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23. the shrines

Blog entries

the dome on top of the Shah-e Cheragh mausoleum in Shiraz

There are several shrines in Shiraz; the ones we visited were, at least for us, the uninitiated, a rather underwhelming experience.

In the long history of Shiraz quite a few people have died here. Some of the more famous ones have been buried in elaborate tombs, that attract both religious and secular pilgrimage.

the large square in front of the mausoleum

Firstly, there is the Aramgah-e Shah-e Cheragh, the shrine for Sayyed Mir Ahmad, who was murdered here in 835 AD. Sayyid was one of the 17 brothers of Iman Reza, the 8th of the 12 Imans that define Shiism, and his shrine is somehow one of the holiest sites in Iran. The current mausoleum is fairly recent, and not particularly beautiful: as so often, size matters more than taste. Men and women enter through separate entrances, but once inside, we are happily united again in huge courtyard, which flows over into a second one. Lots of people are sitting on large carpets, in front of the actual mausoleum; others put their shoes in plastic bags, and enter the building.

the entrance is all blinking gold and silver

people outside the shrine

haphazard tourist must be accompanied by the International Affairs lady

and a row of chandeliers on the porch, no doubt adding to the glitter at night

and outside the complex, the short translation of Ayatollah Khameini’s letter – but very unlike the Iran we have so far experienced

Because we are foreigners, we are to be accompanied by somebody from the International Affairs Department. And because we are foreigners, we are actually not allowed inside the mausoleum, not allowed near the tomb. Why not, the lady from International Affairs couldn’t tell us; last week there was no problem. Now do I have very little with tombs that are subject to adoration and pilgrimage, but banning non-believers is not going to help promote tolerance and understanding. She did treat us to a letter from Ayatollah Khameini, though, who felt the need to address the ‘youth of the West’ after the recent terrorist attacks in Europe, which, naturally, are to be blamed on the US and on Israel, with Muslims being a disproportionate victim of terrorism. Coincidence or not – probably not -, a little outside the complex was a large banner, ‘Down with America’ and ‘Down with Israel’. We haven’t seen any of this yet in Iran (except in Tehran, at the former US Embassy), and seldom felt any hostility against the West – on the contrary. Perhaps there is some discrepancy between the official anti-western line, and the vast majority of the people?

Anyhow, up to the next tomb, that of Hafez, one of the most respected poets in Iran, who died in 1389 AD. He has been buried somewhere in the north of town, walkable distance from our hotel, but it is already hot, so we decide to take a taxi. Shiraz has a mostly one-way system, but that does not stop our taxi driver from backing up for hundreds of meters, against the traffic, to save from driving around. He then skips a red light, turns into another one-way street, against the traffic, and after turning at the end, into a two-way street this time, speeds whilst overtaking on the left lane, ignoring oncoming traffic. Next time, we walk again.

the shire of Hafez, under an octagonal pavillion

in a rather small, basic park

Or better even, next time we skip the tomb business all together. Hafez’ tomb was another disappointment. After having paid a relatively exorbitant entry fee, there is really very little inside, apart from a tomb under a small, new pavillion in a not very attractive little park. The importance of Hafez to Iranian people is obvious, many stand around his grave, moving their lips and silently reciting lines from his poems. But for me, I don’t have the spiritual connection, and without it, there is very little left. I have a look in the bookshop: if there is ever a moment that I will read some of Hafez’ work, it is now. The shop has an attractive volume with his poems, in both Farsi and English, but the English in this 2015 edition, although perhaps not from the early Middle Ages, is still very old-fashioned, not something that easily reads away. Missed opportunity, perhaps?

and a random picture, from the bazaar

We are running out of options. But there are a few tombs left, outside Shiraz. Those are the tombs of the rulers of the First Persian Empire, the Acheamids. Near the ruins of Persepolis.

22. Shiraz

Blog entries

small alley in Shiraz

Shiraz is very much the product of 18th Century Karim Khan Zand, who is resposible for most of the present-day sight; nice, but somehow, I didn’t connect to the town, as in other places in Iran

Shirazi lady going about her business

Many Iranians love Shiraz, the city associated with education, refinement, poetry. Shirazis are considered the most distinguished, most cultured, in a country full of cultured and distinguished people. This is where Iran’s most reverred poets are buried. And this is where the famous Shiraz grapes were turrned into wine – admittedly, less of an issue with the admiration of Iranians nowadays, but certainly a grateful topic in much of the ancient poetry.

(On Shiraz wine: already in the 9th Century Shiraz had a great reputation for wine. Marco Polo also commented on the wine here, but the more recent Shiraz wine actually originates from Georgia, thanks to Shah Abbas II, who in the 18th Century resettled a group of Georgians to Shiraz, who brought their own grapes. Wine production abruptly stopped in 1979, after the Revolution, although rumours abound that there is still lots of illegal production in the villages. Incidentally, the grape variety Shiraz, as used in Australia and other Southern Hemisphere countries, has nothing to do with the town of Shiraz, but is derived from the Syrah grapes from the Rhone Valley in France.)

this is as near as we got

but plenty of beer in the supermarkets, alcohol-free of course

inside the Masjed-e Vakil

courtyard of the Mashed-e Nasir-al-Molk

Anyhow, back to Shiraz the city. Historically, Shiraz was an important city in the 9th and 10th Century, and managed to escape the ravages from the Mongols and from Tamarlane, yet, nothing from this era seems to have survived. Shiraz today is very much the product of one Karim Kahn Zand. After the Safavid Dynasty was routed by an Afghan invasion in 1722, which ended the Thrid Persian Empire, first Nadar Shah, associated with the Safavids, picked up the pieces, but upon his assessination Karim Kahn grabbed power in 1749. It was he who established Shiraz as the Persian capital. And it was he who embarked on a construction wave which is what the tourists come to see today.

