Mr. Popularity

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The overnight bus trip from Kerman to Shiraz was awful. Buses are not my preferred place for sleeping, I prefer a bed. Sitting next to me was Iman, a top bloke and Chris De Burgh fan (of course). On arrival at Shiraz bus terminal I was besieged by taxi drivers, and being tired and grumpy, started telling them to f*ck off. Eventually I gave in, and was dropped at the guest house which was owned and run by the Sepah militia aka the fanatical religious police.

Shiraz is a beautiful city, and I manage to check out a few sights on the first day, including the Arg-e Karim Khan. Later in the evening I am sitting outside the Arg, contemplating my next move, when I am approached by Abbas, who asks me if I want him to show me around. I agree since I have nothing better to do, and we go walking through the bazaar. As we walk, a friend of Abbas', who is clearly a few sandwiches short of a picnic, starts to follow us. Abbas steps up the pace and we lose him in the crowd. He takes me to the Jameh-ye Atigh mosque, and he shows me some religious posters he is carrying. I am somewhat disturbed when he kisses a poster of Fatima and starts rubbing his beard on her face, but if that makes him happy then so be it. He takes me to the holy shrine and then walks me back to the guest house, and tells me not to go out after 9pm because its a dangerous city.

My French room-mate (whose name I cant pronounce, let alone spell) arrives shortly afterwards, and shares his experience of crossing the border from pakistan with a full police escort. His french accent makes the story even funnier, I love it. He proceeds to roll a fat joint and smoke it in the room, I remind him that the hotel is run by a fanatical religious militia group but it doesnt phase him. Legend.


Thursday sees me head to the beautiful Eram gardens, then on to the Tomb of Hafez which is absolutely pumping - a lack of nightlife in Iran sees people flock to the tombs of the poets. I head to the bazaar and buy a persian rug, which I end up lugging around for the next three days. Later I meet Iman and we head up to the Qaran Gate, where various strangers take my photograph. Actually I think I am the most photographed person in Iran, people either stop me and ask, or drive past on their motorbike with their phones out, or just blatantly walk up and take my picture then walk off. Sucks to be popular...

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