Iran – Shiraz

Photos : Shiraz

Cheers to the grape….or lack of it…Shiraz

Iran Air has a reputation for never flying on its published scheduled. This was certainly true of our one and luckily only internal flight. The flight attendants are as friendly as you’d find anywhere….in the snarl museum. Replete with their dark blue outfits that are champagne cork tight around their head, they unsmilingly perform their duty of plonking food on your tray before proving another passenger with a ray of sunshine.

I’m in no way saying they can’t or don’t perform all required functions, but my god have you heard of a smile? It’s that weird thing that creeps across your face when you discover you don’t have to enter an arranged marriage.

Bouncing to safety on our Fokker 100 we had arrived in Shiraz, home of the grape, however in Iran it’s referred to the Cultural Capital. The Shirazians are known for their laziness by the rest of the country. This assertion isn’t totally unfounded and the Shirazians decided to prove it wrong by building a metro system with minimal outside help. The building of the first line was expected to complete by 2007 however in 2011 it was far from complete and the deadline was pushed back a year or two. Nothing major though 🙂

Liberace Mosque and Disguises

Shiraz was the first major city we visited after Tehran and what a difference. The city seems to have more character and displays more of the architecture we had expected.

The first mosque we visited was completed in 1888 and whilst relatively small, it displays some great glasswork of varying colours in its windows. Inside we discovered a carpeted room bathed in sunlight streaming through the multi coloured stained glass. Decorated internally with stone spiralled columns and brass lights, the atmosphere created is serene, colourful and intriguing. The only downside was an annoying group of tourists from a nameless country that may have the Eiffel Tower, refusing to get out of the way and constantly walking in front of your camera.

Walking around town we were once again the source of attention, despite our attempts to be inconspicuous adorned with cameras and funny looking hats. On the main street we came across a store seller with his version of a water cooler made from hide. Whilst an interesting and decorative carrier, I don’t see it taking off in too many places however if he put and Apple logo on it, then it just might.

At night we had an unexpected visit to Shah Charag. Here general expectations of a mosque design are thrown out the window. The mirrored walls of the mosque dazzles and confuses the eyes and camera. The decorative mirrored glass is 3d which creates a unique, albeit kitsch, view that would do Liberace proud. The only part of the interior not mirrored was the carpeted floor.

Women and men are separated, each entering through designated doors however once inside the only thing separating the sexes is a hung sheet. No sooner had we invaded, the sheet was pushed aside and the women came through to the men’s side. I was expecting the praying men to be aghast at the notion however it barely raised an eyebrow or more accurately, a head from the Koran.

It was relatively relaxed inside, not only with the co-mingling but with the attitude of the worshippers. Each was happy to have their photo taken or even suggest to take a photo of the mosque, obviously proud of its beauty.

Food scares and an AK47

A few of us headed out for dinner to a restaurant that has local music and recommended by Lonely Planet and by Meleh. The music was as expected and never in danger of finding its way onto any sane persons iPod except if you wanted to torture yourself. The food was good and whilst the band created incessant sounds, having arrived late we only had to deal with it for a short while. Paying for the meal proved an exercise in creative stupidity however after about 15 minutes, solving the math riddle of ‘how much to you think you owe vs how much we think you owe’ and handing over 6 inches of money, we departed and then the fun began.

Shiraz has a reputation, we found out later, for being a little dangerous for tourists and even the locals. Some of us thought we’d take a circuitous route and decided to ‘take a shortcut’ whilst the rest headed back the way we came. In my corner was myself and 3 women (we are referred to as the idiots) and in the other corner about 3 men and 6 women.

We turned off the main street and expected to be able to walk 1 block via a back street. After a walking a short distance and not liking the look of the small streets we found a wider lane that we considered safe enough. Although dimly lit and dog legged, it seemed like only a short distance to the hotel, in fact we could see the hotel roof. When we reached the dog leg, the rumbles of a motor bike echoed along the walls. We turned towards the rumble to find a old motorbike heading our way complete with uniformed rider and AK47 toting passenger. Were we concerned? Of course not. I mean what could go wrong? To further put this in perspective, I had my camera and expensive lenses, money, passports, cash and other electronics, therefore not only was there a physical risk there was a financial one as well.

The rider said he was a police officer and his passenger I assumed was the same as he didn’t look as though he was  around for duck shooting. Too scared to quack in case he was around for duck shooting, I answered his questions pleasantly and succinctly. I was not sure at this point whether he was a saviour or a thief. I readily admit to thinking at that point we were about to get rolled. Having checked out the options I knew there was no chance of getting out with all belongings and/or health. The questions continued

1. “Where are you from?”
2. “Why are you in Iran?”
3. “Which hotel are you staying in?”
4. “Where are your friends?”
5. “Why are you walking through this area? It’s very dangerous.”

