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New parts of a historical structure dating back to the Sassanid era (224–651 AD) have been recently discovered during excavations in Tonb-e Pargan, a hilltop site in the city of Bastak in Hormozgan Province.

According to Ali Asadi, head of the excavation team, the site and the monument is located 35 km north of Persian Gulf waters.

The edifice was uncovered after three seasons of excavation in the site, the first of which began last year when traces of a ditch were detected around the mound, ISNA reported.

“Clay pieces, new parts of the already unearthed structure and stone tools similar to prehistoric items earlier found in Tall-e Bakoun in Fars Province, have been among the new discoveries in the third phase of discoveries that began nearly a month ago,” Asadi said.

Specifications

Studies using a simulated model mapped by experts show that the circular structure was built using 20 same size stone pillars, on which there had been seemingly a dome.

“A circular column made of stone and plaster is artfully placed in the center of the building under the dome,” the expert added.

The building is said to cover an area of 230 square meters and the edifice is circumscribed by an earthen brick parapet.

It had been used until the end of the Sassanid era and was then abandoned.

The exact application of the unique building is not known but possible functions include a space for ritual, astrological or scientific purposes.

“The circular mound of Tonb-e Pargan probably served as part of a greater observatory complex. No similar building has been found in the entire Middle East and North Africa,” the expert noted.

After the second phase of the excavations, a local benefactor named Mansour Abbasi built a protective roof for the discovered structure. According to the Asadi, the newly discovered parts will also be covered in order to be immune from natural phenomena.

“A restoration team will be soon deployed to the site to reinforce the excavated structures and carry out renovations,” he added.

Hormozgan Province has around a thousand ancient historical sites from 5,000 years ago to the Pahlavi era.

The town of Bastak where Tonb-e Pargan is located is 220 Km west of Bandar Abbas.

 

by : financialtribune

 

Tea first reached Iran by caravans traveling the Silk Road 450 years before the modern Christian era. Residents were largely coffee drinkers until the seventeenth century but now consume four times the world average for tea.

The beverage is served hot at almost all social occasions and family gatherings.

Every morning, in houses all over Iran, a gas burner flickers to life under a kettle that will continue to boil all day. It boils through morning prayers, lunches of rice and kebabs, afternoon conversation and late into the evening meal, sustaining talk of politics, gossip and news well into the night.

The kettle contains tea, one of the most important cornerstones of Iranian culture, and the tea house is its centuries-old keeper.

Tea production is a major industry in the Caspian Sea area and a large part of its economy. Before 1900, there was no tea production in Iran, but in 1895, an Iranian diplomat named Kashef Al Saltaneh decided to change that.

At the time the English had a strict monopoly of tea production in India, with rigid rules against non-Europeans engaging in this trade. Kashef Al Saltaneh, who had studied in Paris as a young man and was fluent in French, went to India, posed as a French businessman, learned the trade and smuggled some tea saplings and seeds to Iran.

After six years of experimentation, he introduced his first product to the market, and started the industry that revolutionalized the economy of two northern states, Gilan and Mazandaran, and made Iranians avid tea drinkers.

He is known today as the father of Iranian Tea, and his mausoleum, in the city of Lahijan, houses the tea museum.”

Further reading reveals that Kashef Al Saltaneh’s other honorable titles include Prince Mohammad Mirza, Iranian ambassador to India, and first mayor of Tehran.  Moreover, the stash that commenced the tea plantation might have actually been 3,000 saplings!

Tea houses, or chaikhanehs, have been in existence since the Persian Empire. They gained prominence after the 15th century, when coffee was abandoned in favour of tea leaves that were easier to come by through China’s Silk Road.

 

Though once the purview of men, chaikhanehs have increasingly become frequented by all members of society, and especially by Iran’s large youth population.

Iranian tea comes in a variety of subtle flavours, but its defining characteristic is its deep reddish-brown colour, which tea-drinkers can choose to dilute with water depending on their preference. Despite its cultivation in the country’s northern provinces, other teas from Sri Lanka and India are also widely consumed as the country imports a majority of its tea in order to meet the large demand.

