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41. the end

Blog entries

fountain lights in the Iranian colours

It is time to look back at eight weeks traveling in Iran. The highlights, the lowlights and did it meet expectations.

It is fair to say that most people we told in advance that we would go to Iran, looked at us in unbelief. Were we really going to jeopardize our lives so irresponsibly, traveling to a country populated by flag-burning religious fanatics and bearded black-robed ayatollahs and mullahs insisting on women being veiled, adulterers being stoned and criminals being executed? Not that we planned adultery or any heinous crimes, but still, such a place cannot possibly be safe.

On the contrary. Seldom have I felt so safe on any of the travels I have undertaken in the past, say, 40 years. Seldom have I encountered more friendly, helpful, generous and hospitable people. Not once did I feel uncomfortable on account of religious customs in this Islamic Republic, not even during the ten days of Moharram, that quintessential Shia mourning period. From the very first to the very last day, Iranians have welcomed us to their country, to their cities.

young girls don’t need the veil yet

a cup of tea is essential, even in the park

and another essential Iranian treat, sunflower seeds

Of course, Iran has a different culture from what we are used to in the West. Iranians are not service oriented, a taxi driver will, mostly, not lift your suitcase in the trunk if he can have you do that, instead, neither will the hotel staff carry it for you to your room. But if you ask something, the Iranian will go out of his or her way to help you; your problem becomes theirs, and they will not rest until it has been solved. Like it or not! Ask where the bus goes from, and he will walk you to the bus, and even pay your ticket. Ask wat kind of fruit that strange looking thing is, and he will make you try. Ask where the restaurant is and he will invite you for dinner.

modern kitchen exhausts

motorbikes are the most annoying way of transport in Iran

Tehran traffic, just like anywhere else

We have a tendency to look at other, non-Western countries as a little under-developed. In the case of Iran, this is a mistake. Cyrus the Great fought the ancient Greeks, and where the Greeks are generally seen as our European cultural forefathers, the First Persian Empire of Cyrus is for the Iranians what the Greeks are for us: the beginning of a long and continuous civilization. What’s in a name? When we think of Iran, we think of those flag-burning religious fanatics. But for centuries we called this country Persia, the name the Greeks gave to the political entity that was established in the province of Fars by the Aryans, the Indo-European tribe that moved into present day Iran some 3000 years ago. And for years we associated this with beautiful carpets, poetry, mystery, romance and, not in the least, 1000-and-one nights, the cultured precursor of the rather barbaric 50 shades of grey. The truth is that Persia, which even we call Iran, nowadays, is a pretty modern country with a long, equally cultured history, where things work pretty well – perhaps even better than in Greece.

I have ignored the wildlife somewhat

but there are plenty of animals to enjoy

That is not to say that everything is perfect in Iran. Around each and every town, huge construction projects have been initiated, thousands of apartment buildings, most of which aren’t finished, and don’t look like they will be finished soon. Some people have blamed this on the previous government, who irresponsibly started all this, others blame it on the current government, who has cancelled much of it. Fact is that there are lots of empty shells around, or just empty steel frames. On an individual level people complain that they cannot get money to finish their own small-scale construction. Because there are no jobs: even though economic sanctions may have been lifted, the people in the street don’t notice much difference. Or perhaps this has something to do with the encouragement immediately after the Islamic Revolution of 1979, to have more children; in the 1980s each family had, apparently, an average of six children, and not even an eight-year war with Iraq is going to balance that: these children are now working-age, and jobless. Many are drug addicts, opium use having been a long-standing favourite pastime in Iran, and more aggressive drugs being readily available through imports from neighbouring Afghanistan. People complain about corruption, too, no doubt a big problem – although we have not noticed any of it as travellers in Iran -; and people complain about the inefficiencies of their government. Like everywhere, really.

sanctions mean that American companies aren’t established here, yet….

this is the Apple Store, Iranian-style

Fact is that road construction is turning many two-lane roads in four-lane motorways. Metro lines in Tehran are being extended, and outside Tehran an efficient, fast and comfortable bus system connects all major and minor towns. Financial infrastructure, too, is advanced, everybody seems to have a range of debit cards which are being used for everything from paying taxis to paying fruit juice: you just hand over your card and shout the pin number to the vendor, who types it in his machine. Lots of people have a smart phone, too, Samsung or HTC; Apple is conspicuously absent, although apparently, you can get iPhones, too. Sanctions are lingering, not many American companies seem to be present, but that doesn’t seem to inhibit the economic life. Really, perhaps not everything is perfect, but this country works. Which means that, somehow, the government works, too.

at the end of summer everything is yellow

and utterly dry although these sheeps still find something to eat

every country has its faces

Iran not being an exception

although in general men are easier to photograph

as many women – not all – object to their picture being taken

the aperative of choice

Expectations, then. In the eight weeks we travelled we encountered no lowlights, not one. In terms of natural beauty, perhaps slightly disappointing, although this is likely related to the time of the year we travelled, September/October, after the scorching hot summer that has turns everything green into yellow and brown. But the desert is beautiful all year round, and the Alborz and Zagros Mountains provide spectacular scenery, if perhaps even more attractive in Spring time. Architecture?

another drink, the yellow stuff is lemon

Fabulous, and great variety, from the ancient columned ruins of Persepolis and century-old mountain villages to arched bridges, vaulted mosques and ostentatiously decorated 19^th and 20^th Century palaces and merchant houses. It is just a pity that most of today’s building is rather tasteless, functional rather than aesthetic. Isfahan is perhaps the foremost destination if it comes to seeing the sights. Yazd, with its narrow alleys in the old town, is another must for the visitor. But for the real Iranian atmosphere, smaller, less touristic towns perhaps provide more of a local taste, and more of that typical Iranian hospitality. Tabriz comes to mind, and Sanandaj, and Bam. And we had our most hospitable encounters in Kermanshah – it depends on the moment, on the people you meet.

