Hotel rest in Tabriz

When we got to Tabriz we were desperate to find a hotel. We didn’t need to, there were plenty of warm showers hosts across the city but we REALLY wanted to stay in a hotel. Here’s why…

If you have read any of our other blogs about Iran you will know Iranian hospitality is world class, the best! And it is, it’s amazing. Iranians are warm, funny, generous and very consientious people. 

But after nearly three weeks of travelling here we have discovered that Iranian hospitality can become a tad overbearing to an outsider. 

Before you denounce us for being ungrateful, cynical travellers here’s an insight into Iranian hospitality. 

First of all there’s the sheer amount of hospitality which is offered. 

Naturally we’re used to folks beeping, waving and flagging us down while we’re cycling along and we are almost always happy to stop, take the customary photo and answer the normal questions. After all, we did choose to cycle a ridiculous looking bike.

Quick snap with a roadside admirer

But if we stopped for everyone in Iran, honestly, we would never get to our destination because someone tries to flag us down around every 15-20 minutes. So instead, we occasionally slow down, wave and say in our limited Farsi: ‘sorry we can’t stop, thank you, goodbye!’. 

If we are lucky, they understand but often they will simply get back in their car, tail us for a while, overtake while shouting their questions from the window, and then rashly cut in front of us and stop again… 

Also, sometimes, just sometimes, we want to eat a meal without four different individuals interrupting us to ask ‘where we are from’, ‘do we need help’, ‘are you sure the bicycle is safe’, ‘you must be very careful’… Etc. 

Secondly, when you do get a rapport going with someone there’s the need to navigate your way through Taroof, Iran’s cultural etiquette of extreme politeness. 
Taroof is hard to get your head around. First of all you are set the task of identifying if that ‘free ice cream’, ‘free lift’ or offer to host you really is genuine. To do this you should decline their offer a number of times. The conversation goes something like this:

Host: ‘I would like to host you at my house’

Us: ‘No, no, it’s ok thanks’

Host: ‘No, I really would like to have you at my house’

Us: ‘No, honestly, it’s really ok, we can sleep here’

pause

Host: ‘Wait, I will call my friend who speaks good English, and he can tell you how much I want you to stay’

Friend: ‘Hello? Yes my friend really wants you to stay at his house’

Us: ‘Oh, ok then, that’d be lovely’

Sometimes a scenario arises where, for whatever reason, you really don’t want to accept their kind offer to host you. You’ve already completely emptied your food pannier and your tent is half way to being pitched. Maybe their house is a 15 minute cycle away and you’ve already completed a hard 90km day; mentally you’ve stopped for the day and the last thing you want to do is get back on that bike. Or perhaps you’ve just completed a 500m climb, you’re starving and you know the only way you’re guaranteed to eat a meal in the next half an hour is if you cook it yourself on your stove. 

So you continue to decline their offer and soon they realise you don’t want to stay with them. You then either have to face their bitter disappointment or they try a different tack and start telling you that it’s a security risk camping here anyway or it’ll be far too cold.

In the end you end up accepting, either because you’re tired of declining or because you feel guilty! 

The worst scenario of all is of course, when you misread Taroof. Suddenly your host feels bound to take you back to their house when they don’t really want to. They are angry about this, and this anger can manifest itself in a strange passive aggressive attitude towards you. To make up for your error you work extra hard back at the house to break the ice. But you still go to sleep knowing you’re in a home that had no intention of hosting you in the first place. Awkward! Fortunately this has only happened to us once! 

Even in the congenial scenario where our hosts are delighted to have us and we are very happy to accept, Taroof still naturally comes into play. 

‘Please eat more; was your shower ok; you must be careful on the roads; I think that route will be far too cold and dangerous…’

Of course we don’t mind this because we know that this attitude comes from a wonderfully loving place and is genuine concern for our comfort and welfare. There have been a few times however, when the Taroof has reached a point of complete ridiculousness!

Twice now our hosts have insisted on getting into their car to escort us out of the town. They insist, even though they know that we have a gps and have navigated our way through ten countries, and across 11,000km of terrain. 

The first time this happened our host absolutely insisted that the quickest and easiest way for us to exit the town was up a stiff 300m climb instead of the alternative 8km longer DOWNHILL route around the mountain. We tried to explain our predicament but he insisted. Naturally we both ended up very grumpy. We, because we had to struggle up an unessesary climb, and our host, because he spent 35 minutes of his day crawling up the hill in his car at 7km an hour. 

