Conspiracy theories on my 24th birthday

It is my fourth day at this job. I am taking a break, using my lunch time, to write this. It is a partly-cloudy afternoon in July in Tehran, which is rare. I think I have loads to think about. I don't know where to start.

I have conspiracy theories when I walk on the sidewalks of Valiasr. Conspiracy theories about my past and my future, about my ex-girlfriends and my current friends, about my academic goals and about my career opportunities. I don't stop to think. I walk. I walk.

I look at faces. None of them are familiar. Sometimes I think they're attractive and sometimes I think they're not attractive at all. I wonder if I saw any of my girlfriends form the past in the street as a stranger, would I think they're hot? I'm not so sure.

I don't give myself the appropriate time to think about myself. To think about my injured leg. To think about my university tasks. I am leading an average life. What happened? I can't think of a good enough conspiracy theory. I haven't come up with one. Not yet.

Conspiracy Theory Number One: I WILL NEVER HAVE MY LEG BACK!

It might be true. It might not. I don't know. The doctor didn't say anything after he saw my x-ray photos. Told me nothing to worry about. But it still hurts. Very rarely, but a lot. This is the most important conspiracy theory of my life at the moment since it will change the way I travel for the rest of my life. And what am I, without travel, really? (This is, on its own, another completely different conspiracy theory: I WILL NEVER BE ABLE TO TRAVEL THE WAY I DID, which I thought to put it in one number since my injured leg is the root cause of that. Makes sense, right?)

Conspiracy Theory Number Two: MY PAST RELATIONSHIPS WERE ALL SHIT
This one is less likely to be true, but you can never know. It's just the way with conspiracy theories. You can never know. I know I'm not a shitty person in general. I know I have good sides and bad sides; I have a pretty realistic understanding of myself. But I do have the feeling that I never had a really deep and meaningful relationship with someone. No one has truly understood me and I have never truly understood anyone (to suck on Goethe's). And the sad thing is that I don't think my chances of having one is going to increase in the years to come.

Conspiracy Theory Number Three: I WILL LOSE MY FAMILY AND FRIENDS
This one is inevitable, I guess. Parents die. Brothers and sisters are better kept at a distance. Friends move out of the country (or I will). It's just the way it is and always has been. It's only normal to think about this. This one is not a conspiracy theory; the aliens are really coming for us this time. 

Conspiracy Theory Number Four: I HAVE NO CONTROL OVER MY THOUGHTS AND LIFE AND AM BOUND TO FAIL AT MY GOALS
I guess you can infer this last one from the text, but it has a life of its own as well. I have had this theory or quite a long time but I haven't seriously thought about it. (Thinking about it seems to be the - logical - cure).

دردا دردا دردافریادا یادا یادآور

مزایای غمگین بودن (دو)

سهراب سپهری - نقاشی 

Let's talk about running

I have about a good seven months to the university's next running annual competition. I participated in the last one and got the sixth place out of the 15 runners. I was not in the alpha pack and was behind the leader for about less than a minute. Finishing at 05:54/9, I was three seconds behind number five, and 50 seconds behind number one. This year, I'm going to change that. With an excellent, clean and long-term plan, diverse with speed, tempo, long and recovery runs as well as weekly cross-trainings (including body-building sessions, swimming, or football) I'm going to finish around 5 minutes regardless of my place in the competition. We're all here to make ourselves better people, right?

1. Farvardin:

• 3 K Starting run (done)
• 1.5 K Tempo (done)
• 5 K Long (done)
• 8 * 200 Speed (done)
• 1500 Mock Race (done; a terrible 7:15)
• 2 K Tempo 
• 3 k Recovery
• 6 k Long
• Body Building
• Swimming
• 4 K Recovery
• 8 K Long
• Cross-Training

2. Ordibehesht:
+ to come based on Farvardin's results

مزایای غمگین بودن

در آستانه بهار، در زمان های خلوتم، کمی تا قسمتی غمگینم.

