WHILE it is possible to find tour operator packages to the unlikely holiday
destination of Iran, my approach was to go my own way. I had two female
guides there — Coco, a friend from university who moved to Tehran to learn
Farsi and study religious theatre, and Negar, an Iranian who had recently
returned from the US. This was the catalyst; it was now or never.
A risky waiting game followed as my holiday lay in the hands of the embassy. I
avoided booking flights until the visa arrived, as I was warned that
applications were not always accepted. Nearly two months later, with no time
for wimping out, my passport plopped through the door bearing an
impressive-looking stamp, leaving less than a week to sort out flights and
suitably shapeless clothing.
The headscarf issue often takes precedence in anything written about Iran.
Yes, it’s true, women have to throw a bit of cloth over their head in
public, but the tiniest strands of rebellion are starting to creep through:
many women wear the hijab loosely, and have replaced scrubbed
complexions with make-up.
I found its homogenising effect a bonus. In two weeks, my capable guides and I
travelled on Iran’s trains, unhurriedly and without a hint of trouble,
between the capital and Iran’s pièce de résistance,
Esfahan, by way of Yazd. Anti-Western sentiment, displayed vigorously on
billboards and in graffiti scrawls, was not reflected in the attitudes of
people we met.
In this time, we could have rattled around many more of the country’s sights,
but by first staying in Tehran for nearly a week — in the comfort of my
friends’ apartment in a quiet, leafy neighbourhood — I overcame the
disorientating blast that hits those fresh off the plane.
Dismal guidebook descriptions prepare you for the worst. “There’s no longer so
much as the slightest whiff of the Orient about Tehran,” cautions one.
Overpopulation and bad town planning are responsible, yet Tehran is still
home to 20 per cent of the population; it has the energy — and furious
driving — to match. Getting around solo was daunting at first, but taxis
were cheap and the drivers — many shockingly overqualified in Iran’s harsh
economic climate — spoke brilliant English.
We spent a morning visiting Ayatollah Khomeini’s humble home, where we were
guided, painstakingly, around the memorabilia. For a contrast, we roamed
around the Shah’s old palaces, scarcely touched since he fled the country in
1979.
With mirrored walls, lashings of gilt and a fresh colour scheme for each room,
the White Palace would be the perfect setting for a costume drama. Although
the authorities hope the public will be disgusted by the Shah’s ostentatious
displays of wealth, I couldn’t help feeling that visitors were secretly
enthralled.
In the afternoon, we lounged in the fashionable coffee shops of the Fereshteh
district, Tehran’s answer to Kensington, feeling positively underdressed and
undergroomed compared with the city’s beautiful people: the women flawless,
with their skinny jeans visible under their tunics, and their often
surgically sculpted faces. Tehran encapsulates Iran’s most intriguing
contradictions.
Ever a slave to my shopping habit, I arranged to include a Friday in my stay
in Tehran, as that is the day that the Jome bazaar, a fleeting Aladdin’s
Cave of treasures, takes over a car park in the old business district of
Manuchehri, and is a hugely popular draw for Iranian thrift shoppers. Piles
of glowing fabric brought along the historic silk route from as far as China
and Pakistan jostle alongside antiques, Persian rugs and curious
bric-a-brac.
There we were bombarded by inquisitive shoppers wanting to practise their
English and find out what foreigners thought of Iran. “How is your
impression of Iranians different from what you had expected?” asked Mehdi,
the boss of a photographic business, who was looking for old camera parts
among the antiques. He knew the answer, but wanted to hear me reassure him
that Iranian people had come up trumps.
A thrilling night in a sleeper carriage, booked for less than a fiver in a
Tehran agency, took us rattling through the desert into Yazd, the centre of
Zoroastrianism, the dominant religion in Iran before Islam. In a labyrinth
of low-slung mud houses, the old city, transformed by each change in light,
looked centuries apart from the capital’s sprawling modernity. Deep within
the old city’s winding passages, hotel Malek-o-Tojjar, part yurt,
part Moroccan riad, is a sight itself and the food — particularly the
aubergine, a luscious Iranian take on baba ganoush — was the best I
had.
