Our time in Esfahan is over and we take a bus, including lunch and crazy Persian TV, to get to the city of Yazd.
The road brings us through very dry landscape and desert, in the distance we see the mountains and ruins of ancient sites. I can even witness a true Fata Morgana, I see water and trees glimmering in the heat of the day.
Yazd is the only place, where we do not find a couch for us and we have to go to a hostel. We find the very pretty hostel Badgir with exotic style. There are some Western tourists, but also it is a welcomed cheap option for Iranians. We live in a shared dorm and want to change. Right after Uwe dropped his pants I see a petrified shocked Persian senior lady standing behind a bunk bed and I tell Uwe, that we need to change rooms.
The receptionist seems to encounter this problem for the first time and surprised he agrees to change our dorm. We wonder, why on all hostels in the world, we encounter one in Iran, where the staff is surprised about problems due to the mixture of girls and boys in one room.
Yazd is famous for being the largest city made of clay and its beautiful wind towers.
These constructions redirect the air through tunnels in the houses below and produce a comfortable climate.
There is a place in the city called Alexander’s prison – and, of course, I have to visit it. The palace was used to keep the noble prisoners of Alexander the Great and from what we could see, it is not a place to complain about.
There are gardens and yards and, apparently, the guests could enjoy food, alcohol and every kind of entertainment.
We enjoy all new kinds of food that we discover, for example Faloodeh. This is a dessert made of frozen noodles in syrup of sugar and rose water.
Tokhm Sharbati is like a drink containing grain and seeds, which look like little animals in a striking green liquid.
Again, we find a good place to rest from people and the heat in a mosque. Well, we almost found peace.
A group of people from Rasht approaches us and we share stories from our homes.
We always make good experiences with imams. When we walk around a mosque, we draw the attention of the imam and he approaches us with a smile. He offers to explain us the background about the holy people that are remembered in this or that place, and the meaning of holy artifacts.
The imams tell us about the Quran and the references to the ornaments in the mosque. In the end, they even enjoy to make selfies with us.
Only one thing made them unhappy. When one imam asks me if I am Christian and I deny he is puzzled.
I tell him that I am Atheist and explain its meaning to him. He is shocked and not interested to proceed with the conversation with me any longer.
We enjoy sitting in rooftop cafes and to watch the sunset over the houses of the city with its towers.
We feel like in an oriental fairytale.