YAZD

The road from Shiraz to Yazd started along the route to Perspolis, but after half-an-hour we passed that turnoff and were rolling through new territory. We crossed a mountain range, then dropped down to a flat, barren plain. The bus had a built-in DVD player, and if we got too bored we could always watch domestic drama, Persian-style. It was incredibly dated, with acting that owed a lot to silent movie days, so it didn't matter in the least that we couldn't understand a word of Pars.

The bus stopped at a mosque for a comfort break. Because washing in running water is such a feature of Islam, the public toilets are close to the mosques - and, at 'our' mosque, there was even a small shop selling snacks.

We came to a cross roads, and turned west. Soon there were more mountains, and this time with high passes, and signs warning that vehicles should use chains when snow was around. The road was quite narrow, and other buses and lorries rushed past only inches away, and hooted at every bend (of which there were plenty!) Down to a fertile plain, with prosperous farms and extensive irrigation, and very high mountains all round, stark in the clear air. The plain came to an end, and we dropped further down a long valley with views over an interminable desert ahead. At the valley's end, we reached Yazd, home of the Zoroasteran religion.

Our residence was a surprise. The taxi pulled down a dusty side lane, where we passed some collapsed mud houses, and we reached an even dustier square with a yellow notice painted on the red mud wall:We need not have worried - through the door and down a flight of steps we came to a cool courtyard with a tinkling fountain in a pool, and roses, and divans on which one could recline:Looking down on the courtyard was a spectacular dome, covering the mausoleum of Bogheh-ye Seyed Roknaddin:A stroll down the dusty street, and we turned a corner, to come face to face with the 50m minarets of the 15th century Jamieh Mosque. The loudspeakers would awake us at 4 a.m. and the sound would continue for at least an hour - that was the greatest disadvantage of touring during Ramazahn, as the period was known locally:It glistened in the sun, to hide some of the detail, but a close up showed the incredible workmanship:We wandered through the ancient back streets, too narrow for cars, with mud walls on every side, and dark archways with blind turnings that suddenly led onto small squares where children played. Some houses were open to the public and held surprises:The tower in the background is a badgir, or "wind-catcher". It draws cool air down into the house, and removes warm air, and has to be the most energy efficient method of air-conditioning ever invented. Add to that the divan sitting above the pool and fountains, and even hot weather can be bearable.

Another surprise was the house known as Khan-e Lari, with its beautiful stained-glass doors:It also boasted a mirrored room with pinups of bosomy ladies in long skirts leaning against penny-farthing bicycles! Nearby, the clean lines and simple decoration of the dome on the school known as Alexander’s Prison (15th Century)were a marked contrast to the exuberance of other domes we encountered:At length we escaped from the warren of tiny streets and mud buildings onto the main streets of Yazd. Suddenly, towering over all, was the huge Hazireh Mosque towering over us:An exploration of the local bazaar led down dark alleyways, in one of which a sign said"Mallek-o Tojjar Hotel." A low passage, several bends, a bicycle leaning incongruously against a beautiful old door, and suddenly we were in the courtyard of Yazd’s finest restaurant:The food was very good - by Persian standards! We were getting rather tired of lamb stew with rice, even when tarted up with pomegranate juice.

Refreshed, we went in search of the "Water Museum", with a fascinating display of the construction of a qanat, or underground river bringing water from a distant spring to the home. This arch sat above doors leading to the underground wells:

The Bagh-e Doulat Abad garden was described in glowing terms, so the Traveller just had to see it. A wonderful entrance led to a pavilion crowned by the world’s tallest badgir: Sadly, the rest of the garden left a lot to be desired, and much had been totally neglected. Our explorations were interrupted by a very officious official who warned us in unmistakeable terms that we should go no further down an open path - for reasons that were not in the least apparent! Defeated, we retreated.