One Night in Masouleh

First Published in Options, The Edge, 20 June 2016

A traditional way of rural life, preserved in a heritage village in Iran

We emerged from the tunnel cut into the mountainside into another landscape.  We had come from the high country, with its rolling, barren hills stippled with snow, and emerged into a lush country of trees and verdant grassy hillsides, a complete contrast to the stark nakedness of the arid high country.

The valleys below were thickly forested with trees, and the adjoining hillside was the country of Azerbaijan.  As we descended, the country became greener and more luxuriant. A razor wire fence running beside the road demarcated the boundary between Iran and Azerbaijan. Occasionally, there were Army outposts by the border. 

We drove through wet rice fields, so incongruous in Iran, and turned into the town of Astara, which is a transit point between the two countries.  Like many border towns, it had a slightly shabby appearance, open air car parks crowded with vehicles, and a busy main street with vendors selling food and knick-knacks. The bazaar was a sad market of cheap, throwaway plastic goods, garish clothes and Made-in-China sneakers.  Astara was near the sea, however, my first encounter with the vast Caspian Sea.

Of Knives, a Fire Temple and a Prison

First published in Options, The Edge, March 21, 2015

An adventure into regions less traveled for a warm welcome, and remnants of an ancient culture waiting to be discovered

Zanjan was the city of knives. In the lobby, the hotel displayed locally-produced knives for sale in glass cases.  There were many knife shops in the town nearby, with an assortment of hardware, from mundane kitchen knives with wooden handles to pen-knives, switchblades, cleavers, fancy knives with inlaid, shiny blades and elaborate handles surely meant for display rather than actual use.  You could have a knife made to your specifications.  In a small corner shop in town, the genial man behind the counter, with silver hair and an ample moustache was not only the shopkeeper but also the craftsman, for he made knives with the same care and pride that an artist takes in his work, and handled them with the fondness and familiarity of the master artisan.