The Islamic world is filled with magnificent cities. Samarkand,
Bukhara, Damascus, Cairo, Istanbul and Mecca are all at the top
of any top ten list, but Isfahan is in a class of its own. A
city where the spiritual and the secular both find expression,
Isfahan is tasteful blend of the stern classical contours of
Islamic architecture with the curvaceous and luxuriant movement
of Persian. Should I ever return, I’ll spend a week in Isfahan.
Two days are not enough, not enough to see the highlights, much
less dig deep into the soul of the city and uncover all its
secrets. After the long ride from Tehran to Isfahan our guide
started us off slowly. We drove north towards the outskirts of
the city the morning of the 26th where we stopped at a middling
size hill, maybe 100 meters from top to bottom. A barren rock
with centuries of worn trails going up and down in all
directions, all of them clearly beginning at the summit where a
small mud brick edifice endures, to this day the harsh Persian
sun. Called the Ateshkadeh