Somewhere in the last post, I started talking about the women of Iran and then I lost track of the thread. Believe me, I can go on and on, but I’ll try and not get distracted again!
Ok, back in Tehran - after the Golestan Palace, we tried to do a bit more of sightseeing (Imam Mosque, Arg Square, and National Museum). But all of them were closed thanks to Navroz celebrations. However, we did manage to see one of Tehran’s numerous parks – Park Shahr with its beautiful fountain and well-manicured lawns. We followed this up with dinner at an artist’s complex that had a trendy wee coffee shop. This complex is pretty close to the erstwhile American embassy (more on that in a later post). We called it an early night as we had a very early flight next morning.
The hour-long flight was to the city of Shiraz, which is famed for poetry, gardens, and wine. Of course, Iran being an Islamic Republic now, wine is no longer produced there. Shiraz is the capital of Fars province (from which the word ‘Farsi’ is derived). Earlier the capital used to be Pasargadae (during the times of Cyrus the great). His successor Darius I made Persepolis his ceremonial capital. Shiraz was made the national capital in 1750 under the Zand rulers.
Coming back to contemporary times, our hotel in Shiraz had a cute little courtyard (as most hotels did) where I lounged around (with the free WiFi) before we started our sightseeing. A family (with two young girls) approached our group and chatted with us (not too many tourists visit Iran so the locals enjoy talking to the tourists. And the youngsters use the opportunity to practice their English. As we got talking with the family, I found out that they’d visited India because their spiritual Guru lives in Chennai (globalisation in the guru stakes?).
For lunch I ordered Kalampollo (a sort of chicken pilaf) but immediately regretted it as I saw someone on the table next to mine order an Eggplant dish. That dish looked just like our baingan-ka-bharta. Suddenly I started thinking of home and Indian food.
Our first pit-stop in the town of Shiraz was the Aramgah-e-shah-e-Cheragh. This is the tomb of one of the 17 brothers of Imam Reza (one of Shi’ism’s twelve Imams, considered to be the spiritual and political successors of The Prophet). During my time in Iran I was able to learn a bit about Shi’ism, and how it differs from Sunnism. The Shias believe Ali (whom they consider divinely appointed) as the rightful successor to The Prophet. As compared to Sunnis who are required to pray five times a day, Shias say their prayers thrice a day. Also, the Shias place a piece of stone or clay, known as "Turbah," on the ground so that their forehead touches the stone during prayers.
Anyway, coming back to the Aramgah - Sayyed Mir Ahmed (brother of Imam Reza) was killed in 835 and is buried here. A friend of mine has an interesting theory about taking photos at religious sites. As most of you know, I enjoy taking pictures but according to this friend, one should not take pictures at religious sites as they interfere with what is meant to be a place for thought and introspection. I see the logic behind that, yet I am a shameless clicker at religious places.
However, we were told that no photography was allowed at the shrine and we had to deposit our bag (and our cameras) at the Aramgah entrance. But as always happens in life, when we got in, I noticed that almost everyone was taking photos with their cellphones. Grrrrr.
The complex has a lovely peaceful courtyard where I just plonked myself on one of the carpets and contemplated life as the faithful went about their work in what is one of Shi’isms holiest sites in Iran. The beautiful blue-tiled domes with minarets and the open expanse of the courtyard made it time well-spent.At this tomb, the women were required to have more-stringent-than-normal chadors. On the streets they just need to make sure that they cover their hair and the shape of their bodies and are, of course, not allowed to show any skin (apart from the face and hands).
Right next to this complex is the Masjed E Jameh Ye Atigh – Shiraz’s oldest Islamic structure, dating from 894. As was the case everywhere in Iran, we were approached by children. Sadly, because of politicial complications, not too many tourists visit Iran. But that has an upside - whatever few tourists visit, all the object of curiosity for locals especially the children. And the most endearing part is that it is all very innocent curiosity, and typically they will offer a ‘hello’ or ‘have a good day’ or ‘how are you’ or ‘where are you from’.
Dinner that night was a rather swish place called ‘Haft Khan’. After having heard / read so much of about the ‘Dizi’ (a traditional Persian soup-stew meal), I decided to brave it - curry is poured into a cylindrical utensil, and then small pieces of bread are added to this curry - this mixture is then beaten to a pulp using a small. It tasted good but the smell was, to put it mildly, not too attractive.
Next day, did more sightseeing of Shiraz. Another to-see sight there is the Karim Khan Citadel (or Arg e Karim Khan, built by the Zand ruler Karim Khan in the second half of the 18th century). The structure has high exterior walls (as any self-respecting Citadel should have) and there is a very lovely courtyard with a pool (difficult to imagine such peace and quiet so close to the hustle and bustle of Shiraz city just outside the citadel walls).
The Masjed E Vakil and the Bazaar E Vakil are also great places to hang out. I found the bazaar-e-vakil far more interesting (and less pretentious and made-up) than Istanbul’s Grand Bazaar which is mainly for tourists and reminded me of Palika Bazaar. Anyways, it is very easy (and enjoyable) to be lost in the labyrinthine alleys of the Bazaar-e-Vakil.
Some people in my group had to get their visas extended and I was feeling pleased that I didn’t have to go to the concerned office and spend my time there. But I really regretted not going there as my companions met a French man who had walked (yes walked!) all the way from Istanbul (and Iran was not his last stop). Of course, walking thousands of miles (he started with a 1000 dollars in his pocket) was not the only eccentric thing he was doing. He was carrying his possessions (including a tent) on a wheelbarrow! Before we label him mad, we must remember what Nietsczhe said, “and those who were seen dancing were thought to be insane by those who could not hear the music”
From there on, we sauntered onto a Lonely Planet recommended restaurant called Sharzeh which apparently has a great atmosphere. Sadly, and in continuation of our bad luck, the restaurant was closed for Navroze. So we went to another one on the LP list called Govara. This restaurant turned out to be a real find – cheap and tasty food. I had a lentil soup (that could easily have passed off as daal) and a chicken dish, which was very wet (curry-ish) and spicy.
With a satiated and happy stomach we went off to see another Mosque – Nasir Ol Molk (19th century). The mosque had a lovely prayer hall which was totally empty. I spread myself out on the carpet and took a nice cat nap (remember the heavy meal I’d just had?). It was extremely refreshing!
Shiraz is known for its gardens and the most famous one is the Bagh E Eram. It was a lovely place to hang out – dotted with couples, mixed groups, youngsters among the gardens and the lovely pools. Another place to plonk oneself on the grass and take a quick nap (I’ve been taking too many of those, right?).
Next stop was the Aramgah E Hafiz which is the final resting place of THE poet of Persia – Hafiz. The Persians take their poetry very very seriously. They can quote Hafiz, Saadi, and Firdaus at the drop of a hat. Shirazis take great pride in the fact Hafiz (who lived in the 14th century) was one of their own. The atmosphere at the tomb and the nearby gardens is pretty reverential – Besides the beautiful gardens in which the tomb is set there is a cosy little teahouse where piped poetry is read out. At this tea house, I saw the most beautiful girl – dressed in all blue she had the most bewitching smile (I was able to capture her photograph to help my not-so-strong-anymore memory). Ok, now before I get distracted again and sing paens to Persian beauties let me get back to Hafez.
Many visitors here had brought books of his poetry and read out extracts. One father prompted his girl (she must have been eight or nine) to recite some Hafez. She did so confidence and poise, putting into perspective my lame and unsuccessful attempts to commit to memory ‘Daffodils’.