peacefull Khan Madrasse

tile decoration of the Khan Madrasse

Narenjestan mansion and garden

all mirrors in the Narenjestan

terrace of Kahn-e Zinat-ol-Molk

the hamman section of the Arg-e Karim Kahn

tiles in the Arg-e Karim Kahn, more frivolous than the average mosque decoration

There are several impressive mosques, the Masjed-e Vakil and the Mashed-e Nasir-al-Molk, the peaceful courtyards of the Khan Madrasse (not of Karim Kahm, though), there are a couple of elegant mansions, the Narenjestan and the Kahn-e Zinat-ol-Molk – admittedly dating from later, from the Qajar era -, and there is the dominating Arg-e Karim Kahn, the castle in the centre of town (as with Esfahan, click on the link for some extra photos). There is even a botanical garden, Bagh-e Eram, a pleasant place to wander around for an hour or so, and find a bench in the shade, on an afternoon. The bazaar, too, and many other buildings, all are from the period from 1749 to 1779, which was the year that Karim Kahn died, and his dynasty of one came to an end. (And was taken over by the Qajars, who then moved the capital to Tehran.)

Qavam House in the botanical garden Bagh-e Eram

the front terrace of Qavam House

carpet shop in the Shiraz bazaar

of on the cloths sellers checking the latest on his smart phone

one of the cloths sellers checking the latest on his smart phone

colourfull dresses, to be worn under the black chador – what’s the point?

and spices, always the spices

In all honesty, Isfehan is much nicer, with its shaded avenues and superior monuments. But Shiraz has its own attractions. Although smaller than Isfahan, the centre of town has a cosmopolitan feel, with modern shops, somehow more stylish than we have seen so far; several shopping centres, too, not that big, but again, they look modern. Everywhere in central Shiraz there are coffee shops (the type that serve coffee), another novelty. Yet, although friendly enough, I never had the feeling that we connected here, unlike in so many other Iranian towns.

But the one thing that sets Shiraz aside, are its tombs. Or move directly to Iran’s preeminent tourist site, Persepolis.

and more spices, turmeric

21. the glacier

Blog entries

ice cave in the Zagros Mountains

An unexpected phenomenon in the Zagros Mountains above Isfehan makes for an interesting day trip, featuring nomads and cold feet.

After a couple of days in Isfahan, after an overdose of turquoise tiles and tree-lined avenues, it is time for some variation again. Through the travel section of the BBC website we knew about a rather unexpected phenomenon in the Zagros Mountains nearby, a real glacier. And a contact number, which worked.

Farshid picks us up early morning, and off we went in search of ice – not the icecream variation so abundently present in Iran, but the real thing. A couple of hours drive further we see the first white stuff, but this turned out to be some local saltworks, where villagers had diverted part of the river into ponds, to have the water evaporate. The resultant thick salt blocks mean that the water must be pretty salty to start with.

salt evaporation pools in the local river

with quite some significant salt blocks as result

the upper ranges of the Zayandeh River, that flows to Esfahan

the upper ranges of the Zayandeh River, that flows to Isfahan

Just past the town of Chelgard, we swap cars, from the comfortable saloon into the back of a sturdy pick-up: our own personal Zaymed in standard blue. This is nomad country, there are tents all over. Well, nomads is maybe too much said. These people, from the Bakhtiari tribe, move every year for three to four months to their summer pastures, with sheep and all. But come end of September – and the beginning of the school year -, they move back to their homes in Khuzestan, and these are proper homes. The tents, too, are solid affairs, many placed on a concrete base, often with the lower walls reinforced with large bricks. It is not that these are wandering tribes, they move back and forth between fixed locations. Still, a significant effort. And, given the heat back home – which we can testify to -, not a bad decision.

nomad tent, reinforced with stones and concrete blocks

tents in the camp near the gorge

view from one of the tents

one of the Bakhtiari men in the camp

the first sheep are already on the move

the sheep flocks are accompanied by donkeys

one of them finding something to eat in this rather bare landscape

some of the nomads move by car, these days – the old Zaymed, once again

After another 15 or 20 minutes in the back of the pick-up, following the Chama Valley, we arrive at another nomad camp, at the entrance of a small gorge. We are not the only ones, Iranians have also discovered this place. Farshid had told us to bring slippers, but the nomads have quickly caught on to the tourists and their needs: you can buy slippers locally, and there are other stalls, too, socks, shawls, the obligatory honey, albeit fairy small scale. In any case, next week the business will be over, when the nomads have returned home.

the entry to the gorge

The slippers come in handy: it turns out we have to wade for a couple of hundreds of meters through the stream, relatively fast flowing, and, literally, ice cold. After a minute, or so, your feet are numb, you don’t feel anything anymore. So I also don’t feel my left slipper disappear, only notice it when I get out on a small piece with dry rocks, not even half-way. Farsid has all experienced this before; he caught my slipper on the way down. Lucky me, doing this entirely bare feet would be an even bigger attack on the body.

the first piece of ice, from an almost melted smaller ‘glacier’

We wade further, sometimes moving from rock to rock, sometimes shuffling along the side, to keep on our feet against the strong current of the water. Somehow, we get used to the cold water. We pass a piece of compacted snow, a ‘glacier’ that already has almost entirely melted. But a little further our reward is waiting. A large piece of snow and ice is blocking the gorge. The river itself goes through underneath, creating a spectacular ice cave. Wandering in, the water is not only at my feet, but also in my neck, from melting ice. I am not sure whether this qualifies as a proper glacier, but the effect is quite impressive, snow and ice at the end of summer in Iran.

the traget of our trip, a large plug of ice and hardened snow

the ice is dirty, and muddy, but still slippery!

