Journey to the Past

We arrived in Isfahan after a four hour drive through some of the most beautiful countryside I've ever seen - hot, dry desert peppered with expansive green plains, flat as flat can be except for small groves of trees here and there...and then, ironically, not too far in the distance massive mountain peaks topped with snow - and then we were met by a city so well manicured, so verdant, the entire place seemed to be one big park.

Once we found a hotel we liked we were faced with the issue of proving our married status. The notarized, certified, and endorsed papers from India simply were not enough to satisfy the law regarding mixed gender hotel rooms and so we were sent to visit with a local branch of government apparently qualified to determine if we were in fact married.
The officers were kind, and laughing a bit at my very informal Farsi as I replied to their inquiry as to how I was with a phrase normally used only between close friends and family, not with government officials. H quietly offered the corrected version of what I was trying to say, and I repeated my sentence again in the more formal tone - embarrassed now to have been so blunt with these men of rank and office. But they just smiled and signed our paper, sending us on our way with a reminder that I need to be aware of my dress while in Isfahan.

I was wearing clothes I feel quite comfortable in in Tehran where modernity has made its mark on fashion even within the strictness and imposition of law - but entering this new city I could see a much more conservative style of dress in the local women, nearly all of whom were dressed head to toe in black, and not an inch of skin showing, even at the ankle where Tehrani girls are so much more relaxed with cropped pants and open mules or heels. As we drove I looked into the clusters of people dotting the tree-lined sidewalks, searching for girls and women, trying to gauge the social atmosphere and coming up consistently empty in terms of leniency in dress.
So we headed back to the hotel, permission to share a room together in hand, and I changed my clothes (to little avail as everyone apparently found us very interesting anyway).

And then, we were tourists:
Isfahan is home to a gorgeous bridge, some three hundred years old, built over a wide, slow river - a gorgeous place where people congregate in the evenings, picnicking, walking, playing football, or just talking together. Smaller in stature and more compact in layout, it is the most beautiful city I've seen in Iran thus far - rivaling even Tehran's obsession with trees and gardens.

While searching for one of the local attractions, a bird sanctuary with vultures, bald eagles, peacocks in every color, and every other fowl both land and water that you can imagine, we came upon a road so lovely we simply drove and drove, forgetting our destination entirely as we curled along the river under a canopy of leafy trees. The silence of the area, apparently a small farming community in Isfahan, and the beauty of the river and its gentle road reminded me of scenes from car ads. It was a simple meditation, and although we were in our car there was such an easy connection with nature - something I'd been craving after such a long stay in Bangalore.
After coming out of our reverie we turned back and found our birds - yet another perfectly maintained garden.

Isfahan was absolutely gorgeous and was a wonderful two-day stop on the way to Shiraz, as close to Iraq as I imagine I'll ever be, at only another six hours drive - and where we would find the heart of the Iranian empire, dating back more than 2,500 years.

About 90 kilometers from Isfahan we entered Shahreza, a small, sleepy town. Not particularly notable except once, when I turned to look out my window at a small furry creature wearing a tiny t-shirt and clinging to a motorcyclists back - it was a little monkey. We sped up to catch them at the light and laughed as we saw that yes, there was in fact a very little monkey with very big eyes sitting quite comfortably on the back of a motorcycle.

Another four hours through the massive plains, surrounded on nearly all sides at a distance by mountains so beautiful they resemble paintings, and we enter Shiraz. Distinctly larger and more modern than Isfahan, Shiraz is home to one of the most prestigious universities in Iran as well as it's own beautiful gardens, fountains, and the enshrined tombs of Hafez and Sa'di (another famous Persian poet).

Finding the tomb of Hafez was finding a part of the heart of Iran, as people sat near his marble coffin, reading from their Diwans of Hafez and praying quietly to him. Children played nearby while their parents came, one by one, to touch his resting place, housed beneath an intricately tiled circular ceiling perched on tall white pillars. The energy there was one of peace and quiet - a reverence for a man who brought poetry, philosophy, and religious thought to the people.
The gardens surrounding Hafez' tomb, all flowers and grass and trees, created an impressive frame for this holy space, which also contained a small old-style tea salon where Darvishes and other thinkers sat together reciting Hafez and discussing the philosophy of good versus evil and the general nature of humanity.

From Shiraz we drove an hour or so back toward Tehran to Takhd-Jamshid (Pers[e]polis) where the birth of the Iranian empire took place over 2,500 years ago.
There, we were surrounded by ancient columns, statues, and stone carvings of such detail and magnitude we were left wondering how the workers (who even back then were afforded contracts outlining the policy of their insurance, overtime, and holidays) managed to create the sprawling city in such powerful heat and with the comparably meager technology of the time. The houses and castles sported indoor plumbing, provided by carefully crafted pipes, as well as ventilation systems designed to cool the rooms naturally.

It was easy to see, over the four day journey, why Persia was such a great civilization from its very inception. The artwork, jewelry, and pottery showed beautiful attention to detail and devotion to creativity, and the documents written in ancient script extolled the virtues of the rulers of the time - basic tenets of the strengths of human nature and a belief in natural inclination toward kindness and generosity - traits still so evident in Persian culture and society today.

When we initially entered Iran at the international airport in Tehran we were told by the customs officials and their military counterparts that I am literally the last American tourist allowed into the country for the next while as our two countries try to work out their communication issues. I am an anomaly here like no other, and I am lucky to be so, and I know it.
There is no aspect of being here for which I am ungrateful - even just being in Tehran is a blessing - but to be gifted such a trip, to South Iran, to see things perhaps no one else in my American generation will see in person - is something for which I simply do not have words. There is no way to explain or express the feelings I experienced during our visit to South Iran - as even the smallest, most insignificant things for me are an adventure in and of themselves.