Most chaikhanehs will serve tea on the stronger side unless otherwise indicated by the drinker. The stronger the tea, the higher the concentration of tannin and caffeine, so a good cup of tea is like a good cup of coffee for those who take it straight. Because of its bitterness, many prefer to have sugar with their tea. The traditional way to do this is to take a sugar cube and place it between your teeth. You then sip the tea and allow the sugar to melt. Iranians, especially in colder regions of the country, find this a convenient way to drink multiple cups. Crystal, or rock sugar, can be found throughout the country and bought in spice shops for this specific purpose.

The taking of tea is a ritual unto itself: most meetings or formal occasions will begin with the offering of tea, and most meals will end with it. Some chaikhanehs have takhts, or low-rise platforms covered in rugs and pillows that you may recline on. Remove your shoes before doing so; most meals are served on a tablecloth laid at your feet.

Traditionally, tea is served from a samovar, a heating vessel originally imported into Persia from Russia. Literally meaning “self-boiler”, the samovar is used to keep water hot for prolonged periods of time through a fuel-filled pipe in the middle of the structure that heats the contents surrounding it. Made from copper, brass, silver or gold, the samovar is still used throughout Russia, central Asia and Iran, and ornate versions from the -Qajar dynasty may still be found in use.

Chaikhanehs come in all shapes and forms, from the simple kitchen-turned-tea room in villages to ornate venues in urban centres, and from underground venues to popular tourist destinations.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Azari Tea House in Tehran is one of the most famous chaikhanehs known to tourists and locals, with its detailed architecture and traditional decoration. In existence since the 14th century, this chaikhaneh on Vali Asr street contains one of the more interesting embellishments to emerge from tea house culture: teahouse painting.

Japan International Cooperation Agency (JICA) has selected the north-western Iranian city of Tabriz as a centre of tourism and cultural heritage studies along the Silk Road.

Head of Tourism Department at Tabriz Cultural Heritage, Handicrafts and Tourism Organization, Farshad Rostami, said, “In a meeting of JICA, Tabriz was selected as a centre of tourism and cultural heritage studies along the Silk Road.”

During the meeting, the spokesperson of JICA referred to the studies conducted by the agency, saying among the cities of Ahvaz, Shiraz, Isfahan, Yazd and Tabriz which are located along the two corridors of Ancient Civilization and the Silk Road, JICA has selected the city of Tabriz as a tourism and cultural heritage studies centre, a Farsi report by the Mehr News Agency quoted Rostami as saying.

“Given the presence of globally registered ancient sites in its neighbouring provinces, Tabriz and its tourist sites will be studied as part of a larger tourism project by JICA in the region.”

He also referred to the huge tourist capacities of Tabriz 2018 international event, saying the event can pave the way for attracting further tourists to the region.

For his part, Akira Ohara, a senior fellow researcher at JICA, congratulated the Iranian officials on the selection of Tabriz as the centre of tourism studies along the Silk Road, and added since long time ago, Tabriz has been viewed as a channel connecting Europe and East Asia.

“Meanwhile, the country enjoys a great capacity for the development of its historical and cultural tourism section.”

Ohara referred to the tourist attractions of Tabriz like Kandovan village as well as its eco-tourism capacities as the main criteria taken into account by JICA members.

He called for the participation of public associations in the implementation of the tourism plans in the city and added raising public awareness about the tourism capacities of Tabriz is highly important.

Ohara said holding some training courses for the people as well as launching some fundamental and infrastructural projects to further develop the tourist capacities of the city can significantly contribute to the projects to attract further tourists to the city.

The Japanese researcher also said establishing direct flight to Tabriz from around the world will connect the city to an international network of tourist destinations. He then said ground and rail connections to the network are also important.

A team from JICA is set to visit Tabriz’s historical as well as cultural and natural sites in the coming days. The visit follows their earlier visit to the city last month aimed at evaluation the tourism capacities of Tabriz.

