Enthusiastically ushering us into a small cabin beside the bay, our host pan fries a generous handful of fresh mutant shrimps with a subtle dusting of spices. The resultant taste explosion lingers just long enough to make it to a local house where our Beluch host family prepare an equally mouth-watering lunch platter – fresh from the Persian Gulf. I’d finally made it to Iranian Baluchistan – the southernmost province of Iran.
Having been fortunate enough to travel to most corners of this fascinating land, the southern provinces have always beckoned me. I’d finally arrived where the desert meets the sea and was enjoying the contrast to everything that I’d experienced elsewhere in Iran; at times it was like being in another country. Cultures transcend borders, and it’s our nature to wander – regardless of man-made barriers.
Iran is rich in ethnic diversity; Azeri’s and Kurds in the northwest, Nomadic Lors (south west) and Turkmen (Caspian Sea region). The southern provinces of Baluchistan and Hormozgon have their own mix of peoples – Indians, Africans, Arabs and Persians. It is also where the majority of Iran’s Sunni minority live. Consistently running through this cultural melting pot of religions, traditions and ethnicities is the distinctly warm ‘Iranian’ hospitality.
Baluchistan is Iran’s poorest province – and remains deliberately so. Baluch people are neither Persian or Shia, which has led to them being largely neglected by Tehran. Despite significant copper, gold and gas reserves, resource wise much of Baluchistan remains a neglected wasteland.
This emptiness fuels beauty. Miles of azure blue coastline fringe eerie lunar-esque rock formations. At Lipar Lake, an abundance of planktons and peculiar currents from the Oman Sea combine to form a stunning pink lagoon, which intensifies in colour as the sun sets.
Using the pleasant Iranian seaside town of Chabbahar as our base, we first drove east towards the Pakistan border. On the way, at Beris, I got my first proper views of the Persian Gulf. Overlooking the parade of bobbing fishing boats in the pretty harbour, I stared to the horizon, watching as a procession of tankers trudged through the Straits of Hormuz. One of the worlds most contested waterways seemed at peace; for today at least.
After surrendering his ID to the military, our driver was able to proceed to Guatar, one of the easternmost points in Iran. A natural biodiversity area, it is home to dolphins, mangroves, nesting turtles – and the aforementioned shrimp mafia!
We continued to a nearby village for lunch where dusty Beluch kids scurried around, their frizzled hair bleached by the sun and ocean. The piercing stares reminded me of my time spent in neigbouring Pakistan. Similarly, Beluch men sport impressive beards and wear skull caps and traditional loose-fitting shirts and trousers, shalwar kameez.
Beluch food is wonderful – fresh from the sea and delicately spiced, taking on the flavours of neighbouring Pakistan. Sitting on a traditional eating mat, I was surrounded by aromatic biryani rice and the freshest shrimps and fish I had ever seen. Every meal is accompanied by an abundance of super-tart mango pickle.
Despite their abject poverty, Beluch people are extremely kind. ‘Please, welcome’ says our host, gesturing towards the food – as if we needed any further invitation to indulge ourselves in the feast he had prepared.
Our journey will continue west to the southern port of Bandar Abbas and onto the holy grail of the south – the fabled islands of the Persian Gulf.
The Lonely Chopstick 