Shiraz tombs and bazaars
Day 5: Tuesday 22 May 2000
Cat had a little lie-in, after a disturbed night, then we head off to the Bagh’e-ye Shar-é Cheragh, a mausoleum to the brother of Emam Reza. Fantastic — today the anniversary of the day the Iranian forces pushed the Iraqis out of Khorramshar, so the place is packed with all sorts of military celebrating. Parviz collects a white "super-chador" for Cat, so that there is absolutely no chance of anything offending showing, and we head into the main square, a milling mass of Mullahs, women, militarily bands, old men, children. We have lemonade at a stall set up by some very tough-looking Special Forces soldiers, which is bizarre, but everyone is very friendly. One young soldier comes forward, putting his face very close to mine and whispers “David Beckham...very good”, then “Arsenal” to me before sidling off again.
As the crowd thins out, we take off our shoes and enter the shrine itself, wholly decorated with mirror tiles. The quite extraordinary thing is that, despite the fact that this is one of the very holy places for the Shiites, no one minds either that we are there at all or indeed that, on this very holy day, Cat is allowed in with us on the “only men” side. Parviz explained that this is because Shiraz is famously open-minded, and that it would be touch and go in Mashad, and wholly impossible in Qom.
From here, we stroll though the makings of a small new bazaar to the Masjed-é Jame’-ye Atigh, dating from 894 AD. There are lovely and rather unusually dark red geometrical shapes on the ceiling of the entrance passage and then inside we find the remains of a Zoroastrian fire temple. The whole mosque is rather run-down with grass growing in the courtyard, but has much charm.
Next door, the blaring of a loud speaker leads us to an ancient-looking tableau — men and women, divided, sitting under the shade of trees in the courtyard listening to a Mullah reciting stories of Musa (Moses). Although we plainly do not follow what he says, the sense of theatre was there — his voice grows loud when he is God speaking to Musa, and more mellifluous as a woman reciting verse to Musa. The women, all in black save for one with a black and white polka-dotted veil, sit on rugs while a man and his young boy helper go amongst them with glasses of tea, bowls of sugar lumps and nargileh. They are wealthier stall-holders from the bazaar and do this at their own expense to help the poor. I take a couple of surreptitious photos, only to find much later that I have rated the film incorrectly.
We continue through the Nomad Bazaar, catering, as you might expect, to nomads. Strange, outdoorsy Turkic faces everywhere. People selling nargileh and making buckets from old tyres.
Crossing the road, we enter the beautiful Madrasé-ye Khan, where Mullahs and trainee clerics sit around in alcoves under orange trees disputing (in the most civilised way, of course). A rather sinister old Kuwaiti Iranian speak to us, telling us that Iran is good for men but bad for women.
From here, we go to a rather unpleasant palace belonging to an old governor of Shiraz [we see the Leica Fairy here as well]. I will not recount the details — pleasant garden, but mirrored Indian mogul type interiors. Of similar interest level was another “pink” mosque. Curious that these two charge 15,000 rials each to get in and are not that interesting.
Driving to the outskirts, we had lunch at the Soofi restaurant, cool and pleasant enough there was a mixed patronage of tourists and local business types. We meet Mehti’s guide friend, a sort of untrustworthy Hermes on speed who proudly told us that his mobile phone cost $1,300 in Germany. Wow!
After a siesta, we go to the rather lovely Bagh-é Eram gardens. Pretty pots of flowers are laid out in alternating diamonds and circles, leading up to a pool with a little palace that stands in the middle of the gardens. We wander round under cypresses and by flowing streams, a little reminiscent of the Alhambra. All the plants are indicated in Farsi, English and with their full Latin names. I salaam a young man and his two female companions politely, one of whom returns with “Salaam rumi yat” (or similar) which Parviz says means “Hello one whose face is as beautiful as the moon” but which I take more prosaically to be the Shiraz equivalent of “Allo’ handsome” in the East End markets.
The tomb of Sa-adi is in a wonderful setting, though the building itself is nothing special. Two extraordinary things happen here: first, Parviz who has been explaining something of Sa-adi’s poetry, suddenly sings/recites one of the poems inscribed on the wall; it is rather moving, and all the other people gathered there murmured their admiration when he had done. Secondly, beneath the tomb, a ghanat brings water from some 6 kilometres away, and a small tea house has been built over an octagonal pool in which a cloud of grey fish (carp?) swim in the crystal blue current. We have ice cream laced with lime and cherry juice, listening to dervish meditative music and watch people feeding Cheesy Wotsits to the fish.
Then we go on to Hafez’s tomb, which is all that the books say, very beautiful and with a calm air about it. Outside, a Mullah says hello to Parviz — he is a guide! - with two Canadians in tow. Certainly not what I had ever expected from Iran.
Returning to the bazaar, we buy the smaller gabbeh, and then head for the tomb of Kharju. A sufi who lived in a cave by the main gate into Shiraz, he was a simple man and his tomb is a plain stone block with a small pillar and dervish hat at the end. We look out over Shiraz as the sun sets and Mehti has some sport with someone parking next to his car by beeping the alarm on and off repeatedly. Many “Mr Bean” jokes. He is popular in Iran, it appears.
For dinner, on Parviz’s recommendation, we go with Mehdi to a restaurant on what I think of as “Barcelona Boulevard”, a well to do area to the west of town with art shops, pizza places, roller blading kids playing hockey and so on. However, it is cold, the fillet-mignon has seen better days and the tea and coffee are cold. And the waiter is stupid.