{16} Kashan

Dates: (1) April 26–28 2023, and (2) May 21–22 2023.

To Be Updated Soon.
In the meantime, please enjoy this video I made with some footage I shot from my time in Kashan. Subtitles included.

After leaving Hamedan on the 21st of April, I returned to Tehran and stayed just for a few days. I stayed with my friends, got to know Tehran’s offerings a little more, but then I had another burst of YOLO (You Only Live Once) and spontaneously decided a night before, to take the next morning bus to Kashan. I told my friends I’d be gone for only 2 days, then return to Tehran (turns out…I didn’t). I left my suitcase behind, and travelled light. I ordered a Snapp to Beyhaghi Bus Terminal, and began my journey south.
Bus Travels:
The bus ride from Tehran to Kashan is uneventful and comfortable. Two hours. The girl sitting behind me was in her early twenties, and she enthusiastically chatted with me the whole ride in a mix of English and Arabic. I was offered lavashak multiple times, a type of dried sour fruit leather which is famous in Iran. Her name is Reyhaneh, and prefixed with Sadat, which means we are very distant, branched-off relatives. As we travelled south of Tehran and passed through Qom, I noticed the geography get drier and flatter.
As we entered the Province of Isfahan, which is where Kashan is located, I started seeing mountains reemerge, but much more dry than the Alborz and Alvand mountains I visited. Reyhaneh got off the bus at the first stop. I had to wait until we arrived to the main terminal.

When we finally entered Kashan, a fight broke out on the bus. About 15 people all started yelling at each other. The bus driver got angry—I heard something about Afghans, and something else about “not allowed”. He pulled over and kicked everyone off the bus, including me. He removed the bags and drove off.
Alright. So we were not at the terminal. In fact, we were at a busy roundabout in the outskirts. Hmm…It took me 30 minutes and 2 cancelled Snapp drivers to finally get a driver. The driver who didn’t cancel on me had a hard time finding me.

Baba Afzal Hotel (scroll down for photos)
Off to Baba Afzal! It’s a great little boutique hotel in Old Kashan, that is built in the classic Kashani style of architecture. The video I recorded, at the top of this page, shows a little bit of Baza Afzal hotel in the very beginning.
By the time I was ready to leave my room again, night had fallen. I wanted to get dinner, since I skipped lunch.

As soon as I left the hotel lobbys’ corridor, I entered the outside alley. It was then that I noticed the weather was much warmer than Tehran, which was perfect for night. I mazed through the thin alleys. It was eerily quiet—no sound of traffic or people—even though I was located within a 10 minute walk from the main bazaar. It was dark. Hardly any street lights. Despite the silence and darkness, I felt so serene. I had no idea where I was walking, and when the alleys would split into different directions, I just walked aimlessly.

I have never felt comfortable walking in a dark street in New York or Portland. Of course, I practice caution; i did not pull my phone out for directions. At some point, I followed some visible light pollution and found the main street.

Iranian Pizza: A Criminal Offense

It was getting late. Almost 10 in the evening, and I still hadn’t had supper. I paced the street looking for a place that was open, and found a pizzeria. Ok, this’ll do. I walked in to a fluorescent-lit empty little restaurant. And to my surprise, the folks running the place spoke Arabic! They were from Ahvaz.

As I spoke with the owners in Arabic, and mixing random Persian words in, I felt obliged to stay, even after not liking their menu. There was also the issue of not finding another place for food. The woman sat with me, surprised at my background. I spoke with her so excitedly that I let my Yemeni words slip out. I normally try to use common Arabic words, but I was too hungry and tired to mask my vernacular.

As my dinner was set on my table, I cast my eyes upon the abomination.

There was a drizzle of ranch on top of the little pizza pie. No basil. No oregano. As soon as I saw the bottle of ketchup on the table, it hit me…no marinara sauce. The essence of the pizza completely ignored.
Marinara sauce is equally as important as the cheese, if not, more.

I wiped off the ranch on top, and ate one slice. Oh no. It tasted worse than it looked. Cruel.

It was on this day that I learned that pizza in Iran is the topic of many jokes. People either despise it or love it.

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