The Iranian city of Tabriz in East Azarbaijan Province has been selected by the Organization of Islamic Cooperation (OIC) as the 2018 capital of Islamic Tourism, and the entire Iran is now getting prepared to host the highest number of tourists through the project Tabriz 2018.

Tabriz hosts a number of famed religious sites, including Grand Mosque and Tabriz Citadel, as well as a UNESCO World Heritage Site in Tabriz Bazaar. It has been declared a World Craft City by the World Craft Council, which, along with Isfahan, makes it one of Iran’s only two cities to boast the title.

If anybody looks through some photos of this travel it will be automatically obvious to her that I love scarves. The one item that will never be missing from my backpack is a piece of fabric to be wrapped, hanged, folded, spread and shifted around in a million shapes.

Maybe because of that, and because when it comes to clothing I am usually happy with long and loose stuff, I had not thought it would be great deal the fact that in Iran I would need to wear hijab. In fact, it wasn’t a great deal most of the time.

When I made the decision to go to Iran on my own and as a woman, the reactions I had from friends and family varied from amusement to concern and downright fear on my behalf. I was given an assortment of different things to do and say at Iranian immigration and while travelling, so as not to “get into trouble”.

Travelling as a woman isn’t without its discomforts. Female travellers must wear headscarves at all times. I have to be careful about where I walk and try not to walk down too many dark alleys or into any awkward situations. But once aware of the surrounding culture, it’s smooth sailing.

As a dual Philippine and Australian national, I’m eligible for a visa on arrival, but to be on the safe side, I applied for it in advance. It took a month, but there were no hiccups (aside from the time it took). On my arrival in Shiraz airport, I worked up a sweat practising my responses to all the possible questions I could be asked. However, once at the immigration desk, it’s a quick glance up, smile and an “Enjoy Iran” – and I’m on my way in.

For those travelling on British and American passports, however, the process is a lot harder. They’re required to travel with a government-appointed guide, who will report in every day to make sure the visitors are staying put on the tourist track.

Shiraz

Shiraz is known as the City of Poets, and it’s not hard to see where they draw their inspiration from. I visit the colourful Nasir Al-Mulk Mosque in the morning, when its stained-glass windows create a reflection that dances on the floor. In the afternoon, I retreat into the luscious garden dedicated to one of the city’s famous poets, Hafiz, where Iranian ballads play softly from loudspeakers and fans gather in clusters to celebrate his poetry. I explore the alleyways of its bazaar, where carpet sellers doze on their piles of wares, the scent of different spices assail me at every corner and antique gems glisten invitingly from dusty shop windows.

It’s an easy enough city to get around on foot, but in the heat of the day, I was more than happy to spend a few rials on short taxi rides between places. I find taxis in most cities easy to flag down, and if you know your destination well enough, there are no issues. Everywhere I travel, people’s curiosity gets the better of them – I’m bombarded with a series of questions, mostly about my impressions of Iran.

The star attraction of the area is the crumbling desert city of Persepolis, 70 kilometres away. While it has now mostly been engulfed by sand and buffeted by the harsh desert wind, the ceremonial capital of the ancient Achaemenid Empire still manages to hold an air of majesty fit for the many members of royalty that once passed through its gigantic doors. Stories of the great feasts that were once held there are depicted across its fragmented walls. Wall carvings of men arriving from all corners of the ancient world, bringing with them gifts from their home country, demonstrate the reach of this ancient empire.

Having had my fill of ancient carvings, I hop on the six -hour night bus to take me to my next destination, Yazd. While the buses are mixed-sex, the conductors are very conscious to make sure the single women are grouped together and aren’t sat next to a man. Surrounded by a group of inquisitive women, I spend most of my time in stimulating conversation about why there are so few tourists in Iran, shopping and where I’m from.

Yazd

My next stop is the desert town of Yazd, one of the best-­preserved desert towns in the Islamic world. Its dusty, sand-coloured alleyways are a stark contrast to the architectural elegance of Shiraz. Here, the buildings sacrifice opulence for practicality. Beige domes and lofty wind towers act as natural air conditioners.