غمگین بودن رو دوست دارم. آرام می‌نشنیم روی صندلی تکی‌ای که رزرو کردم و به بیرون نگاه می‌کنم. اتوبوس هنوز از شهر خارج نشده و توی ترافیک خیابان‌ها و اتوبان‌هاست. هودی‌ام رو انداخته ام، عینک آفتابی‌ام رو زده ام و هندزفری-در-گوش هستم. هر کسی را که می‌بینم به این فکر می‌کنم احتمالا برادر، خواهر، مادر، پدر، فرزند و یا پارتنر یکی دیگه است. عجیب نیست؟ نمی‌توانم این ها رو تصور نکنم. چشمم به هر کسی که می‌فته، بهش یک نسبت خانوادگی می‌دم و سعی می‌کنم حدس بزنم توی اون نقش چطوری رفتار می‌کنه. یه مادر زحمت‌کش، یه پدر پیر و مهربان، یک برادر بی‌خیال و یک خواهر بی‌علاقه به خانه.  تصور کردن این افراد توی رخت‌خواب یکی از لذت‌بخش‌ترین کارهاست.

غمگین بودن رو دوست دارم. غمگینم اما دلتنگ کسی نیستم. اصولا دلم تنگ نمی‌شود. رابطه‌های گذشته ام رو نگاه کن: به کسی فکر نمی‌کنم، به کسی از گذشته‌ام علاقه ندارم و بهتره بگم که با کسی در گذشته‌ام ارتباطی ندارم. من در لحظه‌ای بین همین الان و آینده ای دور زیست می‌کنم. 

غمگین بودن رو دوست دارم. در من استرسی نیست؛ می‌دانم که غمگین هستم، و می‌دانم که چرا غمگین هستم. قبلا بیشتر غمگین بوده ام، چیزهایی رو دیده‌ ام، داستان‌هایی شنیده ام و خوانده ام. برآیم آسان است؛ می‌دانم که غمگین نخواهم ماند. چند ساعت دیگر به خانه می‌رسم. چه خوب.  

+ کلا بلاگ هایم رو برای چس ناله کردن گذاشتم کنار. منطقیه، مگه نه؟ برای خودم می‌نویسم، بذار برای خودم ناله کنم. 

 + همیشه عاشق فرمت پی‌نوشت بودم. انگار یه چیزی می‌گی که نباید بگی. و من دوست دارم یه چیزایی بگم که حس می‌کنم نباید بگم. توی بلاگ های قبلیم هم کلی پی‌پی‌پی‌نوشت اضافه می‌کردم و تا ته داستان می‌رفتم و عموما هم پ‌ن‌هام به خود نوشته ربطی نداشت. 

+ یکی از دوستای آلمانیم پیام داده که سه هفته است بالای کوه های آلپ داره کار و زندگی می‌کنه و با افراد جدیدی آشنا شده. حقیقتا من اون چند روزی که بالای دماوند بودم رو خیلی دوست داشتم، با آدمهای جدیدی آشنا شدم، تو ارتفاع 4000 متری می‌گفتیم و می‌خندیدیم، گاهی سیگار می‌کشیدیم، و یه جورایی زندگی میکردیم. خوش به حالش که سه هفته ارتفاعات آلپ بوده، کاش منم یه بار باهاش برم.

Calling: A Sohrab Sepehri Poem

Girl, probably not reading Fiqh - painting by Sohrab Sepehri 

شعر های سهراب رو دوست دارم؛ دوست دارم بلند بخونمشون، زمزمه شون کنم، ترجمه شون کنم،به زور برای بقیه بلغور کنمشون و یا حتی (برای آدم گشادی مثل من) حفظ شون کنم. از اونجایی که تصمیم گرفتم اینجا رو باز کم کم راه بندازم و شروع کنم از زندگیم نوشتن و چیزهای دیگه، این پست شروع دوباره رو یه ترجمه از سهراب میذارم. 

Calling

Where are my shoes?

Who called me by my name?

It was a familiar voice, the way the wind is familiar to a leaf falling.

Mother is still asleep in the other room.

Maybe just like all the people in the city.

The spring night moves swiftly, like a requiem over the seconds

and the cold wind steals my nap from the edge of the green blanket.

It smells like travel.

In my pillow, birds sing.

It will be morning and to this glass of water

the sky will travel.

