Travelogue Summer 2018/1 Shiraz - the Andalucía of Iran

Short connection

We had just half an hour to change planes in Vienna. We had deliberately selected seats as far in the front as possible. When the door opened, an employee asked if we were going to Shiraz? If so, please deboard first. There was a man in the gangway with a notepad. I thought for a moment that he was our guy, but he did not look up when we walked by. Maybe our guy was waiting further down the corridor?

Just as we were walking through a sliding door 30 meters away, he called out: Shiraz? He came after us and opened a side door with an ID card. Normally no passengers were allowed here. We walked down a corridor, down a flight of stairs, and much to my surprise we went outside. Suddenly we were standing between the airplanes. And to my even greater surprise, we stepped into a van. We were driving airside. Our companion was half Persian, and his job was to put people on flights to Shiraz, Isfahan and Tehran. We stopped at a door of a large building. Another ID card to open it.

There were a couple of immigration counters in an empty hall. He explained to the lady behind the desk that we were exiting, normally this was the desk for passengers arriving in Schengen. With the five of us on a trot up some stairs and down a corridor. There was a very long line, but he gestured we could walk past it to reach our gate, which seemed completely abandoned. Quickly through security. And then it turned out boarding had only just started, so we had five minutes to spare.

Arrival

Five hours later, in the middle of the night, we landed at the small regional airport of Shiraz in the south of Iran. An announcement was made that all ladies had to put on their headscarves. A little less than half of the passengers got off, the rest continued to Isfahan. We had a bus to the terminal building, basic and old. Just a few people got in the lane for foreign passports, and at the counter all went very smooth. Our luggage arrived within five minutes. We were considering changing money at a bank counter, but a guy said we'd better do that somewhere else. All in all, we had entered this country in record time. A big contrast with the preparations beforehand: the visa and many other documents that had to be delivered. That had been quite a hassle, especially because of the unclear and contradictory and ever changing information that was available.

In the arrival hall stood a guy with a piece of paper with the name of our hotel and a lot of text in Farsi. On his phone he also had a lot of Farsi with in between my first name. That was enough to trust him. We followed him outside, where it was pleasantly cool. Put the luggage in the back of an old car in the parking lot. A ride into town on a wide boulevard with lots of trees and lights and on every lamppost a big picture of a "martyr" from the Iran-Iraq war. It was very quiet on the street, big neon signs were on, but everything was closed, so we had no idea what all those Farsi texts were promoting.

Cash, lots of cash

Due to the boycott, Iran is not connected to the international money transfer systems. Even though there are ATMs everywhere, and almost everyone pays with a tap-and-go card, foreigners are dependent on hard cash. Euros or dollars. That you swap for very soft rial. There's the official buying rate, the official selling rate, the street rate, the euro exchange rate and the dollar exchange rate.

Our hotel reception could change money, but, as the receptionist said, the exchange rate depends on how much we want to change. How much we want to change, I said, depends on the exchange rate. We agreed on € 200 for 60,000 rial / euro. Well above the official rate, but in the bazaar we should be able to do better. We got a big pile of money - and then another one, she had already divided it in two for us.

The huge amount of zeros was rather confusing. And even more so because you pronounce 60,000 Rial as 6,000. Then they mean toman but don't say that. On some banknotes it says 500,000 Rial, on older ones with the same value it says 50. That means 50,000 toman, or 500,000 rial. For example, if something costs 300,000 rial, it can be said as 300,000, 30,000 or 30 ... It is not helpful either that 100,000 and 10,000 rial notes have the same color.

Later we would change in the street a couple of times. Every city has a strip where some guys are standing, who ask if you want to change money. In Shiraz an old man was sitting in a folding chair on the side walk, with piles of cash on a small carpet in front of him. You choose a guy and step aside. You negotiate about the exchange rate and how much you want to change. The guy counts a pile of notes. Then you say that is not enough and he will add one or two. Then you count the pile again and give him two euro bills.

Shiraz 

Next morning we walked to the Pink Mosque. More a sight than a sanctuary, and it was already quite busy when we went inside. The main attraction was the prayer hall with stained-glass windows. The morning sun shone through it and cast a colorful pattern on the floor. Everyone wanted to pose in the color spectrum, and especially on draped white robes it was a stunning sight.

Shiraz Pink Mosquee

The prayer niches at both ends of the courtyard were decorated with beautiful tile work, with pink being the prevailing color. Remarkably, sometimes a miniature landscape was incorporated in the floral patterns. There was a well with blue light, to symbolize that there had been water until 10 years ago. There was a small side courtyard, where we had a photo session with a mother and her daughters from Mashhad. Mom made all the pictures of the daughters with us. When I insisted that I wanted a picture of her too, her black headscarf went off, and a more colorful one appeared from underneath.

A bit further away was a museum in the gardens of an old mansion. Beautiful orange trees, water features, and a large guest pavilion. Mirrored walls, painted ceilings with European scenes. On the walls of the entrance building were images that we knew from the Moghuls in North India: elephants.

Shiraz bazaar

The covered bazaar of Shiraz was always pleasantly crowded. There was plenty of shopping going on. There were sections for clothing, for carpets, for spices, for household items. Despite all these people there was a quiet atmosphere, merchants were not shouting, passersby greeted us without being intrusive.

Shiraz bazaar

In the middle of the bazaar was a small square with a pond. It was simultaneously busy and intensely peaceful, serene. We sat down on a bench and looked at Iranian life passing in front of our eyes. The ladies all looked fascinating. Sometimes shapeless under a large black piece of cloth, sometimes unassumingly stylish, sometimes concealing, sometimes accentuating their figure, sometimes eccentric and challenging. If you did not know it already: even with the strange dress codes in Iran, women can dress in a personal and charming style.

Shiraz bazaar

Shiraz is a big, cosmopolitan city. Because of the southern location, the friendly atmosphere, the long siesta and the custom to eat at ten o'clock at night, the province is nicknamed the Andalusia of Iran. And that's how it felt.