Reclining on cushions we ate, sipped tea and chatted until it was time for Mitra to go to work.
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Reclining on cushions we ate, sipped tea and chatted until it was time for Mitra to go to work. |
My last day in Yadz was heavenly. It was Friday, the official day off for
Muslims. I mostly relaxed. Little sightseeing did I do; I put my feet up!
Spent the morning and early afternoon with Mitra, the Zoroastrian girl.
Went to her temple but was not allowed to watch the prayers. Then took the
city bus for the first time. The men sit in front and the women at the
back! We strolled through some parks and gardens and ended up having a
delectable lunch in a two hundred year old restaurant in the heart of the
deserted bazaar.
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| Then I lazily made my way to another tea house-restaurant called the Silk Road, by the main mosque. There lying on more cushions, in the shade of citrus trees I dozed off by the gurgling fountain, near a profusion of delicately scented flowers until Ali the Muslim boy interrupted my "reverie". We ordered more tea and shared a basket of fruit until it was time to watch the sunset from the roof... What a life! |
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The next day, I took a old dilapidated bus to Shiraz. However it had excellent ventilation through the opened windows. We made good time despite some mechanical problems. So now I am in Shiraz. It is hard for me to take to this city, much too busy and modern for my taste. I shan't stay long. This morning I went with a couple of friendly Australian packpackers to the Ancient city of Persepolis. This was also a bit of a disappointment. In my guide book, it says that Persepolis rivals with Angkor Wat or the Pyramids but I strongly disagree. |
| The ruins, dating back from the sixth century before Christ, are in such poor condition that it is not easy to imagine the glory of the Empire of Darius the Great. However, I enjoyed visiting some of the nearby tombs dug in the cliffs and spent a long time admiring the intricate detail of the carved bas reliefs. |  |
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My plan was to go to the Persian gulf, which is very African-Middle Eastern.
However, after making some phone calls it appears that as a foreigner, I
will not be able to stay in reasonably priced accomodation without securing
a police permit. Frankly I do not want to go through the hassle and
furthermore it is right now unbearibly hot there, around 30 degrees!
So I decided to go North, towards the Caspian sea in search of a cooler
climate and a different scene.
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| What can I say, Shiraz, the city close to the ancient ruins of Persepolis was somewhat of a disappointment but the peole largely made up for it. I did some sightseeing though and the best part was when I strolled through the bazaar at 3pm which is "siesta" time here. It was like wandering around the castle of the Sleeping beauty. All the colorful ,glittery shops were opened, the birds delighted with the tranquility were chirping, there was a scent of spice and fresh mint in the air and all the merchants were asleep in their doorway, lying with their faces on the ground to catch some of the coolness. It was like time had stopped and some wizard had petrified all human beings. Needless to say I filmed to my heart's content. |  |
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In Shiraz, I have been staying at the Sasan hotel. My guide book describes the manager as being able "to talk the leg off a billiard table". A very true description! Mister Said, a chubby little man with a half bald, egg- shaped head crowned by snow white hair, is effusive, enthusiastic and bubbly like a glass of champagne. He can't stop talking and grinning. His curiosity is insatiable: he has a particular fascination for cold regions especially Alaska. When he found out that I lived in Canada he bombarded with a thousand and one questions about Alaska, Antarctica and the North Pole! |
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When I arrived, he greeted me in a very flamboyant way, saying, "Welcome to
Sasan Hotel. Staff of Sasan hotel very kind. Staff would like to make
tourist happy, very happy. You, Madame, very kind too, good person."
All the time he was smiling and bowing with his hand on his heart.
He was true to his word, the dear man. He organized for me a trip to the
ruins, made long distances phone calls on my behalf and ensured that I had
"complete breakfast American style" every morning... "hard" egg, cheese,
bread, carrot jam, butter from "good" cow and tea!
On the morning of my departure, Mister Said was very sad because he still had so many unanswered questions! My flight back to Tehran was not leaving before noon. So I slept in, reorganized my pack and came down around mid-day. |
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When I appeared on the stairs, a whole delegation was waiting for
me. Jumping up, they all ran to me. Mister Said introduced me to the owner
of the Sasan hotel, who was very elegant in suit and tie. Then he introduced me to
Sarah the receptionist and the errand boy. They all had been waiting for
me to come down impatiently because the owner was going to go to "North
Vancouver, Canada" for one year with his whole family. As soon as he had
learned that a teacher from Vancouver was staying at his hotel he had rushed
immediately. He had so many questions about life and school in Canada! I
had to come to his house for lunch!
