A Magic Carpet Tour of Persia

[Skyring]

Despite the mihrab-like main doorway, it is evident from the various crosses that this is a Christian edifice. I don't suppose any monks were in residence, though. Did you get any impression of the extent to which Christianity is tolerated in Iran, or is it just that a few historic structures are retained for their tourist-attracting potential?

There's an Armenian church in the centre of Tehran. They are allowed to distill their own alcohol. Christians and a few other faiths are accepted. Not likely to gain much in the way of good jobs, though.

The monastery is no longer used as such, but it remains a Christian church. There were candles burning. Very low key, though.

Islam is certainly the dominant faith, but not to the extent that (say) Christianity is in Texas. Mosques are generally small and poorly patronised. I think most people go only on special occasions and it is just the fully committed who attend or do the five prayers. These are amalgamated into three for convenience and I couldn't find anyone who admitted doing them. As a taxi driver in Australia I saw more people praying here than I did in Iran. I get the feeling that it is the older generation who observe, and the younger ones pay lip service.

Islam in Iran has been the official religion for so long, but most people found more interesting things to do on a Friday than listen to some mullah preach. Persians weren't exactly rigid observers before the revolution, and Khomeini was welcomed more as a non-Shah leader than a religious hero.

In theory, the religious hierarchs control the government. In practise, their grip is steadily weakening. In a few places, like Qom, they are full tilt Muslim. In the rest of Iran, not so much.

 

[cgichard]

Interesting. I am really glad to hear that it remains a Christian church and is used as such even in that remote area.

My view may be coloured by the fact that the first city I visited in Iran (back in 2007) was Mashhad, having come by road through Turkmenistan. That was indeed "full tilt" Muslim; after touring the few parts of the Imam Reza Shrine to which tourists were allowed access, our group was herded into a hall where we were shown videos of what I can only call Islamic propaganda, and finally presented with 'show-bags' of like content, including a CD.

On my second visit, a year later, I was deeply impressed by the Bethlehem church in the Armenian quarter in Isfahan; I didn't know of the Armenian church in Tehran. I have met a number of Christian refugees from Iran in Melbourne, and had the impression that life in Iran was becoming more difficult for Christians, but it may be more a matter of discrimination against them than persecution.

 

[Skyring]

Inside the stonework was a mix of stone ancient and modern. Here and there scaffolding protected work in progress and guarded unwary tourists from crumbling masonry.



An old dome seen from below, with the face of a saint peeping out from a corner.



The main dome, cleverly lit by windows in its circular support. The inner decorations highlighted nicely.



The altar. Still a church in use. Doubtless there are a few Armenian Christians in these parts.



A couple of candles were lit for us by one of the docents. More could be purchased if further divine illumination were required. My little Olympus coped quite nicely, once I fiddled with the dials.

A tranquil spot in such a remote place. I can understand a little of the attraction for the monks who founded this place and lingered here over the centuries. Though perhaps a little hot in summer and cold in winter. A time to test one's faith, made easier by the lack of nearby settlements.

 

[Skyring]

We left the church and looked into the adjoining monastery. But before we did, a curious feature of the stone carvings high on the peak of the roof was pointed out. I zoomed in as far as I could (not a great deal, with my 40mm zoom) and tried to make some sense out of the features. "I think it's some sort of a bird," was my best shot.

Until a few moments ago, when I was able to get a decent view of the carving.



Sure enough, it's a bird, but that odd outcropping of granite at its feet has no particular form. Looks like someone has hurled a rock into the façade and it's stuck.

Unless it's actually dried mud plastered on over the centuries by that industrious little bird sitting on the eve above. A sheltered nest, unlikely to be disturbed by the maintenance staff, unless they have a very long ladder.




Looking back at the church. The monastery walls enclosed a courtyard garden. In summer, I'll bet there were shady trees, and in winter, sunny corners out of the wind. Now there were flower beds and strolling tourists.