under the plug, an impressive ice cave has developed

and this is the cave on the other end

the ‘glacier’ from above

even here, there is some life, in the form of mosses that benefit from a small cascade

According to Farsid we are at well over 3000 meters high, here, and not surprisingly, it is nice and cool, a reprive from Isfahan. Putting on our shoes again, we scramble over the ice to the other side of the blockage, not a very difficult climb. Indeed, the ice sheet doesn’t continue very far upstream, there is little continuity, and little permanence in this ‘glacier’. Still, it is something special, indeed!

back in the nomad camp, time for a cup of ash, tasty bean soup

the result of a summer’s camping

Back in the nomad camp we have a late lunch, a cup of bean soup and fresh lamb kebabs – you cannot get them any fresher than this. That the kebabs contain not only fresh meat, but also lamb kidney and lamb heart (lamb liver is finished), is part of the game, part of the nomad’s menu. More disturbing is that the valley is full of rubbish, plastic battles, bags, everything is being thrown away. And blaming this on the tourists alone is unfair, I think, the amounts are such that this is more likely the result of a summer’s camping. Why is it that people litter their own environment? After all, they do come back here, next year again. Would the winter, with much bigger quantities of snow and ice than we have seen today, have cleared the rubbish? To somewhere further downstream, like Isfehan, perhaps?

next: Shiraz

the landscape on the way back, with a few sheep left

20. Isfahan

Blog entries

Part of the Pol-e Si-o-Seh, a Safavid era bridge in Esfahan

Part of the Pol-e Si-o-Seh, a Safavid era bridge in Isfahan

Brilliant, tree-shaded and clean Isfahan has all the fabulous monuments you can wish for, but outside its evening Eman Square it lacks a bit of atmosphere.

The history of Isfahan (or Esfahan, same thing) is strongly associated with the Third Persian Empire, that of the Savafid Dynasty. Not that Isfahan hadn’t been an important city before; there are traces of Sassanid (3rd to 7th Century) construction, and halfway the 11th Century the Seljuks, a Turkic tribe, conquered Persia and made Isfahan their capital, with subseqent architectural contributions. But the Mongol invasion effectively ended this by decimating the city – only in the large Mashed-e Jameh, the Friday mosque, some of the brilliant Seljuk vaulted structures have been preserved.

Seljuk vaulting in Esfehan's Mashed-e Jahmed

Seljuk vaulting in Isfehan’s Mashed-e Jahmed

carpets in the same mosque, ready to be rolled out

the Qeysarieh Gate, entrance to the bazaar

hunting scene frescos on the inside of the Qeysarieh Gate

The Savafids, who originated from Ardabil in the 14th Century, expanded their rule to entire Iran in the 16th Century, and their most important and successful descendant, Shah Abbas the Great, decided to move the capital to Isfahan .

even in Esfahan, we manage to find some old derelict houses

even in Isfahan, we manage to find some old derelict houses

the Mashed-e Shah, dominating the Naqsh-e Jahan square

inside, the mosque is equally impressive, extensively tiled

the smaller Mashed-e Sheikh Lotfallah

Much of what makes Isfahan the pre-eminent tourist destination of Iran today, is the result of this decision. The Naqsh-e Jahan square, the second largest square in the world, was established by Abbas in 1602 as a rectangular, with at one end the brilliant Mashed-e Shah, the mosque Abbas had built, and on the other end the Qeysarieh Gate, the entrance to Isfahan’s covered bazaar; on one of the sides another mosque, the Mashed-e Sheikh Lotfallah, on the other side Abbas’ residence, the Kakh-e Ali Qapu. Behind the residence is another palace, the Kakh-e Chehel Sotun, built by Abbas’s son, Shah Abbas II in 1647 and located in a brilliant garden, a prime example of what the classical Persian garden looked like. The garden extends southwards – although nowadays you’ll have to cross a major traffic artery – towards another palace, the Kakh-e Hasht Behesht. Click at the links for further photogrphic evidence of each of these fabulous buildings.

entry to the Mashed-e Sheikh Lotfallah

mirrored door inside the Kakh-e Ali Qapu

mirrored door inside the Kakh-e Chehel Sotun

first floor balcony of the Kakh-e Hasht Behesht

the Kakh-e Ali Qapu behind a fountain on the square

copper alley

Back to the square, however, also referred to as Eman Square. The place to be in Isfahan . Of course, with so many touristic attractions the shops around the square have a certain focus: there are the sweets shops, selling all sorts of buttery buiscuits, called sohan, and pistachio-saturated nougat, or gaz, in presentation boxes – nice souvenirs. And there is copper alley, where the copper smiths are actively busying themselves with preparing more souvenirs. Blue and turquoise tiles, carpets and pillows, wooden tables, anything that the tourist could possibly want to buy, is for sale. And yet, it is not a disturbing addition to the square, as is often the case so many other touristic places in the world; nobody is pushy, nobody is forcing their ware upon you. The sweets sellers let you taste; the carpet sellers welcome you, but are not offended if you kindly decline to visit their shop. The icecream shops have long queues, and everybody patiently waits for their turn. Once the desired flavour has been obtained, people take their icecream to the square, and sit on one of the low walls surrounding the lawns. Or they take a whole tray of icecreams back to their families, who already occupy a large carpet right on one of those lawns, whilst the children try their new bicycles. Another queque has formed at the horse-drawn carriages, who make their rounds around half of the square, for a small fee. And the rest of the people just walk slowly up and down, from one end to the other. Great atmosphere. The place to be, indeed.

locals and tourists alike enjoying their icecream

together with hundreds of other people, on the Eman Square

which is tastefully lit

and more people enjoying the square

and this is how it looks the next morning – note, too, how clean

the bazaar

entry to a caravanserai in the bazaar

an old door

once more, saddle bag used on a bike

Outside the Eman square, the city, the inner city, is equally pleasant. Almost all streets and boulevards are lined with trees, full-size large trees from some time ago, providing a degree of shade on the well-maintained pavements. Several larger and smaller parks create islands of peace in between the traffic-soaked avenues. And everywhere is spotlessly clean, not a snippet of paper, not a tissue on the streets or in the flower beds. Why is it that one city manages where others fail, in the same country?