I have to leave tonight.

I have talked to the people from the sincerest windows

but I heard nothing from time.

No eye, never looked at the earth

lovingly.

Nobody astonished looking at a garden.

None took the raven seriously.

I get depressed the size of a could when I see the angel

– girl next door –

reads Fiqh.

There are some things; moments of crescendo

(For example, I saw a poet

who was so eliminated in space that the sky

laid an egg on her eyes.

On some other night, a traveler asked me

“How much is left to the sunrise of the grapes”?

I have to leave tonight.

I will take my backpack

the one that can carry my lonely shirt

and go in a direction

where the epic trees live,

in a direction where the wordless chasm calls me over.

Somebody call my name again.

Where are my shoes?

Sohrab Sepehri

فارسی "ندای آغاز" رو میتونید توی این بلاگفا بخونید.

+ هشت کتاب رو سال آخر خوابگاه بهشتی از محسن (به زور و جلوش چشمش) دزدیم. باید بگم که بای فار یکی از بهترین دزدی هام بوده تا الان. در مورد احساسم به سهراب نمیدونم چطوری باید شروع کنم. جاهایی برام یه شاعر سفره؛ شاعری که از به جایی تعلق نداشتن، روی چیزی تعصب نداشتن، و همه چیز و همه جاها رو دوست داشتن،زمزمه میکنه. مثل همین شعر بالا که رگه هایی از سیر و سفر توش هست. وقتی زندگی‌نامه اش رو میخونم، بیشتر شبیه خودم میبینمش. یه فرد هجده ساله ای برای دانشگاه از کاشان کوچک به تهران گنده اومد و کم کم هم اینجا موندگار شد تا دوباره، توی میانسالگی به کاشان (یکی از روستاهاش) برگشت. نمیدونم. احساس های زیادی دارم. منم بعد از پنچ شش سال زندگی توی تهران کمی ازش خسته شدم و مثل اول دیگه دوستش ندارم. ولی خب نه اونقدر که دلم بخواد برگردم کاشان. سهراب هم شرق رفت (ژاپن) و هم غرب. اگه اشتباه نکنم یه بار هم رفت ایتالیا برای مدرسه تابستانه. نقاشی میخوند اونجا. منم یحتمل تا چند سال دیگه برای ادامه تحصیل برم یه طرفی. شاید هم حتی جور نشه که برم، اما خب این احساسه آدم هاست که اهمیت داره.

در هر صورت، شعرای سهراب برام خیلی ارزشمنده و شاید یه روزی منم نوشتمشون. ولی فعلا به خواندن و زمزمه کردن و شاید اگر معجزه‌ای رخ داد، به حفظ کردنشون ادامه میدم.

Sohrab, drinking chai next to a river

Ghahan and Nevis: A Story of Superwater

Ghahan is a rather big village located in the western part of Qom province, bordering with Markazi Province. Central parts of Iran are desert-y and this area is no exception. Ghahan and the villages next to it are vibrant with life, holding on to the traditional rural form of life. Abundance of water in this area makes it a touristic attraction for those who'd like to spend a weekend near clear, not to mention of the best quality, water. 

I went to Ghahan a couple of weeks back and I had my own reasons of going. Firstly, as it is mostly with my travels, I was tired of the mundane and everyday life. Don't get me wrong, I am not complaining about my daily life, I am merely expressing the fact that sometimes I need air. Fresh, maybe even a little cold, lonely air.
I had come across Ghahan through a professor of Ecotourism in Iran. He had provided a list of villages with great potential of tourist attraction, and the closest one to me was Ghahan. You see, right now I am living in my parental house in Kashan and Ghahan is in Qom, which is less 100km away from Kashan. I used Google Map and I saw that the villages is only 140km away from here. That would mean an hour bus ride and maybe another hour to hitchhike to the village since, I guess there are not buses or taxis going there, and hey, I hadn't hitchhiked for a while now, it seemed like a great idea. And it wasn't only hitchhiking, I also hadn't traveled solo since my last years three day trip to Anzali and Caspian Sea. It sounded like a good idea to pack my backpack and be on the road all by myself again. That was my second motivation.
But thirdly, and most importantly, I had met the CEO of a big and awesome company, back in Tehran when I was interpreting for a French businesswoman. This CEO was a truly great person. His company, which was a holding, had many interests, the most important one of which was Ecotourism and Villages around Iran. Not to bore you with the details, I am writing this piece to present to the company in autumn when I go back to Tehran. I had more than enough reasons to go to Ghahan, a selected village, which apparently had a lot of potential for tourism. I was ready to go.

