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Monday, 3 June 2013

The desert highway.


Dasht-e Kavir desert

The old city of Yazd is typically "desert". The alleys are thin and shaded. The walls of the houses are made of a mixture of mud and twigs. The buildings are crowned with wind towers, a simple but effective system that directs air in residences for refreshing.

It's pretty, but as summer approaches, the NAP takes now too prominently in the day. It nothing happens!

Then, it mocked and sweating a little at the hotel. We met two Germans, Alex and Mathias, travelling with their own car.

«-Hey Canadians, it looks like a roadtrip?
-A roadtrip in Iran...? Envoy therefore! »

As any roadtrip, as per fill. Normally, it is a mundane formality, but we are in Iran the country of "can I help you... please?! There is more power in the pumps. All truck drivers have been waiting for a good time. Our disappointment mine gives them an idea: siphonnons the bottom of our reservoirs to fill those aliens!

"Thank you Mr, a little sweet to change the taste of gasoline? ''

And it ends with a traditional male hug, a way to say welcome in the world of the "truckers".

And it's gone! Sand, rock and even sand. Sometimes a few camels in harmony with the desert.


A ghost haunted by persistent souls village. A woman encrypted on the skull of a goat on the canal. A small man who looks like a talkative Elf which chatter a speech incomprehensible Farsi, but with a smile.


The third curve after the large rock beside the lizard, in a village at the foot of the mountain, a cave is an important site of the Zoroastrian religion who reigned in Iran before the era of Islam. It would have miraculously provided water to a Princess on the run.

In the distance, a grey cloud. We are approaching our goal. Garmeh oasis. A sweetness in this aridity. Date palms, pomegranates and elderly ensuring time that flows slowly here.

But what is made in the Iranian desert?


One regales oneself of flat good houses, we lodged in a small house with mud walls, we listen to the evening a man with a beard of experience to resound from the clay vases.

We also met young people in Tehran on holiday who organize well-watered secret celebrations of the precious prohibited beverage: Absolute Vodka in cans.

They left on an expedition under the Sun Steaming towards the golden sand dunes. This experience that normally takes place in silence quickly takes a new twist in the company of holiday-makers from the capital.


Jeep races, a lighting integrated disco speaker spat Iranian pop music. «Kite surfing» session, courtesy of our German friends.


Night, long after the hijabs have fallen, it is a campfire that the Festival continues. It sings, dances, and jump over the flames, a local tradition normally reserved for the last Thursday of the year to get the chance.


Then we return our mud houses. The Sun having long since given way to a sky shimmering stars.

Yet once the Iran us will be pleasantly surprised and generously offered good times.

I wish a good night two camels which also housed in our hostel and creeps me under the duvet.

-Nad who empty his shoes.

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