to the city in the next few days.
Merci for "travelling with us
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