Here I am, on the road again! :D

The Kashan-Qom highway is one that I pass a lot, since it's been four years (going on the fifth) that I'm studying in Tehran. But this highway never stops to amaze me with its beautiful scenery and stunning colorful hills...

Taken on the way to Qom.

From Qom I had to take a bus to Arak and I had to get off that bus on a junction. And from there on, it was hitchhiking only. I was on the old Tehran-Saveh highway. And in Iran, old highway means trucks, mugs, and lots and lots of heavy big cars, which again means easy hitchhiking.

An awesome driver of an American Mug

After another ride at the back of a blue Nissan pickup truck, I was there, in Ghahan, the village I was heading for. Ghahan is your typical ordinary but beautiful Iranian village, with old men sitting under the sun, fiddling about with a tasbih (i.e. beads; Islamic equivalent of fidget spinners) looking at passersby. It's a green village located in a not-so-green surrounding. 

Ghahan From Afar

As a solo traveler with a huge backpack on my back I got a lot of stares, which is alright. If you, too, travel to this part of country (in face this statement can be said about a lot of places in Iran, since most places are not used to tourists and traveler, especially foreign ones!) don't take the stares as the wrong way. It's not hatred or irritation or any sentiment of that kind; it's only innocence combined with a tinge of curiosity! So most of the time, you'll get a nod and a hello right after the really long stare.

I found a traditional food place (the only one in the whole area, actually) and ordered a kebab and rice and a non-alcoholic beer, which is the only kind you can find in public places. I was starving from a rather long and difficult journey, but I was content, because I was finally there: I was in a strange land, energetic and self-motivated, and ready to explore the area! "Let's go!" I told myself after I had finished my meal and talked to a few natives about which places to go and where to camp for the night. I was, now, heading for a place called Sarney which was about 5kms away and was told has some trees which is nice for camping and most importantly is the mother qanat of the small river that is going through Ghahan. I was hyped.

As my last stop in Ghahan I visited a local supermarket to get food for the night and tomorrow's breakfast and maybe even lunch. The supermarket was nice. I got some bananas (too many, I realized later :D), some apples (which were super delicious and super cheap, too! A kilo only half a euro! Amazing!) pineapple and orange juice, tuna fish, and some badass local doogh. I put all the food, except for the doogh, in my backpack and continued on the road again. My backpack was heavy from all the food but it was alright, I was hyped up and looking forward to exploring the area. After only a few minutes of walking and taking a sip once in a while I was at the other side of the village. Ghahan had ended and I was looking for another blue Nissan to pick my up and take me to Sarney. And blue Nissan there was. The roads between these villages are perfect for hitchhiking since a lot of pickup trucks travel between them and people are always kind enough to pick you up, especially if you have a huge backpack, as I did.

On my way to Sarney. Holding on to my hat since the driver was,
 apparently, thinking he is in Formula 1!

When I arrived to Sarney I was a bit shocked, and honestly disappointed. I was hoping for (and secretly imagining) a beautiful remote and untouched green place, but alas, that was not how Sarney was. Sarney, to summarize, is the mother qanat of the area, which thanks to modern water systems, has been pumped to the surface. The water is super great, for sure, but that wouldn't be the place for me to camp. It was "campable" of course, but not as green as I hoped for, since I was running away from the heat of Kashan. I sat next to the qanat and drank the superwater and rinsed my head. (I'm gonna call the water of the area superwater, because, well, it was superwater!) I was, then, thinking of taking my clothes off and go into the water (there weren't any pools, but there was enough flow of the water to lie down naked and enjoy the cold superwater!) when suddenly, Majid, appeared.

