My visit to Maymand was a bizarre experience that is unlikely to be replicated by others, so my review should not be taken to be especially representative of the typical experience. I arrived via chartered taxi around 5:30pm, because the driver assured me it would only be 1.5 hours drive from Kerman and thus refused to leave earlier. This was very obviously wrong, and it took closer to 3.5. This wasn’t catastrophic, given sunset wasn’t until after 7:30, so there was still plenty of time to look around.

The entrance to the village is rife with triumphant UNESCO decoration and English-language touristy signage, as it has evidently become a part of the tour group circuit during the day. When I arrived, however, all the doors to all the cave-houses were closed, and the village was essentially deserted apart from a confused-seeming old man who very insistently tried to give me a bundle of blank CDs. This set the tone of my experience.

Eventually an old woman was found, though she seemed annoyed by my presence. I thought accommodation had been organised in advance by my hotel in Kerman, but this did not seem to hold much sway. A room was procured, notably not anywhere near the heavily signed Guesthouse on the other side of the small river. The ‘bed’ was a slab of plywood.

Wandering through the village itself around sunset was rather pretty, and it was nice to see some friendly dogs around for once (Iran seems to almost lack dogs entirely). However, with all the main caves barricaded closed and thus unable to be visited, I do not think I really got the proper experience. The mosque, at least, was open, and was quite picturesque.

Things turned weird at dinner, when the confused man appeared in the eating area, sitting blankly and staring at the wall while repeatedly being angrily offered tea by the old lady. When I eventually stood up with my driver to leave after eating and paying, both locals appeared very agitated, and we left quickly to our room to sleep. From somewhere within the cave system (it wasn’t the one directly next to mine, at least), a group of seemingly very drunk people starting yelling, singing, and playing loud music from a phone. By 2am, this had not stopped, and my driver declared that we were leaving. With a hearty ‘Maymand no good!’, I was bundled off into the taxi to drive away, sleeping on the back seat while driving who-knows-where (to eventually wake at 7am at the closed gates of Pasargadae).

I think the moral of the story is make sure you come here with someone who speaks Farsi and English, if you intend to stay the night. I’m sure it’s perfectly fine during the day, though unlikely to be super thrilling.