Three rows of windows overlooked the courtyard. There would have been kitchens, refectories, lavatories, a library and so on, but it looked like mostly bare cells on dark corridors. Hard to tell now whether they were sumptuously furnished or spartan, but I'm guessing it was only the top monk who had a soft mattress and an extra blanket.

 

[Skyring]

We ran into the same Iranian tourist family we had seen earlier. Fair enough, there's not much around here unless you fancy a short international swim. More hugs, more photographs. I wonder if they are going to go home and say that Australians are the friendliest people on earth.



Scandalous behaviour in the car park. One young lady exposed her silver hair. Here are Pari (almost invisible under an eyeshade you could raise a family beneath) and Navid pleading with her to cover up and be decent!

No they aren't. Tourists can get away with stuff that the locals can't, and I don't think anybody but me raised an eyebrow. It's been three days here and already I'm turning into the fashion police.



This could be a scene in suburban Adelaide, but no, it's Jolfa, hub of the free trade zone, where we stopped for lunch.



Ah, lunch consisted of more than peach beer, but you wouldn't know it from the photographic record. There was also salad, chive yogurt, kebabs and saffron rice, the same everywhere.

 

[Skyring]

After lunch, back into the bus, and we all pretty much faded off to sleep. Fair enough. Navid was the youngest person aboard, and the rest of us were getting into pension range. Some, I suspect, were already there.

Snow-capped mountains, traffic police checkpoints, cutesy villages, farms and fields passed by un-noticed.



I roused enough to grab a distant shot of a flock of sheep. Nowhere in the few days I spent in Iran did I have a close or a clear view of sheep and shepherds. They were everywhere, but from the windows of a speeding bus, not great photographic subjects.



These two chaps were likewise everywhere. On roadside signs, huge murals on apartment buildings, formal portraits…

We were aiming for the village of Kandovan, which was notionally on the way back to Tabriz. In actuality, we passed through suburban Tabriz - quite a decent city in size - and headed out the other side. I was beginning to get a feel for the city landmarks. We went past that horse statue again, but I didn't have my camera out. Next time, maybe.

 

[Skyring]

Kandovan is a village of maybe 600 souls living in a rural area south of Tabriz. Set beside a small river, the village has a couple of streets lined with small shops, roadside stalls, and a few houses. Looming above on the northern side of the valley are a series of extraordinary cone-shaped rock pinnacles. Comprised of volcanic mud, hardened over the millennia and eroded by water, these are hollowed out and inhabited.

The residents live a traditional lifestyle, apart from catering to the coachloads of tourists who flock in daily. People like us.



It is odd in the extreme to see doors and windows cut into rock. These are houses that might belong in one's backyard after a rainy day, populated by plastic gnomes.

But people live here and they seem to have found a more or less happy medium between their traditional rural community lifestyle and selling things to tourists. Or, in some cases, opening up their homes for display.



We were given a half-hour to look around before gathering for afternoon tea in a local teahouse on the far side of the river. Everyone in the group promptly vanished into the maze of steep little laneways leading up into the cones.



A few young men were picturesquely riding or leading donkeys up and down the lanes. They sported handmade saddles, apparently covered in superannuated carpet remnants, and of course I took a snap or two.

 

[Skyring]

I'm a sucker for lots of things, and a picturesque, coloured, old wooden door is high on the list.





As are happy kids. Three girls playing with a ball in some game of their own. Incidentally, apart from the street, there didn't seem to be much in the way of play areas for these kids. There are fields and orchards across the river. I wonder if they ramble around, getting familiar with the land they will one day own and tend.



A great many shops, some of them in hollowed-out cones, all selling craft to the tourists. Some locally produced, others, such as the line of camel-wool small garments, commercially made and packaged. That didn't stop us buying some camel wool socks and things. As gifts.

Here's a shopkeeper obviously having a bit of success charming the ladies.



There was something in the manner of this chap leading a goat through the streets that told me this was not someone bringing his pet home for the night. I took a picture; it's not every day you see someone holding a goat by the horn. Or maybe I felt the urge to be one of those street fashion photographers you hear about. As spring opens and the weather clears, the new season garments are being presented. When I return, maybe I want to look more like a local instead of an LL Bean display rack.