I explained regretfully that it would not be possible because I had a plane to catch. Mister Said was nodding his head sadly. However, I would be happy to give him my address and phone number to help him when he arrived in Canada. Everybody's face lit up. After exchanging addresses, the owner decided to give me a "big discount". He charged me one night instead of two, and refused to have me pay for all my phone calls and my breakfast. Knowing about the "ta'arof" tradition I insisted three times to pay him what was due but he was adamant. "The good madame from Vancouver, Canada was going to have big discount because she was a guest in Iran!" Sarah, the pretty girl in her severe chador, called a taxi. I shook hands with all the men around. Mister Said nearly crushed my fingers. I hugged a radiant Sarah. Then Mister Said announced that he was going to see me to the car. With the door opened and the taxi driver waiting with his engine on, Mister Said looked at me seriously in the eye and said that he had one last question: "Why did Russia sell Alaska to America?" Eager to leave, I thought quickly, rubbed three fingers together and replied, "Because of money!". Satisfied with my answer Mister Said slammed the door and waved me good bye, bowing repeatedly with his hand on his heart. Before I proceed, I have to explain what is ta'arof. Ta'arof is an unusual mode of interaction that can be quite disconcerting to the naive traveler. Out of courtesy, the Iranian seller will often refuse payment when you buy something. If you insist, he will refuse another time to receive his due and will only accept the third time you ask. It is a ritual you have to know about because if you think the shop keeper is being kind and just leave, he will have to run after you! |
| So I was off. The taxi driver was very well travelled (he had been in the Persian Navy!) and in a chatty mood gave me an interesting lecture on Persepolis all the way to the airport. Upon arrival, there were two line ups to get your luggage through the radar: one for men and one for women! Of course my hip prothesis activated the alarm when I went through. The black cloaked attendant looked surprised. I pointed at my side. She stared at me uncomprehendingly. I mimed the gesture of a surgical operation, of cutting a bone and having a big scar. She still stared at me blankly. Finally I was about to open my manteau and pull down my trousers, when in a panic she nodded "No, No, No" , quickly felt me all over and pushed me through! |  |
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Now I was waiting for my luggage. It was taking a long time. The machine
appeared to have stopped. Without thinking, I peeked through and tried to
grab my bag. A lady traveller dressed in a chador, screamed and pulled me
away. She said that I could be hurt by the x-rays. I thanked her. We left
and we checked in together. My flight was not leaving before 12:40 but as I
was here and that the 11:40 flight had seats, my luggage and I would be put
on that flight because Madame would be impatient to get to Tehran, the
attendant said. I nodded yes!
It was free seating on the plane. I travelled with Fatemeh, the chador lady, an amazing woman. Professor of Paleontology, she teaches at the University of Shiraz three days a week, lives in Tehran and commutes on the plane. She is very traditional. Her veil does not show any hairline and even covers her chin. She has beautiflul light blue eyes, extremely expressive and an incredible sense of humor. She would pass the funniest comments and then burst into laughter like a young girl. She explained to me that next week, she was going to have Islamic holiday. I nodded, about to ask her what she would do during her time off. She continued by saying that soon she would have her period. I looked at her completely startled. She laughed and explained that when women are menstruating they refrain from going to the Mosque to pray until they are no longer bleeding. When we arrived, there was no way she was going to abandon me. I was her responsibility. She waited patiently for my luggage to arrive. I wanted to take a taxi to go to the Western bus station to continue with my journey. She would have none of that. She would accompany me by transit bus to the terminal. I was not going to "throw my money out of the door" while I was under her care! Once at the bus station, she walked me on board and found me a splendid seat by the window. She went to fetch a female passenger sitting further back, asked her to sit beside me and entrusted me to her care. Then she turned towards me and said that I would be in good hands because the girl was a third year medicine student!. |
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After that she started a conversation with the bus driver. I could see that she was writing something down. Then she came to me and whispered laughing "Security, I should work for Islamic FBI not at the University!" She had taken all his particulars: his phone number, his name etc... just in case something happened to me during the trip! Then she went to fetch me a bottle of water, a bag of pistachios: she paid for my trip despite my protestations and made me promise that I would go to her home once back in Tehran. What wonderful, special people! I can't get over their kindness. They make me feel very humble and privileged. |
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Click to continue the journey... Inch Allah |
