Persia is a crossroads where men coming from far-off lands have passed each other over the centuries. Conquerors and merchants have left their imprint on today’s Iranians’ faces: fair or dark skin, old people with mandarin profile, red-haired and blond-haired, it’s a big mix. This is where three big geological plates meet. They gave birth to gigantic chains of mountains and landscapes as diverse as extraordinary. By going across Iran, we had the feeling of passing through different worlds. What a trip!

When we arrived, it was like landing on the moon in the middle of big folded mountains with shades of beige, yellow and ochre, dotted here and there with dazzling white summits. Taking photos was inadvisable because of the border area…it’s a pity!

A few days later, after having skirted around Mount Sabaland and its 4,811 metres, we plunged down towards the Caspian Sea in the middle of green hills drowned in the mist. Did a genie transport us to Ireland? The young delicate green tree leaves shone under the sun. There was something surreal about this descent towards Astara. The next day, a taxi dropped us on the beach in the middle of nowhere. We put on our big bags and joined the seashore. We walked alone most of the time and sometimes met fishermen busy around their wooden boats. On our left was the calm and flat sea and on our right the misty hills.
 
During our different stops, we heard people speaking about Masuleh. It is a charming village set high up above the Gilan. The welcome there was nice, and we walked from roof to roof to admire the density of the woods that cover the valley and cool down the air at nightfall.
              Masuleh

We went then to the southeast in the direction of Tehran in order to penetrate the mystery of the legendary castles of the Assassins that are hidden in the mist of the valley of Alamut. New shades of brown, rust and green, overlooked by snowy summits exposed themselves to our gaze for miles around…except for when we entered one of those thick clouds that cover the valley. We arrived in Gazor Khan, a village of a few hundred souls, on top of which one of those 1,000 year-old castles stands. The members of an Ismaelian cult used to meet here to foment the assassination of political leaders of the time. The history tells that the volunteers were taking hashish to perpetrate their crimes, hence the name ‘Hashish-lyun’ (the origin of the word ‘assassin’). In the meantime, the Mongols came along. In the 8th century, they put an end to this epic, leaving only ruins behind them.
              The valley of Alamut

A few days later and about 700 kilometres down south, it was a total change of scene. Departing Ispahan, we climbed into a small bus that dashed towards the east. Bit by bit, the housing and the vegetation gave way to a large expanse of black and grey stones. We got off at Toudeshk, a small village at the doors of this particular desert made out of sand and salt: the Dasht-e-Kavir. There, the houses are made of a mix of earth and straw, which is a perfect insulator for this region subject to extreme temperatures. From the top of the dune of dark rocks that dominates the village, the green square of cultivation adjoins the brown square of housing, in the middle of this huge plain edged with a long chain of mountains in the distance. Only the powerful wind and the noise of our steps disturbed the silence that reigned over us.
              Toudeshk

Yet, the surprise was not over: the next day, we went to the bottom of big sand dunes that looked just like you would imagine. Despite the early hour, the sun was already parading high in the sky and made the climb difficult. What a reward when the immensity of the desert cleared in front of us. The group split up, as if each one wished to absorb this infinity on his/her own and stand gazing at this deep silence that overcomes the soul. Here was for us a dreamlike experience of the desert, but we discovered a bit later that it could not last. A bus full of female Iranian students arrived. From as far as we were, we could hear their shouts and laughs. For them, the dunes are a huge playground where they can happily unwind and roll in the sand. Their good mood was infectious. We calmly came down from our retreat to go back to the world of mankind: the town.
 
At the end of our stay, we went across this desert again in the train that brought us from Yazd to Tehran. It gave us as a last sight a huge plain of sand covered with a coat of fine white salt.
 
To think we had only travelled a quarter of the country!

Gabrielle
(Translation: Yolene Dabreteau)