Anyway, we assembled at the tea house across a ricketty bridge spanning a swift-flowing stream of clear mountain water. Trees were clad in fresh green, the stone buildings around us and those other-worldly cones rising on the hill opposite combined to make it a special moment. We weren't in Kansas any more.

The tea house had a series of booths, essentially low deep carpet-covered couches where one took one's tea. Room enough for a half dozen people each to sit or sprawl around the teapot, gossiping and enjoying life. We Westerners perched on the edges, rather than reclining in the middle, but we had fun anyway. Certainly the tea was welcome.

Bruce prowled around, examining the carpets. Our serenity was broken by a series of animal cries. Deep and braying, I took them for one of the donkeys I'd photographed earlier. Perhaps complaining about being overburdened and having to climb one of those staircase laneways.

Bruce looked out and reported back that they had killed a goat and were letting it bleed out into the river.

We all felt a bit uncomfortable, but, really, what did we expect? This is what people living traditionally do for their meat, rather than having it packaged neat and tidy from the meat factory.

We finished our teas, walked back over the bridge - the goat being dragged off and the execution dock sluiced down with buckets of water - up the street back to our bus in the gathering dusk.

We noticed small parties, often family groups, walking through fields here and there on the way back. Gathering mushrooms, was my thought, but apparently they were looking for wild herbs. To go with the goat stew, I imagine.

 

[Skyring]

Day 4: Drive from Tabriz to Marageh, an ancient city encircled by a four gated, high wall (much of it ruined). There is also a famous burial tower, the Gonbad-e-Kabud, Blue Tower, (1197 A.D.). Two stone bridges dating from 1217-1265 A.D. are still in good condition. The place is surrounded by extensive vineyards and orchards, producing great quantities of fruit. On a hill west of the town are the remains of the famous Maragheh observatory which was constructed in the 13th Century and was said to house a staff of at least ten astronomers and a library which allegedly contained over 40,000 books. From Marageh we go on to Zenjan. Known for its beautiful handcrafts, Zenjani artists make decorative dishes and their special covers, as well as silver jewellery. Many villagers today are traditional carpet weavers, the most practised of all handcrafts. However as this activity is carried out inside private homes, it is only by sheer chance that we would be able to view it. We will overnight in Zenjan.



This is a panorama from our hotel window. Photographed through the closed window, which diminishes the image quality considerably, but the blessed things wouldn't open enough for me to get a decent chance at the view. Looking north, with the rising sun off screen to the right. The considerable parklands and sports facilities can be seen well here. That's something Iranian cities did better than Japanese - they had more room to spare.



An extension of the view west, taken from the other side of the hotel near the glass elevators. More parkland and a huge railway terminus, modern and spacious.



A typical view out over Tabriz. An earthquake area here, and they have dealt with the problem by using a sturdy steel frame as a base for multistory buildings. The frame may flex, but it won't buckle and collapse. However, the walls are designed to collapse, and they are made of hollow bricks. Strong, but not heavy. They look like absolute cough in ash or mud colours unless rendered over, which few owners do. (Apologies for this and the next two images. Taken through the windows of our bus speeding down the motorway. No chance of really sharp photographs.)



A lot of public housing in Iran. Say what you will about the beauty or otherwise of urban vistas, but the people are well housed, fed and clothed. Beggars were extremely rare and the people looked in good condition. Apparently there was a massive scheme nation-wide to build apartments to be sold cheaply. Cheaply constructed as well, it seems, but nobody's living out on the streets, which is more than I can say for many Western countries.



On the whole, I think Iran is well placed for a bit of flag waving.

 

[Skyring]

More images shot from speeding bus. This looked like some sort of Crusader castle to begin with, but it's actually a quarry, and those tall flat façades are where the stone has been cut away. In nearby towns there were yards of wafer thin sheets, neatly stacked up like plywood. I'm guessing they get used to cover over the hollow brick walls on buildings, giving them a solid but fictitious appearance.