As the day heats up, I retreat inside the many hammam-style cafes, to sip on tea and read. I make my way out as the sun’s harsh rays beat down, getting lost in the meandering alleyways.

Old caravanserais dot the city and the towns around it hark back to the days of long-distance travel when camel trains and thirsty travellers traipsing along the old Silk Road would need a place to rest for a night. Evidence of affluence stemming from the ancient royal Qajar era can still be still be admired in their crumbling palaces, some of which have been restored and function as boutique hotels.

My accommodation, the Silk Road Hotel, is located in the middle of the old quarter, and also took the form of a traditional caravanserai. Nearby, I can see the glowing lights of the Jameh (Friday) Mosque and its two long, elegant minarets that light up in an aquamarine blue as the sun descends.

Yazd is the centre of Zoroastrian culture, a religion that was prevalent across Iran before the Muslim conquest, which converted the majority of the country to Islam. While the religion has now been reduced to small communities around the country, their funerary towers, known as the Towers of Silence, can still be seen perched on hills. Until the 1960s, these lonesome towers were used as a place where Zoroastrians would put their dead to be exposed to the elements and slowly picked apart by vultures. Another long-standing relic of this ancient religion is the fire temple, with a flame that’s said to have been kept alive since 470AD.

Isfahan

After soaking up the desert culture of Yazd, I make my way to the more illustrious city of Isfahan. To save time, I jump on the night bus again for the five-hour journey. The buses are comfortable and cosy, making it an easy transition.

The city’s main sites are centred around Imam Square, a majestic square bordering the maze-like Bozorg bazaar. It’s anchored on both ends by the Sheikh Lotfollah Mosque, the Masjid-e Imam Mosque and the seven-storey Ali Qapu Palace, the old residence of the Safavid kings.

The sublime Imam or Blue Mosque was built over 26 years in the early 17th century. It’s made up of 18 million bricks and 475,000 tiles, glazed in a palette of blues. I spend hours soaking up the intricate designs on the walls and ceilings.

A night-time stroll along the streets of Isfahan reveals a bustling scene, with throngs of families queuing for ice cream and sickly sweet flavoured ice drinks, exploring the shops or congregating in the city’s many parks. A dried-up riverbed runs through the city, crossed by a series of stylish bridges.

I spend one day walking across its different sites, admiring the arches of the bridges, picnicking along with other families in the parks that line the river and visiting the Vank Cathedral in the Armenian Quarter. According to accounts, Armenians came to ancient Persia fleeing the Ottoman Empire’s persecution. They were known as great tradesmen, especially for silk, so the then-ruling Shah Abbas welcomed their settlement. The cathedral, along with an on-site museum, provides an interesting insight into the plight of the Armenians, their culture and their history. The main attraction of the museum is a strand of hair which has a verse from the Old Testament engraved on it with a diamond-tipped pen.

This time, I mix it up and take the night train (another six-hour journey) to Tehran. It’s on these long trips between cities that I have the best conversations with locals. I’m put in a sleeper carriage with four plump, gossiping middle-aged ladies who almost don’t let me go to sleep with all the questions they have about my experience in Iran.

Tehran

I save the sprawling metropolis of Tehran as my last stop. Having taken in Iran’s architectural jewels, I was ready to dig into big-city life. While Tehran remains the traditional centre of political power and is, in general, a conservative city, it’s also home to some of Iran’s most liberal communities. The Park-e Honar or Artists Park, which houses the Iranian Artists Forum, shows me a different side of the country: I see funky headscarves and chunky jewellery. As a stark contrast, the now closed American embassy, where paintings showing anti-American slogans adorn the walls, is just round the corner. This is where the Iran hostage crisis took place in 1979.

What interests me the most about Tehran are the many museums that dot the place, particularly the National Jewels Museum, which is kept under heavy security in a vault beneath the Central Bank of Iran. Among its treasures are the 182-carat Darya-e Nur diamond and the emerald, sapphire- and pearl-studded Peacock Throne, stolen by one of the shahs from a Mughal emperor, used to seat the ­royalty of the Qajar Empire. It gives a glimpse into the country’s ­opulent past.

