The Road To Kashan

Stage 5: Esfahan to Kashan
Day 1: 98.9km Toudeshk
Rest Days: Yazd and Toudeshk
Day 2: 103.8km Ardestan
Day 3: 116.9km Kashan

Obviously, one day in Toudeshk became two. It was a restful one in which I smoked qalyan, visited a mosque, hoodwinked a free clinic into giving me painkillers and had an interview for local TV.

It appears that Iranian people go nuts for free things. I had previously mentioned in passing to the brother of my host that given my inflexible legs, it hurt after a while sitting cross legged on the ground. With this titbit of information, I was whisked off to the free clinic and told to tell the doctor that my knees hurt due to cycling so I could get some ointment for them. I tried to resist, saying I was fine, but once an Iranian gets it into his head that he would like to do you a good deed, that deed will be done come what may. I emerged from the clinic clutching a packet of painkillers, but was immediately ushered back in to partake in some good old Iranian propaganda about what the foreigner thinks of Iran and the free clinic.

Nothing in life is free! (Though it must be said that the positive view I gave of Iran is indeed what I have experienced.)

So finally, I hopped on my bicycle and began my journey once again. Although a headwind existed for most of the 104km, it was a good day consisting of quiet roads, dirt roads and 60km of downhill! I arrived into Ardestan to find only one hotel charging US$20/night. Not wanting to pay, I emerged from the gates only to be called over to a group of men sitting doing nothing outside a shop. With them speaking no English, and my limited Farsi, I was invited to the house of one of them (not by the host, but by someone else!!). It turned out to be a man with what appeared to be a failing plumbing shop but with a palace for a house (methinks he had another source of income). He didn't appear too interested in trying to speak to me, which made the stay a fantastic one; I was able to sit there and read while he watched TV. He fed me and the following morning I made my way towards Kashan.

King George was bored, that's my assessment of the situation after the journey to Kashan. Since you've seen the photo at the top, you have seen the entire scenery from Ardestan to Kashan; a journey that was 116km in lengths, with 100km into a headwind! A mountain was off to my left; it remained there for 3 full hours. I swore at it, made rude gestures at it and even hurled stones at it, but it refused to move for that whole time. I spoke out loud to myself in 4 languages (English, Irish, French and splatterings of Farsi). I swore at the birds that flew faster than me. I sang to myself, but given that I know no more that single lines to songs, I soon grew bored even of that.

I arrived into Kashan tired, hungry and very, very ratty. I told everyone that honked their horn at me in no uncertain terms that I would see them next Tuesday. A boy on a motorcycle started jabbering at me in Farsi. For some reason, Iranians often take the phrase "Farsi balad nistam" (I don't speak Farsi) as an oppurtunity to test the truthfulness of the speaker by speaking very, very fast, for a very, very long time in a language that is not English. After 100km of headwind, this is not what one wants. I wanted to punch him, poke him in the eye, throw him to the ground and kick dirt in his face. Instead, I knew he was being as helpful and friendly as most Iranians are and only wanted to show me the way to a guesthouse. I followed him without a word and he brought me directly to the door before bidding me good day.

I remained ratty for my rest day and although there was quite a spectacular gathering to mark the anniversary of the Islamic Revolution, I could stay only for a short while before the constant bumping of people into me got too much. Some photos are below.


































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