We passed this guy in the slow lane as we sped along. Or he passed us, I disremember. They all drive like lunatics apart from sticking to the speed limit. I was actually trying to get a shot of something else, but I like his decorating style. Though not going to the extremes of Pakistan or India or the Philippines, trucks have a modest amount of decoration, often alluding to the skill or ferocity of the driver.



More flocks of roadside sheep. Problem with shooting from a moving vehicle is that objects closer to the camera have a higher apparent motion than those further away. Short of asking the driver to stop the coach, and getting out for a clear view, my photography of these picturesque scenes is limited.

Always sheep, almost always a shepherd visible, usually dogs looking like they could devour an unwary sheep or two, and sometimes a horse with a handmade saddle.

 

[Skyring]

We hit Maragheh, south of Tabriz a little before lunchtime. Passing through the city centre, we paused briefly and a distinguished gent in a dark suit climbed aboard, a local historian who could guide us through some of the splendours which, frankly, needed a little explanation.

First stop was the Blue Dome. Yeah, it's a bit like that Blue Mosque back in Tabriz. Not a lot of blue about it.

Apart from the sky. Beautiful clear spring day, the flowers were out, the men wore short sleeves.



The Blue Dome is what is known as a tomb cover. A ceremonial memorial of some kind, with the notable supposedly buried below actually interred elsewhere. A bit like the Lincoln Memorial, I guess.

The actual size is larger than it appears. The steps leading up to the entrance are designed for giants, apparently.



Here's Navid pointing out some of the features of the building, which is actually kind of cool close up.



The blue tiles, from which the building derives its misleading name, have a distinctive pattern, echoed in the badge of an Iranian vehicle manufacturer, Saiba. The brickwork is intricate and worth a closer look. Australian bricklayers could learn a thing or two here.



Here are some of the party scrambling up those giant stairs to take a shufti inside.

 

[kermatu]

Amazing trip and a wonderful TR. Thank you for taking the time to post all of this. Really fantastic.

 

[blueythecat]

This is a simply brilliant trip report - thanks for posting!

 

[Skyring]

I took a last shot of the exterior brickwork before climbing the stairs and venturing inside.



Look at that: a bright red clay. I'll bet this thing glowed like hot lava when it was new. Those blue tiles would have been really something. People would have killed to be buried here.



Navid gave us a brief spiel about the structure. I think he's explaining how many Persians it took to change the lightbulb here. Our local guide's expression is inscrutable. Master diplomats, these folk.





Nah, just kidding. They would have climbed up on the scaffolding. There was some mention of the way the sunlight passing through the hole in the dome struck a certain point at noon on a particular day, but it went right over my head. Sorry.

I think the local authority was unprepared for our capacity to soak up information and ask questions. And take photographs from every angle. He may have thought a quick whip around the local sites would fill in a spare half hour nicely. Or maybe he thought he'd get more airtime.

 

[Skyring]

A bit less headroom in the vaults underneath, and "Lofty" Pari spruiked on here. Not a flash photograph - I didn't bring a flash with me, and neither body has a pop-up - but taken in the light from a single small hobbit-hole entrance. If you buy a camera nowadays, go for one with image stabilisation. It boosts low-light performance amazingly. Both of my Olympus bodies have 5-axis in-body stabilisation, where the sensor is jiggled about in tiny increments to counter any small hand movements. Which everybody has, just by virtue of being alive and having a beating heart.



In the parkland surrounding the Blue Dome, we were shown a vertical sundial. The angle gives the time, the length the date. It seemed to be out of step with Apple Time, but there may have been some adjustment for daylight saving and the fact that the sun doesn't exactly cast the same shadow at the same time over an entire time zone. Noon is always going to be noon locally, regardless of what the clocks in Tehran say.



I took some more shots of flowers and vistas, but let's just say it was springtime, a beautiful day, a grand time to be alive. We hopped back on the bus, and I grabbed a hasty shot of yet another roundabout park, fountain and monument display. Canberra could use a few of these. Even our biggest roundabouts usually don't have much more than a few bushes or maybe a pond.