One thing that I take away from the country is the friendliness of the people. Throughout the two weeks I spend travelling around Iran, there are so many instances of kindness and unwavering hospitality. Even though I’m travelling on my own, I never feel truly alone. While waiting for a train or eating in a restaurant, someone will always strike up a conversation about anything from Iranian literature to football or food. If Iran becomes more open to different nationalities, the kindness and generosity of its people, along with the variety of landscape and rich history and culture, will make it an easy sell.

by Aya Lowe

The idea of finding paradise in the land that gave birth to the word and its associations with gardens is cause for a mental double take. Former Persia, modern-day Iran: Its landscape in popular consciousness is harsh – sweeping deserts, arid earth punctuated with grey cities. Yet, when Greek invaders entered Persia some 2,500 years ago, their encounter of Persian royal gardens so impressed them that the word made it to Greek as paradeisos – a slice of heaven in the form of a garden. In the 1630s, English ambassador to Persia, Sir Thomas Herbert, wrote: “Gardens here for grandeur are such as no city in Asia out-vies… so sweet and verdant that you may call it another Paradise.”
Gardens are treasured in this area of the world where the environment can be especially harsh. They represent a significant part of Persian culture and consciousness.

It is perhaps telling that the passion for such green spaces is particularly cherished in this region, home to some of the most inhospitable environments in the world. Ancient texts from the area, from the Epic of Gilgamesh to Zoroastrian scripts and the Code of Hammurabi, are lavish in references to gardens. In Persia, the love for gardens, probably influenced by earlier Mesopotamian civilisations, took root, flourished and, in turn, shaped architecture and arts in regions from India and Arabia to Spain.

To begin to understand a Persian garden, one must first return to its etymological origins. The idea of walls and enclosure is central to the creation of this slice of paradise. Outside the walls lies the unforgiving desert, rapacious and relentless in sapping life. Within the walls, there is life – water, flowers and sweet shade. The man-made oasis is a defiant refuge against death.

What makes the garden even more remarkable is the Persian insistence on apportioning precious water to it, in a land that sees sporadic rainfall and has few year-round rivers. Winters are harsh and summers intense. It is clearly a fine balancing act between nourishing the soul and life, and survival.

Fin Garden in Kashan features a trove of Persian decorative art. It is gradually being restored to its 16th century glory.

In such a landscape, every drop of water is precious. To bring water to the cities, early Persian civilisations constructed sprawling qanat systems, versions of which are still in use, to channel snowmelt from nearby mountains.

Relying on gravity, water is directed using open and underground channels to cities, farms, mills – and gardens. In these enclosed spaces, water flows into reflecting pools, fish ponds, tiled watercourses and fountains, cooling the air around and soothing the soul with its trickling sounds. This irrigation technique defines the layout of the classical Persian garden, called chahar bagh, or four gardens, where water channels and pathways divide the area into four symmetrical sections.

In every garden, water is celebrated. A walk down the pathways of the 16th century Chehel Sotoun, or Forty Columns, in Isfahan, illustrates this. A long reflecting pool runs the length of the garden, unifying the pavilion and palace at the end with the green surroundings. In the pool, one may see the reflection of the pavilion’s 20 columns, hence giving rise to the name.

With the life-giving water, one may then begin to plant. For the Persians, it is a careful curation of symbols and art as well – cypress trees as symbols of eternity and death, tulips for divinity and roses for love. Shrubs that thrive in different seasons are integrated to ensure year-round greenery.

The senses are not forgotten too – myrtle, lilac, oranges, lemons and jasmine scent the air. Pathways are laid with sandstone, bricks and tiles, so as to create texture and geometric patterns, often leading the eye to pavilions and pools. The Eram Garden in Shiraz, dating back to the Safavid era, illustrates the Persian love of plants, with its myrtle bushes, flowering shrubs, towering cypresses and cascades of water.

