First day of our stay in a Khorasan, Iran, village

Our autumn weekend tour of Iran’s countryside began on a Thursday morning (see the previous article) – the first day of the weekend in the Iran.

First, we opened all the windows to air the place with the fresh morning breeze.

The owner of the home, Uncle Javad, who routinely gets up before dawn for prayer, had driven there ahead of us, from his home in Mashhad.

Javad doesn’t do anything without prayer. Here he is facing the Mecca for his noon prayer.

The famous Iranian hospitality on our tour of Iran’s countryside

I thought he was there to just give us the keys to the place. But I should’ve known better.

In the Iranian hospitality culture, you’re supposed to be generous to the nth degree: not just hand over the keys to your country home, but drive out of town to deliver them in person.

And then feed the guests too!

First, the obligatory tea from the samovar. Iran wouldn’t be Iran without tea. It would be like, say, America without guns.

Then we ate breakfast … where else but on a rug on the ground, around the sofreh (white cloth or plastic spread).

For breakfast on tour of Iran’s countryside, Javad had brought us a very traditional Iranian breakfast: Haleem, a hearty mixture of wheat and lamb (or chicken or turkey) cooked slowly overnight, a delicacy for which fans queue up at dawn outside restaurants that specialize in haleem.

Fresh bread in Iran – impossible to do without

And he brought us flatbread topped with black poppy seeds, made in a clay oven only a couple of hours earlier.

Getting fresh bread at the neighborhood bakery – known as a nanvaii – is a daily ritual in Iran, in the city and country.

Fresh bread is a huge benefit of our stay in Iran. It’s one of the things we miss the most when we leave Iran. Iranians who visit the West often marvel at how people willingly consume plastic-wrapped bread made days or weeks earlier in a factory.

Here’s a nanvaii near our home in Mashhad, which I discovered just yesterday:

The bread is handed to you piping hot. You have to hang it outside for it to cool down and dry out before stacking them. Otherwise they get spongy.

Too much food part of Persian hospitality

Uncle Javad also brought us 24 eggs and fruits.

Again, part of the Persian hospitality thing. Not just feed the guest, but it has to be too much food, served with frequent supplications to eat more. Please, eat. Come on. Why are you not eating? Eat. Eat. Eat.

The importance of the family in Iran

This entire home is the product of Javad’s attempts to accommodate the extended family.

He started out wanting to save the tiny cabin his late father built 50 years ago and became a popular weekend destination for the extended family.

Then he kept adding to the structure to make it comfortable and accommodate special needs, like putting in an extra kitchen on the ground floor so his 85-year-old mother doesn’t have to climb stairs.

This is also an Iranian way of doing things – to build with friends and family in mind – and not just yourself. Relatives tend to be tight knit and devoted to each other.

In fact, family members looking out for one another is how Iranians have survived the trauma of the last four decades.

Exploring nature on our tour of Iran’s countryside

We spent the rest of the day on our tour of Iran’s countryside strolling and exploring in the explosion of colors around us.

To be correct, Saeideh took the lead and I followed behind, obsessively snapping pics, as I often do in Iran.

About photographing women in Iran

My wife is my photography model 99 percent of the time, unless someone else happens to walk by and I can snap an interesting pic without bothering them – like this girl here:

As in the rest of the Islamic world, females here are sensitive to cameras in the hands of strangers, especially after the advent of social media and their misuse by male assholes.

The men don’t mind being photographed one bit.

The stair-stepped village our tour of Iran’s countryside

Later we drove to Payeh (PAW-ye), one of countless villages built in the slopes of Iranian highlands. It’s a pelekan (stair-stepped) village because of the way homes are built on top of each.

The roof of one home is the porch of the home above it. How they deal with the property rights, I’ve got no idea.

The significance of Imamzadehs to Iranians (and tourists)

This village is home to the mausoleums of not one but two imamzadehs (EH-MOM-ZAW-deh) – offspring of the twelve Shia imams who allegedly died here or nearby.

In just a few decades, the number of shrines dedicated to imamzadehs (also spelled imamzada, imamzadah and emamzadah) in Iranian towns and villages has grown by several folds to some 25,000, last I heard.

Believers come and pray, the imamzadehs answer prayers (sort of like Catholic saints), donations pour in, authorities take notice and, voilà, municipal improvements – paved roads, street lights, etc. – materialize.

The only way to get to this village 40 years ago was by donkey, although there’re still plenty of donkeys around.

Visiting an Imamzadeh’s shrine during on tour of Iran’s countryside

For me, though, just the peace and quiet I often find in these countryside shrines in Iran are good enough heavenly rewards.

You often find beauty, no doubt. Sometimes you run into quite elaborate Imamzadeh shrines that are visited by fans all day long.

Just watching the worshippers provides insight into the importance of faith in the Persian mind.

But for me, visiting the primitive unknown holy places in Iran can also be rewarding. They tend to be quiet and devoid of visitors, offering solace to the traveler.

Time and again, I’ve pulled off the road to take refuge in the silence of an imamzadeh’s shrine for rest and meditation and maybe a quick nap if no one’s around to shoo me away. Living in an Islamic republic has its advantages.

Going off-road (and off the map) on our tour of Iran’s countryside

Outside one of the shrines, we watched the spectacular scenery before us. There’s so much beauty in this country. It just never gets old.

Standing there, I wished out loud I knew which roads to take to explore the area the mountains all around us. Road signs in Iran are spotty and not terribly accurate. Even the paved road to the village is not on Google Maps.

And, suddenly, as if by magic – or maybe it was the imamzadeh hearing me out? – we met a couple who invited us to follow them into the wilderness.

Up and down peaks and valleys we drove, following their car, taking in the breathtaking views around us.

Meeting Iranian locals is easy, almost unavoidable, on tours of Iran

In Iran, meeting people on the road happens constantly and effortlessly. Locals often are curious – especially toward foreign tourists – and usually respond to inquiries with kindness and generosity.

Even getting invited into homes happens often. In some regions – like Lorestan – a home invitation is almost a given every time you stop for directions!

And fellow travelers on the road, next to you on the train or plane – at least the ones without the headache of small kids – are often eager to connect.

This is another one of the joys of traveling in Iran: you’re never alone if you don’t want to be.

Our new friends – Ehsan and Yalda – were also Mashhad residents on a weekend excursion. Together, we made a fire, grilled skewers of lamb and chicken, and exchanged ideas for future road trips.

Chai Atashi (fire tea)

No Iranian picnic is complete without chai astashi (Persian: fire tea). It’s just loose tea dropped in water boiled on wood fire but somehow – and I don’t know why – it does really taste better than regular tea. Tastes lighter.

The next morning, again began with another breakfast at Uncle Javad’s, overlooking the amazing view of the valley below us.

It was our last day in the area and we were determined to make the best of it (to the next article) >>>.