But the Iranians themselves definitely surpassed any expectation we had.

mirroring glasses

the back of an oil tanker truck

colours on a building site

the image of the supreme leader of some time ago is everywhere

40. Tehran (3)

Blog entries

red-coloured fountain near the war cemetary of Tehran

red-coloured fountain near the war cemetery of Tehran

Last days in Tehran, for some entertainment in Darband, and reflection at the Behest-e Zahra, Tehran’s cemetery

From Qazvin it is a two hour bus trip to Tehran, where we would spend the last few days, exploring some bits further out of town we had not yet had the chance to visit, and do some shopping – Iranian biscuits, saffron, pistachios, and more dates from Bam.

the stream in Darband, lined with restaurants

One of our explorations brought us to Northern Tehran, where several ski lifts can take you into the Alborz Mountains. The idea was to take the Darband lift up, and walk back, but the lifts weren’t working. So we walked up, only to find, after well over half an hour, that we were still walking in between the restaurants that cater to the tourists, but more even to the local Tehranis, who flock en masse to this perceived paradise. Most of those local Tehranis were remarkably young, teenagers perhaps, or in their early twenties, who looked remarkably cool (the boys), or remarkably heavily made-up, and with head scarfs almost on their shoulders (the girls). So this is where they meet! The good thing was that they, at least, didn’t bother us, there were no “hello, where are you form’s”; they had only eyes for each other. The bad thing? Not a particularly attractive place. And all the rubbish that has been left in the stream that comes down from the mountains!

some restaurants have their seats in the water

sweets line the street as much as restaurants do

another colourful example

selfie-culture is well developed

sculpture in the Sad-Abad complex: the boots of the former Shah, perhaps

A little downhill from Darband is the Sad-Abad complex, a large park where, until about ten years before the revolution, the Shah and his family had their residences (they moved to another palace, completed in 1968, elsewhere in northern Tehran). The buildings, including the palaces, have now turned into museums, of such variable subjects as the royal automobile museum, the water museum, the royal dishware museum and the military museum, as well as displays of the private wardrobe of the Shah and his wife (military uniforms, gowns), and their private art collection. All together not particularly interesting, and the buildings, with the exception of the Green Palace – I though the green referred to the roof, but in fact it is the green marble that gives the palace its name -, most buildings aren’t very special, either. The park is nice enough, but a bit run down, despite an army of gardeners clearing the autumn leaves; fountains are dry, many parts have been fenced off, and that sort of thing.

green palace, on account of the marble used

decorations in the front of the palace

war graves lined up

nationalism partly justifies the grieving

Perhaps the most impressive excursion to the outskirts of Tehran was the one to the Behest-e Zahra, the enormous cemetery south of the city. This is where not only thousands of Tehranis, famous or not, are buried, but also some 200,000 martyrs of the Iran-Iraq war of the 1980s. If ever there is a more poignant anti-war monument. Rows and rows of graves, some evidently of unidentified soldiers, but many more with glass boxes which include mementos of the dead men, photos, letters, the military tags, a watch or a knife, books – including korans. All men, or boys, rather, so many of them were so young. And there are so many of them. Chilling. And so senseless, most of them died in skirmishes long after the international borders had been re-established again, some two years into the war.

glass boxes and war dead, as far as the eye can see

glass boxes with war memento adorn the martyrs graves

The cemetery is reached by metro, and starts immediately outside the station. We just wandered around a bit, but those who know where they need to be, in which of the more than 40 sections, take one of the taxis that wait at the station. That is how big this place is.

next, wrapping up, the last entry of this blog, the end.

beet root snacks in one of the bazaars

39. Qazvin

Blog entries

beautifully worked door in the renovated bazaar of Qazvin

Qazvin is another Iranan town, with another Iranian bazaar, but also with the Castle of the Assessins within reach.

We are heading back to Tehran, the journey coming to an end in a few days time. But not before stopping off in Qazvin on the way. Qazvin is one of the many old capitals of Iran, and several buildings remind one of this, but by and large, there is not much to do that cannot be done elsewhere. The bazaar is lively, especially in the evening, with the many fruit and vegetable shops doing a brisk trade. Further on, the bird market, in its widest sense, which means from small song birds and other colourful exotics to chicken and turkey (and rabbits and cats), is quiet with people, but noisy from the birds.

the fruit section of the bazaar

flashy coridors in the renovated bazaar – but no people

the art gallery, formerly a water reservoir

the tea shop hasn’t been renovated yet

Several of the covered corridors and caravanserais have been extensively, and quite tastefully, restored, and are being turned into a modern, stylish bazaar, with upmarket cloths shops, and jewelry and perfume outlets, but the project is either nor finished yet, or hasn’t attracted the necessary clientele, because most of the shops are closed, and there are very few potential customers in this part of the complex.

not all of the bazaar hes been renovated, yet

decorative tiles in an old caravanserai

the Chehel Sotun palace windows

one of the few remaining frescos in the palace

A 16th Century palace, the Chehel Sotun, is nice, but nothing compared with other palaces we have seen earlier, and in fact the frescos and other decorations have been poorly preserved. The caligraphy museum, inside, is not going to compensate for this, at least not for me. Neither does the park, in which the palace is located.