The other key to understanding the Persian garden is that it is a space meant for occupation. Unlike the English equivalent made for strolls, the Persian garden is a space to be. Those in homes are private refuges for meditation, reflection, family and life. Royal gardens are spaces for entertainment, socialising, debates, poetry recitals and such.

Tragically, in the last decades since the Iranian Revolution in 1979, however, Persia’s famed gardens, both royal and private, have largely fallen into neglect, and suffered damage from heedless development. It was only in recent years that the country took steps to halt the degradation of these sites. In 2011, nine surviving Persian gardens were finally inscribed in UNESCO World Heritage List.

Of these, the oldest, Fin Garden, continues to charm visitors and offers a respite from Kashan’s desert heat. Established in the 1500s, Fin suff ered neglect and damage from earthquakes and renovation. Restoration works in recent years, however, are gradually bringing the garden back to its former glory. Its pavilions and structures reveal intricate architectural and decorative elements of different Persian eras, from the Safavids to the Qajars.

While royal gardens often take the limelight, it is in smaller enclosed spaces such as traditional houses, teahouses and caravanserais that one truly lives in a garden. In the traditional houses of Kashan, the garden courtyard is a source of light, as well as cooled air to the surrounding rooms. Stained glass and arabesque windows add another layer of beauty to the rooms, using the light emanating from the courtyard.

In many ways, the paridaida is a metaphor for Iran today. Outside the walls, one sees the grim landscape. Within the walls, there is beauty and an ancient heritage cultivated by the love of life. These barriers between Iran and the world are gradually breaking down though, in large due to the inking of the nuclear agreement.

Foreign investments are making their way into the country, and the largely untapped tourism market is developing rapidly. The French Accord hotels group has launched its presence in Tehran, while the Spanish Melia Hotels is due to open its first luxury hotel in Iran by this year. The Iranian government has also ambitiously set a target to attract 20 million tourists a year by 2025, a far cry from its present figure of five million.

This emerging tourism market has not gone unnoticed nearer to home. In October last year, Thai Airways became the first airline to fly business from South-east Asia to Tehran. Kittiphong Sansomboon, Thai Airways regional director, acknowledges the rise of Iran as a new destination.

“We see potential in this route. Iran has a rich and ancient culture, and has a lot to offer to the adventurous. Increasingly, tourists are also looking for new and novel destinations. When you sit at a table with well-travelled friends, saying that you have just returned from Iran is a show-stopper in a way,” he says.

For those who would like to savoir the meditative calmness of a Persian garden, it is perhaps time to hit the road, before the tourists arrive.

THE PERSIAN GARDEN IN ART

World History Archive

“Pleasure, talk, a garden, and the spring time. That is all I need.” So penned 14th century Persian poet Hafez.

Muse for generations of Persian artists, the symbolism-laden garden is a rich wellspring offering metaphors and imagery for love, life, grief and death. With each season, the garden changes, and parallels the life cycle of man. Thus the garden in spring is often associated with joy and hope, and the autumn garden, with melancholy, nostalgia and death. Both a private retreat and a display of magnificence and royal wealth, the garden also came to symbolise the relationship of man with nature, soul and worldly possessions.

Persian poetry and prose are replete with references and uses of garden themes and motifs, as well as real and imagined gardens. Hafez waxed lyrical about the gardens of Shiraz while 10th century poet Ferdowsi dedicated sections of his epic poem, Shahnameh (above, depicted in a painting), to gardens and flowers. Roses, lilacs and lilies are compared to the mystical lover, the enclosed refuge is home to divine beauty, spirituality and meditation, and the withering of plants in autumn and winter signifies loss and grief.

But it is not in writing alone that the gardens weigh in. Classical Persian music took inspiration from this slice of paradise, and is often performed in gardens as well. Persian miniatures regularly feature garden settings for the unfolding of tales, such as a prince seated on a carpeted dais surrounded by flowering trees and gardeners. Famed Persian carpets often feature a stylised garden plan in their design. Even in the intricate tile work cladding mosques and palaces, you find the garden appearing, in stylised flowers and leaves.

