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Wednesday 2004-05-26 - Bonāb, Iran
Delay turns out to be our luck
When we finally arrive in Bonāb, to have a look at the old mosque there, our delay turns out to have been very lucky. Normally non-muslims aren’t allowed to enter this mosque, but at the moment we arrive a service is starting; a prayer service, we think. And when Jan takes a peek through the door, he’s invited in; then to our surprise then our whole group, still standing outside, are invited in. It turns out to be a funeral service. We’re allowed to sit at the side, and can watch the proceedings. One older man and his son are standing at the door - obviously the bereaved. Several young men, all dressed in black trousers and a black shirt, go round with water to spray or pour on the hands of the guests, then tea is brought, sugar, and delicious dates. Little plastic baskets stand all around on the floor for the date pips. Continuously, men come in (we see no women), sit down quietly and get served tea, then pray, and take their leave again, only then saying a few words to the bereaved at the door. Everyone sits on the floor, except a few older men who are sitting on chairs along the wall, near the mullah. And all the while the mullah is praying (it’s almost singing), sometimes answered by some of the men — it’s beautiful to listen to.
The mosque itself is superb, small and simple but with a unique wooden ceiling resting on wooden pillars; the flat ceiling is constructed and painted in a way that’s found nowhere else. So thanks to our delays we get not only a unique chance to watch the inside of this unique mosque, but at the same time experience how a funeral service is conducted. It’s one of those precious experiences that are rare even on a trip like this.
It’s very late and fully dark when via a winding road through the mountains we finally arrive at Takāb.
Thursday 2004-05-27 - Takht-e Soleymān, Iran
Warm welcome in a Kurdish village
On the way to Sanandaj we make a visit to Takht-e Soleymān which has two attractions. One is “Suleiman’s prison” (Zendan-e Soleymān) — nothing to do with anyone’s prison but in reality an extinguished volcanic crater, and then the large citadel called (like the village) Takht-e Soleymān on top of the next mountain. Although the citadel is supposed to be very interesting, with an enclosed lake, most of us decide to skip it: we’ve seen so many citadels already! In-between the two mountains is the small Kurdish village named after the historical citadel (we’re still in Kurdish country here), to where a small group of us walk from the citadel.
First we drink tea at a tiny restaurant strategically located at the entrance of the village. We sit outside on the stoop, in the shade, and chat with a 14-year old boy helping out and the older owner (we never find out whether he’s the boy’s father or his granddad). There’s an old and very deaf grandma as well, and all three are willing subjects to have their photographs taken.
When we walk into the village, we don’t get very far - we’re almost immediately stopped by a woman who asks us to take her picture. She has a big smile with many gold teeth, and her husband, with a really beautiful old face, joins in the fun. We take many pictures of the couple. They even show us their passports (it seems they have to carry them!) with thumbprints and much younger pictures. Although we don’t share a word in any language, we manage to find out the couple have seven sons. They’re very nice and companionable together — I hope that will somehow be visible in the photographs!
Ten meters on we’re invited into a house where men are building an annexe — for the eldest daughter, it turns out later, who’s married to one of the men doing the building; she just had her first baby. Inside, we’re invited to drink tea, and watch the three daughters work on knotting a carpet stretched on a huge loom. It must take very long to make a carpet as big and intricate as they are making, even with three working on it. A little later, the men take a break from their building to have an early lunch (early for us, that is, but they probably started early in the day). We get a taste as well: flat, tasty bread, butter, yogurt, three kinds of cheese, all locally produced. And a little riddle is solved: we’d already often been served tea, with sugar for those who wanted is, but without a spoon to stir. That’s not the way they take their sugar here: the men take a sugar lump into their mouth, pour some of the tea from the glass into the dish, and drink it from there, ‘around’ the sugar. We also take many photographs of the family at their work.
Then the bus is hooting: it’s still a long way to Sanandaj; we never make it farther into the village.