But we didn’t stop over in Qazvin for Qazvin itself. From Qazvin, it is a pleasant day trip into the Alborz Mountains, specifically to the Alamut Valley and the Castle of the Assassins. In the 12th Century, apparently there were hundreds of those castles, well-fortified, built on difficult to access craggy outcrops. The biggest one, Hassan-Sabbah Castle, nowadays called Alamut Castle, was occupied by the spiritual leader of the Ismailites, a heretical sect that split off from the Shias about yet another dispute about succession, this time of the 7th Iman. Initially, the Ismailites were quite widely distributed throughout Mesopatamia and Egypt, but by the time of Hassan, they were reduced to a few pockets, of which the Alamut Valley was one (the present-day Druzes in Lebanon is another one, and so is the Agha Khan and his following).

the Alamut Castle high up, behind the autumn colours

The story goes that Hassan, in the mean time, had collected a group of followers, who he drugged with hashish before he let them to his secret garden, all flowers and young maiden: paradise indeed. By the time the young men, called the Hashish-iyun, came by, they were despatched to far away lands to murder various leaders and politicians, with promise of paradise afterwards. An eerily familiar story. The word Hashish-iyun, of course, became Assessin.

Leaving from busy Qazvin, on the Tehran to Tabriz Highway, from the turn-off to the Alamut Valley the traffic drops to a trickle. This is, ultimately, a dead end, because there are no roads (yet) to cross the Alborz Mountains to the Caspian Sea further north. From the plains we climb up to the first ridge, and the first pass, from where we have a brilliant view over the valleys behind. From now on, it is slow going, with extensive hairpins bringing us down, and then up to the next pass again. Freya Stark did this trip in the 1930s, when there were no roads at all, on the back of a donkey, in three or four days, but we reach the castle, 150 km from Qazvin, after about three hours drive. Having enjoyed the landscape thoroughly, once again great mountain scenery.

argicultural field have been burnt to provide fertilising soot

argicultural fields, part burnt

view over the valleys, from one of the passes

Evan lake, a small lake along the way

another view of the lake

The castle itself, at the end of a steep, but not too difficult walk up – mostly stone-and-concrete steps -, is largely in ruins, probably not much different from how Freya Stark found it, although what little is left now, has been extensively scafolded and stutted, to make sure not more of the remains collapse. Much of the ruins are closed off, probably for the better, as everything looks quite unstable. But the disappointment of the castle is more than compensated by the spectacular views from the top, well worth the climb. We should have brought that quintessential Iranian thing, a picnic.

next: back to Tehran

the castle in scafolding

and corrugated iron roofs

part of the view from the top

and more fleeting views

the sandstone cliffs in a side valley, towards Andej

more of the fields, ready to collect the hay

38. Zanjan

Blog entries

the Oljeitu Mausoleum in Soltaniyeh

Several historical monuments in the vicinity of Zanjan are well worth visiting, like the Takht-e Soleyman and the Oljeitu Mausoleum; so is the beautiful mountain scenery.

When we drove from Hamadan to Bijar, we drove for two hours through absolutely deserted landscape, with only very occasionally a very small village in sight, until we reached Bijar. When we left Bijar again, we soon returned to the middle of nowhere: nothingness all around. But in its nothingness, the countryside was actually very attarctive, something that has been somewhat lacking in Iran, during our travels.

the nothingness around Bijar, and on the way to Zanjan

some autumn colours provide distraction from the grey mountains

a lot of mining going on in this region, with long cable car lines

We were on our way to Zanjan. Zanjan itself hasn’t much to offer, but it is a good base for visiting a couple of important historic sites. The first of those is the, or Solomon’s Throne. Not that this ever had anything to do with the Biblical King Solomon: the reason that there are so many references to Soleyman (remember Cyrus’ tomb, but also a hill top in Tajikistan and numerous other places throughout the Middle East and Central Asia, which the man is unlikely to have all visite Takht-e Soleyman), the reason was fear for destruction of non-Muslim holy places by the conquering Arabs in the 7th Century and afterwards. So in quite a few areas the local population concocted a story related to Soleyman, knowing that he was recognised by Islam, as well. The Takht-e Soleyman was in fact a Zoroastrian fire temple, of which most of what is visible today was constructed in Sassanid times, around 1500 years ago – but the temple itself may have existed for much longer. Today, several building ruins remain, and some restoration has been going on (and judging from the scafolding, may still continue). The location is quite attractive, on top of a hill, around a small lake which derives its water from an underground spring.

the partially restored walls of the Tahkt-e Soleyman

the lake in the centre, with the buildings around

some walls still standing

this is, officially, the room with four columns – beats me why

the volcano crater known as Zendan-e Soleyman

Nearby the throne is the prison, also Solomon’s. Zendan-e Soleyman is in fact a small crater, with the remains of some buildings on the slope. Whether it ever was a real prison, is unknown, but the stumble up the slopes to the rim of the crater, made easy for most of the way by stone-and-concrete steps, was nice enough. And the closer we came to the rim, the stronger the smell of sulphur. We couldn’t see any water down below, but apparently there is a small lake at the bottom.

the crater walls

and the crater lake, although there is little water, it looks

the extensive scaffolding inside the Oljeitu Mausoleum

the dome of the mausoleum, with its tiles restored

original decorations above a first floor doorway

ceiling of one of the second floor outside chambers

second floor connection between chambers

the cellar – what would you do with it?

