Sixty One Degrees

Looking at the stars

Pirquli, Azerbaijan

Church, mosque, temple. Church, mosque, temple. Such had been my life for much of the last ten months. Time for a change of pace and I had just the place. One of the Soviet Union's top astronomical observatories, boasting the fourth largest telescope in Europe.

It was already getting dark when I took a taxi up the rough 25km to the observatory. I had no idea what I would do or where I would stay when I got there but I figured something would work out.

We pulled up at the entrance at about dusk. "Is there any observing tonight?", I asked the gatekeeper. He thought not but offered that I could sleep in his little hut and maybe see someone tomorrow. He even insisted that I have his bed and he would sleep on the wooden floor.

We sat there for a while before some other workers turned up. After a brief discussion amongst themselves they indicated for me to follow them. They took me across the dark grounds to the flat of Mamet. 75 years old, senior astronomer at the observatory, and speaker of English. After a moments surprise at this intrusion at 10pm he invited me in for tea and some food and even offered that I could spend the night on his couch.

He had a simple flat, bedroom, lounge room, kitchen. Mathematical equations covered a blackboard in the hallway. The paint was peeling and the walls crumbled a little. No money for repairs, he said. He lived alone here since his wife died seven years before. He still worked every day at the observatory but lamented the lack of international exposure since the break-up of the Soviet Union. "I used to go to Leningrad every month and now I haven't been for ten years".

The observatory seemed poorly run. The director is an apparatchik rather than a scientist, more interested in rules and regulations than science. The big two metre telescope was once the pride of the Soviet Union but is now sadly compromised by light pollution from a newly-built housing block inside the compound and unrestricted development just outside. Cars and trucks thunder along the perimeter dirt road, throwing up dust and further polluting observations. The workers housed by the new accomodation seem mostly idle.

But there is still a twinkle in Mamet's eye as he shows me around the site the next day. A touch of pride as we gaze upon the big telescope and his own, smaller, solar observatory. Before I depart he presents me with one of his books, only recently published. I give him the copy of New Scientist that I picked up in Iran. Dark Energy, his field of interest, is the cover story. He smiles.

From the horse's mouth

Iran

Iranian people are very open. It takes very little before they start expressing their opinions on all manner of things, politics being particularly popular. Here is just a small selection:

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"I wish America would invade and we could be like Iraq". 24 year old guy in Mashhad.

"Iran would be much better without the mullahs", lady in Esfahan

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Small shop owner in Tehran:

"Iranian passport used to be good. You could go anywhere in the world. Now they just say no."

"99% of people are against the government but 1% has all the power and money and they have the connections in Europe"

(My random sampling would certainly back this up. Many people believe President Khatami is useless in Iran, having no power, and is just a figurehead propped up to show the West.)

"Bush is the new Ali." (most revered figure in Iran after the Prophet) "France and Germany and England don't care about the people, just the money. Bush cares."

"Do one thing for me. When you go home tell your friends and your government about the people of Iran. They are not the government".

"Look around. We have good weather and oil and resources but the people are poor. It's the fault of the government, but we cannot change it."

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Abol from Mashhad - doing military service in Arak. Another fan of George W. "I hope they invade Iran next". He seemed unperturbed by the thought that he, as a member of the military, would be fighting against them. He thought it was the only way democracy and change would come to Iran.

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Ali from the Tabriz bazar - "I work hard every day. I would like to go out together with my girlfriend once in a while. To a restaurant or bar or disco. Just two or three times a month. I think my government owes me that. If I go on a holiday to the beach I have to swim here and she has to swim there. Where's the fun in that?"

Where indeed.

I'll take a room near the pool

Tahkt-é Soleiman, Iran

I'm lying in an orchard near to the 3rd century fortress of Tahkt-é Soleiman. I'm five kilometres from the nearest village and fifty kilometres from the nearest hotel. It's midnight, and I'm lying in my sleeping bag.

The sky is fantastic. The best array of stars I've seen on the trip. The Milky Way is bright, satellites drift by and meteorites flare. I've got Pink Floyd playing on the iPod. Perfect.

I drift off to sleep.

Suddenly I'm awake. It must be some time later. The music has stopped. I wiggle my toes. They're wet. I move my feet. They splash. I quickly realise that my feet are completely submerged in water. I jump up in the sleeping bag to find a river flowing under my feet. Where did this come from? I quickly gather all my stuff and look for higher ground.

No sooner do I find a spot than I see lights heading straight for me. What's going on? There isn't even a road here. I soon hear voices and the sound of a tractor. They stop a short distance away. Have they seen me? Do they think I'm stealing their apples? I duck low to the ground.

They get off the tractor and are coming straight for me. Three men with lanterns and farming gear. Nothing for it. I stand up and give my most confident "salam aleykom". They stop and stare, astonished.

I have no idea what they are doing but they offer that I can join them at their little shed. I settle in on the concrete platform while they disappear for a while. On returning they pull a couple of blankets and cushions out of the shed and the four of us curl up on the concrete. Not quite as atmospheric as the grass but at least it's dry.

Come morning they collect all their stuff and head off again on the tractor. It's not quite dawn so I gather my things and head up to the fortress, to catch the first rays of the sun as they strike the ancient walls. Just another day on the road.

Do you have the September "Dog Fancier"?

Esfahan, Iran

Information is all. Ready access to information makes a society great. It was with these thoughts in mind that I surveyed the magazines available at a local outdoor market. Included amongst the English-language section were such must-have titles as:

American Cowboy (saddle up!)

Government Executive Magazine (get the inside track on Washington politics)

Cogeneration and On-Site Power Production (get those generators pumping)

Limousine and Chauffeur, with a proudly capped chauffeur on the cover and the feature article "Detailing Your Limousine"

I picked up a couple of copies of New Scientist and Dr Dobbs Journal. I passed on Home Beautiful and the American South-West Architectural Review. Got to leave something for the locals to read.

Walking tour in Esfahan

Esfahan, Iran

Esfahan, with its blue-tiled mosques and palaces, stone bridges and river, is for many a highlight of Iran. There was a lot to see but I knew with a solid day's exploration I'd have the city under wraps.

First up was the Jameh Mosque, commenced in the 11th century and the biggest mosque in Iran. I spent some time exploring it's vast rooms before heading out to continue the tour. Just as I was leaving I heard a voice behind me. "Magnificent isn't it?", he asked. I agreed and we got to talking a little. He turned out to be from Tehran, down here for the weekend with his family. "Would you like to join us?", he asked. Sure I said and soon found myself squeezed in to one of their cars and racing around the city. A few sights later we're drinking tea at the Chehel Sotun Palace before we went our separate ways. Okay, back on track for the walking tour.

I head for the Hasht Behesht Palace where I meet Achmed. Car importer and photographer he made his money by photographing the Ayatola Khomeini before the revolution. As political tensions rose he found he could sell copies of the photos to the Ayatola's supporters for quite a handsome price. We ended up talking for hours in the palace gardens.

And so it continued. A one day tour ended up taking three. I went for tea and hubble-bubble with four young guys taking time out from military service. Helped an English language tutor brush up on some of the finer points of past participles. Shared tea and cake with several different groups down by the river. And was taken on an extended English-language Koran search by a nice guy who just dropped what he was doing when he met me in the bazar.

Esfahan. There's a lot to see, just don't be in a rush.