The inflow of tourists obviously has an effect on the local people, they are far less surprised by foreigners in their midst than in Tabriz or Sanandaj, for instance. The attitude is not unfriendly, just a little more business-like. The various sights provide audio-tours in different languages; inside one of the mosques, there is electronic advertisement for a carpet shop. There is no tara’of anymore with the taxi drivers, at least not with foreigners; they must have been surprised a few times too often by tourists who thought their ride was really for free!

the interior of the Armenian Bethlehem church

and one of its more evocative frescos

jolly colour tiles inside the church

part of a tomb stone in the courtyard of the Vank cathedral complex

The odd exception in Isfahan is the Armenian Quarter, south of the river. We wander around one morning, searching for the Armenian churches here. The attitude of people is markedly different, there is no eye contact, no smiles. The main church, the Vank Cathedral, and the neighbouring museum are full of tourists, Armenian Iranians, I presume – I cannot see Muslims flocking to a church in large numbers. They are rude and pushy, otherwise unheard of in Iran. The church is a strange mixture of tiles and frescos: Bible-scenes, but depicted in an almost childish way. The way to the cross is much longer than we are used to in a Western church, with Jesus undergoing far more torture. The museum is not very interesting; the memory of the Armenian genocide, whilst real enough, comes across as overdone, here. In fact, a smaller church, the Bethlehem Church, is much nicer, not very crowded, and somehow more authentic; yet, the people are equally miserable. Something else, the houses and appartments look more expensive in this part of town, more attractively designed; and they are protected by high and aggressive fences, with nasty spikes to keep intruders out – something we have not seen before in Iran. Would this be because the people living here are rich? Or because they are Armenian, and just want to be prepared, if ever there is another clash of religions? I really don’t know. More church pictures here.

the Pol-e Si-0-Seh, bridge over the now dry Zayandeh River

A little further away from the Armenians we are back to normal, back to Iran, with good humoured shop keepers. Back to the river, we admire the several bridges, also from Savafid times. We are not the only ones, many people have come to the parks around the bridges, and to the bridges themselves; some with guitars, others singing, under the arches, to benefit from the acoustics. And from the background, for the usual overkill of selfies. This is, indeed, Iran all over again.

next: something unusual, the glacier

another Sassanid bridge, the nice Pol-e Khaju

which is also popular for group photos

sunset from the Pol-e Si-o-Seh

a window in the Kakh-e Chehel Sotum palace

19. the Andimeshk to Dorud railway

Blog entries

on the single track Andimeshk to Dorudd railway the train needs to wait for oncoming traffic, often oil transport

on the single track Andimeshk to Dorud railway the train needs to wait for oncoming traffic, often oil transport

What we thought was going to be a rough train ride, turned out to be one of the most comfortable journeys ever, through fabulous mountain scenery in between the tunnels.

I love train rides, and one of the best train rides in Iran is the one from Andimeskh to Dorud, through the imposing Zagros Mountains. According to the guidebook I have, this is a ‘super-scenic’ railway, but it takes some sacrifices. For starters, ‘the train leaves at 5.30 am from Andimeshk’; it is ‘often overcrowded to the point of sheer mayhem’, and is both a ‘cultural experience’ and a ‘test of endurance’. Right. We are prepared!

In order to make the early departure, we decided to move from our comfortable heritage hotel in Shushtar to Andimeshk (on the way visiting some of the sights in the area, like a ziggurat), even though there is nothing to see in Andimeshk, and the local hotel doesn’t inspire a lot of confidence. Before checking into the hotel, we pass by the railway station, to check on the trains. Where we learn that there is a train at 2 pm, or in two hours time. Sounds a lot better than 5.30 am, and saves us an idle afternoon in Andimeshk. We offload our stuff from the taxi, and take a seat in the – also important! – airconditioned waiting hall of the station. (Incidentally, the only other passenger train seems to leave at 3 am, which defies the purpose of the trip, because by then it is pitch-dark…)

at the Andimeshk station

our train approaching

lots of oil wagons waiting

The train arrives a little before 2, even. There are indeed a lot of people getting on, but according to our ticket we have reserved seats. With some help of bystanders we get into what we think is the right carriage, which is divided in several 6-seat cabins, and into the right seats, only to be told by the head steward in the train that we are wrong, and need to move to carriage nr 8. Which is not very full, but our seats are occupied by some women, who flatly refuse to have others in their cabin. Upon which the steward walks to another cabin, still empty, unlocks it for us, and tells us to stay put. Who are we to argue? For the next six hours we have a six-seat cabin for ourselves. Overcrowded? Endurance?

a village along the railway line

In fact, the only hardship comes when the trian is not moving. There is no AC, and the air-circulation system works by having all windows open, a system that doesn’t function very well with a stationary train. So sometimes it is hot, very hot. But our friendly steward comes along with water, and with tea, and when we share some of our fruit with him, he feels obliged to buy us icecream. And he makes sure, that nobody gets into our cabin.

The cultural experience only comes when we venture outside the cabin. Soon, the entire train is aware of the foreigners, and the entire train has to have a look. And try a conversation. Which fails, of course: that language barrier again. Although I don’t understand the first question, I know the answer: ‘I am from Holland’. What also works: ‘Iran good!’, with thumbs up. Then the entire train needs a selfie with the foreigner. Equally tiring. Our own fault, of course, we should have kept the door of the cabin locked.

many tunnels!

