Book "Unforgettable Iran". Chapter 11. Kish Island

25 December 2012 Travel time: with 01 July 2011 on 01 October 2011
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Four days on Kish Island

I visited Kish Island at the end of September and stayed there for four days, spending only $18, including the cost of ferry tickets, which should have cost $24 round trip. The secret of such savings was that I sailed from the mainland to the island by hydrostop, that is, according to the agreement reached with the captain, I did not have to pay for the ticket.

The voyage to the island took about an hour. Stepping out of the air-conditioned ferry, I again felt the enveloping and suffocating heat. At this time, Hadi Lari was already waiting for me at the pier, who hastily took me to the bus, also air-conditioned and even additionally equipped with napkins. My friend paid the fare and received change - a few coins of non-Iranian origin, which were minted with an iron water jug ​ ​ and inscriptions in Arabic.


- The driver thought we were foreigners and came from the United Arab Emirates, so he paid dirhams, - Hadi explained, - In the Emirates, many people work on construction sites - Afghans, Pakistanis, but especially Filipinos. To extend the visa, workers must leave the UAE for a month, at which time they come to Kish Island and rest. Here you can easily use dirham to pay your fare or go to a cafe.

The streets of the island looked neat and clean, the lawns along the road were neatly mowed in the shape of square cubes, and palm trees grew along the median. Like Qeshm Island, it was duty-free and allowed easy import of cars, so huge Toyota pickups and other foreign-made cars passed us.

- Every tree and plant was brought here from the mainland, and before there was only sand, and nothing grew.

It took several decades to equip the island, - Hadi explained to me.

We drove past a shopping center and a huge hypermarket, and also saw the main attraction of the city - an underground water tank (Paya b), turned into a museum. It used to be used to store clean drinking water for the entire city. Since the entrance there cost about $4, I thought that it would be better to visit the Water Museum in the city of Yazd for half a dollar, where buildings of this kind originally came from.

Of the attractions, one could also visit the ruined Harire fortress, located near the reservoir. Once this place was a lively city, which, perhaps, was described by the Iranian poet Saadi in his poetry collection Gulistan (Rose Garden). According to legend, Harire was destroyed about 800 years ago by an earthquake.

Judging by the photographs, most of the territory of the city is now represented by dilapidated walls and passages, recently reconstructed for tourists.

On the west coast of the island are the most expensive entertainment for tourists, which include boating with a transparent bottom, diving in the open sea, visiting elite parks and zoos. So, for example, in the southwest there is a “Dolphin Park”, “Gazelle Park”, “Exclusive Beaches” and a sector of elite private houses, as well as a “Coastal Village for Tourists”. Unfortunately, I was not able to visit these places, and I took the photos below from the Internet.

We got out near the park, in the center of which we could see a building with bizarre columns.


- Here is the Dariush Grand Hotel - the most beautiful hotel in the Persian Gulf, - Hadi continued his story, - my parents worked for the owner of this hotel (approx.

meaning Hossein Sabet), and he told them that he wanted to build an unusual hotel, where you can feel the atmosphere of Persepolis. To do this, he brought marble from the mainland and stone carvers, it seems, Italians, and they made statues right here for several years. Stone statues and interior items repeat the decoration of the palaces of the ancient capital of the Achaemenids, and besides, the hotel is surrounded by many columns, the top of which is crowned with solid stone figures.

I offered to go to the hotel to see for myself its splendor and luxurious decoration, but it turned out that you need to buy a ticket to visit.

“A ticket costs $20, ” Hadi said.

- It can't be that expensive, maybe $2 dollars, but not $20 at all, - I objected and turned to the guard, - Beba khshid, beli t chegkha dr mishe? (Sorry how much is the ticket)

- Bi st hezar (twenty thousand), - he answered.

“You see, only twenty thousand rials - that is, $ 2, ” I was delighted and handed the money to the guard. But he refused them and explained: “Bist hezar toman” (twenty thousand tomans), and for clarity he showed tickets on which 20.000 was written in our figures, that is, $20.

Then we took a few photos from the entrance to the hotel and went for a walk further towards the embankment, thus bypassing the building on the right. From the side of the building pool, the entrance to the hotel was not fenced, and we had a great opportunity to get inside, but Hadi categorically did not allow this.