The second historical monument is on the other side of Zanjan, in the village of Soltaniyeh. The Mongol Oljeitu Khodabandeh decided to build a mausoleum here for Iman Ali, Mohammed’s son-in-law, but when he failed to convince the clrerics in Najef, where Ali is burried, he had himself burried here, instead The mausoleum is surrounded by a range of other buildings, most of which have largely collapsed, but the mausoleum itself is still standing, albeit with the help of extensive scafolding inside. The octogonal, domed tower is, or so say the guide books, the tallest brick dome on earth. At ground level are several niches, differently decorated – although much of the decoration has faded, or fallen off. One of those niches leads to a prayer room, not very interesting, but also has steps down to the cellar, now empty – but I would know very well what to do with it!

Stairs also lead up, to an inside gallery on the first floor, and an outside gallery one floor higher. All, once again, extensively decorated, although, except for the parts that have been tastefully restored, much of it is in a bad state. Still, it is an intriguing building, obviously not only recently being restored, but, judging from the different ways of decorating, also in the past having received upgrades, frescos stuccoed over for instance.

red-coloured fountains in Zanjan, just after Ashura

one of the mosques in Zanjan

And Zanjan itself? Still in the ban of mourning, even two days after Ashura. With as special attraction the fountains, of which the water is red-coloured, presumably meant to look like blood. But the museums were open, of which the laundry museum (really) was not massively interesting – a large underground room from the 1920s, constructed to facilitate public washing of cloths and of children. The archealogical museum, however, did have a small collection of well-presented artefacts, plus the Salt Men. There are a total of six bodies discovered in a salt mine nearby, which have been almost perfectly preserved thanks to the salt. The curious thing is that these bodies have been dated to quite different times, from, say, 300 BC (Acheamenid) and 500 AD (Sassanid) to even later, suggesting that the mine has been worked over a rather long time. But the mummified bodies are quite something, skin and hair, and cloths still clearly recognisable. (One of those we saw earlier, in the Tehran Museum.)

next: Qazvin

one of the salt men mummies

and another one, still almost fully dressed

a balustrade in the Oljeitu Mausoleum

37. Bijar (2)

Blog entries

(this is a continuation of the previous entry)

the mud truck, and the enthusiasm

and another mud truck

committed to mud mixing, and applying

an early adapt

some have applied the mud more stylish, in hair and beard

collective mourning, behind a black banner

collective mourning (2)

collective mourning (3)

one group carries a coffin

The next morning, Ashura, the procession starts early, around nine, but people have been preparing already for a while (and so has the municipality: the streets are clean again, rubbish has beeen collected, the blood has been washed away). In addition to the days before, in front of some of the mosques trucks have been mobilised with dry clay and water, which is being mixed into mud. Men, and also some women, this time, come forward to have their heads covered with the stuff, and sometimes also their cloths. Others go around with buckets, and invite people to help themselves, something many mourners indeed do. By the handsful. When it is time to line up for the procession, whole groups have formed, all mud-covered, who take their place – women, their chadors clad with mud, at the back. These are the only women we see in the parade, the rest is still all men. And round and round it goes, once more, for hours on end, enacting the same rituals as the days before, with never failing stamina. To be sure, there is nothing fundamentalist is this, just an incredible personal commitment, I have no other words for it. A deeply moving, emotional experience, this unique expression of faith – even though it is not mine.

next: Zanjan

exhausted

more mourning

the women, too

mud man (1)

mud man (2)

mud man (3)

woman in the group (1)

and a child, too

woman in the group (2)

women collectively mourning

and a young girl looking very seriously, too

the procession continues (and continues, and continues)

36. Bijar

Blog entries

a man leading the procession in Bijar

We witnessed the processions for Moharram, and for the final day, Ashura, in Bijar, which was a unique and deeply moving experience.

Every city, town and village in Iran will commemorate the slaying of Iman Hossein in 680 AD, with a ten day mourning period called Moharram, culminating in the one-but-last day, Tasu’a, and especially the last day, Ashura. In almost all these places, people express their sorrow by thumping their chests, or self-flagelating their shoulders and their backs with short chains. (In the past, they would even cut their heads, so that blood was steraming down their tunics.) Just in a few places in Iran, they do even more, they cover themselves with mud. Bijar is one such place. Which is why we went to Bijar for Ashura.