Another time one of our hosts had given us a bag of walnuts weighing about 3kg in weight. I decided to split this yummy gift in 2 and give one bag to our next hosts two days later. I made the grave error of attempting to give this gift to our hosts in front of their neighbours, and so followed a dramatic show of Taroof. 

I put on my most gracious smile and offer them the bag explaining it’s a small gift for their wonderful hospitality. It’s pushed back into my hands. I offer it again and this time it’s taken but then simply hung on my handlebars. I patiently unhooked the bag and offer it again but by this point our host is backing away, their eyes darting between my face and the walnuts as if the bag might explode at any moment. 

I shove the bag into their hands and it’s shoved back. Things were starting to get violent…

It was only when I started to show my irritation, and they realise that the walnuts were in danger of falling all over the floor, did they feel it was ok to accept!

We’ve absolutely loved staying with our Iranian hosts. 99% of the time it has been a wonderful, wonderful experience and many of them realise how alien Taroof might be to us so they dispel any anxiety by asserting there is ‘no Taroof’ in their house. 

But don’t judge us for wanting one night, just one night, in a hotel room. A place where we can lie on a bed in just our t-shirt and pants, stuffing our faces with chocolate digestives while reading the Internet; despairing over the news that two of our MEPs had a fist fight in the European Parliament and that Donald Trump might just win the US election…

Tomorrow we’ll be back on the road and ready and eager to make more friends in Iran. 

Good night! 

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Ashura

On the 2nd of October the annual Ashura festival started. This ten day festival of mourning remembers the third Imam Hossain, particularly focussing on his bloody murder. 

It’s probably the strangest festival we have ever encountered and we’ve been fortunate to have passed through a number of cities and towns to see how it’s played out in different places. 

At first glance, the ten days are seemingly marked by uplifting evening gatherings of worshippers who meet in the main square every night to chant, play very large drums and listen to a select group of singers reciting the story of Hossain. The proceedings are heartfelt but relaxed with different generations getting involved and a communal feel about the whole experience. 


Explore a little deeper however and you begin to see some rather quirky traditions which make the whole thing start to feel all rather macabre. 

Almost everyone, especially in more rural areas, wears black for the full ten days. Remember this is supposed to be a period of national mourning. When we cycle through a town it can feel a little sinister, especially with all the women waring jet black chadors which ripple eerily around them in the autumn breeze. Black bunting hangs over the streets above.


Public outpourings of grief are common especially during the evening ceremonies. You may see some people discreetly lying on the floor weeping genuine tears.


Men preform a ritual dance with sticks or chains (many of them go into a trance like state) and the crowds will beat their chests or head in time to the music while repeating the name of the Imam or reciting some of the religious texts. 


Parading through the streets with drums and flags is also widespread and it was once common practice for the men to flagellate themselves with chains. 


This practise has fortunately now been made illegal but the chains are still sold openly in shops. 


Whether it’s mainly ceremonial or the real practise is still widespread we don’t really know – we’ve seen a bit of both!

Lots of people decorate their cars with red paint which oozes down their windows and headlights and in Tabriz even the water in the fountains had been turned red in commemoration of the Imams martyrdom. Restaurants also play mournful vocal music dedicated to the remembrance of his death. We even cycled by a market place where a makeshift stand was blasting out a recording of sobbing voices into the crowd of shoppers.

Even cartoons on children’s television tell the story of Hossain’s murder. His crying horse always features heavily in the story and the killing scene gets pretty graphic!

We’d be missing Haloween back home but we sort of feel we’ve had our very own in Iran! 

Kandovan

Before spending some time cycling in the northwest tip of Iran we needed to get there. 

We didn’t have time to cycle the whole way from Isfahan so we jumped on another overnight bus to Tabriz. 

We weren’t too fussed about spending much time in another big city, so we decided to spend a day visiting Kandovan, a sleepy village 65km from Tabriz. It’s a cool place to visit because the old town is made up of ancient troglodyte homes carved out of strange humps of eroded rock. 


Kandovan is up a very hard climb but luckily there were two warm showers hosts in a town called Osku 40km from Tabriz. Osku is the natural base for tourists wanting to visit Kandovan village so it was perfect, we could cycle there and then stay with some locals.

Sirious, wife Rebob and their lovely family (who had been in their new flat only a week before they offered to host us) were really great to stay with and we enjoyed our time with them. They didn’t speak much English but that was good because it made us learn more Farsi! 


Their grown up daughter Mahsa came home in the evening from Tabriz where she works as a nurse and she spoke really good English so after dinner we all went out to look at the Ashura festivities taking place across the town. 