TAN CHUI HUA, Photo Kashan

Museums across the country have imposed bans on using selfie sticks for taking photographs, said the director of National Museum of Iran.

Generally, selfies are not merely tolerated, but also encouraged. Art museums, travel agencies and hospitality centers long ago concluded that selfies help visitors give free publicity to attractions.

“However, it is one thing to take a picture at arm’s length, but using a stick three times an arm’s length in a museum filled with valuable artifacts is a hazard,” IRNA quoted Jebre’il Nokandeh as saying.

“Not only that, you may encroach on someone else’s personal space,” he added.

Iranian museums are not alone in their anti-selfie stick stance, as leading museums and art galleries worldwide have considered banning selfie sticks.

The Hirshhorn Museum and Sculpture Garden in Washington and the Museum of Fine Arts in Houston banned the sticks long ago.

Earlier this month, a woman at a pop-gallery in Los Angeles’ 14th Factory lost her balance while trying to snap a picture with a selfie stick, crashing into a pedestal that started a domino effect and knocked down a row of pedestals.

The selfie stick originated with a Canadian inventor named Wayne Fromm who took out a patent in 2005. With the arrival of Facebook, Twitter and YouTube, the stick spread like wildfire throughout the world.

financialtribune

The Zagros Mountains Bakhtiari world, travelling with Nomad in Iran as a Australia woman

Kerri-Ann Smith:  Our three days travelling with Nomad. Tours in the Zagros Mountains was a highlight of our recent trip to Iran. We experienced firsthand the world of the Bakhtiari nomads and the stunning natural wonders of the high ranges. Here, perhaps a million people live a nomadic pastoralist lifestyle, moving between summer and winter camps with their flocks of goats and sheep.

Out of Shar-e-Kord, the bitumen soon gave way to dirt road that unravelled across green ridges. Like a child’s drawing of mountains, a zigzag line of remnant snow formed white triangles on grey pyramids. Being late May, the lower altitudes were already sweltering in the heat haze of the high 30s and the nomads had reached their cooler summer camps.  Occasional black goat hair tents and simple stone structures covered with boughs and tarps appeared on the hillsides.

Along the way, we enjoyed a picnic lunch cooled by a fine mist floating from a 30-metre waterfall. We travelled through villages of flat-roofed stone houses where some nomads have settled over the last century.  Our guides quickly became our friends as we talked and they shared their knowledge of the area, its people and the issues facing them.

Later, we were welcomed at a camp to experience a nomad family’s typical day. Their lives are dominated by the care and use of their animals – meat, milk products, and wool. It’s raw and unrefined. It’s physically hard. Women in long, brightly-coloured and multi-layered dresses poured milk from the afternoon’s milking into large pans for boiling. A hapless goat was selected from the herd and was led away. A gaggle of smiling children giggled as we swapped words: “goat” – “boz”, “milk” – “sheer”. The Bakhtiari speak a Lorish dialect as well as Farsi.

Later, by firelight, we ate succulent fresh goat kebabs and stew. A blackened teapot sat on the fire; the glasses of tea were filled many times. For hours we chatted and ate with the men. The women worked and ate separately. We slept where we ate, under the woven goat hair tent.

The culture and traditions of the Bakhtiari nomads are under pressure from government settlement policy; the need for better access to health, education and employment; and the simple desire for a more comfortable life. Some years ago, the patriarch Assad Allah had sold off the family’s flocks and moved them all into a village. But, unhappy there, he returned to his nomadic roots, bringing his wife, Batool, and many of their four daughters and four sons and their husbands, wives and children.

The chores were underway at dawn. Two men headed out with a rifle, but returned empty-handed. In a branch enclosure, the younger women caught and milked the goats before they could dart for the exit. One boy set out for a three hour walk to school to sit an exam. Then, as the sun crept higher in the sky, we accompanied one young shepherd and his flock of goats and fat-tailed sheep over rocky ridges in search of good grazing.

