Hello Goodbye in Kaschan

Continuation 30.03.2018 / Kaschan - Isfahan

Aga wakes me up. She couldn't sleep at all. For the same reasons why I had trouble falling asleep. Since Mohammed noticed that she was awake, he has been annoying her with his Polish fanaticism. While I was still snoozing, he took a thousand photos of her with the Polish flag.

Before my nap, I handed Aga my phone with the message "I'm not staying here for one more night!" and she replied, "Yes, let's take the bus to Isfahan later!". So far, everything is clear between us, but I wonder how Mohammed will react when we tell him that we will leave early. However, he takes it calmly and says he can help us with the bus later. Although it naturally makes him sad that we won't stay with him.

Now we're going into town together and I'm starting to relax. Although I still find him extremely strange, the fact that we're leaving today makes the situation more bearable. Also, he doesn't do anything directly bad, he's just very unique.

Kaschan is known for its historical houses. We visit two beautiful old residential houses and a hammam. It appears that only Iranians are traveling around the country during the time of Nouruz.

As we walk past a shrine, the Mullah at the entrance asks us to come in. But before we can enter, we have to completely cover ourselves. So, we take the entrance for ladies and put on the chadors. The chador is a kind of sheet that very religious women use to cover themselves. Literally, it means tent. They hold it with their hands or even with their teeth. If a woman wants to visit a shrine, wearing a chador is mandatory. The Mullah is very friendly. I believe his name is Mohammed. The chances that someone is named Mohammed are always very good. Mohammeds and Alirezas are like the Daniels and Tims of Iran. Only more extreme. Mullah Mohammed shows us around, explains a bit, and then invites us for tea. A man who came to pray has a box of cookies with him and offers us some. So, we also get some pastry with our tea.

We have lunch at a restaurant owned by Mohammed's friend. Instead of sitting in the dining area, we sit in the kitchen. The friend's son joins us too. He looks like Aladdin. The people are friendly and the food tastes good. Now, it's time for some saffron ice cream, quickly pass by a mosque, grab our stuff, and off to the bus. Bye Bye Mohammed - Isfahan, here we come.