Majid was born in Ghahan and had married with a girl from Nevis, the next village. (Sarney is located between these two!) Majid, who knew the area pretty well was showing this mother qanat to his Tehrani business partner. Majid said "how you doing?" when he saw me and I said "Great, enjoying the incredible water." He agreed that the water is incredible. He was a local, he told me, and that he was heading for Nevis to go to his father-in-law's garden, but decided to make a short stop here to drink the water. And I told him my story. I asked him about a better camping site than here and he told me to get into my car and follow him, his father-in-law's garden is in Nevis, next to a qanat. The surroundings are greener than here, he reassured me, and what's more, the water is even better. I couldn't believe it! Can it get better than this, I thought. I said I don't have a car, and he was surprised that I had come all the way here only with my backpack. He admired this and told me he had always wanted to backpack, but never got around to do it. Business, he said, was the main reason. People from villages also get tangled up in business' tangles, I thought to myself. It's only natural, I told myself again.

Anyway, I put my backpack in the trunk of his car, and hoped on. It was a short trip and we talked about backpacking and I gave him some advice on how to start it. He even offered to backpack together in future, and I said sure. Maybe we will. Who knows.

We arrived to the qanat next to his father-in-law's garden which was, again, pumped up to the surface. It looked great. There even was an artificial pool built by wiser people than us just in front of the waterline. The superwater was so clean and and so very cold. So cold that I couldn't bring myself to take my clothes off to jump in. But all in all, it was super nice to be in such a nice, green and beautiful area, next to superwater. I was going to camp here tonight.

After a few minutes, I got the fire going and I had my coffee in my hands.
I was reminded again, of why I travel.

It was nice finally to be there. After finishing my coffee and drinking the superwater (fun fact, this line of water is called Kahrood, which literally means the river of the mountain, and since Nevis is closer to the mountians than Ghahan, this is understandable.) I heard someone's voice from above my head. It was Majid's father-in-law, who was calling out for me. He told me to camp inside his garden, rather than outside, since it might not be safe out there. Majid had told me that his father-in-law likes to have guests over, so when he told me to come in I wasn't surprised, but really grateful. His name was Asghar. He was a great man, short in height with a line of mustache typical to the older Iranian generation. I gladly moved everything inside. which was 20 meters away. It was nice to still be in "nature" but also be protected by walls.

First "touch" of Kahrood's superwater. Asghar said it has way more water in other seasons.
Summer is the one with the least amount, but even on its worst days, it doesn't stop.

Second "touch of Kahrood's superwater. Too cold to go, but
peaceful to look at and be around. 

Once I was in, I knew I was going to enjoy my stay here. Their hospitality was amazing and I really loved how trustful they were. Beautiful and amazing people.

The two proud owners of the Garden. Asghar and his, well, isn't it
obvious that they are brothers? :D

The rest of my time there was relaxing and super nice. I ate a good amount of fruits (man, I ate a lot of bananas that night, and I mean A LOT) munched on some nuts and read A Farewell to Arms next to Kahrood over the last remaining sunlight for that day. It has been a successful day, I would say, but fatiguing too. I ate a bit more of my food, read a bit more with my headlamp's light, said goodnight to my temporary landlords and went inside the tent and then inside my sleeping bag. Soon enough, I slept like a dead log. 

It's sleepy time!

The next day, I woke up, not at 6 o'clock, but no sooner than 10. It was a beautiful day, and a lazy morning, noon, afternoon I told myself. I got the fire going and made breakfast: Oatmeal with sliced bananas and peaches, with tea.

Who ready for doing nothing today? Me! Me!

I was idling about, reading, drinking tea, coffee and superwater, then reading again for a long time when I thought I'd like to talk to Asghar a little bit, since, well, he has been super hospitable to me. I made some fresh coffee and brought it to him. He was glad and kind, and told me to go on and swim in the swimming pool. I said that it's too cold for me to go in, and he said not that one. He showed his pool inside his garden under an apple tree. It's from the same water, he said. I was quick to take my clothes off and ready to dive in. It was extremely nice and crazy to swim there. There were some apples on the water, too. 

Underwear hung on a tree only means one thing: somebody's been swimming

The swimming pool and the apple tree from the balcony
where I enjoyed a melon with Asghar.

