Sixty One Degrees
An occassional journal of an Asia-overland adventure
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Iran
Iranian people are very open. It takes very little before they start expressing their opinions on all manner of things, politics being particularly popular. Here is just a small selection:
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"I wish America would invade and we could be like Iraq". 24 year old guy in Mashhad.
"Iran would be much better without the mullahs", lady in Esfahan
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Small shop owner in Tehran:
"Iranian passport used to be good. You could go anywhere in the world. Now they just say no."
"99% of people are against the government but 1% has all the power and money and they have the connections in Europe"
(My random sampling would certainly back this up. Many people believe President Khatami is useless in Iran, having no power, and is just a figurehead propped up to show the West.)
"Bush is the new Ali." (most revered figure in Iran after the Prophet) "France and Germany and England don't care about the people, just the money. Bush cares."
"Do one thing for me. When you go home tell your friends and your government about the people of Iran. They are not the government".
"Look around. We have good weather and oil and resources but the people are poor. It's the fault of the government, but we cannot change it."
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Abol from Mashhad - doing military service in Arak. Another fan of George W. "I hope they invade Iran next". He seemed unperturbed by the thought that he, as a member of the military, would be fighting against them. He thought it was the only way democracy and change would come to Iran.
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Ali from the Tabriz bazar - "I work hard every day. I would like to go out together with my girlfriend once in a while. To a restaurant or bar or disco. Just two or three times a month. I think my government owes me that. If I go on a holiday to the beach I have to swim here and she has to swim there. Where's the fun in that?"
Where indeed.
Tahkt-é Soleiman, Iran
I'm lying in an orchard near to the 3rd century fortress of Tahkt-é Soleiman. I'm five kilometres from the nearest village and fifty kilometres from the nearest hotel. It's midnight, and I'm lying in my sleeping bag.
The sky is fantastic. The best array of stars I've seen on the trip. The Milky Way is bright, satellites drift by and meteorites flare. I've got Pink Floyd playing on the iPod. Perfect.
I drift off to sleep.
Suddenly I'm awake. It must be some time later. The music has stopped. I wiggle my toes. They're wet. I move my feet. They splash. I quickly realise that my feet are completely submerged in water. I jump up in the sleeping bag to find a river flowing under my feet. Where did this come from? I quickly gather all my stuff and look for higher ground.
No sooner do I find a spot than I see lights heading straight for me. What's going on? There isn't even a road here. I soon hear voices and the sound of a tractor. They stop a short distance away. Have they seen me? Do they think I'm stealing their apples? I duck low to the ground.
They get off the tractor and are coming straight for me. Three men with lanterns and farming gear. Nothing for it. I stand up and give my most confident "salam aleykom". They stop and stare, astonished.
I have no idea what they are doing but they offer that I can join them at their little shed. I settle in on the concrete platform while they disappear for a while. On returning they pull a couple of blankets and cushions out of the shed and the four of us curl up on the concrete. Not quite as atmospheric as the grass but at least it's dry.
Come morning they collect all their stuff and head off again on the tractor. It's not quite dawn so I gather my things and head up to the fortress, to catch the first rays of the sun as they strike the ancient walls. Just another day on the road.
Esfahan, Iran
Information is all. Ready access to information makes a society great. It was with these thoughts in mind that I surveyed the magazines available at a local outdoor market. Included amongst the English-language section were such must-have titles as:
American Cowboy (saddle up!)
Government Executive Magazine (get the inside track on Washington politics)
Cogeneration and On-Site Power Production (get those generators pumping)
Limousine and Chauffeur, with a proudly capped chauffeur on the cover and the feature article "Detailing Your Limousine"
I picked up a couple of copies of New Scientist and Dr Dobbs Journal. I passed on Home Beautiful and the American South-West Architectural Review. Got to leave something for the locals to read.
Esfahan, Iran
Esfahan, with its blue-tiled mosques and palaces, stone bridges and river, is for many a highlight of Iran. There was a lot to see but I knew with a solid day's exploration I'd have the city under wraps.