chains are being used for self-flagelation

they are real chains, no doubt about that

and the children – boys – have smaller chains, but still…

collective chanting and thumping

during the procession, donations are being collected

the drum band, or one of the many

providing a solemn rythm to the procession

drums big and small

and the boys, too, in for a break

the metal structures, all decorated with plumes and feathers

feathers and plumes, in close-up

one has a helmet mounted, for later use

and carrying these things is a real effort, that’s obvious

We arrived the evening before Tasu’a. Heading into town, we weren’t the only ones, lots of people went the same direction. As it turned out, the first procession had already started. A procession consists of many different groups of men – only men, at least for now -, some big, perhaps 50 people or more, others small, maybe ten or less. Everybody is dressed in black. Many of the groups have a car accompanying them, with a huge loudspeaker, blaring out chants about Hossein. Certain chants are picked up by the men in the group, as sign to collectively beat their chests, or their backs and shoulders. There is something very impressive in seeing so many people, at the same time, hit themselves, at the beat of a drum, at the rythm of a chant. Smaller groups push the heavy metal sculptures that we have seen in the previous days, now decorated with colourful feathers and flags, forwards, at certain times lifting the sculpture from is carriage, and hanging it onto one individual, who will single-handedly carry the weight, for a few meters, or as many as he can. Also, a very impressive sight. Then there are the drum bands, about ten men with various sizes drums which move in between the other groups; often, there is one other instrument, mostly a flute, but I have also seen a saxophone, playing a sensitive melody as a contrast to the drums. The highlight of the procession is the group that plays out the battle of Karbala, a few men, some of them on horseback, in red and yellow representing the bad guys, and another, in green, representing Hossein. Hossein is accompanied by a couple of children, also in green, who are invariably beaten by the bad guys every time the battle is re-enacted. Most of the play is actually the exchange of words between the bad guys and Hossein, words that, despite the microphones, are often drowned out by the sounds of the other groups, the car-mounted loudspeakers, the chanting and all the other noise – to the effect that alongside the procession a normal conversation is impossible.

the procession continues to well in the evening

lights go on, on some of the participating structures

this is the bad guy

and this is the good guy, Hossein

and some of Hossein’s child soldiers

who invariably are being beaten by the bad guys

here too, a large group of men collectively mourning

the spectators along the route, many rows thick

The whole thing has something of a carnaval parade, except that the atmosphere is – despite the noise – introvert, humble, sombre, in line with the idea of mourning. The moving forward goes very slowly, every so many meters the whole caravan stops and repeats their activity, whether on horseback or with the chains. For the side of the street is packed with spectators: the women and children (although plenty of small boys walk in the parade, too, complete with their own, smaller and lighter, chains). Some have brought chairs, other have spread a carpet; they are here for the long haul, so much is clear. And they are actively participating in the mourning, too, I have seen many women cry along the route, like I have seen men cry, genuinely cry, whilst performing their rituals in the parade. And something else: Bijar has about 45,000 inhabitants, and they seem to be all here, the size of the parade and the number of spectators is, once again, really impressive.

and some young spectators, too

some of the spectators have occupied the bus stop

others brought chairs outside

and I am not the only one taking photos….

the result of a sheep slaughtered

somebody has to do it, I presume

some sheep are awaiting their turn

The procession continued for hours on end, into the evening. The lights go on, which adds to the atmosphere. And the next day, Tasu’a, the entire town assembles once again, and continues where they left the day before. Only now we were present for the beginning of the parade, at around three in the afternoon, and witnessed some of the preparations. Which include the slaughtering of several sheep and cows, and drain the blood in rivulets across the streets. Obviously part of the ritual, as well, and something nobody winks at, really; small children find it one of the more exciting parts of the happening, and need to see every gory detail, before the rush to the next sheep ready for the knife. And indeed, paying more attention, we now notice sheep tied up all along the route, awaiting their turn. Every culture has their own ways, their own rituals.

In the mean time, people go round with tea, or cold drinks, or sweets, or dates, which are being presented to the spectators and the participants alike, and to us outsiders, too. At various locations along the route tents have been erected where tea is being prepared, but individual people, too, carry trays or boxes with food which they give away freely. Which is equally part of the culture. We are some of the very few foreigners around, and quickly become an attraction in its own right, people want to know where we are from, what we think of the ceremony – they ask whether we know about Hossein, and whether they need to explain it to us. But in a genuinely sharing way, friendly, trying to be helpful. There is never a hint of animosity.

(this story continues here, with text and photos of the mud-rich final day of Ashura)

35. the mourning

Blog entries

woman passing a mosque decorated with black flags for Moharram

A brief introduction to the Shia mourning period of Moharram, and how it looks in the run up to Ashura.

The schism between Sunni and Shia Muslims is almost as old as Islam itself, and revolves around the succession of the Prophet Mohammed. In Shia eyes, Ali, the son-in-law, should have rightfully inherited the Muslim leadership – and he did, for a short period of time, after initially having been passed over. The real issue, however, came with Ali’s second son, Hossein, who equally claimed the leadership role as his birth right, but was murdered by his competitor to the job, Yazid, the caliph of Damascus, in a battle near Karbala, in present-day Iraq, in 680 AD.

mosque decorated with lights along the minaret and the cupola

entrance of a tent erected for Moharram

Shia Muslims still mourn Hossein’s death, more than 1300 years afterwards, during the ten days of Moharram, linked to the lunar calander and this year falling at the beginning of October. It is easy to dismiss this, from a Western perspective, as the last convulsions of bad losers, and now get over it, but being in Iran in October, I beg to differ. Moharran is in fact a deeply religious ceremony, in which an entire nation – religion – genuinely participates. This is Religion with a capital R. Our Easter celebrations (perhaps with few exceptions, like in Antigua Guatemala) don’t come close to this.