Famed for its windtowers that cool the desert air, and its honey-sodden sweets
dusted with pistachios, Yazd is a gentle city whose inhabitants went out of
their way to show us around, or, in my case, back to my hotel, when I was
defeated by the maze-like streets.
We took a half-day taxi drive to Esfahan; a chance to read up on the old
Safavid capital, called in a Persian proverb, “half the world”. It would be
worth crossing the world just to swoon under the huge, rectangular Imam
Khomeini square — measuring 500m by 160m (1,640 x 525ft) — and flanked by
soaring minarets and blue-tiled mosques.
To witness more earthly pleasures, we walked to the Chehel-Sotun palace with
frescoes depicting Persian myths of pre-Islamic Iran. Built by Shah Abbas II
in 1647, it is known as the palace of 40 columns: only 20 are real, the rest
are reflections in the pool. Persian architecture catches you unawares; it
hides palaces behind trees and mosques cunningly around corners. We retreat
ed to the concealed teashop in the palace gardens.
Life withdraws behind closed doors in the evenings in Iran, which can leave
visitors feeling excluded. Most of those we met had been invited to sample
superior home-cooking — maybe slow-cooked khoresht stew with
yoghurt and saffron.
Brad, in his late twenties, had taken six months off work to travel, alone,
from Australia. We found him sucking black tea through sugar wafers,
recumbent among the belching sheesha pipes in the Chehel-Sotun
teahouse.
He was full of the ease with which he had moved around the country, and the
inexhaustible offers of tea, meals, beds and future stays. As Negar warned
me: “Iranians are hospitable in an exaggerated fashion; it can be difficult
to cope with.”
For some I spoke to in England, the ethics of visiting Iran were dubious;
after all the Government has a shameful human rights record, never mind the
medievally stringent dress regulations imposed on women, and the segregation
of the sexes in public places.
That said, I have not come across an organised campaign against travel such as
the one targeted at Burma, and travelling to a country does not equate with
endorsing its Government’s policies. As Negar said: “Tourism is a way of
strengthening cultural links, never mind supporting local businesses.” A
perfect excuse to indulge in Esfahan’s bazaars before I left. For the sake
of the local economy, of course.
Need to know
Getting there: Anna Shepard travelled independently and flew with
Gulf Air from Heathrow to Tehran (0870 7771717, www.gulfairco.com). Prices
start at £320. British Airways (0870 8509850, www.ba.com) and Iran Air
(020-7409 0971, www.iranair.co.uk) also fly from Heathrow to Tehran.
Organised or tailor-made tour companies include Magic Carpet Travel
(01344 622832, www.magiccarpettravel.co.uk) and Persian Voyages (01306 885894,
www.persianvoyages.com).
Staying there: Aria Hotel in Esfahan (00 98 311 222 7224):
£10pp including breakfast; The Hotel Abbasi (222 6009) £75pp. Hotel
Malek-o-Tojjar in Yazd (351 626 5455), £10pp. Omid Hotel in north Tehran (21
646 7471), £24pp.
When to go: Spring and autumn are the best times to avoid
excessive heat.
Reading: Iran (Lonely Planet, £15.99); Persian Pilgrimages:
Journeys across Iran, by Afshin Molavi (W. W. Norton & Company,
£14.99).
Red tape: The Foreign & Commonwealth Office (0870
6060290, www.fco.gov.uk) suggests avoiding demonstrations and large
gatherings in public places after recent demonstrations outside the British
Embassy in Tehran. British passport holders will need a visa: apply by post,
or in person, to the Consular Section of the Embassy at 50 Kensington Court,
London W8 5DB (020-7225 3000, www.iran-embassy.org.uk). Visa applications
should be lodged at least six weeks in advance of travel.
Women should wear a headscarf in visa application photos and passports must be
valid for at least six months.
Tips: US dollars in new bills are best. Avoid using credit
cards and traveller's cheques.
Dress: Women visitors must wear a headscarf covering all
their hair and loose clothing covered by a baggy coat to knee level.