Driven by great curiosity to find out what the hotel is like, for the entrance to which you need to pay $20, I later went to the official website and found out that the construction of this five-star hotel lasted five years and cost $115 million.


In terms of decoration, there were indeed many columns and fountains at the entrance, and statues reminiscent of Persepolis are located in the hall of the building. The virtual tour allowed me to look around 360 degrees and go into any room, I chose the "Royal Apartment". In the corner there was a TV with a kinescope, boring blinds, a modest bed and a table with an armchair - that's all that was in the room. Let anyone make their own virtual tour of the hotel and form their own opinion about it.

Non-tourist life on the island

Walking from the Dariush Grand Hotel, we went to a paid beach, the entrance to which cost $3. Hadi explained the cost by the fact that the territory was equipped with sun loungers and awnings, showers and toilets, as well as cells for personal belongings. The perimeter of the beach was surrounded by a high fence - a grid, in one place of which a huge hole was not accidentally made.

But, of course, Hadi did not allow her to use it, so we went further and soon ended up on a public beach with no less clean sand, comfortable tent canopies, a hot emerald sea and a scorching sun, despite the evening time. From here there was a view of hotels under construction and cranes. Boats with tourists sailed in the sea, and closer to the shore, waist-deep in water, dressed in a black veil that completely covered the body, women stood and watched the frolicking children, men competed in swimming and allowed themselves to swim further.

Looking at women in a black veil floating in the water, one would think that they would never part with this dress. My Iranian friend told a funny story when a guest from Europe asked her a question: “When you (Iranian women) go swimming in the pool, do you also wear a veil, hijab or headscarf to cover your hair? This question could not offend, but made me laugh a lot.

Probably, a girl from Europe assumed so, because she saw how Iranian women, having decided to swim with their children and family, went into the sea in clothes. In fact, the answer to this question is very simple - pools in Iran for women and men are separate! Not far from the public beach there is a women's beach - a structure closed on all sides from prying eyes like a stadium with high walls, only women are allowed to enter it, where they can swim in swimsuits.


Since I did not take my bathing clothes with me, I went into the water in trousers, as most Iranians do. Hadi put on shorts, but at the same time he was very embarrassed - in his opinion, the shorts were too short. And I thought that he would be even more embarrassed if he saw me in swimming trunks. The sea water was too hot to feel the joy of swimming, most of all I liked the fine sand under my feet and clear water.

It was quiet and calm, there was no music, there were no tents with kebabs and other benefits of civilization nearby, and when it got dark, we were left alone, and only a single lantern illuminated our things on a deserted beach.

On the way home, we stopped at the Kish Hyper Market, which had an Ikea sign at the entrance, as well as an advertisement for eateries. On the shelves neatly, in accordance with European standards for the display of goods, fruits brought from the mainland were laid out - pomegranates for $ 5, apples for $ 3 and much more at the same inflated prices several times, although the choice of goods, food and household, of course, is quality and quantity was not inferior to international hypermarkets.

My friend insisted on inviting me to eat.

Entering a small cafe, I asked for a menu, but I couldn’t figure it out at all - not only were the numbers on the menu written in Indo-Arabic, but also the prices were indicated in dirhams, the UAE currency. We ordered the standard saffron rice and kebab, which is always served with baked tomato, peppers and a half-cut lime.

I asked Hadi to tell about herself. It turned out that he was born in Tehran, where his parents still live. Now he works as a trader in an international company and invests money in securities. Since his work is mainly dependent on a computer and the Internet, it was not difficult for him to ask to be transferred from his office in Tehran to Kish. To do this, he did not even have to change jobs.

- Of course, I lost a little in salary, but here for the same price I rent a large apartment in excellent condition with furniture and everything you need.


Life in Kish is calmer than in Tehran, the environment is better, although it is very hot, especially in summer, but most of the time I spend in an air-conditioned office and at home there is also air conditioning. Due to the time difference when stock exchanges open in different countries, I have to be at the office early in the morning, I have a break for several hours at lunchtime, and then I stay until late in the evening. Sometimes I notice that with my work I don’t have time for myself at all, for example, before I could play sports more, communicate with girls, I could easily tell some joke and make me laugh, but now I just do what I work but ultimately, I am much happier here than in Tehran.