But then we would have missed half of the scenery. Which at times – when the train is not thundering through the many tunnels en route – is indeed breathtaking. Bare landscape, as so often in Iran, but with steep, craggy mountains, towering rock faces, a feast for the geologist (the structural geologist, for those who care). And also for the oil companies: the first part of the trip is home to quite a few oil fields, visible from the train. For some part the track follows a river valley, where the occasional village exists, and where the train even stops to take on or drop passengers. Or waits to let an oncoming train pass; most of the line is single track. But mostly the train runs through seemingly uninhabited terrain, of spectacular beauty, untouched by humans – except for old track that is just being discarded along the route, without any attempt to take it away. Yet, here too, the inexhaustable infrastructure drive of Iran is visible, in new road construction, and in railway improvement projects.

oil well, flaring gas

old traack has been discarded, and dumped

one of the rivers along the track

goats, too, use the tracks

By 7 pm the sun has sunk behind the mountains. And when we arrive in Dorud, an hour later, it is dark, except for the full moon. Our friendly steward comes by one more time, to tell us we have arrived. From one of the most comfortable train trips ever.

See for some of the scenery the gallery below.

next: one of Iran’s highlights, Isfahan

often spectacular landscape

18. the ziggurat

Blog entries

the shadow of stairs at the Choqa Zanbil ziggurat

Outside Shushtar are some of the oldest structures in Iran, and one of them, the ziggurat of Choqa Zanbil, is pretty impresssive!

a rare sight, something green – and they are palm trees!

Choqa Zanbil is a ziggurat (or ziqqurat). I didn’t know what a ziggurat was. I had notions of something big, but could not actually imagine what it would look like. (And I am loath to look up photos with Google: that would kill any possible surprise.)

the area surrounding the ziggurat

Now I know. A ziggurat is big, indeed, and very impressive, a mountain of mud and brick. Choqa Zanbil is some 45 km from Shushtar, and was built somewhere around the 13th Century BC – that’s right, well over 3000 years ago -, as a temple complex to the Elamites, a proto-Iranian civilisation pre-dating the 1st Persian Empire of Cyrus and Darius. The tiered structure was five storeys high, with each of the levels accessible by a different stairway, so ensuring that the top level could be reserved for the highest clergy only. Although the top has collapsed, the rest of the structure is remarkebly well preserved; the bricks look new, until you detect the tiny cuneiforms that have been carved in one of the brick layers, something unlikely to have been done recently. What is even more remarkable, is that the structure, after having been sacked by Assyrians is 640 BC, was subsequently forgotten by the rest of the world, including subsequent Persian civilisations, and only rediscovered in 1935, when an oil comany conducted an aerial survey of the area.

this is a ziggurat, at Choqa Zanbil

from another angle: bricks and more bricks

some of the bricks with cuneiforms, and ancient script

and water drainage systems, I suppose

intricate brick works

and mud-brick walls at the top, probably eroded

different levels connected through stairs

A little further on is Haft Teppeh, another ancient Elamite site, which was possibly a couple of smaller ziggurats. Much less impressive than Choqa Zanbil, as here the bricks have not preserved, which has resulted in the site having been reduced to a few mud heaps. Occasional floor plans and low walls remain, but they do look like having been patched a little, by recent restoration. The Haft Tappeh site also has a little museum, not mind-blowing, but with a few interesting artefacts, my favourite being the bitumen-sealed black coffin – showing that oil in this richest of rich Iranian oil provinces was being used in antiquity, already.

next: the Andimeshk to Dorud railway

the Haft Tappeh site, a mud hump

some of the structures are still visible – or restored

this seems a rather recent addition

and this, too, is too perfect to be 14th C BC

the museum contains some interesting pieces

including a bitumen-sealed coffin

unusual in Iran, it is the women, this time, who provide the colour…

17. Shushtar

Blog entries

the Pol-e Mostofi, a cute little old bridge in Shushtar

The small town of Shushtar has some remarkable sights, but traces of relatively recent dilapidation abound; perhaps it is the heat.

the proof is in the tablet: it was hot!

And now for something completely different. We have left the mountains of Kordistan, and entered the flat, low-lying land of Khuzestan, further south. The journey by bus is long, but exceedingly comfortable – VIP busses, properly airconditioned, reclining business class seats, no intermediate stops except for lunch. The last 45 minute taxi ride is very uncomfortable. Many of our Iranian aquaintences on the way had warned us that is would be too hot, now, in Khuzestan. We ignored their advice. They were right. We arrive in Shushtar at 6 pm. Late afternoon. And it is still 45o C.

the Shushtar water systems

with water chanenled through steep falls

moer of the water system

Yet, Khuzestan is a must on the extended tourist trail of Iran, and we had selected Shushtar as our base, mostly because it has a nice hotel in a traditional house. With airconditioning.

the 7th C Band-e Mizam dam

Shushtar is located on the Karoun river, a surprisingly significant river in such a dry and hot area. For many years, Shushtar has manipulated the river flow to provide for irrigation, as well as using the water power for milling flower, seeds and all other sorts of things. To do so, they built an early dam, and forced the water through a multitude of channels and chutes, driving the water wheels. Much of this has been restored, and has been turned into a fascinating site. The dam, the Band-e Mizan that leads the water to the mills, is somewhat less impressive, but, given its 7th Century construction – apparently designed and built by captured Roman slaves – and its ability to raise the water level by some 2 meters, quite an engineering achievement.