I will never forget Asghar and everyone else's hospitality. My experience in Ghahan and Nevis was extremely positive. I'm sure I'll go back again, some time in the future, and probably will spend more than just a weekend, since I've heard of other beautiful villages around the area such as Kohandan and Sarabadan. A bit after I ate lunch, I said goodbye and was on my way to home again. Tomorrow would be a working day and my life waited for me in Kashan. But I would remember the kindness of the people, the beautiful nature and of course, the superwater!

On a truck to Qom.

Facts:

• The line of water going through this area is 30kms long, which is long to explore in two days. The places I could explore was only a tiny percentage of the whole area.
• Best season to go is in spring, local people said. My experience, which I went in the middle of summer, was that during the day it got hot, but not super hot and during the night it was comfortably cool. But I could imagine how nicer it would be to visit in spring.
• There is a supposedly interesting firetemple in Nevis, which I was too lazy to go. I would check it out next time I go. 
• I did visit a local mosque/shrine on my way back in Ghahan. It was packed with people mourning a deceased. Picture below: 
  
• Unfortunately, there isn't a hotel available in the area. But, I did get a chance to talk to the mayor (?) of Ghahan, Mr. Bagheri, who said he can provide accomodation for those who want to visit. He was a good man who well understood how tourism can help his village and the villages around it. Here's his number, used with consent: +989122520493. But I doubt if he could talk English.
• There are some incredibly beautiful and stunning pictures of the nature in Ghahan available on the internet (use Google and you'll see what I mean) but unfortunately I couldn't find them since, as I mentioned, it's a rather large area to explore. 
• The closest hospitals, supermarkets and food places are in Ghahan. Consider Ghahan as the "city" of all these small villages. Fill your stomach and backpack here before you leave.
• DO NOT FORGET to bring a water bottle with you to get yourself some of that superwater for the road. 
• Don't forget to get some apples, peaches, grapes, walnuts, and probably the best dried berries of the country. I tasted a few berries, they were heavonly. Oh, and the local doogh and yogurt are also nice. 
• And last the last thing, which is less of a fact and more a fun story: the local people said that if you eat two bowls of stew with meat and then drink two glasses of the superwater afterwards, be assured that you will be hungry again in less than an hour :D well, in my own experience, I am NOT gonna disagree with that... :D

17

Oh, I remember being 17.

A small frame,
a thing line of mustache,
a ton of ego,
and a good amount of anger at the world.

I had a bed in our backyard
and I slept with the starts,

woke up with the sunshine.
I hated the sunshine,
but loved the nights.

A cold breeze would close my eyes

and stars were the last things I would see every night. 

There were lots of stars back then.
I figured
I was one. 

There was a tree in out neighbor's backyard
visible from my bed.

It resembled a dinosaur at nights

and a tree at other times. 

And oh, there were lots of bugs around too!

It's alright, 

I didn't mind any of these.
I still have starts,
and dinosaurs 

and bugs

in my head before I fall asleep. 

I have written some poems down and I would like to post them here, but the papers are not closeby and I'm too lazy to get them :)) I would spend the time and type them down if they were here, that would be no problem since I wouldn't have to move from my bed...but alas they're not close and I'm a lazy potato

Masouleh to Masal Gone Wrong! (w/ Saeed and Farid.)

It wasn't summertime. That was mistake number one. It was the beginning of springtime, and it was still very cold high above the mountains and even in rural areas, and rural areas were where we were headed. Over the internet, I had learn about a two-day trail, from the village of Masouleh to another village called Masal, and had seen pictures of stunning beauty. I was determined to go, to run above the clouds and to look at beautiful flowers along the way.

But I rushed it:

I talked to two of my buddies, Saeed and Farid, and in the holidays of the new year we headed for adventure.

In rural areas of Gilan, in the early morning,
full of fog, NOT a good sign!

When we arrived it was still dark, the sun hadn't come up yet, and we had some time to kill, for breakfast, and meeting another important character of the story:

Introducing: Fredrick the Great!