Ali, Sirious’ youngest child and only son was taking part in the ceremonies so we only met him briefly between drumming sessions. 


The next day we spent with Hassan and his wife Elnaz, the other warm showers hosts registered in Osku, as they had kindly offered to spend the day with us exploring Kandovan and the surrounding countryside. 


First we stopped at an abandoned troglodyte site – an amazing collection of underground homes and animal shelters. 


Then after spending an hour walking around Kandovan village we took a drive south across a really nice mountain road before eating lunch (fresh chicken kebabs) in Hassan’s huge allotment. 


Discussion turned to why the couple have a plan to emigrate to Australia after Elnaz has finished her PHD which she studies for in Turkey. We also talked about Aziri-Iranian politics in this part of Iran and how many people in the region would like some form of independence. 

Eating fresh grapes from the garden

Hassan dropped us off at 3pm and we picked up the bike from Sirious’ flat. After saying our goodbyes to everyone we cycled back towards Tabriz where we planned to stay the night before heading north. 

Isfahan in pictures

Us with Ali our super chilled warm showers host
Sheep head for breakfast – cheek and tongue were ok, not too sure about the brains so early in the morning!!

 

Our first visit of the whole trip to a Christian building – Orthdox Armenian church in Jolfa region of the city
Four hundred year old paintings of heaven and hell inside
Outside the old palace
More blue tiled mosques – this one is supposedly the most beautiful mosque in the world…
Inside the mosque
Carved walls and ceiling of the music room in the old palace – very cool!
One of the many old bridges which cross the river – recently dried up after the government decided the water was needed elsewhere!

Back on the road: Shiraz to Isfahan 

After leaving Azhang and Bita we continued to cycle out of Shiraz. Traffic was heavy due to it being a weekend, with lots of people heading out of the city to spend a day in the surrounding countryside. 

After a few too many close over-takers we decided to try our first hitch in Iran. Iranian drivers really are the worst we’ve ever encountered, even worse that Myanmar and Kyrgyzstan.

Hitchhiking isn’t that common in Iran we’re told and the road we were on was pretty fast moving but eventually a truck did stop and a lovely chap dropped us 25km down the road where the traffic was beginning to thin.  

Very soon we turned off the main road leading to Isfahan and took a rural detour via Sepeydan. When we reached the town we stopped for an ice cream and got chatting to a local who eagerly showed us pictures of his mountain bike. He had it in the back of his car along with all his gear so he ended up cycling with us up the hill for an hour. 


Half way up we stopped in a lay by and 3 minutes later along came his wife, parents and children piled into an old landrover. 

In true Iranian style, a carpet was laid over two large slabs of styrofoam and a pot of tea, complete with silver tray, and a huge bowl of fruit is produced. It was a lovely way to end the day before we found a secluded spot to pitch our tent. 



Day 2

The next day promised a mix of climbing and long downhill sections. The landscape was pretty brown after the long summer. 


We stop in a small village where some police keep us a while to check our passports. We also meet this lovely lady who is dressed in this amazing outfit complete with think black eyeliner.


We finish the day with a pretty big climb and camp just off the road.

Day 3

A long downhill section awaited us the next morning which would take us towards the town of Yasuj. We needed to spend some time there changing money and food shopping. 


A small point of interest along the way down was what is known as the Persian Gate. It’s a steep valley where the Achaemenid army took its final stand against Alexander the Great’s oncoming Macedonian forces. The battle that took place here is as historic as the famous Persian-Spartan battle of Thermopile because it’s outcome really decided the fate of the war and the numbers of each side were heavily uneven. Unlike Thermopile it was the Persians who were the underdogs at the Persian Gate (10,000 v 700) but by using the terrain to their advantage they managed to wipe out huge swathes of Alexander’s men forcing them to retreat and regroup. Unfortunately for the Persians, their victory was short-lived, and Alexander managed to find an alternative route up the mountain, ambushing the Persians and slaughtering most of them. He then marched onwards, unchallenged, to Persepolis. 

The valley also offered up a rare opportunity for us to wash our clothes. Iran seriously lacks water at this time of year as it has no major rivers running through any of the country. 


We spent a long morning in Yasuj hunting for a money exchange. Eventually we got taken to a local jewellers by a very kind bank manager. 

We were very worried that the next stretch of road would be really busy but the cycle ended up being incredibly scenic and the road had a descent hard shoulder and wasn’t too crowded. 


Day 4 

Day 4 promised a lot of climbing but with it the scenery got better and better.

We also had to navigate through a lot of tunnels.


