Описание: In the apparent chaos of the Esfahan Bazaar and its twisting, branching system of interconnected corridors occasionally you come across something that throws you, that seems to defy reasoning. Sometimes a locked in mosque in a blindingly bright sunlit opening, other times a mysterious brown tower visible through a few openings in the canopy above with seemingly no entrance, every so often on the path an exquisitely detailed fountain shielded from the sky by solid tall walls and a roof of small red bricks. The people did things that I didn't understand, they seemingly obsessively pour water on the ground outside their stalls and at midday, even though they are indoors in the cool shade, they drape a small rug and sleep in their shops, wares left unattended. The labyrinth is deathly quiet for an hour and any attempt to blend in with the locals is lost in the very fact that you are still conscious (be aware of this, once i was invited for lunch in a man's home and found myself obliged to sleep on his living room floor afterwards!). From a busy road in the bazaar there is a small passage that slopes down, duck down this passable street and find yourself in the beating heart of the bazaar, far from the pretty craftwork and walls lined with jewellery and clothes. This is the bird market, patroned only by locals. It's like a western butchers but without the morals swept under the counter, you buy it, you kill it, you eat it.
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