Another part of the water system was formed by the bridge, and part-dam, across the river, the Pol-e Shandravan, an impressive, if now ruined, multi-arched structure. Nearby, a smaller river channel is crossed by the still functioning cute little Pol-e Mostofi, and the restored, Pol-e Sengborum, probably from the 19th C.. Close to the bridge is a delapidated mansion, sadly abandoned, and the Sallasal Castle. This was once dominating the river front – and even until the 1920s an attractive three story building, to which many old photos testify -, but now not much more than a pile of rubble. Until you discover the underground chambers, the Shavadun, which were dug out by hand in Sassanid times, up tp 20 meters deep in the rock, to provide for a cool day room, complete with air circulation systems. Or the so-called Darian channel, a partly underground canal, equilly hand-dug, that allowed water to pass from the river into an age-old irrigation system for the agricultural fields further south. Or the ancient stables, now turned into a small museum, with tools and other artefacts, and the historical photos – which show the castle in its 1920 form.

the Pol-e Shandravan, the largest bridge

and the same, from another angle, showing part of the ruins

the Sallasal Castle, or what remains of it above ground

a few more remnants of the castle

the underground Shavadun, the ‘cool room’

the underground Darian Channel

some of the underground chambers are still inhabited (by bats)

Obviously, there used to be many more old buildings in town. Everywhere are the traces, in the form of ruined houses, where the curved arches and niches from the interior are now brutally exposed. Instead of restoration, these are being pulled down, and replaced by phantasy-less, ugly brick cubicles. How ironic that a country that has produced such a wealth of architectural treasures, now seems to have forgotten all about it.

the Kola Ferangi tower, probably an ancient lighthouse

an old door, in an attractive, yet simple arch

one of the old houses, almost entirely destroyed

Walking the small alleys in between the major roads, everywhere is rubbish, in plastic bags left to rot. And rotting they do – not the bags, but what is inside, generating a pervasive stank in the heat of the day. The occasional dumpster hasn’t been emptied for a long time, and that, too, adds to the smell. Yet, Shushtar is a friendly town, which once again doesn’t seem to get a lot of foreign tourists. After eight in the evening, it gets busier in the streets; people visit the bazaar, the restaurants and the food stalls – falafel and some kind of large samosa are popular. The fast-food joint, a combination of Domino’s, MacDonalds and KFC, is doing good business, although the pizza we had was positively horrible. Back to the kebabs again, tomorrow!

next: the ziggurat of Choqa Zanbil

escaping the heat, fun in the water, for the whole family….

16. Kermanshah

Blog entries

the Taq-e Bustan bas-reliefs, outside Kermanshah

Kermanshah is not the most attractive town, but our stay was enlightened by a few wonderful experiences, and a bas relief or two.

Just when we had made up our mind about Kermanshah, not a very friendly crowd here, very few ‘hello, welcom’s’, pushy people who have little with foreigners (one even managed a ‘fuck you’ in passable English), just when we had made up our mind, we met Behdad and Saba. In the street, while we are asking around to find a restaurant. They joined the conversation – as happens so often in Iran, somebody who speaks English offering his help to overcome the language barrier -, knew a nice place, and promptly decided they were going to eat there, too. Walked us to the restaurant, suggested some typical local dishes (which turned out to be delicious), sneakily paid the bill for all of us, absolutely refused anything about us inviting them instead, or sharing costs, insisted on showing us some more of the town, then went to buy icecream for all of us, drove to a park with fabulous view over the city by night, and only reluctantly released us late at night, but not after bringing us back to our hotel. The idea of us taking a taxi home was dismissed as ridiculous.

colour spectrum in town

And that also sums up one of the biggest challenges in Iran: how to handle Iranian hospitality without abusing it. How to judge whether if someone invites you to their home, it is a real invitation, or customary politeness, called ta’arof, which is not to be accepted. Every taxi driver will, at the end of a ride, say that he doesn’t want to be paid, it is his pleasure to bring you here. But if you take this to litterally, he will be shocked, you just need to insist that you really want to reward him for his services, and after some time he will accept payment (and sometimes request quite a bit more than you had expected, or is reasonable, but that’s what taxidrivers all over the world are for). The people you share the taxi with, will insist you come to have tea at their house; they probably don’t really mean it, and would be highly embarrassed if you take them up on their offer. We have had people in the street, total strangers, inviting us for tea, for dinner, and for staying the night in their homes, but carefully declined their offers. But Behdad and Saba seemed genuine enough, and didn’t give us a chance, even, to refuse – you can hardly say ‘no, thank you, I don’t want to eat’, if you have just been asking about restaurants. They proved very pleasant company, too. And after they have been so generous, you don’t want to offend them by refusing their subsequent invitation.

So our stay in Kermanshah turned out to be another experience with Iranian hospitality and generosity. And we learn to get over our embarrassment, we learn to say ‘yes’, occasionally.

the most famous icecream shop in Kermanshah, no, in Iran (according to our friends…); people queue outside

the delicacy is carrot juice with pistachio-vanilla icecream (here carrot juice only)

and this is the result

the bazaar

bling-bling on dresses seldom to be seen

and more bling-bling, to be proudly displayed

copperware in the bazaar

Kermanshah itself is a vast city, perhaps 1 million inhabitants spread over an enormous area. As everywhere in Iran, there is an old covered bazaar, well-restored in this case, with several caravanserais – less well restored – inside. We happen to enter at the glitter and gold end, alley after alley with jewelry shops and kinky women’s dress (which remains well hidden underneath the outer clothing levels, more often than not a black headscarf and an all-covering black chador – Kermanshah feels quite conservative). Further on, the inevitable spices again, always a colourful element. The bazaar is full of people, yet, the atmosphere is different from elsewhere, everybody goes their own way.

