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Published: November 8th 2009
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I left Shiraz at 6.30am, sharing a taxi with a Liverpudlian photographer I had first met on the train from Istanbul to Tehran. Craig was off to sleep in the desert somewhere, but I was headed back to Esfahan. I had decided to avoid travelling through Pakistan - when the local Minister of Education was shot by a passing motorcycle assasin in Quetta I thought I needed to change my plans - and so I no longer needed to head any further east in Iran. This meant I could spend more time in my favourite city of my trip so far. I can't say exactly what the attraction was, but somewhere in between the mystical shimmering blue and saffron tiles of the mosques and the bright friendliness of the locals I was entranced.
Before I left Shiraz I reflected on the widely-held opinion that Shirazis are the friendliest and therefore most likeable Iranians there are. The hotel receptionist disagreed with this, however. He said that he was from Saudi, and that for the ten years he has lived and worked in Shiraz he has not made a single friend. I doubt that his testimony will change the prevailing view, but
I did feel sorry for him - not enough to be his friend, though. Breakfast at the bus station was bananas and more of that sweet tea. The newish luxury coach was good value for $6 for the seven hour trip, which included biscuits and juice on board.
It was good to get back to Esfahan; it felt like I knew the place a little, and felt welcomed. Imam square and the Si-o-seh Bridge - both changing as the light changed through the day. The Grand Bazar, in all its business. I was even moved to send an email to the university to enquire after language courses there. They would be very happy to have me study Farsi for a few months with them, they replied.
Wednesday 28 October On this day I visited Ali Qapu Palace, which was Shah Abbas the first's home in the late sixteenth century (he was one of the popular shahs). I also revisited some of the mosques - at only 50 cents a visit. I did a few mundane things like had burnt a thousand photos I have already taken on this trip onto a DVD, and had a doze by
the river. To facilitate my new non-Pakistan leg of the trip, I booked a ferry to Dubai and tried to book a bed on the train to Bandar Abbas for the following day, but was told the train was fully booked. A night bus it was to be, then. Rather an ignoble end to my stay I thought.
The manager of the busy travel agency called me into his office and made me tea. He had a point to make about Lonely Planet travel guides. The point seemed to involve his telling me of how he has - without charge - helped many tourists who have been in difficulty, and his years of experience running tours from Houston to South America, and how he had been having difficulties with the local police but that he didn't worry as he had an American passport, oh and that he spoke eleven - or was it twelve? - languages. Anyway, I can't remember his main point, but he was unhappy with Lonely Planet, and I promised to hand-deliver a letter from him to their office in Melbourne. It's ok - it's not a sealed package, but as I would have to travel
to their office is in Footscray I am having second thoughts (local humour for people from Melbourne...).
Thursday 29 October My last day in Esfahan - that is until I start my course, I dream. I spent the day walking leisurely around the town, chatting to locals, bumping into a carpet salesman who begins his salespitch until he realises we had the same conversation a few days ago. Browsing bookshops, reading by the dry river. Bandar Abbas was "not pretty" I was told at the travel agency, so I was enjoying the views of Esfahan while I could. Another slight concern had been the length of my Iran visa. My passport was stamped with a 14 day visa on Saturday 17 October. Did that mean I had to leave on or by the Saturday two weeks later, or was that the fifteenth day? I wrote down the days on a scrap of paper and juggled the numbers in my head, obviously favouring the notion that day one was from Saturday to Sunday, and so on, so that day 14 finished on Saturday 31. I didn't get off the train from Istanbul until the day after my visa was
issued, so I did feel I was owed an extra day as well. My journey was sealed anyway, as I couldn't leave the country any sooner than the ferry from Bandar Abbas on that Saturday, unless I flew from Esfahan to Tehran, then flew abroad from there. I had heard that at some borders fines for overstaying were levied and that the paperwork could take several days to complete. I didn't know if you were then fined again for the days you overstayed while completing the paperwork, but I'm sure they had a system.
I was at the northern bus terminal for the 6.30pm night trip. I met a young Iranian guy called Rich, who was "a rapper". He was very critical of life in Iran, as he said he couldn't practice his art and fully express his love for Eminem (whom I understand is a popular music entertainer of sorts). Rich simply could not believe that I had visited the USA and not been to Detroit. Even just one minute in the company of Eminem would make his life complete, he said, giving me an odd handshake. Perhaps he was a Freemason. The bus departed leisurely. By about
7pm we were on the town's outskirts, stopping frequently to pick up unaccompanied boxes of cigarette cartons.
The journey was on very windy and hilly roads, obviously the cross-country route. Annoyingly the lights were turned out soon into the journey, and the overhead reading lamps did not work. I had left my book-light (the one that I had used to defend myself on the unlit train through Albania) in my pack which was in the bus's hold. I did have a fully-charged iPod to explore, though. We stopped at 10pm when everyone got off, and some had a meal in a little cafe. Then a stop at 2am, when a few alighted for reliefment purposes. Hardly anyone stirred at the 6am stop, despite the glaring lights being thrown on in the bus. Those who didn't get off missed a great view of the early dawn lighting up a row of young eucalypt trees framing a medieval series of outside toilets. I made the most of this sight, and what it offered. Would Bandar Abbas, which was alledgedly not-pretty, have any features as good as this?
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