Fredrick was a dog we met at the witching hour in Masouleh, and he was to stay with us for the following day and night, keeping our company in the most dangerous situations. He was called - rightly so - Fredrick the Great, by Farid (the Berserk) because he said that this dog really resembled Fredrick. We took Farid by his word.

We played with Fredrick, went around the ghost city of Masouleh, jumping about on people's rooftops, and eating breakfast in what it seemed like was a stranded post-apocalyptic cafe.

Soon, the sun would come.

Contrary to what it seems like, I'm pretty sure
that we're not peeing!

We took a last glance at the city and its houses, and headed for the trail.

We said our goodbyes when we watched the sunrise and its dancing lights

On the trail, lots of things would happen to us, but it was such a lovely morning that we never thought anything out of the picture would happen. The cool morning breeze promised of a beautiful and peaceful day to come.

This is not pouring rain, but rather this picture was taken behind a waterfall.

Early on the trail, a nearly perfect rainbow appeared!

But on the trail, we were actually really tired. The steep of the hills we passed would use up all the energy in our body too soon. We would sit and rest too many times, because the backpacks felt heavy and our feet without energy.

Fredrick the Great with his girl he met on the road, Jenny the Bitch.

Newly bloomed flowers in the early spring

Saeed being Saeed

It has been, to this day, one of the hardest trail I have done (though technically, haven't done).

At this point, we were exhausted, and the morale of our little group was down. We needed a break. And break was given. We had reached the top of a dreamy hill: we were now above the clouds and facing a frozen summit, with flowers blooming around. 

Look at Fredrick and Jenny, sharing a young doggy love!

 This was where we had breakfast, and this is where we should have stayed and camped, because, as the next pages of the trail revealed we were in for real trouble. 

Three dogs.

But we didn't stay. We continued on the trail on a steep mountain slope and we didn't care for the world. And that was the second mistake. After an hour (or two) of hiking tremendously, we stopped for the lunch. The lunch was quick and hurried and the place that we had lunch was windy in an unpleasant way. It didn't feel like fun, but it was okay. We were in company of good friends, and that's what matters, right? Right. 

We resumed. We saw a mommy boar with baby boars wandering about, it was amazing how Saeed could spot them from such a long distance, but we were uphill and they were downhill so we could see their movement from afar. 

After some time of doubting (and most probably losing) the track, we came across some local mountain guards (if that's a real thing) and we told them how we planned to go to Masal. They weren't very excited about our plan and convinced us not to go, since it would be too cold for us there and we didn't have proper equipment for staying so high in the early spring. They were absolutely right. And in disappointment, we listened to their advice and to go downhill from a trail they showed us. And down we went. 

We continued lowering our altitude for about 2 hours (I believe initially when we met the locals, we were at 2000m above sea level) and we decided to camp along the way beside a very beautiful waterfall. That was mistake number three. 

Campsite number one.

We camped there and decided to refresh ourselves by the water and the beautiful scenery. And then, we decided to take a nap, a fucking nap, at just hours before the sundown in a place where we knew was not a place to spend the night. The locals had warned us about wolves and bears, and had told us storied about foreigners coming to this place who've been torn apart by wolves, and bears and other kind of animals. They actually gave us some advice on how to run away from bears, so we knew that this shit was real. But you know what? We decided to fucking sleep, man. And you what, we slept, for three fucking hours. Needless to say when we woke up, everything looked like this;

We woke up to see our dog curled up beside the waterfall in the dense fog...

It was then when the real adventure began...

In the pathless woods.
(and no, I did not find this picture on Google, this shit is real!)

We were kilometers away from the city in a wild forest with the dying sunlight. I expected the sun to go down in a few minutes. We had to get going ASAP. We packed our backpacks and started walking back to the city. We were in full darkness in a few minutes. 

"You think darkness is your ally?"

The next few hours, until we reached the city, will remain with us, I guess, till the rest of our lives as history. It was a great moment for our little trio friendship and we'll remember the song that we sang through the dark and we'll keep it as a symbol for our friendship.
I used to rule the world

Seas would rise when I gave the word

now in the morning I sleep alone

sweep the streets I used to own...

Farid's face, after seeing the light of the city.

