The Axis of Evil

A Step Back in Time

After my early start in Gazor Kahn I was wrecked by the time I got to Tehran. I traveled from Qazvin by shared taxi, which is now becoming my luxury form of transport. The driver thought he was practicing for the Bahrain GP but got us there in good time in about an hour and fifteen minutes. He was driving with one hand and cracking nuts and eating them with the other hand. He stops for petrol. Sixty-two liters, about Eu4.50, no scarcity here?

It was about 15:30 and a lot of the hotels were full when I go to search. Anywhere that has a room, well maybe as a last resort! I find Hotel Naderi. The lobby is like something out of a 1950's English romance. Telephone exchange linked to each room and furniture to suit. Let this be my bit of luxury for the week, at least that's what my feet were telling me!! I took a snooze and did't get up to a whole lot more for the evening. The rooms are also decked out from the 50's with the bakelite telephones as the centerpiece.

Out and About

The next day was set for exploration. There are lots of warnings about the dangers in Tehran, but it's relative to the rest of the country where there is very little to happen to you. First I had to head to get some money changed. The central branch of the national Melli Bank wasn't too far from the hotel, so I headed for there. Money exchange shops lined the streets about the area. With the trade embargo from the US, there must be money to be made in the exchange business. Along the way most were shut, but I got into one to check what my Eu100 would fetch, 'no commission', he says.

Then into the Melli Bank. I get a rate that is a little less but say I'll take it, at least I'm in a big bank, won't get ripped off, yada, yada,....... I fill my form and then get passed to the next counter. Here this guy does his bit and tells me that his 'friend' at the next counter will have my money in fifteen minutes. FIFTEEN MINUTES!! Meanwhile the first guy returns to announce he made a mistake with the rate, now I'm getting less, do I still want to change it? Exactly the words I wanted to hear. I got my money in hand, headed to the exchange shop and within thirty seconds have money in my hand. The banks barely seemed interested in changing money, and I suppose if the change shops are what the locals are using, there must be something in it?

First site on the list was the Holy Shrine of Imam Khomeini. To get there it was all the way to the end of one of the metro lines. The metro is fairly new, clean and well run. A day ticket costs anything from 7 cents to 11 cents depending on who's at the desk, bloody locals making up prices for the tourists!! Where are the tourist police when you need them? The carriages are as full as the DART at eight in the morning. The first two carriages are reserved for women, all you can see are two carriages cloaked in black passing at the head of the train. Mine was the last stop, but about two-thirds along the way we stopped at a station, there was an announcement in Farsi and everyone gets off. Mmmmmmmmm.

I did the only thing I could, picked someone at random that I reckoned would know a few words of English. I hit the jackpot when I stopped three guys in their early 20's that happened to be going to college, very close to the shrine. 'Follow me' was the instruction. We got a taxi, but there was something troubling them. Iran is full of wonderful places, so why on earth would I want to come to see the burial place of a Khomeini, the reason the country lives in misery? Good question. Part of your history I tell them. This didn't go down well! 'Sadam is also part of history', I was told. They really were so helpful to me, but couldn't figure it out!

The mausoleum was easy to spot on the horizon. It's a monstrosity with the outer parts still under construction. The central part houses the tomb of Khomeini. Four 91m towers surround the central dome, representing the 91 years of his life. Inside it's like a massive empty shed with the tomb tucked beside one of the side walls. He had intended his burial place not as a site of great reverence, but somewhere for the ordinary people to come to, almost for recreation. There are very few people there. It's a Tuesday morning after all. Those that are there are circling the shrine showing their respects by kissing the support at every step. At the end they pass an offering in though a slot in the glass. The money is piled high inside.

Outside it's really boiling and after a quick stroll around the vast Behesht-E-Zahra cemetery, burial place for those that died in the Iran/Iraq war, I got the metro back into town ........ all the way this time!

I headed for the Golestan Palace. The site is attributed to the Qajar ruler Nasser al-Din Shah during the 19th century. Inside is a central garden, surrounded by various palaces and buildings. Just inside the gate was an Iranian crafts exhibition, but there wasn't a soul there to buy anything. The gardens were beautifully maintained, with the roses in full bloom and the buildings themselves detailed with beautifully colourful tile. I visit a few of the exhibitions, but concentrate on the art exhibition to prepare me for my next stop, the National Jewels Museum.

The National Jewels Museum is located in a vault under the central branch of the Melli bank, the same place I had tried to change money that morning. Despite what the guidebook says, this is the first place that I have visited that I paid above the odds compared to what a local pays. Inside a corridor leads to the vault that has a guarded door that is about 1m thick. The exhibition was in a room that if in any other museum in the world would be about five times the size to show it off. The amount of precious stones was incredible. Everything you can imagine that can be worn studded with diamonds, ruby's, emerald. Boxes lined with pearls. A globe about 1m diameter fully covered: emerald sea, ruby land and diamond for Iran, England and France. Not made with the last 30 years obviously!

From there I pretty much called it a wrap for the day. I headed back to the hotel and later took a stroll to the Park-E-Laleh. It was six in the evening and there wasn't much happening there. There were a couple of things on the list for the next morning before I headed south to Qom.

First on the agenda the next day I tried to find the Sarkis Cathedral in Northern Tehran. After a major struggle and about two bottles of water I located it. My curiosity in finding it was not to track down an architectural gem, but to locate what is the largest non-Islamic religious building certainly in Tehran and maybe in all of Iran. It's about the size of a medium Irish church. Armenian Christian, similar to Orthodox. It was unusual to see women that you assume are Muslim from the way that they are dressed blessing themselves and entering. Their appearance is, of course, dictated by the Islamic laws of the country.

I go to take a picture. For the first time in the country I am approached with suspicion. Where is my permit? Surely if I am taking a photo, then I must be a journalist? Who else would come here. After all the warnings about the mad Mullahs, it is a Christian that snows me most suspicion in the Islamic republic. On the street close to the church a large mural has the American flag, the the stars replaced with skulls, reading 'Down With America' (See Photo). This really is not the feeling of the people on the street though, who almost seem to worship the American ways.

My route back to town was past the 'US Den of Espionage', site of the former US embassy and nerve center for the CIA orchestrated coup of 1953. It's closed up now, the fading murals on the walls close to the gate leave no doubt that the Americans won't be occupying this embassy anytime soon!! One that springs to mind is the statue of liberty with a skull for a face. I wasn't brave enough to take a photo. I needed to get to Qom, so a visit to jail might put a damper on that one? I finished my Tehran tour by heading towards the Majlis, the Iranian parliament, the center of their democracy! Nothing special, but in the center lies their central Madraseh, a term for an Islamic university. Breeding ground for their mighty Islamic Republic.