dried flowers, to add some colour

and spices and pomegranate seeds, more colour

the Ehmad Dohla mosque

and some of the Qajar era tiles

The Ehmad Dohla mosque, also within the bazaar, provides an oasis of peace, sharply contrasting with the busy corridors outside. The mosque, from the Qajar era, the dynasty that ruled Iran from the end of the 18th to the early 20th Century, is extensively tiled again, but like the Golestan Palace in Tehran (from about the same time), with many different patters, a bit chaotic on the eyes. Same is true for the Takieh Mo’aven ol-Molk, a religious building which is used during the mourning period Moharram as a theatre for enacting the battle of Karbala, where the prophet Hussain, the second of the 12 Imans that define the Shia faith, was massacred. Yet, here the tiling has more of an anecdotal purpose, showing several scenes of the battle, and of the life of Hussain. The building was closed, but after some negotiation – with the distinct impression, also fed by the variability of the ticket price during these negotiations, that any money handed over would disappear straight in the pockets of the negotiator at the other end -; after some negotiation we were allowed to briefly have a peek around. For free!

entrance to the Takieh Mo’aven ol-Molk

the lion above the one of the doors

wall tiling depicting part of Hossein’s battle

and some cute tiles with molla’s

a window, of sorts

remains of an old house, second floor, balcony gone

one of the alcoves at Tak-e Bustan

and another bas relief, also Tak-e Bustan

Just outside town is the alleged highlight of Kermanshah, the Taq-e Bustan. In and around two arched niches, carved out of the rock face, a number of bas reliefs depict hunting scenes and the coronation linked to several Sassanid Shahs (2nd Persian Empire), who reigned round about the 4th to 6th Century AD. They are remarkebly well preserved, and, although the site is actually pretty small, and you have seen it all in 15 minutes, make a worthwhile outing to the north end of town.

Less satisfactory was a visit to Bisotun, another site with bas-reliefs, some 30 km north of Kermanshah, from an earlier period, that of the reign of Darius, an Acheamenid ruler (1st Persian Empire) who had those made in 521 BC. The bas reliefs are no doubt impressive, but they are high above the ground, difficult to see in detail unless you have a good zoom lense or binoculars, with the view further hampered by extensive scaffolding. The other attractions, a boulder with a relief of the Parthian king Mithrades II and a much-restored statue of Heracles, are, let’s say, even less overwhelming; the empty rock face a little further, a smoothed area of 200 by 36 meters, was meant for another huge bas relief, but was never even started. But, we bagged another UNESCO World Heritage Site!

next: Shushtar

the Parthian king Mithrades II, accessible relief in Bisotun

and the Darius bas-relief, unaccessible and only to be seen thanks to my telelens

Kermanshah at night, with to the left even some fire works exploding

15. Paveh

Blog entries

Paweh, regional city in the Kurdish borderlands

The Kurdish town of Paveh, a regional centre of activity, doesn’t see many tourists, and yet the curiosity of the local people is charming rather than annoying.

Small town Paveh has next to no tourists attractions. There is a cave, a little outside town, with all the paraphernalia of a tourist site, but we are not so into caves, neither waterfalls, so the only reason to come to Paveh was to overnight here. And it helps that there is exactly one hotel in town.

the local wise guys, contemplating

And yet, Paveh turned out another nice experience. A walk in town is more a climbing up and down the stairs of the town – Paveh is, like the villages in the area, built against the mountain slopes, and because it is bigger than a village, it just goes higher. But we manage to reach what looks like the centre, where we ourselves immediately become the centre of attention. They don’t get many foreigners here. Everybody seems to want to talk too us, in a Kurdish dialect, in Farsi or in English, and many people want take us to their homes for tea, or for dinner – we politely limit ourselves to talking, in English. And in the mean time we admire the local attire, especially the men in their Kurdish outfit, not just baggy trousers, but a full suit, matching trousers and jacket, and a cumberband. Even the young boys proudly wear the suit.

market in Paweh

proud boy, in typical Kurdish suit

steep stairs connect different town levels

and an owl, along the road

We buy some water and juice in a small shop, and then look for a taxi. When we don’t find one in the next 30 seconds, the owner of the shop insists on bringing us to our hotel. But in the hotel, one with no less than four, self-awarded, stars, the restaurant in closed, so we need to descend once more into town. Where we find something to eat, as well as a taxi driver; he recognizes us from a few hours earlier, and offers to bring us back up, three minutes by car instead of 15 exhausting minutes by the stairs. But the drive up turns out to go first to a view point, from where we admire the lights of the town, and then to an icecream shop, before finally ending in our hotel. That we were subsequently presented with a, for local standards, exhorbitant taxi-bill, well, nice to be able to give something back, for once.

next: Kermanshah

another view of Paweh

Paweh at night, from the icecream parlour

and Paweh’s mosque, illuminated (courtesy Sofia)

14. the Howraman Valley

Blog entries

Kurdish man near the village of Howraman-at-Tahkt

West of Sanandaj, the forbidding mountains and steep valleys form a dramatic border zone with Iraq, home to stacked villages, and territory of smugglers and military.

Sanandaj may be the Kurdish capital in Iran, the heart of Kurdish life is in the valleys between Sanandaj and the Iraqi border. Here is a forbidding moutain landscape, by now – mid September – throroughly scorched from the sun; whatever grass is left, is yellow. It is hard to imagine that in spring this area is quite green; it is easier to see that in winter all of this will be solidly white.

village at the base of the mountains

some terracing in an otherwise bare landscape

and higher up, there is nothing but rocks and yellow grass

To explore this area, we leave Sanandaj early in the morning, and travel through dramatic landscape, across a first pass. Distant villages hidden in the fold of mountains; around the villages some terracing has been developed, allowing for agriculture; and higher up absolute nothingness, nobody, not even sheep. Down at the other end, we turn into the Howraman Valley, to the village of Howraman-at-Tahkt. In the absence of a decent piece of flat land, the village is, like Palangan earlier, built against the steep slopes. Another impressive view, but in this case hardly ‘special’, because all the villages here, and even the small towns, are like that.

