KEY POINTS:
If the city of Isfahan was anywhere else other than in Iran it would be besieged with tourists - such is its magic. (For photos, click here.)
I've lost count now of the number of times I've stood in the centre of the Maidan or
Naghsh-e-Jahan (Royal Square) and marvelled at the dome of the Sheikh Lotfollah mosque with its swirling arabesques, the delicate blue spires of the minarets of the Emam mosque and been enticed through the archway into the labyrinth that is the city's traditional bazaar.
Every time though I feel torn - this city so deserves to be appreciated by more travellers, it is a gem, a jewel in Persia's crown. However at the same time, I want to keep it for myself and a few dedicated travellers and not have to share it with endless busloads of tired package tourists.
Many of Isfahan's architectural treasures date back to the 17th century built by the decree of ruler Shah Abbas who wanted a capital that reflected the might of his Persian empire. He got it. I love standing under the central dome of the Emam mosque where the acoustics are so good that when a piece of paper is snapped underneath the sound reverberates like a pistol shot.
Then there is the blue-tiled corridor that curves around the Lotfollah mosque, encircling it like a lover's arm. Inside tiled lozenges of colour seem to cascade from the ceiling. A tiny aperture spills sunlight across these golden teardrops, shifting with the sun and creating the dazzling effect of a peacock's tail.
On all four sides of the maidan is a vast arcaded shopping bazaar that drips with brass lanterns and stained glass lights; entices with stacks of Isfahani nougat called gaz and shops selling saffron ice-cream and tempts with piles of luxuriant Persian carpets and walls crammed with delicate miniature paintings.
I know some of the craftsman now - the man who can paint a portrait of Omar Khayyam in a few minutes using a brush made of about two cat hairs; then there's my elderly friend in his 80s who is still producing block-printed tablecloths and near him a young jeweller who threads his own necklaces of Afghan lapis and Iranian turquoise.
When I'm satiated with architecture and shopping I climb the near-vertical stairs to a teahouse that is strategically placed almost above the entrance to the bazaar and with a panoramic view of the entire square.
The waiter brings tea and a plate of pastries and as long as I sit inside (and view the square through the open door) I can have a hubble-bubble too. As the afternoon slips into evening the domes of the mosque glisten in the sun and the pigeons circle the minarets
There's an old saying "Isfahan nesf-e jahan" - Isfahan is half the world. When I'm the square there seems no need even to look for the other half.
For photos, click here.
This blog entry was written before Jill's current trip to India.