inside the covered bazaar, red and black dominate

more green and black, and red lights, in an alley

a covered alley has been decorated, green being the colour of Islam

a covered alley decorated, green being the colour of Islam

metal structure to be carried during Moharram procession

details of the metal are often animal figures

and the face of Hossein is everywhere

All starts, as far as we could see, already weeks before the first day of Moharram, with the construction of huge tents, covering the courtyard of a mosque, or an outside square. Banners in black and green with – I presume – Koran verses are being put outside, in streets and alleys, flags are raised all along the streets, and on top of the mosques, further decorations of coloured cloth and lights are strung across the streets and in the bazaars, strings of coloured lights are being hung along the minarets. Yet, all of this is tastefully done, never ostentatious, never frivolous; after all, we are talking about a mourning period, here. Outside the mosques huge metal structures appear, decorated with metal animals, birds and leaves, sometimes with colourfull feathers, and with multiple portraits of Hussain, as well as a photograph of somebody, perhaps a recently deceased, perhaps a long-dead family member who died as a martyr, I don’t know.

in some of the shops, only black shirst available

the men have started to wear black

a group of men, crossing the street

Come Moharram, more and more people start wearing black. Of course, almost half of society – most of the women – already wear black the year round, black headscarfs and chadors, but now the men, too, put on black cloths, trousers and shirt. In many clothing in the bazaar shops you cannot buy anything else but black.

Small groups of men – always men – start appearing in the streets, and in the bazaars, black-dressed men with drums, or with a microphone, chanting and re-telling the story of the battle of Karbala. The women look on, as spectators, often at a respectable distance. In make-shift tents the story is also enacted, in a way, with the bad guys in red or yellow, the good guy – Hossain – in green. Apparently, people also organise private parties, where an actor is invited to tell the story, never mind that is has been told so many times already. The closer we come to Ashura, the last day of Moharram and the day Hossain actually died, the more prominent the parades through the streets become, the bigger the gatherings, the more emotional the outpour of grief.

For Ashura itself, the culmination of the mourning period, we had planned to be in Bijar. An experience, see next entry.

street lights at night

34. Hamadan

Blog entries

ancient vase in the Ecbatana museum in Hamadan

Provincial Hamadan has more to offer than we expected, both in terms of ancient excavations and in atmosphere

Hamadan is not a place where you would normally go to, on a trip through Iran. But it is located on the way to Bijar, our next destination, and we had time on our hands, so a stop-over was quickly introduced into the program. And we didn’t regret it.

now, is this a lion, or is this a lion? At the gate of Ecbatana of antiquity

Guidebooks mention, of course, that Hamadan was the location of ancient Ecbatana, the capital of the Medes, who predate the First Persian Empire of the Acheamenids. Cyrus the Great captured the city, Darius the Great did so again, and throughout the classical world Ecbatana remained an important, rich trading town. The same guidebooks also mention that there is only a single trace left, a lumpy rock that vaguely resembles a lion, said to have been adorning one of the ancient city gates. Not quite. In the north of the town, excavations in several pits have yielded numerous traces of walls, including the massive outer city wall. Especially the central pit is very well prepared, and shows a street, and several houses, as it may well have been, perhaps 1500 to 3000 years ago – after all, the place has beeen inhabited for a long time.

these vases are probably recent additions, the rest is original

the central area of excavations, a street and adjoining houses

more houses in the central area of excavations

2500 year old Acheamenid vase in the museum

a bull statue, from Parhian times, some 2000 year old

another Acheamenid artefact, a silver bowl

collection of ancient vases outside the museum

A small, but attractive museum tastefully exhibits some wonderful pottery, several of them preserved almost entirely, and a collection of impressive copper and silver work from Acheamenid times, as well as more recent pieces – quite a lot more, thus, than a lion-resembling lump of rock.

one of the few old houses in Hamadan

the rather uninspiring 1950s tomb of Abu Ali Ibn Sina, the 10th C scientist

the far more inspiring, if simple, 13th C Seljuk Borj-e Qorban

For the rest there isn’t much of real interest. Two churches, near the Ecbatana excavations, are fairly recent constructions, and not very nice. A handful of tombs are scattered throughout town, that of Biblical Esther and Mordecai, once an important Jewish pilgrimige site – but not anymore, for obvious reasons -, and that of Avicenna being maybe not esthetically, but historically the most interesting. Avicenna is the Westernized name of Abu Ali Ibn Sina, an Iranian poet and scientist who lived from 980-1037 AD, and whose medical encyclopedia became standard text for European universities in the Middle Ages. Another tower, the Borj-e Qorban, is a 13th Century Seljuk tomb with 12 sides and a pointed roof, interesting because it is so different from other tombs in Iran (but not, for instance, from many old Turkish tombs).

buildings along Iman Khomeiny square, central Hamadan

detail of one of the buildings, from the 1920s

bazaar merchant with pots and pans, and kettles

fruit and vegetable seller

There is nothing mind-blowing about Hamadan. But it is a friendly city, with a lively bazaar – full of vegetables and fruit; Hamadan is a lot cooler, and probably wetter, too, than where we have been for the last few weeks, and the produce on offer is impressive. It has an unusual town plan, with tree-lined boulevards radiating out from a central square with quite attractive 1920s buildings, and an ugly, but powerful black monument in the middle. It’s fun to walk around, good to feel that you are away from the tourist industry again. Back in the Iran we appreciated so much in the first couple of weeks of our trip.

next: the mourning, some background on Moharram

fruit (hybrid between lemon and orange)

coloured peppers

with some rather unusual pumpkins, too

it is also pumpkin season, on the roads out of Hamadan

strawberry season in the bazaar

33. Abyaneh

Blog entries

fruit being dried on a roof in Abyaneh

Abyaneh is a rather ordinary, uninspiring village that, thanks to its easy access from Kashan, has been discovered by the tourists, with all its unfortunate side effects

Iran has an endless supply of historical villages – we have seen quite a few already -, and Abyaneh is one of them. An hour’s drive outside Kashan, we expected the next tourist trap, and we were not disappointed, not in the least because we, once again, managed to time our own visit on a Friday.