First up was the Jameh Mosque, commenced in the 11th century and the biggest mosque in Iran. I spent some time exploring it's vast rooms before heading out to continue the tour. Just as I was leaving I heard a voice behind me. "Magnificent isn't it?", he asked. I agreed and we got to talking a little. He turned out to be from Tehran, down here for the weekend with his family. "Would you like to join us?", he asked. Sure I said and soon found myself squeezed in to one of their cars and racing around the city. A few sights later we're drinking tea at the Chehel Sotun Palace before we went our separate ways. Okay, back on track for the walking tour.
I head for the Hasht Behesht Palace where I meet Achmed. Car importer and photographer he made his money by photographing the Ayatola Khomeini before the revolution. As political tensions rose he found he could sell copies of the photos to the Ayatola's supporters for quite a handsome price. We ended up talking for hours in the palace gardens.
And so it continued. A one day tour ended up taking three. I went for tea and hubble-bubble with four young guys taking time out from military service. Helped an English language tutor brush up on some of the finer points of past participles. Shared tea and cake with several different groups down by the river. And was taken on an extended English-language Koran search by a nice guy who just dropped what he was doing when he met me in the bazar.
Esfahan. There's a lot to see, just don't be in a rush.
Kerman, Iran
I was befriended today by three teenage girls, Roksana, Aida, and Ava. Visiting Roksana's house gave me a rare insight in to real life in Iran. The most striking thing is that as soon as they are through the door they take off, with some relief, the headscarf and long coat that they must wear at all times outside. Even to open the door they must be wearing the scarf.
When we first met they took me to a cafe for a drink. Heads definitely turned with these three girls talking to a western guy. A male friend of theirs, who was working at the cafe, suggested that maybe it wasn't appropriate. Luckily just then Roksana's brother, Romi, turned up which eased the tension a little.
Life in the home is very relaxed though, with western music on the DVD player and Roksana and Ava giving an impromptu display of Iranian dancing. Such a different world on one side or the other of the front door.
Roksana is 17 and Romi is 18 but their mother is only 34. She was married when she was 12. Even so she now works at the local university and had just been accepted in to a Masters degree. More than half of all university students are female.
Roksana had a brief taste of freedom a couple of years ago, when she had just had a quite short haircut. Her friends dressed her up as a boy and she walked down the street without the long coat or headscarf. Such liberation! But she won't ever be able to repeat that unless some drastic changes occur in the country.
Mashhad, Iran
Mashhad. Holiest city in Iran. Home to the shrine of Imam Reza, eighth Shiite imam and direct descendant of the Prophet Mohammed. Imam Reza was murdered in 817AD and his shrine has been a place of pilgrimage ever since.
As an obvious foreigner I was stopped at the outer entrance to the vast site and assigned an escort from the Office of International Relations. I was not allowed to enter the vast mosque or inner shrine but I could go to the library and museum and pick up a couple of books. I selected "The Truth About Christianity", a cogently written tome with many well thought out arguments in favour of Islam. Despite its compelling thesis however I ultimately decided to opt for a religion that offers a flush toilet.
We left the library and headed for the museum. At the museum my escort left me to ponder the haphazard collection old doors and paintings. No sooner was he gone that I slipped back out and around to the vast mosque. Mostly open-air and with about a dozen entrances it was not hard to get lost amongst the crowd. Could I enter the shrine?
Stepping through the throng of pilgrims in the mosque I work my way towards the inner sanctum. The forbidden doorway lies ahead. It's now or never. I remove my shoes and join the masses squeezing through the doors. We shuffle together. No-one stops me. The inside opens up in a dazzling display of tiny mirrored tiles. Like living on the inside of a mirror-ball. A voice to my left calls out a cry of praise. Others return the call. Attendants with brightly coloured feather dusters tap the heads of mis-behavers. I shuffle past but do not feel a tap. We work our way through the rooms. Men cover the floor, praying, reading the Koran, or simply sitting still. Everywhere the mirrored tiles. Round another corner. Another cry of praise and response. The tomb looms ahead. A golden cage surrounded by an impossible crush. Children are passed overhead to kiss the elaborate bars. Men are weeping, laughing, smiling. The river of humanity flows on, taking me past the tomb. Back to the outer rooms. More bright walls. More chants. Sunlight streams in through the entrance door. I stumble out on to the carpet of the open air mosque, sun bright above me. Minarets towering overhead. People everywhere. I put my shoes back on. Across the courtyard and out. Back on the streets of Mashhad. Food, carpets, hawkers, noise, cars, crush. Back to reality.