It was the latter question that made me the most suspicious. Imagining the next line was going to be “It’s very dangerous, so why don’t we look after your valuables”. Time kept ticking away and I was still unsure if the gun toting motorbike couple was our saviour. Either he decided his English was close to exhausted or he had somewhere better to be, so he shook his head and repeated “it is very dangerous and we should leave immediately”. As soon as the warning was issued the duck shooter lovingly cradled his AK47 and they sped off taking the path to the right. We didn’t need to be told a 3rd time it was dangerous therefore trotted after him as calmly as we could.

We started down the right alley walking past a house with a large wall adorned high gate. Our steps seemed to echo down the small alley although in reality I’m sure it was our ears being more paranoid than our brain. As we passed the gate we heard a thud from behind. A plastic bag full of something splattered and we didn’t need any more encouragement to walk faster. Luckily the end was close and we exited into a better lit street and ‘safety’. If we can be given any credit it should be that we arrived virtually on the hotel doorstep.

Note to self, engage brain and don’t be so blasé.

Bizarre Ice Cream Bazaar

The main bazaar we visited was a rabbit warren of vaults. The more interesting sections were the ones where items were being produced e.g. iron or tin works. Store owners aren’t merely sellers but creators. This is reflected in the pride they take in their trade and stall. Enthralled to be questioned about their stall, they beamed responses and were very happy to allow photos to be taken.

There are some stalls catering for tourist tack however these were few and far between. Meleh offered some ice cream that is a local favourite. It must be an acquired taste as you quickly had the strong desire to lick the sole of your shoe to remove the ice cream taste. I’m sure that many Iranians can’t be wrong regarding the tantalising flavours, but for a foreign devil such as myself it was not in the top 1000 choices.

No matter how narrow the vaults or how crowded they are, you can almost guarantee there is someone riding a motorbike with a 100 bags hanging off the handlebars with a side saddle riding passenger hanging on from grim death.

Papa Smurf  Moonlighting As A Traffic Cop

A night out in Shiraz is not complete with some form of danger. Tonight it was dodgem cars. Shiraz is a sprawling city and we had an offer to visit a local favourite restaurant in an outer suburb that served good quality food and apparently better than other restaurants we’d visited. As it was out of town and too far to walk, we boarded the restaurant express driven by Papa Smurf.

Telly Tubby Hussein managed to use his tank driving skills to safely get us to the restaurant after seemingly navigating all the roads in 1/2 of Shiraz. The 45 minutes flew by as we watched in amazement that we missed running over anyone or anything.

Dinner was decent but as unadventurous as we would find throughout most of Iran. It was only the setting that made the restaurant different. In cool temperatures we enjoyed the outdoor seating and garden.

Once dinner was finished you would expect the return leg to the hotel to be relatively straightforward and painless. Papa Smurf decided to again not listen to Meleh, who had asked for the bus to be brought in front of the restaurant. Her reasoning was that running across 6-8 lanes of traffic to the bus, immediately opposite the restaurant exit, was not the safest option as this road was a major thoroughfare and cars would whiz by at about 80kph.

Papa Smurf always knows best and the means by which we should reach the bus is no exception. Refusing to listen to reason he decided the direct route was best. Wading out onto the road and waving his arms furiously at the speeding cars he looked like a spider on speed trying to land a plane. I think Papa Smurf figured his ample belly and furious arm waving would deter the metal junkets from spearing us or maybe he had a Jedi mind trick to cause them to swerve that we hadn’t been aware of.

Some of us seemed to have our brains numbed by the meal as we joined Papa Smurf, the round shield, as we did the death shuffle across the road. Back on the safety of the footpath, Meleh was beside herself with fear whilst the other 1/2 of our group watched with a detached sense of dread. Cars zigged, we zagged, Papa Smurf flailed and Meleh visibly aged. I was one of the stupid ones however I wasn’t silly enough to think he would stop anything and danced my own way across.

Eventually we all made it to the Smurf Shuttle, 1/2 via the sane route using the overpass whilst other 1/2 did the death shuffle across the road. Those of us on the stupid side were then castigated for following Papa Smurf and risking our lives. We couldn’t argue with the logic but it would have made for a boring post if we had 🙂

Shiraz : The Long And The Short Of It

Shiraz offered some interesting sites from mausoleums, museums, baths’, gardens, gateways, mosques and bazaars. Each are interesting in their own way and also different to other cities.

It is on the ‘must see’ or ‘must visit’ places in Iran and a pleasure, except for the night time walking detour, to wander around.