In the land of the lion and sun, or, modern Persia

by C. J. Wills

We ourselves, our small dog “Pip” in a cage, and our canaries—almost unknown in Persia—and seventy-two tiny “avadavats” (bought at Kurrachee for three rupees), left in a boat for Sheif, on an estuary of the gulf, thus avoiding the Macheelah plain, a dreadful march of mud and water, and shortening the journey to Shiraz by two stages.

After four hours’ pull and sail in the burning sun we reached Sheif. This appeared simply a mud hut on the beach. There may have been a village, but we saw nothing of it. Here we mounted our sorry steeds.

Some three hours after we caught up with the rest of our loads, which had struggled out through the Macheelah the day before. All the mules were knocked up, and my wife was fatigued with the unwonted exertion of riding a muleteer’s pony. This is at any time hard work for a man, for the beast does not answer the bit, bores continually on it, and strokes with a light-cutting whip are quite unfelt. There is also a struggle among the riding ponies, more used to loads than riders, as to who shall be last of all; in which a lady’s pony is generally the victor.

It had been impossible to buy a hack suited to a lady in Bushire. I had been asked English prices for the ghosts of steeds—quite honestly, however, for Bushire prices are much higher than Shiraz ones. So after my wife’s trying my pony, the cook’s, and the head muleteer’s, I got one of our escort, a good-natured fellow, clad in rags and smiles, to lend her his. This “yabū” (common pony) was at all events easy, and had a canter in him at need.

At sunset the muleteer informed me that we were twenty miles from our halting-place, Borasjūn, and that the mules could do no more. It was hopeless to attempt to go on, as my wife was as tired as the mules. Night (happily a warm one) was coming on; there was no sign of any shelter for miles, the only thing visible on the sandy plain being the distant date-groves, and these are of course no protection. The road was dry, which was something, and we had plenty of food with us; so we halted, spread our carpets, had tea, and later on dinner, and camped out—rather a dreadful first day’s travelling in Persia for a lady, to sleep without shelter, and in her clothes, in the middle of the road, after travelling since ten A.M. However, there was nothing else for it. The Sheif road is a very unfrequented one, and the country was safe and undisturbed. It was a lovely night, not a breath of wind. At four A.M. we had tea, and started at five, getting into Borasjūn at ten.

For the time of year the luxuriant vegetation near the village was extraordinary; it was now late in October, the heat was great, and the amount of moisture in the air somewhat oppressive. We found capital rooms in the caravanserai, and the clerk at the telegraph-station made us welcome to high tea, being rather indignant that we had not come straight to the office. After that we started again, and reached our halting-place at midnight.

At Dalliké is a rest-house maintained by the Department for the use of the employés. A short distance from the rest-house at Dalliké is a hot spring of clearest water; the temperature is about one hundred degrees, and being in a circular natural basin, some four feet deep in the centre, and in a place where no warm bath can be had, it is a favourite halting-place for travellers. Besides giving a comfortable bath, there is a peculiarity that I have seen nowhere else; the basin is full of myriads of fish about the size of whitebait. On dipping the hand in, they at once cover it, and in a minute it is quite hid from sight by crowds of tiny fish: they have no fear, and can be removed in handfuls. On stripping and entering the basin a curious effect is produced by one’s limbs becoming black with the fish, which nibble at the skin, and only leave it when you plunge violently. On becoming still, one’s body is again entirely covered with fish.

From thence we travelled by day only. At each village I tried to get a pony for my wife, but nowhere could I succeed, though I was ready to buy anything not absolutely vicious.

Mr. M⸺ kindly gave us quarters at the telegraph-office at Kazerūn, and here we rested a day.

The kotuls, or passes (literally ladders), well known throughout the country, had astonished my wife: they are terrible places to ride up, and nearly impossible to ride down: she, however, was determined not to be beaten, and had ridden them all. We had been especially fortunate in our weather; no rain, though we saw many clouds, and it was imminent.