Back in the days when pandemics belonged to history, I took a long string of crowded trains, buses, and boats overland to Iran. My correspondence home is preserved not in a handsome leather-lined davenport but in an unwieldy gmail thread. This, then, is an opportunity to rehouse it in a slightly more appealing archive. I’m keeping the original text – an email despatch – rather than re-writing it; I like the idea of having contrasting styles on this blog, and the original has a kind immediacy. It’s also far enough in the past that it’s starting to feel like an insight into an earlier version of myself.
In the summer of 2013 I wrote:
Salaam from Shiraz, garden-city of southwest Iran. It’s home to one of Iran’s holiest Shi’ite shrines and other beautiful mosques, even if nowadays its vineyards are no longer allowed to produce any wine locally.
2013 has finally, and by the skin of my teeth, seen me make it to Iran. Finally, because I first wanted to come here five years ago, and a succession of reasons prevented me. By the skin of my teeth due to visa worries, which you’re fairly likely to have heard about, as I’ve moaned about them in most of my conversations for the past three months. I should say, by way of balance, that my worries are nothing like those of Iranians who want to come to Britain – they have to go to Ankara or Dubai – no embassy in Tehran – and hang around for three weeks, while the British hold their passport, and they have to live in hotels.
As before, I’ve come overland, as I’ve stopped flying for environmental reasons. My route took me by train: London-Paris-Munich-Zagreb-Belgrade-Sofia-Istanbul, by ferry over the Bosphorus, and then to Ankara, where I spent three nights waiting for a visa. In Ankara I stayed with a great guy called Uğur, who I met through a website called Couchsurfing; its basic premise is that you stay at people’s homes for free, and let other people stay at your home for free – it’s always worked very well for me. Having a host was really great, as I suspect Ankara may be a better city to live in than to visit. That’s not to say that it’s not got some great sights: I visited Anıttepe, Atatürk’s Mausoleum, which is fascinating architecturally and sociologically. The site is on top of a hill near the city centre (in a heavily-guarded park) and has a 200m walkway, with Hittite-style lions at the side, leading to huge square, with what comes across as a columned, neo-classical, temple, with the mausoleum itself inside. I couldn’t avoid thinking that so much excess would be ridiculed if it were for a dictator, who wasn’t generally respected. The re-claiming of so many cultural idioms as Turkish was also a little bizarre: “those lions reliefs aren’t Hittite, they’re ancient Turkish…”
From Ankara I schlepped as quickly as I could to Tehran: a night-bus to Erzurum, a day-bus to Doğubayazit, and a minibus to the border – the latter was particularly fine, as I rode with Mt Ararat to my left, Anatolia behind me, and the excitement of Iran in front. I walked by foot over the border; straightaway everyone in Iran was friendly, although the customs official became a little sterner when I paused a moment to think about whether or not I really had made sure to get rid of all my alcohol. He proceeded to search my backpack. However, when he came to a little carrier bag and unwrapped it to find inside a book of poems by Rumi (a classical Iranian poet), he simply smiled broadly: ‘welcome to Iran!’.
Tehran is what you might expect, inasmuch as it is a busy, and polluted metropolis, with veiled women. Yet the Alborz Mountains are always visible to the north, giving a sense – perhaps deceptive – through any smog, of space. As for veils: a large amount of these are slung loosely over the middle or the back of hairdos, which themselves often have highlights peeping through, with St. Tropez-style sunglasses sitting on top. While I have seen plenty of all-encompassing chadors, there have also been many mantos, long (and supposedly loose) coats, which have in fact been figure-hugging, with strategically placed belts. And make-up is also a norm.
My first few days in Iran were also the end of Ramadan. In Ankara, life absolutely went on as normal during Ramadan, apart from extra-crowded restaurants, as secular Turks took advantage of special deals for Iftar, the breaking of the fast. I think it was the same for most people here too, but not many people openly ate or drank in the street; instead they huddled in corners, or bent over their sandwiches in parks, or stand at the back of bakeries. It’s quite a bizarre phenomenon: I saw one man secretly trying to eat spaghetti with sauce on the street – a patently bad choice, you might think.
I think it’s a while since I’ve been in a country with quite so many fantastic sights as Iran – in Tehran I saw the shahs’s Golestan palace, the Jewel Museum (comparable to our Crown Jewels), and plenty more. At most of these, there have been barely any western tourists – especially notable considering that these are the very top sights in the country. There are, however, plenty of domestic tourists – the Iranian currency is very weak at the moment, and Iranian passports aren’t so much use, so staying nearby makes a lot of sense.
I’ve come to Shiraz via Kashan and Esfahan, once described as as nesf-e jahan, ‘half the world’, because of its splendour. The central square, the city’s mosques, and its palaces, are extremely beautiful. My favourite was Lotfullah Mosque – smaller and more intimate than some of the others, but architecturally near to perfection. By going near to closing time I was lucky enough to have the whole mosque to myself – really unbelievable, and something I couldn’t imagine happening in Europe. I really enjoy the geometric patterns of Islamic architecture – I find them very restrained and love how they turn mathematical precision into such great beauty. This evening I’ll be going to Persepolis, capital of the Achaemenid empire, the nearby burial place of Darius I and Xerxes I.
One thing I’ve not mentioned is the safety situation, which is because it’s so far from my mind, and from the minds of all the other westerners that I’ve met in Iran. This has felt just like any other country I’ve travelled in, and safer than lots of them: the people are incredibly welcoming, trustworthy, and helpful, and, believe it or not, the policemen and mullahs return a smile as well. I don’t feel at risk of attack or theft and I’m sure the most important precaution I’m taking is to use a seat-belt. So, I can only recommend a visit here – Iran is beautiful.