White peace doves in an eyecatching display are an excellent way to start.



A historic inner-city mosque. Hundreds of years old, floor covered in interesting carpets, ceiling made up of wooden boards inscribed with calligraphic messages and posts cunningly carved.

Navid was invited up onto the iman's post to give us some information.



I enjoyed this immensely. Much as I like the grand and beautiful mosques, here was a place where the ordinary people came to pray together. A community, rather than a museum. We could see the homely and personal touches of those who attended regularly.

Only about twenty regulars, we were told. Rows were marked out near Navid's pulpit, although the rest of the space could have held a couple of hundred. One of the mosque's keepers was there to answer questions, and he radiated pride and pleasure in his space. Strange, but one can feel the love built up in such a place.

 

[Skyring]

It is in the nature of humanity to ponder the territory that lies beyond what is known. The other side of the hill, the other side of the sky. There may be political, commercial or military advantages. Certainly investigations into the causes of weather and climate could reap golden rewards for agriculture.

From the religious aspect of the mosque, we ventured to the scientific realm of an ancient observatory. Our bus climbed a twisting road up the side of a plateau, where the broadcasting station was surrounded by fences and guarded by watchtowers. The very top was occupied by an unfenced area of ruins. Old walls, stone circles, walkways and the like.



The view was tremendous, open in every direction, but our attention was naturally drawn by a huge geodesic dome, which protected some of the more significant ruins.



The dome itself was rapidly on the way to attaining its own ruin status, but it retained enough integrity to give a booming echoing effect to every word spoken inside. Added challenge to our guides, but never let it be said that our guides were short of words.



The observatory had been centred around some huge angled structure. The support ramp remained, but sadly no trace of the instruments. Or any of the reputed 40 000 books in the site's library.

The empire had made available some vast amount and the observatory had prospered. There must have been buildings all over the hilltop, judging by the foundations left behind, and scientists working like fury to add to the sum of human knowledge.

These were the Dark Ages in Mediaeval Europe, where advanced thought lay more with Noah's Ark and the Earth as the natural centre of the universe. But here the nights were sources of light and knowledge. Something to think about. Religion likes to settle the big questions and to remove any room for exploration beyond that provided by the clerical hierarchy.

Science likes to find answers and even better, to find questions. Just sayin'.



Here's the angled ramp, a party of philosophical tourists wondering, maybe, if this was the sacrificial altar of the barbarian temple. Lucky we had our experts to set us straight.

 

[Mattg]

I've been really enjoying this trip report. Thank you for taking the time to share your experience!

 

[Skyring]

The plateau was scattered with other ruins. These stone circles marked the remains of secondary observatories.



There were ruins of other kinds up here. Maybe they were building stuff, maybe it had been built and abandoned, who knows?

But the view was grand.



And then we climbed back aboard and the driver did a three point turn in the narrow car park on the edge of a precipice. I kind of wished he'd done it the other way round but I guess he wanted company on the way down.

By sheer chance, he made it, and we looped safely down the road.

 

[Skyring]

We drove back into the town, dropped off our local guide, and trooped into a restaurant for lunch. This turned out to be one of the best meals of the trip. But it wasn't the food.

Even though the food was extra good:



Pineapple beer. With a straw. Not something we get back home.

And there's a reason for that.

I mean, it was okay, and to be honest, it's the best pineapple beer I've ever tasted, but it was way too close to soft drink for my liking. I like a beer with my lunch, and I would have been quite happy with the normal hoppy malted de-alcoholised stuff. Pineapple beer is just wrong.

Then again, I probably chose it for the experience, so I really can't grumble!



Chicken kebab. Beautifully cooked and plated up.



Trout. With saffron rice, chips, and salad.




Lamb shanks! OH my goodness, but I love a lamb shank or two. These did not disappoint.

However, service was a bit slow; there was another party in the restaurant, and the staff were kept busy ferrying food into the back room.



Not tourists, but locals, and there's a hint in this shot of the harried waiter.