The mathematics of renting a property

We walked home down the street past countless typical one-big-room offices, expensively furnished with wide glass windows facing the street, and usually consisting of only one employee.

- Are these offices? I asked

- Yes, these are real estate agencies, - answered Hadi, - there have been so many of them lately that I myself am surprised that so many people want to move to Kish. While it's not surprising given the scale of the construction, when I moved here a year ago, my neighborhood consisted of only a few streets, and now there are already many lanes built up with new houses.

Real estate agencies help to find and rent housing, you are already familiar with how they usually rent an apartment in Iran, right? There are two types of contracts: Ejare (EJAREH) - monthly payment, and Rahn (RAHN) - payment by deposit.

Due to economic sanctions against Iran, inflation in our country is very high, and every year real estate prices increase several times, so if the owner of housing under a rental contract receives money in Iranian rials on a monthly basis, then by the end of the year, payments in dollar terms will become completely small. Therefore, some homeowners, instead of receiving a monthly income, the contract Ejare (EJAREH), choose the option of paying rent with a deposit called Rahn (RAHN), or a combination of both payment options.

For example, for my apartment under the Ejare contract, I made a deposit of 250.000, 000 Iranian rials (the equivalent of $ 2.500) and do not have to pay anything monthly. During the year, the landlord used my money, made maybe 30% on it, lost about 20% to inflation, and ended up making a 10% profit. A year later, when my contract ended, I left the apartment and got my 250 back.


In order to rent a house in Iran, they usually turn to a real estate agency, they have a fixed commission for each type of transaction, for example, when concluding a contract with a Rahn deposit, they receive from each party 0.5% of the contract amount, in our case, the contract was for 250.000, 000 IRR ($2.500), that is, $12.5 each from the landlord and tenant.

I, in turn, told that in Moscow, when renting housing through an agency, you most often have to pay a commission in the amount of 100% of the monthly payment, and at the current rental price, this is usually more than $1.000.

There is an excellent tarmac cycle path along the entire coast of the island, so Hadi gave me his bike, having the foresight to install electric lights on it in front and behind, so it turned out that they were very useful to me later on.

After waiting for the second half of the day, when it was no longer so hot, I went towards the sunken Greek ship (Keshti e Yunani), located in the southeast of the island. The ship ran aground in 1966 and is now a photographic attraction. It was about 10 km to go, and I was very glad to be able to ride a bike. But in fact, it turned out that pedaling even in the evening, and to be precise, the time was approaching sunset, turned out to be extremely difficult because of the unbearable heat. Within a few minutes, my T-shirt was soaked through, and the sweat flowed down my face in streams and got into my eyes so that they began to pinch so hard that I had to stop twice and rinse them with clean water.

I managed to drive up to the ship just in time for sunset. Iranian tourists and foreigners have already gathered here with cameras at the ready.

To be honest, photographing a leaky rusted ship is a dubious pleasure, but since there is nothing to do, then it remains to take photographic equipment in hand and run to the left and right of the ship in search of good photos. Although I still want to note that the night photos turned out to be very beautiful.


After reviewing the map, I realized that the fastest way to get home was to take the main Ghuru b e Kish road through the center of the island, instead of making a detour back along the bike path along the coast. After leaving on a dimly lit road, I drove for about five minutes, and stopped to check the route again. Nearby stood a small booth for seasonal workers, in which a light was on. I knocked and showed the map to the young man. The guy nodded and invited me to come in.

The inconspicuous booth inside turned out to be in very good condition - the walls were finished with pleasant chipboard, double-glazed windows were installed in the windows, air conditioning and a refrigerator were working, and sealed water bottles stood in the corner. The shower and toilet were outside. The guys came from Afghanistan and lived here together, working on the improvement of the territory near the airport, in the morning they were taken by car, and in the evening they were brought back. We tried to speak Farsi, but we did not understand each other well. They gestured for me to stay, and a few minutes later they brought me dinner - bulgur with chickpeas and meat, a thin flatbread, tea with sweets.

While we were talking, it was completely dark outside, but I was glad of their hospitality, besides, they showed me the way - I had to drive forward for about half an hour, without turning anywhere. The only nuance that bothered me was that the road was not lit.

