Maharloo Lake and Qalat

Maharloo Lake

At 8 am, the friendly taxi driver (with whom we only managed to exchange a few words in English) was already waiting for us to go to Pink Lake, which is also known on maps as Maharloo Lake The nickname is linked to the color of the salt, which is particularly vibrant after rainfall. Since it rained a few days ago, the lake appears in its best condition. We walk along a stretch of salt that seems to have been smoothed with a roller, and we end up in an area where there are enormous troughs for extraction. As I saw at Waalwis Bai in Namibia, the salty ground here also produces bacteria that color the water and seabed pink. A family has come here for a walk; the child is playing with his father, jumping from one salt dune to another, while the mother also arrives on the white hillside, taking photos. And could this be the group that threatens to trigger an atomic catastrophe in the world? We have only a few words we can use to communicate, but other things that connect us, so we exchange a couple of pictures too.

Arrival at Maharloo Lake

If the Pink Lake was about twenty kilometers southeast of Shiraz, Qalat It is located about thirty kilometers north. Since it's Friday, ring road The road is easily navigable, and we arrive at our second destination in the late morning, when the small town is filling up with Shirazi visitors on day trips. The traffic in the narrow streets will become chaotic when it's time to leave. We stroll through the old part of town (calling it "ancient" would be too flattering), where brick ruins mud structures are standing upright, questioning the laws of gravity. Some renovations have been done, but most still need to be completed. We leave the village and a walk leads us to some viewpoints from which we can see the Vast, flat plain on one side and the beautiful red mountains on the other. Next to them are fields that owe their existence to the nearby mountains. It would be nice to extend the hike by climbing along the ridges that stand before us, but it's better not to venture out to avoid unpleasant mishaps with the train and the driver whom we had arranged to meet at 13:00. Back in Shiraz, we have our first proper lunch of the trip, considering that we are now nearing the end. Another walk and by 17:00 we find ourselves with our luggage ready and the same taxi driver coming to pick us up. It's interesting how our man manages to get everyone together luggage on the car... securing them with ropes and straps. With every bump or tight turn, we offer a silent prayer that the purchases made in the previous days don't take another direction, ending up under a truck coming from the opposite direction. We arrive at the very modern train station, worthy of our best airports, waiting to board. on the train which will take us to Tehran. The compartments are for four people, and by folding down two of the upper beds, you can sleep as if there were two bunk beds. Departure at 7 pm, dinner in the restaurant car, and finally to sleep, with the only limitation that the air conditioning only blows hot air during the day and cool air at night. Not quite what we expected.
Shiraz is also the name of a grape variety, but the drink we pair with Bacco (presumably referring to wine) does not find its place in Islamic Olympus, much to the regret of the refined Persian palates. However, there is a solution: if wine is officially banned and no restaurant serves alcoholic beverages to customers (at least not to strangers), it seems that 80% of the city's residents have the means to produce and purchase wine for consumption at home. This appears to be a ban that is consistently disregarded and in plain sight, following this implicit sequence: the rule exists, no one checks, you can drink peacefully. Despite the zealous police officers being present, they don't pay much attention. If caught, there would be a fine to pay or, more likely, a full glass of wine to offer.