 We arrived to the city. We have never been so excited to see a village. We felt safe again. We camped somewhere.

second campsite. Down the the village.

 But the next day was a different story. Let's let that remain history, as well.

The-morning-after love.

Goodbye, Masouleh. I'll be back sometime.

My First Backpacking Trip - To Khalkhal-Asalem Road

Well, here's how it all really started: Masoud said "I want to go to Khalkhal-Asalem road to backpack and I'm going to take you (meaning me) with me!" Me, being a positive person, agreed. I have always loved the idea of adventuring and this was a dream coming true. I googled the place and was astonished with the beauty it promised. Needless to say, all the promises were kept. My first backpacking trip has always been, in my mind, the best, although, if you ask Masoud, he might not say so. I was cranky during the most of the journey since, well, since because I was out of comfort zone. Terribly terribly out of my comfort zone. But the haunting feeling of being totally lost in the disturbingly huge wild nature of the north of Iran has never, not a moment, left me.

 

On the bus, Masoud is taking up the space for three people.
That is rude of you, Masoud!

I don't even remember how we got to the road. It all happened really fast. But there we were... on the golden road to heaven...

Just starting up...

In retrospect, I don't know how I managed the trip with the kind of backpack that I had. It was awful, and totally not suitable for a three day backpacking trip. It could, barely it could, keep the food for three days inside it. How it didn't tear completely apart, leaving me stranded in the forest is a mystery to me.

The best part of being on the road is, in my mind, that a lot of things happen, a lot of good things, when you least expect it. And this one was full of it.

Who woulda thought we'd be offered breakfast from an old couple living in
an old lonely cottage?

Look how lonely, but majestic!

We knew we're going to be walking on this road for two days, so we took our time enjoying the little beauties around us.

Like this lovely little cow family!

Or, like this lazy sheep family, taking a rest from the sun!

I'm writing this after two years. I might miss some things, but there are a lot I remember. I remember the sun, and I remember the tall trees, and I remember all the good people we met on the road.

We might have gotten tired sometimes...

...but we never forgot to smile! 

And there were times when we decided to role-play. 

Sometimes I was Robin Hood...

And sometimes, Masoud.
He was a better Robin Hood than me! He knew the Robin Hood Whistle.

As I wrote before, there were many times when I would get cranky. For many reasons. I would just be bitter and hard to talk to. But make no mistake, there wasn't a time where Masoud didn't cheer me up. He's an expert in this area!

Look at hist stupid smiling happy face!

But I haven't got to the most important character of the story yet. I think both Masoud and I agree on the fact that one of the most memorable part of the journey has been meeting with Sexy! Yes, her name was Aexy and she was a.. wait for it... dog! Yes, a female dog. Now let's not get the wrong idea, we're not attracted to animals of any sort, nor any of us is a zoophile. Although I am merely speaking for myself! ^_^

Sexy was a dog that we met on the first day's evening, and he came along with us on the road for the following day, until a ride on the back blue Nissan truck would put us apart. You might wonder why we chose the name Sexy. I wonder the same. All in all, Sexy was the best dog anyone could have. She was caring and, fast, and ready to defend us from other hostile dogs who barked at us from when we got too close to their village. I am writing these sentences in the past form because Sexy is dead now. The next year when we came back to all these places we heard from locals, that the beautiful dogs has died. She was sick, and we didn't know that. I'm going to put up some pictures of her, but I'm doing it with a sad heart. 

Here's she is...

And here we are...

The next morning, and she's at our service!

A close-up selfie! 

Back then we didn't know that she's sick, and looking back, I think that is a good thing. Because knowing that such a good dog is sick would definitely make us sad.
Anyway...

On the second day, we had more time, so would enjoy the nature much more.

We swam around...

And enjoyed the cool water!

Not a care in the whole fucking world...

yum yum...
(needless to say, our hands were bloody red afterwards)

There are many more picture to upload here, but I guess these are enough, and they do the job. Backpacking on this golden road was...where me and Masoud found our friendship. This was it. This is where we thought, well, now, we could take the world. And we knew that we would and someday, we will.

Miss you, you stupid fucking idiot. Let's travel soon.