I slept well and want to start driving again. But first wash the motorbike, because there is a car wash next to the hotel and I can't pass up this opportunity. Actually, I don't even think it's necessary for the motorcycle, but my luggage bags are so dusty and dirty that I feel ashamed when I carry them into a hotel.
It's not a car wash as we know it. It's a kind of courtyard where your car is sprayed with a high-pressure cleaner and a few meters away is washed with rags and shampoo by a few young lads. I ask them if I can spray the engine myself, the rest is not necessary. No problem and five minutes later I drive away with a shiny engine.
About half way from Rafsanjan to Bam is the Shahzadeh Mahan Historical Garden and that seems like a nice place for a break. Because of its many large trees, the garden is visible from afar as an oasis in the desert. In the parking lot an old man with a sheriff outfit is arranging parking, but that doesn't take much work with 5 visitors. He motions for me to drive into the yard and park the bike there, but I apologetically say it's really not necessary, but he insists. So I drive in through the entrance gate and put it in the shade under a tree. But that was not the intention. I have to drive past the waterfalls to the main entrance and park right in front of it. For a nice picture, he makes it clear to me, hahaha. And so my motorcycle suddenly becomes the main attraction of the park. After the necessary photos and interviews I go and see the park myself and it is all beautifully green. From afar, the mountains in the desert seem as dry as barley, but there is a lot of water coming from the amount that flows through this garden.
When I arrive at the hotel, it turns out to be fully booked. They are kind enough to call another hotel for me and 10 minutes later I'm standing in front of the desk. But the hotel is out of town and rather expensive and I'm looking at my options. The last option is a guesthouse that many globetrotters have already gone for. It was my last option as it looked quite outdated in photos and reviews and it appears to be the case upon arrival. But the bike is safe and I'm dry. The latter anyway because it rains on average in Iran only 1.5 days a year.
The owner of the hostel is 80 years old and has passed the baton to his son. But he still loves having guests and invites me to eat at his house. His wife has prepared a delicious meal with cold soup, rice and a kind of vegetable ragout. Finally, I have to taste the local herbal coffee. A mixture of 27 spices and coffee provide a rather explosive, distinct taste experience.
He also comes to pick me up for breakfast. The bread is still warm and resembles a soft pizza base. Nice with honey and soft cheese and after breakfast he takes me to the Arg-é Ban, the citadel on the outskirts of the city. Once a complete walled city with 38 towers, built entirely of brick and clay, and an important trading center on the Silk Road.
However, in 2003, Bam was completely destroyed by a massive earthquake. 95% of all buildings in Bam were destroyed or damaged and 26,000 people were killed. Little remained of the citadel either, but they are working hard on a partial reconstruction.
From a distance it looks like a huge sand castle and it looks really beautiful. Unfortunately, only a small part is really passable, but you can see how much is being restored with straw and mud.
In the afternoon the owner of the hostel comes to ask if I can go with him to a school to attend an English lesson. He has also stood in front of the class and it seems to him a good motivation for the students. Well, he's right about that. Twice I sit in front of a small class of boys aged 14-18 to answer their fire of English questions. Great fun and time really flies.
