This story is part of our Your First Published Article series. A traveler visits the Rosewater Festival in Kashan, Iran, to indulge in her lifelong love of pink while learning about the process of making rosewater and its significance in Persian culture.
Pink was my favorite color when I was a little girl. Mother and I used to walk down the Barbie aisle of Toys “R” Us, where bright pink hues stretched from floor to ceiling.
We’d stroll through the local Middle Eastern market, where my mother would purchase little bundles of rose petals. They were a unique shade of pink, with magenta and even purple undertones. I was curious and asked my mother where the petals came from. She told me they belonged to a rose that grew in Kashan, a desert region in Iran.
I would often hear her recite this poem from the Divan of Hafez:
Rose petals let us scatter and fill the cup with wine
The firmaments let us shatter and come up with a new design
Pour the magenta wine with control like rosewater into a bowl
While fragrant breeze will roll, and sweet incense refine
One year in May, I saw the rose petals up close, in their native land.
It turns out, the shades of pink that had piqued my curiosity had names: Persian pink, a pastel pink with a slight hint of purple, and Persian rose, a deep pink with magenta undertones. In Kashan, Iran, pink is more than a color; it’s a way of life. Every spring, it bursts through the earth and spreads across the lush petals, transforming the landscape and filling the air with its floral aroma. Within this tapestry of colors and scents lies a tradition that celebrates a love affair with the rose: Kashan’s Rosewater Festival.
In May and June, during peak rose blooming season, people from all over Iran and beyond flock here to witness the centuries-old tradition of rosewater production.
It’s 8 am when my tour group arrives at Ali Jabari‘s rose plantation. Near the entrance, vendors busily string rose petals into freshly layered crowns. A few girls in our group buy some crowns, put them on their heads, and pose in the fields. It is apparently the thing to do while here–what spells a trip to Kashan better than taking a rose souvenir picture?
A main draw to Kashan is stocking up on bottles of rosewater directly from the heart of the plantations where they are produced. An essential ingredient in Persian cooking, rosewater adds a gentle floral essence to stews and sauces. It is also used to treat digestive disorders, improve cardiovascular conditions, and soothe the nervous system. No one leaves here empty-handed!
Jabari explains that the blossoms used for rosewater are handpicked at sunrise, when it is believed their fragrance is strongest. Harvests at plantations like his last for a month. He then leads us to his chamber for rosewater production and describes the process:
After the roses are picked from the fields, they are washed and placed in large copper pots. About 60 to 80 liters of water are added to each pot, which contains roughly 30 to 40 kilos of rose petals. The pots are covered with lids, heated from below, and brought to a boil. Each pot has a small hole leading to a narrow pipe, through which steam is directed into pitchers in swirling cold water. As the steam cools, it condenses into liquid, and voila–here’s your rosewater!
Rosewater production in Iran dates back a thousand years. In fact, Iranians were the first to obtain rosewater through a distillation process. For generations, it has been cultivated in Kashan and its surrounding areas, namely Qamsar and Niasar, using methods passed down through families and communities.
One of Kashan’s most cherished traditions during the rose season is “Gol Ghaltan,” or rose tumbling, which celebrates a baby’s first spring. Women in the family go to the rose fields early in the morning to gather flowers for their baskets. When they return, the newborn is laid on a white cloth, and petals are sprinkled over it. The women hold the corners of the cloth and gently roll the baby in the pink petals while singing melodies, reciting poetry, and offering blessings. Afterwards, guests leave gifts beside the white cloth and are served tea and pastries.
Jabari explains that rose tumbling provides babies with natural immunity against diseases and seasonal allergies, while also protecting their skin, bringing them happiness, and warding off the evil eye. To me, it almost sounds like a baptism.
Indeed, the rose’s name has spiritual connotations in the local culture. It is called the Mohammadi Rose because, according to Islamic legend, it was thought to carry the scent of the Prophet Muhammad. I am reminded of a family pilgrimage to the shrine of Imam Reza in Mashhad, where rosewater was incorporated into worship rituals, akin to holy water in Catholicism. At my grandfather’s funeral, I remember women in the family sprinkling rosewater on the crowds of mourners.
I also recall verses from The Water’s Footfall by Sohrab Sepehri:
I am a Muslim
The rose is my Qibla
The spring, my prayer mat
The light, my prayer stone
The field, my prostration place.
Sepehri, a native of Kashan, drew inspiration from the scenery of his hometown in his work. I knew he was a globetrotter like me, and that he wrote that poem after the bulk of his travels and seeing the world. Strolling through the rose field in the sunlight on a spring day, the sacredness of the moment cascades over me. Following in Sepehri’s footsteps, I am inspired to connect my global outlook to my Persian roots.
In the Middle Ages, the Persian rose was imported from Iran to Europe via Damascus, giving it the name it is known by worldwide: the Rosa Damascena.
Our group sits down for some rosewater and orange blossom sherbet at a local café. Iman Malek, our tour leader, explains that rosewater production is a tradition with historical and cultural significance. “Beyond the industrial and commercial aspects associated with roses, it fosters a communal spirit and a special connection with nature,” he says.
Due to the Instagram-worthy photo opportunities featuring rose décor and floral landscapes, Kashan tours, such as Iman’s, tend to sell out quickly. He recounts the time when members of one of his tours joined local women in traditional attire to harvest roses at sunrise. “It’s always great to see tourists embracing customs and getting into the action,” he says.
Rosewater is also employed in beauty rituals and in aromatherapy. Browsing through a gift shop near the café, I purchase rosewater liquid soap and hand cream. It occurs to me that a high-end cosmetics industry with worldwide acclaim could emerge here.
Kashan’s unique climate–a blend of warm desert and cold mountain–makes it the perfect breeding ground for Damask roses. In particular, the mountain springs of nearby Qamsar and Niasar play a significant part in cultivating quality blossoms and yielding a stronger essence, creating arguably the finest rosewater in the world.
While the Rosewater Festival attracts tourists from across the country and abroad (particularly Europe and Asia), I observe that for the most part, Kashan’s tourism seems prepared to cater to a domestic rather than an international clientele.
I share my thoughts with Mojtaba Reihani, a local tour guide. He says that while Kashan’s attractions during rose season never cease to amaze, he knows there is unmet potential. “There needs to be more investment, planning, and initiatives, especially on the part of regional authorities,” he posits. “From an international relations perspective, limitations prevail….our country needs to be in a better global standing to promote real tourism.”
I, too, hope that the region’s true potential will be maximized. I hope that someday the Rosewater Festival will be celebrated on a global scale, like the lavender festival in Provence, the cherry blossom festival in Japan, or the tulip festival in Amsterdam.
In the meantime, I will honor Sepehri’s mandate by keeping the rose as my Qibla. Here, the rose is a work of art, inseparable from acts of worship, local customs, and historic legacies. Here, every rose tells a story. Every rose garden keeps tradition blooming. Every drop of rosewater is more than just an essence: it stands as a testament to the hands that tend the earth, to the generations bound by a covenant to honor the legacy of the rose.
The Rosewater Festival paints the pink colors of life onto a canvas of ancient memories, where fire, water, and the rose serve as the conductors of an eternal spring symphony.