Howraman-at-Tahkt

the wise man of the village in front of the carpet shop, of sorts

donkey saddle for sale

vertically stacked houses of the village

plus modern amenities, like an exhaust pipe

a man in the valley

and another one, in the village

Just past Howramat is the Pier Shaliar shrine, in itself not particularly interesting, but onto the shrine and in the trees of the cemetery around, lots of pieces of cloths have been tied. People leave the cloths to make a wish, a habit more related to some animist forms of belief than to Islam, but fact is that the place is very popular for it.

locally woven baskets

the pieces of cloths near the shrine

Apparently, the most scenic part of the road is from Howramat to Paveh, predominantly hairpins, but unsurfaced. Our taxi driver didn’t want to go that way, and we turned back to the nearest police post – the nearest junction, every junction here has a police and/or military posts associated with it -, to follow the road up to the next pass, and close to the Iraqi border. Some genius had put a kebab restaurant just before the pass, a simple affair with some carpeted benches, but with the most dramatic view I have ever had for lunch. Just across the pass, one looks down into Iraq – which looks quite similar to Iran, from here, but never mind. The only things moving, apart from us, are a couple of donkeys, according to our driver on their way to Iraq to pick up smuggleware. A threesome of pickup trucks are conspicuously parked along the road, allegedly to transport the goods back into Iran, never mind the numerous check points. The other living things, but not moving, are some herds of sheep, anxiously hiding in the little shade there is.

two donkey man on their way, getting the stuff from Iraq

smuggling trail, perhaps?

some sheep and goats, trying to find shade

and these have been collected for, I don’t know, kebabs, perhaps?

a reminder of the 1980-1988 war with Iraq, warns for uncleared mines

a distant Iranian border defence, high up in the mountains

Kurds everywhere have the feeling that they are being discriminated against by their government, and in Iran that is not different. The resentment comes from a perceived lack of inverstment, as compared to the rest of the country, but the evidence is against them: the roads into the valleys are newly tarmaced, and of remarkably good quality. Whether this is done with the interest of the Kurds in mind, or from a defence perspective – Iran and Iraq have, after all, a history of a not too distant, and rather nasty, armed conflict -, I don’t know, of course. But army posts are visible all along the border, and stone watch towers and small military camps have even been constructed right on the mountain ridges that look down into Iraq. Again, as with the Azerbaijani border, one may question the effectiveness of this, but the effort is certainly impressive.

the old Zaymad still, good for any transport job

The road to Paveh splits in a high road and a low road, and we took the low one, via Nodesheh, a small town built equally steeply agains the slope. Following a river valley means that the environment is slightly greener than we have seen so far, also with more agriculture. For Paveh we climb up again, and arrive somewhere half way the afternoon, in yet another town characterised by steep stairs, after a long day’s drive. Worth it, though!

next: Paveh

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first-hand travel experiences and impressions of travel destinations

23. the shrines

There are several shrines in Shiraz; the ones we visited were, at least for us, the uninitiated, a rather underwhelming experience.

22. Shiraz

Shiraz is very much the product of 18th Century Karim Khan Zand, who is resposible for most of the present-day sight; nice, but somehow, I didn’t connect to the town, as in other places in Iran

21. the glacier

An unexpected phenomenon in the Zagros Mountains above Isfehan makes for an interesting day trip, featuring nomads and cold feet.

20. Isfahan

Brilliant, tree-shaded and clean Isfahan has all the fabulous monuments you can wish for, but outside its evening Eman Square it lacks a bit of atmosphere.

19. the Andimeshk to Dorud railway

What we thought was going to be a rough train ride, turned out to be one of the most comfortable journeys ever, through fabulous mountain scenery in between the tunnels.

18. the ziggurat

Outside Shushtar are some of the oldest structures in Iran, and one of them, the ziggurat of Choqa Zanbil, is pretty impresssive!

17. Shushtar

The small town of Shushtar has some remarkable sights, but traces of relatively recent dilapidation abound; perhaps it is the heat.

16. Kermanshah

Kermanshah is not the most attractive town, but our stay was enlightened by a few wonderful experiences, and a bas relief or two.

15. Paveh

The Kurdish town of Paveh, a regional centre of activity, doesn’t see many tourists, and yet the curiosity of the local people is charming rather than annoying.

14. the Howraman Valley

West of Sanandaj, the forbidding mountains and steep valleys form a dramatic border zone with Iraq, home to stacked villages, and territory of smugglers and military.

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There are several shrines in Shiraz; the ones we visited were, at least for us, the uninitiated, a rather underwhelming experience.

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Shiraz is very much the product of 18th Century Karim Khan Zand, who is resposible for most of the present-day sight; nice, but somehow, I didn’t connect to the town, as in other places in Iran

Share this:

An unexpected phenomenon in the Zagros Mountains above Isfehan makes for an interesting day trip, featuring nomads and cold feet.

Share this:

Brilliant, tree-shaded and clean Isfahan has all the fabulous monuments you can wish for, but outside its evening Eman Square it lacks a bit of atmosphere.

Share this:

What we thought was going to be a rough train ride, turned out to be one of the most comfortable journeys ever, through fabulous mountain scenery in between the tunnels.

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Outside Shushtar are some of the oldest structures in Iran, and one of them, the ziggurat of Choqa Zanbil, is pretty impresssive!

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The small town of Shushtar has some remarkable sights, but traces of relatively recent dilapidation abound; perhaps it is the heat.

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Kermanshah is not the most attractive town, but our stay was enlightened by a few wonderful experiences, and a bas relief or two.

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The Kurdish town of Paveh, a regional centre of activity, doesn’t see many tourists, and yet the curiosity of the local people is charming rather than annoying.

Share this:

West of Sanandaj, the forbidding mountains and steep valleys form a dramatic border zone with Iraq, home to stacked villages, and territory of smugglers and military.

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