I checked the front light, it illuminated the road two or three meters from the bike, which was enough not to get lost on a straight highway. As the sun went down, the air temperature returned to normal, and I, having chosen the highest gear, began to press the pedals with great joy.

In complete darkness, with the light of only one front lamp, I was guided by the white curbs on the right side of the road and drove about five kilometers in this way. But suddenly I stopped, because the road ended, and instead of it there was a fork to the right and left. Moreover, during the day, repairs were taking place here, so part of the roadway was blocked off with concrete blocks, and mountains of sand lay on the sides. Having traveled around them, after a kilometer I again came across a fork, which ended in a roundabout with many exits. Further road

several more times it ended with forks, and I had to make decisions in which direction to go.


My biggest fear was getting lost, and when I saw the airport control tower, I was very happy, because I realized that although I had lost my way a little, at least now I knew where to go. An hour later, I drove to a square next to a busy highway, and since I could not find the name on the map, I left my bike by the road and waved my hands to a passing car. The driver stopped and looked at me and my bike with curiosity, I looked extremely tired and agitated.

- Man koja hastam? (Where am I? ) - I asked the driver.

He took a map and pointed to a square not far from the pier. It turned out that I drove diagonally across the entire island for about 20 km, and I had to drive another 5 km along a busy road to the house. I switched on my taillight and drove down the road through the traffic, now wishing I had a helmet, and leaning as close to the curb as possible with every headlight coming from behind.

The port of Kish, with its immigration office for obtaining permits to sail from the island and entry stamps for a visa if necessary, a check-in counter and a special corridor for declaring luggage, resembled an airport. Arriving there in an hour, I immediately found out everything - in order to sail to mainland Iran, I had to not only buy a ticket, but show my passport and get a special document allowing me to leave the island and take the ferry.

Since I was not going to buy a ticket, I went to the pier not through the immigration office, but through the service entrance along with port workers, and then found the right ferry without any problems. At the pier there was already a line, in which everyone held stamped colored sheets of paper with permission to sail. As soon as the passengers were on deck, I approached the captain and addressed him in Farsi.

- Beba khshid, man mikha m be Chara k ber am.

Amma ma n pule kafi nadora m. (Sorry, I want to go to Bandar Charak, but I don't have enough money).

- I understand you. But what can I do for you, sir, - the captain answered in broken English.

- Can you take me on the ferry? – I asked again in English.


The captain replied that his ship was “full” (full), but it was evident from it that he fully sympathized with me and, perhaps, would still find a free place. While talking with me, the captain constantly switched between Farsi and English, so I repeated my request in a language he knew: “Man pou le kafi nodora m. Visa for gifts (I don’t have enough money, I have a visa)” . But the last phrase about the visa alarmed him very much. Perhaps he remembered that I was a foreigner and, in his opinion, I definitely needed to have permission to leave the island or enter Iran.

I took out my passport and showed my visa, but it was too late, now the Iranian was confidently pointing at the port building and repeating that I needed to get permission from the immigration office first.

When I realized that it would not be possible to convince the captain, I rushed to the office with all my might, but it turned out to be closed, then I stopped some employee in uniform and turned to him. The officer began to examine my passport with curiosity, and only after I explained that I was in a hurry, he smiled and, returning the documents to me, said that no additional stamps were needed. I shot out of the office like a bullet and rushed to the pier, but to my great disappointment, the ferry was no longer there.

I spent over an hour at the pier waiting for the next ferry, but ended up having to go back to the port building to check the schedule.

When leaving, I had to use the service passage, as it was very embarrassing to enter the customs area from the side of the pier and explain why I did not sail away. This time the guard in the booth stopped me, checked my passport, and, it seems, scolded me for going where it was forbidden.

It turned out that the next ferry was supposed to leave only after three hours, and since at that time the most intense heat began on the island, I decided to stay in the waiting room. There was also a question about permission to leave, and I went to the immigration office. The boss carefully examined my passport and confirmed that no papers were needed, and also asked an assistant to take me to the cash register, which was located on the street. Under the careful supervision of an Iranian, I went to the ticket office, paid $12 and got the coveted ticket.

Author: Kozlovsky Alexander.

Book: "Unforgettable Iran". 159 days hitchhiking.

Source: http://sanyok-belarus. people. en/

Translated automatically from Russian. View original
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