Qazvin was once a capital, which is a surprising thing to find out as you roll into a busy Iranian provincial city at the foot of the Alborz. In the sixteenth century the Safavid shahs moved their court here, and it stayed the capital for several decades until Shah Abbas shifted it to Isfahan, so the town still carries traces of that grandeur, with a royal mosque, a pavilion called Chehel Sotun, and a gate that once guarded the palace. The caravanserai of Saʿadossaltaneh comes from a later age, the Qajar era of the nineteenth century, and is one of the best-preserved in the country.
A caravanserai was a roadside inn for merchants, a walled courtyard with rooms around it, stables for the animals and space to unload goods for the night. This one has been restored and fits into the bazaar area, with brick arches, passages and courtyards that feel more like an indoor street than a hotel. Qazvin sat on the road between Tehran and the Caspian and the west, so traffic through here was heavy, and there is still a sense in the old centre that people are on their way somewhere else and have stopped for tea.
The approach by road is not subtle. You come in on a motorway or busy trunk road from Tehran, surrounded by trucks and shared taxis, and the only trick is patience; Iranian traffic is fast, fluid and not especially concerned with lane markings. Once you are in the old town, the streets narrow and slow down, and it is a good place to park and walk. Further north the road climbs into the Alborz toward Alamut, the valley of the old Assassin fortresses, and that is where the riding gets properly interesting, with long climbs, hairpins and cold air.
Qazvin is large enough that fuel is plentiful, and its cafes and sweet shops are good places to rest before the mountains. Spring and autumn are comfortable; winter brings snow on the heights and sharp mornings. Be courteous with photography inside the bazaar and the caravanserai, and ask before pointing a camera at anyone who is working.