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Shiraz, Out and About

I ended up staying for a few days. A nice city in itself, but nothing extraordinary. I had been on the road for a month, and deserved a couple of days that were a bit more relaxed!

I headed rambling. The street level citadel (Arg-E Karim) in the center is unmissable. It almost looks like something that could have been added in modern days. Circular squat towers overlook the four corners, one tower giving the leaning Tower of Pisa a run for it's money. For a citadel, it's located on level ground and doesn't look like it would keep out an invader with his mind set on grabbing the shah! It was only a living quarters and not a fortification for a town. Inside, orange trees line a pool leading to the main guest hall. As usual, any green patch is very well cared for.

From there I headed towards the bazaar. Along the way I spotted the Regents Mosque on my right. Just as I was entering, an older man stopped me. He spoke five languages, had been showing tourists the city for forty years, had about one and a half teeth and was stone mad! I politely declined his offer, but just in case I had a change of heart he left me with his business card. Random words (most of them illegible) scribbled on the back of a piece off a cardboard box. It could have been a very interesting day!

Inside the mosque, built by Karim Khan in 1773, as with most mosques of the era there was a large courtyard flanked by beautifully tiled iwans and domes. Not to the extravagance of Esfahan, but pleasant nonetheless. Inside I met two local Iranians that came to my assistance when one of the keepers starting babbling to me non-stop in Farsi. They came across a little shy at first, but before I would part with Akbar and Milad in Shiraz I would really get to see Iranian hospitality played out in full. They showed me around the bazaar next door. Very similar to the bazaars that I had seen down through the country. Long brick alleys, vaulted ceilings with little stalls dotted along the sides.

They guys headed on, but I arranged to meet them later in the evening for an ice-cream. Their lunch was on the table! They invited me back, but there were a few things I needed to do for the afternoon and I knew if I went to their house, it would have been most of the afternoon gone.

I wandered the Mausoleum of Shah E-Cheragh, the brother of Imam Reza. Another living place of respect, like the Mausoleum in Qom. The men and women come to enjoy the shelter in the courtyard, to stand behind their prayer stones in the prayer room going through their rituals or simply to adorn the tomb in the center of the building. Not to the scale of Qom, but the sense of existence about the place made it very relaxing.

I headed for the best ice-cream house in town with Akbar and Milad at six. Milad's dad own's a taxi, that he drives in the evening. Milad was my chauffeur for the evening. We took a spin around town so that I couldn't possibly miss out on any of the sites, and arranged to meet the following evening to go for dinner with Akbar's family. They wanted to drive me to Persepolis the next morning, but I already had a dawn booking with the hotel, so I was happy to keep that.

Persepolis, a Step Back in Time

A 07:00 start the next morning with the mission of getting a good look around Persepolis before the midday sun scorched the plain. Walking down the roadway to the entrance at 08:00, I was the first tourist for the day to sign the log. The complex is as a result of the First Persian Empire, the Achaemenid Empire. Inside is a sprawl of ancient ruins, but like most such sites it needs a bit of imagination to try and picture the site at the peak of it's powers, 2,000 years ago. The Grand Stairway leads to the complex. Steps are shallow to allow the people walk with dignity in their flowing robes.

Unfortunately most of the site is badly ruined. Many palace doorways survive, each carved to welcome the invited guests. One of the highlights the Apadana Stairway leading to the Central Hall. The stairs protected by carved soldiers. Leading to the stairs, various visiting delegations with their gifts of goods and animals. All dating to 300BC but in perfect condition.

From there I stop off at the nearby Naqsh-E Rajab and Naqsh-E Rostam.  Rock cut tombs high above the ground house the tombs of the most senior leaders of the earliest Persian Empire.

I spotted two very unusual things out and about during the day. I was in a bit of a hurry when I was heading up the hill behind Persepolis to visit the tomb. Along the route, I came on a couple tucked away, KISSING of all things. Surely that can't be allowed in Iran? Later, as if end was near, Naqsh-E Rostam was deserted. Some guys working off a scaffold restoring a carving, and two girls that could only have been from Tehran. One of them marching around with her head scarf on her shoulders. Just who did she think she was? Where are the morality police when you need them?

Back in Shiraz

Back in Shiraz, I was the guest of Akbar and his family. On entering the courtyard in front of his home, the first thing I saw was his gran pulling on her head covering. I didn't say anything. It's just natural that they would cover their heads with a stranger around. The welcome was as warm as any welcome could possibly be. His father a retired maths teacher, a smart and slightly eccentric man. He wanted to know the name of the Irish leader. I knew Bertie wasn't on his mind. 'Old', he said. I thought. Couldn't have been Dev, maybe Gerry Adams? 'No Food', he said. 'Bobby Sands', I said. That's the one.

Not sure what it is about Bobby Sands in this country, but he certainly is well known in a country were a lot of people haven't a clue where Ireland is. Akbar wondered if it was part of Australia. For some time the Irish Embassy for located on Bobby Sands Street in Tehran. The next evening in a taxi to the bus station the response from the taxi driver was the same. 'Which country mister?', 'Ah, Irland, Bobby Sands', he said. When I mentioned Maggie Thatcher, he spat out the window and expanded his vocabulary to a few choice English words!

Akbar had invited the extended family over to meet his guest. His uncle came with his family and his sister to complete the group. A huge spread was laid out in the front yard, on the sheet laid out on the ground. The good glasses were taken out of a cardboard box.

'Mr Vincent', Akbar's dad would blurt randomly. The rest were trying to quieten him down. Akbar was pleading with me to stay, but I'd caused enough inconvenience for the family and I let them get back to normality and returned to my hotel, chauffeur driven! I wasn't getting away that lightly. After declining their offer to stay, I was to come back for lunch the next day.

Before going to their house the next day, there was one thing in the city that I really wanted to see, the Aramagh-E Hafez. There is a saying that every Iranian must have two things in their homes. First a copy of the Koran, and second a book of the poetry of Hafez. The guys were on hand to show me around with the local know how. Even though he was a poet, Hafez is like a spiritual guide for Iranians and they treat his tomb like a place of pilgrimage. Many of the sprinkle of people there were reading from his poetry, standing next to his tomb. The columns of the octagonal pavilion covering his tomb worn from the people resting against them to read his wisdoms.

Back to Akbar's house and we are joined by the same group, plus another sister and her family. Fourteen people for lunch. Akbar's mother is so happy to be able to feed me. Not a word of English, but a smile beaming from her face that showed that she was enjoying every minute of it. You can come to my house every time, was the message to be relayed. What started as a chance encounter, turned into treating me like royalty in a really nice way. A really nice family that really could not do enough to try to make me feel welcome in their home. And to think of the impression that most Western people have of Iranians!