Expecting the unexpected: Meybod, Chak Chak and Kharanaq

One of my best days in Iran was not even supposed to happen. As mandated by the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, I was in the country as part of a tour. A detailed itinerary of this tour had been submitted to and approved by the MoFA (not to be confused with the mofo's) and Yasna was required to periodically check in with them to assure them that we were sticking to the plan. Day 9 read as follows: Day at Leisure. In other words, there was nothing planned for this day. I was free to wander around and do as I pleased (although as a US citizen, I was supposed to be closely supervised, so the whole 'wander around' thing is rather open to interpretation). I had already determined that there was not much to do in Yazd, so I decided to book a visit to three nearby towns.

I am still not clear on what happened next. As I was trying to arrange the day tour, there was a sudden bureaucratic flare-up with no one sure whether it was ok for me to take off with another agency's guide and calls coming in from Tehran trying to figure out what was going on with the rogue American. (How they found out remains a mystery). I suspect that what I was encountering was a brief glimpse into the typical life of an Iranian, living somewhere between what is "legally prohibited" and what is "not exactly legal but tolerated". In the end, not wanting to make waves, we hit upon a new plan. I would forego the tour and Yasna her day off. Together, we would hire a driver and go visit the three nearby towns I had hoped to see.
What followed was probably my favorite day of the entire tour.  We started of with Meybod, home to a mud-brick citadel similar to the one that I had so loved in Rayen, It's presence came as a complete surprise to me because once again, Lonely Planet had short-changed its readers on an obvious star attraction with a measly one paragraph description.

I have no clue what they were thinking.  Narenj Castle, as it's called, predates Islam in Iran and is believed to have once been home to a fire temple. It is on a hill overlooking the entire city of Meybod, which also happens to be made primarily made of mud bricks!!  It is slowly (very slowly- like 'one elderly dude with a bucket and a spatula' type of slowly) undergoing renovations but, at least on the day of our visit, was blissfully tourist-free.  It is a photogenic as all get out.  C'mon, LP, one paragraph?! Get it together!!






I was giddy to have found another mud citadel.  It was like finding this really groovy place that you never even imagined existed and having it to almost all to yourself.  How lucky, right? Now picture, finding a yet another place just like it, less than a week later, and having this one totally and completely to yourself.  Yeah, it was like that.





One of the realities of exploring a crumbling citadel is the knowledge that at some point it was pre-crumbled.  There was probably a moment, long ago, when someone was going about their business.  They were going to visit a neighbor perhaps, climbing their usual 5 steps up to Ali's house, when suddenly decay intervened and they found themselves minus a step or 2 (or ass over elbow, depending on the speed of their reflexes).  This was a distinct possibility and should have probably been more of a concern for us.  Yet, we were undaunted, climbing around and photographing to our hearts' content.








Much as I had in the abandoned water reservoir, I imagined the kinds of parties I could throw here.  Then I pictured having a bunch of drunks trying to navigate this crumbling obstacle course and realized that perhaps this was not my finest idea.






After an hour of exploration, we set off to our next stop.  It was the universal "making of" factory tour- the one that is always on the itinerary no matter where you are- when you watch an artisan make something (painting/ weaving/ jewelry making/ whatever) and then they try to sell you said item.  This time, we stopped to watch a pottery maker.


We watched him take a blob of clay and turn it into a vase.  He explained that he had been a potter since he was 6 years old, but the interesting part of it was that the driver, who was from the region, was translating his explanation for Yasna.  They were all speaking Farsi, but the local dialect was different enough to make it difficult for her to understand him.




But then an odd thing occurred.  He went off script.  He finished making the vase, added it to others that he had ready for the kiln, thanked us for coming and went back about his business.  At no point did he try to sell anything.  It was the first time in what is probably at least 100 'factory' tours that I have sat through, when the educational part was not followed by a sales pitch led by an overly cheery woman explaining how they ship x product worldwide.


The surprises only continued from there.  Next up was a shit house. Literally.  It was a cylindrical building whose sole raison d'etre was to collect pigeon poop to be used as fertilizer. 




 'Beautiful' and 'shit house' are two terms you rarely hear used together but this was the exception. Someone had designed and executed what has to be the prettiest mass toilet ever made.  The manhole were even made of marble.





Already throughly satisfied with the tour, we continued on to the next town, the very lyrically named Chak Chak.  The name represents the sound of falling water (as in "drip, drip") and is based on a Zoroastrian legend. The story is that a Persian princess was being chased by an Arab army, she prayed to Ahura Mazda, the Zoroastrian god, and the mountains opened up and sheltered her.  The cave in which she hid had a chak chak, therefore she had water to survive.



Today, the man-made grotto in the mountains is pilgrimage site for Zoroastrians and the water, which continues to flow, is somewhat unceremoniously collected in plastic tubs.  We later asked a holy man, who lived on site, what the water was used for. His response could not have been more practical.  It's used for bathing.