The road to Abyaneh is mostly desert landscape again. Curiously, close to the turn off to the village is a large military complex, hidden behind an earthen wall, but noticable because of the many anti-aircraft guns that have been positioned around the complex, and also on small hills further away. For obvious reasons I have no photos to illustrate this, but it is certainly remarkable, I don’t think I have ever seen anything like this before, except in Hollywood war movies. But if a place is so important, and so sensitive, you don’t have toruists passing by in large numbers now, do you?

small window looking in on a courtyard

Abyaneh woman, with characteristic head scarf

unfortunately, only for immediate consumption

one of the balconies in the village

We arrived relatively early at Abyaneh, yet, the first busloads had already been dropped at one end of the village, where an old man with a donkey was having himself photographed, for money. Further on, families of narcicist selfie-taking Iranians happily mingled with French and Spanish and German groups stomping from one souvenir shop to the next. But luckily they all stick to the main street through the village, and seldom wander off track, up in between the reddish mud-brick houses to higher levels.

Not that there was much of great interest, higher up. Abyaneh is a rather ordinary village, obviously more affluent than many others we have seen. Perhaps some of the wealth comes from the sale of packages of dried apple flakes at vastly inflated prices to tourists; the same packages we buy back home for half of what people were asking here. Houses are well maintained. The occasional balcony looks rickety, but walls and roofs often have been refurbished, which is good for the people of the village, but takes some of the charm off – after all, we expect to see things old and primitive, if we make it all the way here. Children are asking for pens and sweets: they have gotten used to the tourists already.

baskets with fruit drying

more fruit on the roofs

obviously the main business, at this time of the year

The best part is walking up the opposite valley wall, towards an abandoned caravanserai. From here we have a great view over the village, red houses in between the green trees. But by and large, Abyaneh is perhaps the least interesting of the hisorical villages we have seen so far. Or maybe we are just reaching saturation point.

next: Hamadan

more of the village, through the trees

and close up; quite densly packed houses

the village from a distance

on the way to the village, an old cemetery

I have a weak for these spots, quite atmospheric

I have a weak spots for these place, quite atmospheric

more fruit drying, always makes for nice pictures

some people just want some privacy, from all those tourists

32. Kashan

Blog entries

colours of stained glass projected on the floor of the Khan-e Tabatabei, one of the historical houses in Kashan

Touristic Kashan has a whole range of new attractions, like 150 year old merchant houses, and stairs to the roof of the bazaar, for an alternative view across town.

Although I complained a few days ago that we had seen it all, by now, I had not reckoned with Kashan. A smallish town in between Isfahan and Tehran, Kashan hasn’t got any mosques to write home about, neither castles. But Kashan has its historical houses, which refers to the mid-late 19th Century houses built by wealthy merchants, and the occasional governor.

courtyard of our boutique hotel

Apparently, there are hundreds of those houses, hidden behind walls, where the crumble to dust without much maintenance. Some, however, have been restored, and are open to visitors. Others have been remodeled into boutique hotels, with rooms around a traditional courtyard, with pond and flowers, and with takhts – the hard flat beds used in Iran to sit on, use a meal, or a waterpipe, or just hang out without doing anything else. Boutique hotels are not our forte, I am afraid, but in Kashan we had no other choice, so we spent a night in the, admittedly lovely, Mahinestan Raheb Traditional Hotel – initially in a room that was just slightly bigger than the double bed, without space for suitcases, and without a curtain, so that everybody in that lovely courtyard could happily look inside our room (miraculously, after approaching the manager directly with our concerns, rather than the pretty useless and unresponsive front desk staff, there was suddenly another, much nicer room available).

series of doors in the Khan-e Abbasian, one of the biggest of the historical houses

series of doors in the Khan-e Abbasian, one of the historical houses

three floors around the central courtyard of the Khan-e Abbasian

decoration of one of the large open rooms of the Khan-e Boroujerdi

the badgir of the Khan-e Boroujerdi reflects in the pool of the courtyard

Better than the hotels are the several traditional houses open to the public. These houses are built downwards: a narrow corridor, or steps, lead down to a courtyard, which is well below street level, around which several rooms have been constructed, one even more beautifully decorated than the other – think stuccoed patterns, frescos and paintings, and any other form imaginable. There were summer rooms and winter rooms, the latter designed to catch as much sun light, the former to catch as little sun light as possible. Cool rooms, for storage, were been dug even deeper, and some have large kitchens. The biggest houses have several court yards, many with pools, even fountains, and often there are upper floors, too, equally open to the courtyards below. In one word, fabulous. The most ostentatiously decorated, perhaps, was Khan-e Boroujerdi, the biggest, with several floors and several courtyards, was Khan-e Abbasian, and the nicest stained glas windows, colouring the floors in the late afternoon sunlight, was the Khan-e Tabatabei, all within walking distance of each other. In the same neighbourhood is also the Hamman-e Sultan Mir Ahmad, a 500 year old bath house which has been tastefully restored. Part of the attraction is the roof, with all the individual cupolas providing light in each of the rooms below.

