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Wednesday, November 27th – Esfahan
I am ravenously hungry this morning. If I don’t eat something I am likely to get more diarrhea from stomach acid and not eating. It has happened to me before. In spite of not eating solid foods for since Friday, I seem to have a bit more energy today.
Rashid is absent form the front desk when I go out this morning, thankfully. The day is pleasant out, a bit cool but sunny again. I walk up Ferdowsi Ave to find a café and I have some tea and plain yogurt. It goes down well. I continue up to the Nagsh-e Jahan Square to locate the tourism office I had seen the day before. I pick up a map of the city with recommended attractions. I stop into the Grand Bazaar at the north end of Nagsh-e Jahan to see what it is like but the weather is nice and I don't want to buy anything. 
I amble down a boulevard called Charbagh, which has a wide median with a landscaped walkway and a cycling path on either side. It is the first time I have seen a cycling path east of Austria! Charbagh Ave ends at the broad but shallow Zayandeh River and the Siosepol Bridge, also known as the Allah-Verdi Khan Bridge and the Bridge of 33 Arches built about 400 years ago. It is a pedestrian only bridge and the longest in the city.
On the south side of the river, I follow Mellat St, which borders the riverside park. It is a peaceful route in this big city. I take my time, resting whenever I am tired, but just being able to walk about again without fear of a bowel eruption has me in a radiant mood.
I follow Mellat east a kilometre and a half, past a vehicle bridge to the second pedestrian bridge, the Khaju Bridge. This bridge is said to be built at the most
beautiful point of the river and was built by a Shah around 1650, who had viewing pavilion built in the middle where he could survey the beauty of the river. It is as compelling at the mosques in Nagsh-e Jahan. On its underside, the arches are magnificent and there are shops and tea rooms. 
As I am taking my time today, I stop at a few of them. In one souvenir shop I talk to the owner who asks me where I am from and how I like Esfahan. I tell him it is so beautiful but it has been a difficult time for me. I tell him the whole story of the illness and the robbery, as well as Rashid’s anger at me over being held in jail overnight. Ismail, the owner, is horrified that I have had such a misfortune and then have been treated this way. He also owns a boarding house near this bridge and writes down the address. He insists that I move there today and that I can stay for free until I am ready to move onto Zahedan. I thank him profusely and promise to return to confirm that I have made it there safely.
I return to Rashid’s hotel and pack my bags. I collect my passport from Rashid, who seems relieved that I am leaving. I coast back towards the bridge to Ismail’s boarding house. It is a larger but less fancy affair. The staff are very friendly and there is a restaurant on the main floor. They show me to a storage room where I lock my bike and as soon as I am settled in I return to the Khaju Bridge to let Ismail know I am settled in. On the way back to the bridge, I stop at the police station to tell them where I am staying if they need me. There are more background screams coming from the interior rooms so I don’t linger. I hope I never have to return here.
There is a tea room under the bridge not far from his shop and I stop there to eat a sweet bun and drink some tea. I am approached by a couple university students, Raza and Ahmed, who are curious about me. They are excited to know I am traveling by bicycle and eager to exchange addresses. They are anxious to tell me about Iran and Raza does not hold back his anger and frustration over the presence of the Mullahs in his country. I am shocked to learn that most Iranians believe that the Mullahs and Ayatollahs were imposed on his country by the West. They began the revolution to depose the corrupt Shah of Iran twelve years ago by meeting in mosques, the only places the Shah allowed people to gather. That led to massive street demonstrations and open opposition and when it became clear that the government was about to fall, Ayatollah Khomeini, who they had never heard of before (the Shah would not allow mention of his name in the Iranian news) flew in from his refuge in Paris to take over control of the revolt and suddenly Islamic law was imposed. Raza says the Mullahs stole the people’s revolution.
I argue that the mullahs are totally against the West so would not have put them into power, but Raza argues the US was nervous about the Shah’s attempt to build Iran into a nuclear superpower and they wanted him out. He argued that the US supported Saddam Hussein too, in the eight year war against Iran after the revolution once the Mullahs turned against them. They promised to give him Kuwait if he defeated the Iran, but after the war ended without a victory and they didn’t give him Kuwait, so he turned against them and invaded Kuwait anyway, which started the Gulf War. That’s the last twelve years retold in a nutshell. What an eye-opener!
Back at the hotel, I decide to eat in the restaurant downstairs. One of the busboys who works there seems to have taken a shine to me, in my emancipated shape. He is batting eyes with me and blushing whenever I return his attentions. I say hello as he passes my table and he bursts into a wide smile, but he doesn’t answer. Perhaps he doesn’t know any English.
I am tired from being out on the town so much today. I won’t go out again after dinner. It has been a wonderful day though, not only because I am able to get around more and eat something, but because I am in this new hotel. The busboy, as well as other staff, live in the boarding house too. I don’t feel as isolated as when I am in a traveler-only hotel.
PHOTO 1: the Grand Bazaar at the north end of Nagsh-e Jahan
PHOTO 2: I like the lighting in the Bazaar
PHOTO 3: Charbagh Ave, with bike lanes
PHOTO 4: Siosepol Bridge (Bridge of 33 Arches)
PHOTO 5: on the Siosepol Bridge
PHOTO 6: the Shah's viewing pavilion on the Khaju Bridge
PHOTO 7: the arches under the bridge, and cute trolls too
PHOTO 8: the Khaju Bridge an the Zayandeh River in the evening
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