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My last day was most exciting because I was invited
for an evening meal in an Iranian home.
First, I spent the whole day sightseeing in the heart of the city. The temperature was ideal, warm without being uncomfortable; I could smell delicate flower fragrances brought in the soft breeze. The sky was a limpid blue; the waters of the fountains shimmered with lapis lazuli gleams. I visited the architectural gems around the main square: to begin with the Chehel Sotun Palace with its graceful columned porch and its ceiling embossed with glass fragments constantly playing with the sunlight. |
| Inside I spent a long time filming the splendid frescoes, some of them still vividly coloured, depicting famous battles or scenes of court life. After I walked through the gardens. The rectangular pool facing the palace and the marvelous perspective reminded me a little of the Taj Mahal. I came across groups of giggly school children out on a field trip. Segregated of course. The little girls with a sun hat on top of their veil looked quite comical. |  |
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| Then I saw the two main mosques: Iman, the largest of the country, and the one called Sheihk Lotfollah. I got there when everybody was having lunch. I had them all to myself. The first one had magnificent tiles in different shades of blue while the second had pale yellow creamy tones that turn pink at sunset. The arches, the elegant minarets, the pillars, the sobriety of the lines and the perfect alignment make you feel that the builders and artists have managed to create sheer beauty and perfection. However, if you look closely you notice that they deliberately made slight errors to show their humility in front of God. |
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BACKGROUND INFO: Royal Square or Imam Square
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| In the evening I was invited to dine with an Iranian family. I had met a young geo physics student Eshan earlier in the afternoon.. I had stopped him in the streets to ask for directions and we ended up talking for a long time. His open face and friendliness made me accept his invitation when he suggested that I meet his family. This was my chance to see what life was like in a Persian house and to sample home cooked food! |
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Eshan came to pick me up at the appointed time and took me to a residential
area of the city. After taking off my shoes I was admitted into the main
room. I was flabbergasted. It looked like a reception hall with at least
20 chairs, some matching sofas, marqueteries tables, crystal chanteliers,
delicately sculpted moulures around the ceiling, Persian carpets with
intricate design, ornamental artifacts finely crafted and an indoor garden,
a real garden, lush and luxuriant! I did not have enough eyes to take it
all.
The family was amused by my reaction. They were obviously well off. I met everybody. Eshan, very proud and happy, was acting as my interpreter. The first thing I did was to take off my cloak and my scarf! What a relief! I had a body and a face again. And so did Eshan's mother and sister, both very pretty and elegant in their dresses. I also met Mohammed, the youngest of the three children. His eyes were constantly on me burning with curiosity. We had tea, tiny cakes, nuts and a kind of nougat like sweets... Very delicious. Iranians obviously have a sweet tooth. Then, the mother lay a huge cloth on the floor and brought plates, cutlery and glasses. We were going to have a meal at 10h30 at night. The food was delicious, very fresh. | 
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We had yogurt, olives, cooked, raw and marinated salads, chicken brochettes and what looked like a spinach cake sprinkled with lemon that I savoured. The bread was amazing, big as an elephant ear. It tasted like the Indian nan bread. We talked, laughed, took pictures, compared Canada and Iran and had an excellent visit. My hosts wanted to discuss politics and enlightened me about the situation here. That will be the topic of another entry! Finally, after trying to take my leave, I manage to do it at around 2 am. I think they could have continued to chat until dawn even if they had to work or go to school the next day. |
| This morning, when I arrived in the lobby of the Aria Hotel, my happy cleaning lady was there, smiling, exclaiming, "Canada, very good!" When I was ready to leave, after giving me a choking farewell embrace, she called one of the young boys to take my pack down. Then I was off to the bus station to embark on my next destination,Yadz. |
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When I arrived, there were many different bus companies competing for clients. I did not know which one to choose. They were having shouting contests to attract my attention. Finally I opted for the man who had the greatest lung capacity just to shut him up! He was beaming when I approached him and assured me that there would be a bus leaving in thirty minutes. He would escort me to it personally. I was surprised by the price he quoted; it was half of what I expected... However, all was explained when he said that there was no air-conditioning. "Was that going to be a problem for Madame?" My shrug was eloquent. In fact I preferred the natural ventilation from an opened window. |
| He was beaming again, stroking his Salvador Dali moustache with much delight. While he was getting my ticket ready, he insisted on having a free geography lesson. "Where was Canada, in North or South America? What were the main rivers, the capitol city, the important seas? Was it near Brazil? He had always had big dreams to visit Brazil!" |
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The bus trip was uneventful. When we set off, the driver
recommended us to the mercy of Allah so that we could have a safe trip and
all the men chorused a short prayer in unison.
Had a hard time to find a hotel room upon arrival. My taxi driver, very kind and patient, lugged my backpack up and down the tortuous staircases of various guest houses! Finally I found lodgings in a brand new hotel, the Roshan, all shiny and modern. The room costs only 17 dollars; it has all the desired comforts and even air conditioning that works. The only drawback: the female staff are not as effusive as in Esfahan. I miss the enthusiastic hugs of the cleaning lady of the Aria hotel!!! |
| So there I am in Yadz. Excellent first impression. I have just met Mitra, a young Zoroastrian woman who has offered to take me to some of the neighbouring villages the day after tomorrow. Tonight she took me to what I can only call a session of traditional "aerobics" performed by men dressed in beautifully woven trousers and moving to the frantic rhythms of bells and percussions. This sport is called Zurkaneh and foreign women are admitted as honorary guests, local women rarely attend. There in the middle of a giant pit, men and young boys perform feats of strength and turn wildly like Sufis. |
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