mirrors endlessly reflecting the opposite mirrors, in the Khan-e Tabatabei historical house

large room, decorated with stained glass reflecting on the floor, in the Khan-e Tabatabei

entering the Hamman-e Sultan Mir Ahmad, a 500 year old bathhouse (albeit restored)

the main room in the Hamman-e Sultan Mir Ahmad

on the roof of the Hamman-e Sultan Mir Ahmad, each cupola provides light downstairs in one of the many rooms

a Kashan man, witing by the mosque

in the bazaar, the Khan Amin al-Dowleh Timche is the most decorated caravanserai

this is one of the entrances to the Khan Amin al-Dowleh Timche

decorations include frescos of, I would call this, angels perhaps?

collections of pots in the bazaar

one of the merchandise is wool, in any colour

from the roof of the bazaar, with a view over other roofs

and a view from above into one of the open caravanserais

the main dome of the bazaar, note the glass-covered holes providing light below

a second floor niche in one of the caravanserais

Well, and then the bazaar. Although I complained earlier that we had seen enough of them, now, the Kashan bazaar proved a delight, and I don’t know exactly why. Perhaps it was the unpretentiousness, perhaps the relaxed atmosphere, or the friendly people. It was certainly not the architecture, neither the rather common caravanserais, although one of them, the Khan Amin al-Dowleh Timche, was outstanding in its authenticity. What also contributed to our experience was that we discovered the stairs to the roof of the bazaar, a very intersting structure in itself, as well as a prerfect vantage point from where to observe the rest of the town.

the main mosque, Mashed-e Agha Bozorg, austere inside, by nicely lit at night

one of the pavillions in Bagh-e Fin, or Fin Garden

fountains and water flowing along one of the paths in Bagh-e Fin

OK, we also went to see one mosque, the 19th Century Mashed-e Agha Bozorg. In the evening, when the multiple floors and the huge dome were floodlit with different colours. Nice, once again. Oh, and a garden, also not for the first time. Bagh-e Fin, or Fin Garden, is some 8 km out of town. Originally designed for Shah Abbas I, the paramount Safavid ruler in the 16th Century, the compound has been added to over time, benefitting form a natural spring that secures a water supply – evident from the various canals that criss-cross the garden. But we have seen nicer Persian gardens…

next: another village, Abyaneh; or click through to Hamadan

more coloured wool in the bazaar

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first-hand travel experiences and impressions of travel destinations

41. the end

It is time to look back at eight weeks traveling in Iran. The highlights, the lowlights and did it meet expectations.

40. Tehran (3)

Last days in Tehran, for some entertainment in Darband, and reflection at the Behest-e Zahra, Tehran’s cemetery

39. Qazvin

Qazvin is another Iranan town, with another Iranian bazaar, but also with the Castle of the Assessins within reach.

38. Zanjan

Several historical monuments in the vicinity of Zanjan are well worth visiting, like the Takht-e Soleyman and the Oljeitu Mausoleum; so is the beautiful mountain scenery.

37. Bijar (2)

36. Bijar

We witnessed the processions for Moharram, and for the final day, Ashura, in Bijar, which was a unique and deeply moving experience.

35. the mourning

A brief introduction to the Shia mourning period of Moharram, and how it looks in the run up to Ashura.

34. Hamadan

Provincial Hamadan has more to offer than we expected, both in terms of ancient excavations and in atmosphere

33. Abyaneh

Abyaneh is a rather ordinary, uninspiring village that, thanks to its easy access from Kashan, has been discovered by the tourists, with all its unfortunate side effects

32. Kashan

Touristic Kashan has a whole range of new attractions, like 150 year old merchant houses, and stairs to the roof of the bazaar, for an alternative view across town.

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It is time to look back at eight weeks traveling in Iran. The highlights, the lowlights and did it meet expectations.

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Last days in Tehran, for some entertainment in Darband, and reflection at the Behest-e Zahra, Tehran’s cemetery

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Qazvin is another Iranan town, with another Iranian bazaar, but also with the Castle of the Assessins within reach.

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Several historical monuments in the vicinity of Zanjan are well worth visiting, like the Takht-e Soleyman and the Oljeitu Mausoleum; so is the beautiful mountain scenery.

Share this:

Share this:

We witnessed the processions for Moharram, and for the final day, Ashura, in Bijar, which was a unique and deeply moving experience.

Share this:

A brief introduction to the Shia mourning period of Moharram, and how it looks in the run up to Ashura.

Share this:

Provincial Hamadan has more to offer than we expected, both in terms of ancient excavations and in atmosphere

Share this:

Abyaneh is a rather ordinary, uninspiring village that, thanks to its easy access from Kashan, has been discovered by the tourists, with all its unfortunate side effects

Share this:

Touristic Kashan has a whole range of new attractions, like 150 year old merchant houses, and stairs to the roof of the bazaar, for an alternative view across town.

Share this:

Recent Posts

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