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I have been in Tehran for the last three days. I have to admit that the noise, scary traffic and pollution are taking their toll on me. I have reached the breaking point: I insult (in French!) the car drivers when crossing the streets "Iranian style" and am now defiantly wearing bangs on my forehead. It is time to leave! |
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I enjoyed the rest of the time spent sightseeing in Kashan, three hours south of the capital. There I admired a splendid Mosque and Madraseh (Islamic school) complex. As it was early morning, I could enjoy it in complete solitude. The ticket vendor having not even arrived yet, I sneaked in through the open doors. The main entrance entirely made of carved wood was stunning; embossed with as many studs as they are verses in the Koran! The Mosque itself is one of the finest I have seen with its imposing, severe looking stone dome flanked by two elegant minarets adorned with soft yellow and indigo tiles. I also loved the sunken courtyard with a cental pool and pigeons cooing in the shrubs. |
| I left this peaceful oasis to cope with busloads of Iranians come to see the sights too. Locals are to be commended for the interest they take in their country's cultural patrimony. However, in crowds they tend to be extremely riotous and noisy! So my advice is, avoid doing any sightseeing on Friday, which is here the week-end day, if you can. |
| Anyhow, I had no choice as I was pressed for time. I still visited three superb traditionnal houses in the middle of this human chaos as well as an antique bath "Sultan Mir Ahmed Hamam", marvelously preserved. There I was highjacked by a chatty but friendly young woman by the name of Leila who wanted to practice her English and took me around. Unfortunately for me, her English was not always intelligible and sometimes she tended to chose the wrong word. For instance, she enjoyed using the word "exciting" a lot but substituted the word "excitable" for it which give to some of her sentences a funny double meaning. She meant so well that I did not have the heart to correct her! |  |
| Then it was time to leave. I took a taxi to the bus station after having bargained for the fare. We had been driving for less than 5 minutes when the taxi driver stopped in the middle of a busy square. Pointing at a huge white coach, he said "Autobus, Tehran". I nodded, "No". I wanted to go to the terminal because I had a phone call to make before leaving. Of course I was not saying this in words but miming it. We were just about to leave again when the bus attendant came running flapping his arms saying "Tehran, Tehran". Again I said, "Na", making the gesture of using a phone. The attendant who did not want to lose a potential client made an eloquent mimick meaning "No problem to make a phone call here". I sort of had my doubts as we were in the middle of an intersection with vehicles roaring from all directions! However, my luggage was taken out, transferred to the bus and I was left with my driver. I was not going to pay him the agreed fare as he had covered less than one kilometer. I gave him a quarter of the amount. His face changed; it took such a sad look that I quickly gave him another bill. The result was magic; he thanked me with a hand on his heart and rewarded me with the most dazzling of smiles. |
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Now, my telephone call. I had promised Hossein who had insisted to come to
pick me up that I would phone him the number of the bus company and the time
of arrival. Here bus companies do not have any names only numbers. Buses
are baptized in an interesting way: sometimes you read "beautiful bus" or
"lovely bus" on the side of the vehicle. A gross exaggeration of the
reality.
It took me three minutes of a deaf and dumb conversation with the bus attendant to reiterate my need to place a call. He went to fetch the driver who obligingly lent me his cell. |
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In the middle of the traffic, there I was,
trying to make myself understood by poor Hoosein who was attempting
desperately to catch the number of the bus while all the other passengers
were patiently waiting. Finally, the driver himself took charge, grabbed
the phone and gave all necessary informations.
I have seen some of the sights in Tehran. Visited the amazing Jewelry Museum, hosted in the vault of a main bank. The doors are opened only for a couple of hours every day. So it is the big rush! The number of visitors, foreign tourists and locals is phenomenal and you have to jostle your way around to see anything. You must leave all your bags upstairs and go through a metal detector before descending. The tightened security is no wonder when you see the treasures down below. The sheer profusion of gems and their sizes left speechless. I could only but gape at all the various artifacts made of diamonds, emeralds, rubis, pearls and so on. If you come too close to the glass, a shrilling siren is activated that scares you out of your wits. I admired many dazzling jewels of course and, among other items, crowns of the former Shah and his wife Farah, tiaras, a peackcock throne, a globe, and even an umbrella, all entirely made of sparkling gems. Somewhat mind-boggling in my opinion. I couldn't get pictures of the real thing, but here are a few examples of Persian jewelry and handmade boxes.
The next day, I set off to go souvenir shopping. No easy task. The craftmanship here is exquisite! Then I visited two more museums. Very few visitors around and I was able to enjoy walking through the different galleries. I definitely dislike Tehran. One of the disturbing sights is the number of young women with an infant begging in the streets. I see them sitting in the street corners, shrouded in black when I walk back to my hotel in the dark. I wonder what their stories are. Are they single moms or have they been abandonned by their husbands? I feel sorry that they have to beg in this male dominated country. I imagine their complete vulnerability. They have to resort to prostitution, I am sure, to survive and must be easy prey for this society of sexually starved single men. So this it for Iran. Tomorrow, I fly to Paris to spend a week with my family. Then I am off to Eastern Europe. I'll write some more then. Thank you, all, for taking the time to read me. A bientot... |