Friday 2004-05-28 - Sanandaj, Iran
“You are more precious than my eyes”
We head for the mosque first, of which we had a glimpse when we walked through Sanandaj last night to watch the people shopping: the streets were busy on a Thursday evening. But today it’s Friday so naturally most stores are closed and it’s very quiet. Behind the old mosque a new prayer hall is being built; Carla and I aren’t allowed in there (Thom tells us later it’s very beautiful), so the two of us head for the women’s prayer hall to the side. Since it’s Friday, prayers are in progress — one woman praying aloud for a group, all in a row closely together. Normally non-muslims aren’t allowed in during prayers but we’re welcomed warmly all the same: we’re waved in, smiled at, and several women bring one or two hands to their eyes: a symbolic greeting we later find out means something like “you are more precious than my eyes.” We sit down at the side for a while, and watch and listen to the proceedings quietly. After a while, one of the women spots Thom waiting outside and points to him; after we take our leave, several women even wave us goodbye from behind the windows.
Tuesday 2004-06-01 - Yazd, Iran
Culture shock (not for us!)
We arrive a little before dinner time in Yazd; Thom, Carla and I are not all that hungry, so we make do with some fruit that we find in one of the shopping streets. After ‘dinner’, Thom and I go out to find a “coffee net”; the place we’re directed to turns out to be a backpackers’ hotel near the Akmir Chakhmagh complex. There’s a single, slow computer with a slow connection used also for the hotel administration — visitors (even non-guests) can use it though (for a reasonable fee). Other than slowness, there’s no problem and I manage to catch up a little of my travel journal backlog.
Meanwhile Thom chats with two boys from the hotel — I don’t follow it all since I’m busy typing but it sounds like they’re talking about subjects like the difference between religion and culture. When I’m finished and we want to leave, it becomes clear what one of the subjects really was: Thom had explained that shaking hands (specifically a man not shaking a woman’s hand) is not something to do with religion: Muslims in other countries do it; friends kissing each other in greeting or to say goodbye is similarly cultural and occurs in different cultures (we do that, but it’s not done here). Now, the boys, one bold, one shy, want to try how one says goodbye in our culture! Bold shakes Thom’s hand, and then my hand without even blinking but after Shy shakes my hand he quickly withdraws it — as if he burned his hand. Then comes the friendly goodbye kiss - we’re friends, after all, after chatting for over two hours… Now Bold gets less bold and wants to ‘practice’ with Thom first while Shy gets more bold and kisses me goodbye (one friendly peck on each cheek). After that it’s Bold’s turn (he gets three). For us, something that would be quite normal taking leave of our friends, for them it’s really shocking to shake hands with a woman and touch cheeks — even when that woman is old enough to be their mother. It makes me wonder how young men grow up here: they can’t really learn to handle emotions of affection or friendship with a woman — what will happen when they’re finally ready to get married?
We have to be let into the hotel by the night watchman when we return at quarter to midnight.
Sunday 2004-06-06 - Shirāz, Iran
Another funeral service
In the afternoon Carla and I cross the river over an old bridge; the river is nearly dry most of the year, flowing through Shirāz and ending in Lake Mahārlu. It’s nearly dry now, but looking at the high walls along the river it must hold a lot of water at times. Just across the bridge is a small mosque with a beautiful dome in the shape of a tulip bulb, covered with intricate tile work. Of the mosque itself (Emāmzādeh-ye Ali Ibn-e Hamze) virtually all of the original 10th century structure has disappeared as a result of both earthquakes and successive repairs and additions but the nicely spaced forecourt is different in that it’s almost completely paved with old gravestones, some very beautiful — we’ve never seen this anywhere else.
As we’ve learned to recognize in Bonāb, a funeral service is obviously in progress as we enter the courtyard - with a difference: the women take part here as well, and we’re invited into the women’s room. It’s quite crowded there, and we hardly find a place to sit without sitting in front of others. Inside, the ceiling is completely covered with small mirrors, giving a dazzling effect. Similar to the funeral service at Bonāb, refreshments are served; here we get dates (filled with nuts and covered in coconut) and lemonade. We’re quite welcome, but leave soon since we’re obviously physically in the way in the crowded space.
