Shiraz

A king size bed, a/c and real water and another Homa Hotel with “Down with USA” (the Homa Hotel motto).
I modeled my new “fashion statement” to the envy of the other women travelers.
We dubbed Cristi, the tour leader, “Mama Duck”…
We started to name all of our fellow tourists:
* Rudy: Herman the German “Don’t ask me anything personal. Our guide is an idiot! I know more than everyone!”
* Marian: Stupid Question…”Why is this country called Iran?”
* Jeanette: Baby Moon, a.k.a. Moon Unit
* Ginny and Jerry:Sugar and Jerry Falwell She is a short, plump, boring Puerto Rican, he a 6’3 Jerry Falwell look- and sound-alike. In their late 50’s, married for three years, they hardly speak to each other. He calls her Sugar. He wants to travel the world – and has; she wants to go shopping and go home.
* Edgar: Edgar Allen Packer Don’t ask.
* John: Color me Retard, Edgar’s roommate. When Edgar blew his dinner at the table, John wouldn’t give him the key to their room.

Shiraz is a mass of greenery and culture- a town of roses, nightingales, love and poetry.
In Shiraz, we visited the Bagh-e Eram Palace and gardens… a Qajar 19C Palace.

We met a guy with a converted three-wheel motorcycle. He lost both legs and his arm in the Iraqi War, had them fixed in Germany and the government provided him with the motorcycle so he can get around. He was as pleasant and friendly as could be.

We had plans to visit the bazaar, but the government has suggested that the merchants close to commemorate Fatima’s death (Ali’s wife, died in the 7th century). There were black flags all over the town and many black funeral monuments.

We visited the private home of Nasir Al Molk and Narenjestan (built in the 1870’s) and the Jame Mosque (Masjede Atiq)

While waiting for the group to get back to the bus, John spotted a local junk shop. We found a brass camel with scenes from Persepolis on it. The merchant was not terribly happy to see Americans, but sold it to us anyway. A grumpy old man selling us junk at his asking price.

The local junk shop (above) Street scenes (Below)

Lunch was at a great local restaurant. We tried a new dish called “Tah-chin”, crusted egg with meat in between.
Then it was a visit to Hafez’s Tomb, arguably Iran’s greatest poet. We got a poetry recitation from the local guide.

Hafez: The Ben Franklin of Iran, with a touch of Fortune Cookie wisdom:
* “The world is hard on those who don’t take it easy”….
* “If you are married, don’t think anymore of freedom”….
We took photos of Iranian soldiers who in turn, took photos of us.

Once again, we blew off group mode and started a 3 hour walk through Shiraz.
We were stopped by an Iranian businessman, who recognized us as Americans and begged us to help him get a Visa to the US…then begged us to come to his home to meet his family. He said that the people hate the government.
We walked to the bazaar, stopped to watch a storyteller who had had gathered a crowd of about 100 men. Then, we visited the Pars Museum and saw the Karem Khan Citadel.
We met another Iranian (an electrical engineer) who wants to live in the US.
John equated Iran to baklava…many, many layers, sticky and nutty….
We bought some new headgear for me. The scarf inhibits peripheral vision and needs constant attention, so we got a one pieced model that looks something like the headgear worn by Catholic nuns.
We got lost in the maze of local housing (18C) and came across two guys duking it out in a very serious fight, and quickly headed the other way.
We met a nice guy on his bike who helped us get a taxi and experienced some major squeezing on the ride home.
Kids know “ Hello, How are you, I love you”.