The surrounding were the most spectacular part of the Chak Chak experience.  In the following week, there would be a Zoroastrian holy day and this place would be packed but on this day, everything was quiet and tranquil, with groups of picnic'ers gathered here and there.

This was not surprising. By this point, I had already realized that Iranians are one picnic happy people.  If there is a heavy rain and a puddle is formed, within the hour, there will be a family with a blanket, a thermos full of tea and some fruit gathered around it.  On three different occasions, Yazna and I returned from visiting an attraction, only to find our driver had prepared a picnic for us.  While on a 2 hour trip between towns, our driver saw a small park and announced that we were stopping for a picnic.  It is really such a simple, yet enjoyable thing.  I thought to myself that once I got home, I would try to incorporate more picnics into my everyday life.  Then, I realized that it is summertime in South Florida, it is hotter than Hades and we have cockroaches that fly, so that hasn't really happened.



But we finished our Chak Chak picnic and continued to what would soon become one of my favorite places in all of Iran, Kharanaq.  This abandoned village does not have the historical significance of Persepolis or the religious mystique of the fire temples, but it just has this certain "thing" that is impossible to put into words.  I could have spent days just wandering around here.


Originally built over a thousand years ago, it is obvious that people continued to live here up until somewhat recently.


Yet somehow, they all disappeared.  The entire village is wholly and completely abandoned.  As we walked around, I kept asking Yasna where everyone went.  Neither she, nor anyone else I asked could give me an answer, other than "they left".  I can accept that we might not ever know what happened to some ancient civilizations that vanished ages ago but these people had phone lines and electric meter readers!! How do they all just go "poof"?







The most common response I got to my query was that when new, more modern buildings were erected, ones that did not require all the mud brick maintenance that this village did, the people flocked to them, leaving their old homes behind,  But, I can not believe that there was not even one resistant-to-change old fart that refused to move.



Wherever these people went, there is strong evidence that they hopped there.  This is confirmed by the preponderance of lone sandals littered along the streets and alleyways.  There were probably hundreds of them, no two alike.  Did they leave in such a hurry that their flip flops went flying off and they just said "Leave it!  We'll get a full pair when we get to the new town!"



Some of the buildings, such as the mosque, appeared to have undergone somewhat recent renovations.  But who is attending services here?  This really was the village of unanswered questions.


When faced with all of these mysteries, Yasna and I did the only thing a reasonable person could do in this situation.  We posed for Facebook photos.






Five or six days later, in Ishfahan, I met some young women at a cafe and we got to talking about Kharanaq.  One woman recalled hearing a story about there being some holdouts who wanted to stay but were forced to leave by the government.  This version makes the most sense, but then that begs the 'why were the forced to leave' question.


If the answer is that they moved everyone out because it was structurally unsound, a very real possibility, then why is it still open to visitors?  Why has it not been sealed off?



A German investor renovated a nearby caravanserai, with an eye towards turning it to a hostel- which would have made it the coolest hostel ever, in the history of hostels.  The project was shut down by the government shortly before completion, amidst allegations of drug use by the German.  But why not just arrest or deport the German and let the project continue?


No valid answer to these questions ever came, but in my opinion, this just added to the charm and mystique of this real life movie set.  The fact that I got to roam around and experience it through my own eyes was just reason #999 that I was so glad I had come to Iran.






I have begun all my other Iran posts by answering some of the more frequently asked questions I heard before my visit.  Here I will add FAQ #7:  But is there anything to see there?

A:  Did you not just read this post?!  I was not even supposed to see these places because my tour operator had not deemed them interesting enough.  This was my day at leisure!  If there is one thing Iran most certainly does not lack it is beautiful and fascinating things to see.

Comments

  1. Isn't Yasna awesome? I took an Intrepid tour of Iran with her during the last election cycle (!!) and had many of the same revelations. Thanks for sharing your insights and photos. You have a great eye! -John http://changingthebogies.blogspot.com/

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  2. I did a very interesting generic tour of Iran with Reza in 2008....will be looking forward this Sept. to a private tour through western Iran with Yasna...she seems like an excellent guide....thanks for sharing your beautiful photos and unique insight....my best Bob DeCoteau (Boston)

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  3. I did a very interesting generic Intrepid tour with Reza in 2008. I am looking forward to going the western Iran with Yasna in Sept. She seems like a very good guide. Thank you for sharing your beautiful photos and unique insight.....regards.....Bob DeCoteau (Boston)

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  4. Great blog, John. Thanks for sharing it.

    Robert, you will have a great time with Yasna. I hope to follow in your footsteps and return to Iran in the not-so-distant future.

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  5. How fascinating to read your blog. I had just reached the same opinion as you about Lonely Planet shortchanging Maybod and was searching the net for more info. I do have 2 other guidebooks (one extremely authoratitive) and neither of them even mentioned Meybod . I loved your photos and am visiting Iran in the autumn. .

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