Friday 2004-06-11 - Tehrān, Iran
A hasty taste of the capital
For some reason we couldn’t get a flight from Esfahān to Mashhad as planned, so today we first take a flight to Tehrān and fly on to Mashhad in the evening, which gives us a chance to spend a little time in the capital. It’s not an attractive city, we’re told, but at least there are some good museums — some of them closed today because it’s Friday. We make the best of our time here. On most days, traffic is deadly here in this city of 15 million inhabitants, but since it’s Friday most businesses and shops are closed, and crossing the street isn’t a gamble.
Our first stop is at the Historical Museum and the Museum for Islamic Art next door (one ticket for both together). We have only two hours — much too short, 3 hours for each would be normal — but it’s still worth the entry price. The Historical Museum with its superb exhibits in chronological order helps to put into perspective all the things we’ve seen from different periods during the last weeks in Iran. The prehistoric finds, refined figurines and delicately decorated pottery (many pieces depicting ibex) are very interesting, too. Far too little time is left for the Museum for Islamic Art but they have some spectacular exhibits as well. Definitely a place to come back to, with enough time to spend.
After that, a visit to the mountain (hidden here under a multitude of restaurants and teahouses around a stream full of empty bottles) where Tehranians come for the fresh air — and some to do some real mountain climbing farther up; a park (no grass here on the mountainside, but plenty of trees and many seats in the shade, most of them occupied of course); and finally a modern shopping center where the (expensive) shops are actually open.
After that tour we leave for the airport again for our flight to Mashhad and have a nice Iranian dinner on board.
Tuesday 2006-09-05 - P’yŏngyang, Democratic People’s Republic of Korea
We meet our team
Outside the P'yŏngyang airport, our team for the trip is waiting for us: Mr. Pak, an experienced 44-year old guide (he's been doing this for 18 years, since shortly after the country opened up for tourists), Miss Un Hui ("Uni"), 22 years old and still inexperienced but friendly and open, and Mr. Hwang, a very experienced driver.
While we drive to the city, Uni tells us a little about the country: Korea has a population of 80 million in total, of which 20 live in the North. P’yŏngyang has 2.5 million inhabitants, 1.5 million of them in the suburbs. North and South Korea together are really one country, sharing one culture and one language. She gets a little flustered when interrupted with a question, but recovers fast — it’s just the nervousness of meeting a new group of people. Her English is actually very good, though not completely accentless. She tells me that in middle school students can choose between Russian and English as a foreign language. It’s obvious that she enjoys being a guide, though she’s still very much a junior and has been working for only 1.5 years.
On the way to the hotel we stop at the “Arc de Triomphe” — larger than the one in Paris — but I’m afraid I’m more interested in the people I see dancing on the other side of the street, my attention drawn by the sound of traditional instruments. I ask Uni what’s happening; they’re practicing for the Arirang games, she explains, even though it has been postponed because of the flooding. When I ask if we can go have a look, she says she’ll have to ask Mr. Pak; but we end up taking pictures and I even make a small video with my new camera.
On arrival at the Yanggakdo hotel (which I recognize from the satellite picture on Google maps) our passports are collected for registration but Mr. Pak promises we’ll have them back after two days and they’ll take good care of them.
Wednesday 2006-09-06 - P’yŏngyang, Democratic People’s Republic of Korea
Greeting the great leader
In Korea, people believe everything starts again after 60 years so at your 60th birthday there is normally a big party. When president Kim Il Sung turned 60 in 1972, obviously there was an extra-big party: for the occasion the Mansudae Grand Monument was erected in P'yŏngyang; it consists of a big copper-colored statue of the president, flanked on on either side by two 50-meter long memorials celebrating the liberation from the nearly 40-year long Japanese occupation. The sculpture is remarkable - not just the stark realism most of us associate with art from communist countries but with an inspired simplicity added to it, especially in the statue of president Kim Il Sung. I'm impressed.