Some of the women headed out on their daily 2-3 hour walk to collect water from a spring. When slaughtered, animal hides are carefully preserved intact to become water receptacles and butter churns. Batool started the hours of rhythmic churning needed to turn milk into butter. Hung from a sturdy wooden tripod and decorated with colourful pom poms, skins filled with milk are rocked vigorously and left to hang.

While we could have stayed for much longer, we said goodbye and continued our journey through the mountains, visiting villages and seeing the handicrafts of the local people. Along the way, we gave lifts in our truck to a mother seeking medical help for her child and to two men wanting to visit their cousins in a camp further downriver. Hospitality and generosity is given and expected. A way of life.

Our last overnight stay was at Sar-Aqa-Seyyed, a stepped village yet to be discovered by tourism, where the roof of each house forms the verandah of the one above, grasses are tossed with wooden forks and villagers share common toilets along the creek. From there we walked part of a nomadic route along a steep-sided gorge and visited a salt mine worked in the summer by local women. Our last main stop before heading back to Isfahan was the majestic Koohrang spring where millions of liters of water gush from a slit in a cliff before roaring off as a large river.

‘Authentic’ is a ridiculously overused word to describe experiences. But here, it could not be more appropriate. Be ready to be awed.

Kerri-Ann Smith, Canberra Australia

Photos by Kerri-Ann Smith

Who says practical things can’t be beautiful? Iran has put its two oldest petrol stations on its national heritage list, making the “monuments” part of the country’s first petroleum museum. But these are no ordinary petrol stations—Fourth Fuel Distribution Station in downtown Tehran, which was built by the Anglo Persian Oil Company between 1925-41, is covered in bright glazed tiles and boasts the same classic Islamic architectural features, including geometric patterns and arches, that can be seen on some of the country’s most spectacular buildings. The other petrol station, which dates to 1927, is built from stone and has strong Art Deco influences, showing the popular British aesthetic at the time. “Unfortunately, a number of old fuel distribution places including gas stations with very peculiar architecture have been destroyed during the time or have been changed for other uses,” says a statement on the museum’s website.

The Fourth Fuel Distribution Station is located in Panzdah Khordad Street in Tehran. (Photo: The Iran Petroleum Museum and Documents)

The Iran Petroleum Museum and Documents, which is located in the southwestern city of Abadan, on the border with Iraq, opened in January this year to document and preserve objects and equipment relating to Iran’s century-old oil industry. The open-air museum includes hundreds of objects from oil tanker trucks, kerosene lamps and oil product containers to historical documents. The museum hopes to add 15 more fuel-related heritage sites to its roster in the future.

Some 350,000 foreign travelers visited Iran’s Sistan-Baluchestan during the first half of the current Iranian calendar year, starting March 21, as the southeastern province seeks to become a tourist hub for both avid sightseers and history buffs.

Nationals from Italy, Austria, England, Germany, Hungary, and the Netherlands were amongst the inbound passengers though a majority of them came from the neighboring countries, IRNA quoted Mojtaba Mirhosseini, a provincial tourism official, as saying on October 3.

Traditions, rituals and culture of people in Sistan-Baluchestan make up another source of charm and remembrance for the travelers in addition to abundant historical attractions and natural sceneries that are scattered across the province, Mirhosseini added.

Iranian tourism authorities are seeking to tap extensive tourism potentials of the historical province which might not currently be on travelers’ radar.

Sistan-Baluchestan has long been shunned by potential foreign travelers though it is home to several distinctive archaeological sites and natural attractions, including two UNESCO World Heritage sites, namely Shahr-e-Soukhteh (Burnt City) and Lut Desert, shared between it and Kerman Province.

The world’s oldest animated picture, as well as the earliest-known dice, backgammon set, caraway seeds and artificial eyeball are among the most significant discoveries at the Burnt City.

Earlier in February, a team of Iranian and Italian archeologists and researchers commenced large-scale interdisciplinary research to provide a clearer picture of life and urban settlement in the Burnt City.