Iran > 'Islam is open to everyone'

After breakfast, we wander into Shiraz. Walking along Karim Khan-e Zand Boulevard, we head toward the Citadel. One of the fort’s towers has noticeably tilted. The 14-meter-high tower sank due to the construction of a bathhouse underneath. We enter the Arg-e Karim Khan Citadel through the main gate. Karim Khan, in 1750, was the first leader of the Zand Dynasty and made Shiraz the capital of his empire. On the spacious inner courtyard, a girls’ school class is also present. Some girls, wearing pink school uniforms and white headscarves, try to secretly take photos of us as we pass by. When one girl asks if she can take a photo, suddenly dozens of mobile phones appear to snap pictures. They also ask our names and if we can write them down. A pleasant encounter, but there are quite a lot of children repeatedly asking where I come from and what my name is. When we leave the fort, about a hundred children wave us goodbye.

Iran - Schoolchildren shyly start conversations with tourists and carefully take photos

We cross the square diagonally toward the Fars Museum, housed in Karim Khan’s pavilion. In the pavilion lies Karim Khan’s tomb, and his sword is on display. Just as I enter the museum garden, the girls’ class arrives on the museum grounds. Immediately, we are surrounded again by questions like “How are you?” and “Where do you come from?” Although the interaction is fun, I decide to keep walking. It’s simply too many children asking the same questions repeatedly. On the way to the bazaar, we visit the Vakil Mosque. This mosque from the early Zand Dynasty features a beautiful façade. On the north side lies the covered prayer hall. At the back, supported by 48 pillars, is a magnificent mosaic-adorned mihrab. The inner courtyard is less well maintained, with weeds growing between the tiles. Directly next to the mosque is the Hammam-e Vakil, the former bathhouse, now a carpet museum. We buy tickets and mainly explore the remains of the old bathhouse. We continue wandering through the bazaar, a maze of streets and stalls. Unlike many other bazaars, this one is not aimed at tourists. Everyday products are sold, and there is lively local activity. Still, we frequently have to explain to curious merchants where we are from and what we think of Iran.

Iran - The former bathhouse Hammame Vakil is now a carpet exhibition

By chance, we come across the Seray-e Mehr Teahouse in the bazaar. We had planned to have lunch here but had heard it might be difficult to find. Since it’s too early for lunch, we order tea with sweets—a lovely spot to sit for a while. Through narrow bazaar streets, we walk south. Just outside the souq, we enter a mosque. The courtyard is strikingly green with tall trees, partially obscuring the mosaic arches of the iwans. With the Lonely Planet in hand, we can’t quite figure out which mosque it is. When we hesitantly ask, the caretaker points out the name in the guide and invites us to go up to the roof. Indeed, the guidebook mentions that the caretaker might show visitors the roof. Undoubtedly, we are not the first to ask this question with an open book in hand. Through a small door in the corner, we reach a staircase leading upward. Behind us, the door is closed again. Walking on the mosque’s roof, we have a view of Shiraz and the bazaar below. In the distance, we see the two large onion-shaped domes of the mausoleum of Shiraz, our next destination. We wander again through the narrow bazaar streets, turning left and right by instinct. Before we know it, we arrive at the entrance of Shah-e Cheragh, the mausoleum of Imam Reza’s brother, who was murdered here in 835 CE. Today, it is a pilgrimage site for Muslims. Non-Muslims are technically not allowed to enter, but it is tolerated. Only bags and cameras are prohibited. When we try to leave them at the deposit, a man says something and gestures around the corner. Confused, we follow the directions and end up at the Jameh Mosque, the oldest mosque in the city, but not particularly remarkable.

Iran - The tomb of Irans most famous poet Hafez

We return and leave our belongings at the deposit. We enter the impressive courtyard, over the size of a football field. In the center stands the shrine containing the tomb of the Imam’s brother, one of the holiest sites in Iran. We follow the stream of people toward the mausoleum. I observe the locals’ actions and hand over my shoes at the counter. From their reaction, I doubt if it was necessary, but we continue. On the way to the entrance, an Iranian man approaches, introduces himself politely, and asks where we are from. He explains that non-Muslims are not supposed to enter the mausoleum, and we respect this. We are allowed a quick look from the entrance. The shrine is lavishly decorated with gold and pieces of mirror. In the southeast corner of the square lies a second shrine. Our self-appointed guide tells us that we may enter here. The brothers of Mir Ahmad lie within. Again, I leave my shoes outside and enter the mausoleum—a striking space with countless mirror fragments. The divider between the men’s and women’s sections feels unusual. I watch the people praying on their knees and decide to leave them in peace, quickly stepping outside. In the limited shade of a tree, I let the day’s events settle in. After lunch at the teahouse in the bazaar, we decide to walk to Hafez Park, about two kilometers from the center. Along the way, we are frequently approached, asked where we are going today, and, above all, what we think of Iran. We cross the Khoshk River and move into the outskirts. Passing a mosque, we notice wreaths being carried inside. Curious, we look at the entrance and are immediately beckoned in. On the small courtyard, several wreaths are displayed, mostly made of plastic. I realize we have arrived at a funeral, but we are invited inside. I leave my shoes at the rack and enter the mosque. Immediately, I regret it—we are in the middle of a ceremony. As far as I can see, men sit along the sides while one person speaks through a microphone. A man next to me speaks English and asks where we are from. He explains that indeed someone has passed away and reassures us that our presence is not a problem. Islam welcomes everyone. After about ten minutes, the man leaves, and we follow him. Outside, the family is gathered. I try to walk around respectfully, but one family member approaches to offer a “gift.” Refusing is futile; another person comes out with another lunch packet and drink. I accept it, thank the man, and wish him strength. It is a remarkable but also slightly strange experience to witness. By late afternoon, we reach Hafez Park, the tomb of the famous Iranian poet. His tomb is a true pilgrimage site for young people, who pose for photos in various positions. Others sit in the park to relax. We sit at the teahouse terrace and order a pot of tea, enjoying a peaceful break after a day of wandering through the city. A taxi takes us back to the hotel. In the evening, the entire group dines at a restaurant near the bazaar, accompanied by live music.