As all tourists here (including North Korean tourists) do, we visit the monument to deposit a bunch of flowers as a tribute from our “delegation” at the Great leader’s feet, stand in a row, and bow. We’re “required” to do this of course, but when in Rome…
Korean culture
Next on our program for today is a visit to the Folklore Museum in P'yŏngyang which turns out to be very interesting. As at every tourist site in North Korea, we get a local guide - a good thing since all the explanatory texts with the well-presented exhibits are in Korean. Many murals, paintings and schematics explain the use of containers, agricultural instruments and fishing gear -- from prehistoric times to the present.
The section on clothing is also very interesting, showing how the traditional style we see now evolved from simple tunics worn over trousers or a long skirt. When a child turns one, it's dressed up in new clothes with rainbow colors, and presented with a table with various toys and implements; what the child chooses to play with (say, a brush) is supposed to predict what the child will grow up to be (a brush would represent an intellectual). This custom is still alive -- the rainbow colors worn on every birthday, not just the first -- and later on we actually see a little boy proudly skipping around dressed up in rainbow colors.
Crossing the bridge
From Folklore Museum we continue our P’yŏngyang city tour by walking to the Taedong river, across the bridge, and then along the other side to the Tower of the Juche Idea (“Ju che” means something like self reliance, the philosophy introduced by the Great Leader Kim Il Sung). The tower, designed by the president himself, forms a remarkable landmark in P’yŏngyang with its 170m height, 20m of which is formed by a flame that at night is lighted and flickers like a candle. Along the river, more people are gathered to practice for the Arirang games — these are playing the People’s Army and fitted out in fake (but realistic) uniforms. When a few of us (me included) go to the top of the tower (by elevator, of course) we have mot only an excellent view of the huge city around us but also of the people exercising below.
Before the tower, on the river side, is a statue that symbolizes the three pillars of North Korean society: three people carrying the symbolic implements, the hammer for the workers, the sickle for the farmers, and the brush for the intellectuals. (The latter indicating how different North Korean culture actually is from the Chinese where intellectuals were abhorred during the cultural revolution.)
Later, we hear from Mr. Pak that we are actually the first tour group ever in North Korea to be allowed to walk across the bridge to the Juche Tower like we did today. Mostly, he tells us, this is because we are disciplined, and don’t run off all over the place — like Russians tend to do. With us, he can “manage” it so that we have a little freedom without causing problems. We’re to experience many more examples of the way in which Mr. Pak tries to build a little flexibility into our schedule, and not just show us what is required to be shown, but also try to accommodate our wishes.
Thursday 2007-04-05 - Sana’a, Yemen
The wedding
When we arrived at our Sana’a hotel last night, we noted a big tent on a field across from the hotel; it’s for a wedding, they told us: men and women celebrate separately, and it lasts three days. A big wedding like this one also costs a lot of money.
Today is the third day of the wedding, and Marie Josee heard the men would do the special Jambiya dance. After a copious dinner with lots of local dishes, all delicious, we head to the big tent — which turns out to be completely empty! A man nearby spots our intention and points us into a street, at the end of which we see a crowd, and white stuff curving through the air (rice?); there’s music coming from that direction, too, we can’t miss it. When we get close, we see men and boys dancing to music coming from loudspeakers, a big crowd around then watching, boys even sitting on walls to get the best view; unless it’s the women we note on one of the roofs looking over the parapet who have an even better view from above. In the middle is a man with a video camera, and lots of people are also taking pictures with compact cameras and with their mobile phones.
We conclude it’s OK to take pictures then, and try to find a place on some piles of stone against a wall. Soon one man spots us, takes Thom by the hand, and thus leads us through the crowd until we have a place at the front! In one corner of the dancing floor the groom is sitting, behind a little decorative tree with candles; he’s only watching the proceedings, in beautiful clothes, a flower garland around his neck, holding a big sword in a golden sheath. I think he looks a little stoned, maybe he had a lot of qat, or maybe he’s just tired after three days of celebrations — or both. One by one, some of us are invited to sit down next to him, and get photographed and videoed together with the groom as if we are special guests — me included. That gives me occasion to take a close-up portrait of him, which he likes very much. Someone offers to take a picture of us both with my camera, which after some fiddling and advice from bystanders he manages to do: a nice memento of a special first evening in Yemen.