Our destination that evening was Ab Malakh waterfall which Azhang and Bita had told us about. It sounded amazing and wasn’t in the guidebook which made us want to go there even more! 

After a particularly long climb we free wheeled down into this beautiful valley where this picturesque town overlooked tiered rice fields, mountains completing the picture behind. 


Another long ascent awaited us after but a recording of Billie Connolly live entertained us as while we climbed. 

Ab Malakh waterfall is situated 10km off the main road. Visitors need to get down the very steep dirt track to the river and climb up the other side to the tiny village beyond which acts as a base to walk the 2km to the falls. We were certain we’d be able to get down to the village but had no inclination to, or conviction that we’d be able to, cycle back up the next morning. This meant we needed to try and organise a lift. 

The thing about travelling with a tandem for nine months is that you end up thinking that anything is possible and that everything will be OK in the end. So we descended the steep track confident that we’d be able to communicate what we needed to someone in the village. Of course we were happy to pay any costs. 


The track was very steep… And on the way up to the village on the other side we got a puncture… 

However it was all good. We reached the village and met two young lads called Ibrahim and Hassan who had a very small amount of English. With a our limited Farsi and lots of hand signals we managed to communicate that we needed a truck or car to pick us up at 11:30 the next morning, they said no problem, they could arrange it. Experience has learnt that 99.9% of time you can completely trust people. Sorted! 

To top it off a local family in the village offered to host us that night and we spent a lovely evening eating barbecued fresh fish caught from the waterfall and sleeping on their porch.

Family breakfast
Fish kebabs
 

The village mosque glowing at dusk

Day 5
One of the sons (I’m afraid we’ve forgotten his name!!) offered to take us to the waterfall the next morning so at 8:30 the three of us set off.


It was a stunning walk through a steep gorge and we were the only people around. This meant I didn’t need to bother too much with hijab.

Then we caught sight of the waterfall which looks like it’s just pouring down from the middle of the mountainside through a rich green arch of vegetation to the river below. 


This natural phenomenon was made when a huge landslide fell and blocked the river. 


Over the years the river has carved out a new path through the rock creating a short tunnel. At the same time, an underground spring inside the mountain found an opening where the landslide had occurred; hence the water cascading down over the tunnel made by the river. 


Because we had a local with us we were able to find our way down to both sides of the waterfall and see exactly what was going on. It was very cool!


After exploring for an hour Paddy and I both took a deep breath and had a quick dip in the pools. It was freezing but we hadn’t had a wash in five day so we really needed it!


When we got back, to our relief Ibrahim was there early ready to take us back to the road but there was a slight problem… He only had his motorcycle with him!!!

After a while we realised he had a plan to tow us and the tandem up the slope… ‘Ummm… I’m not sure that’s going to work’ we said. 

We’ve managed to get tandem on every kind of transport imaginable… Trains, buses, trucks, tiny cars… we even got it on this canoe boat once in Myanmar… 

But we had never got it on a motorcycle before… Until now. 

Our lovely guide went to fetch his other motorbike and together we took the bags, wheels and seat posts off and strapped tandem across the first bike with Paddy perched on top. Unfortunately we have no photos of this… 

The second bike took me and most of the luggage. Somehow we managed to get everything up in just three trips. The guys were absolute heroes. Here they are at the top looking pretty pleased with themselves! 


It was 1:30 before we got back to the road and we had some serious climbing to do. We were heading to the town of Semirom where we planned to catch a bus to Isfahan. It didn’t really matter if we arrived that night or tomorrow morning so we didn’t push it. 

On the way up we were given gifts of water, cakes, apples, a bag of walnuts and a huge box of dates. Iranians really are the friendliest people ever.


We camped off the side of the road 40km from Semiron and tucked into the dates… Iranian dates are like little droplets of heaven, I can’t eat enough of them and they are particularly nice spread over a digestive biscuit. 🙂 


We easily reached Semiron the next day and by 12:30 we were on a bus zooming along the last 180km to Isfahan.  

Shiraz

A young law graduate called Hamid had offered to host us in Shiraz. It was really nice sharing his super central flat with his aunt, sister and younger brother. Hamid was busy looking after his mother’s tailors shop while she was away visiting family so we only got to hangout with him in the evenings.
His 22 year old sister Fahima who is studying tourism at the local college however was still on her summer break so she offered to show us around one day. 


We started at the late 18th century Vakil bazaar and wondered through its many domed brick streets and visited it’s two green courtyards. 


After a coffee together we headed over to the Arg-e Karim Khan – the fortress-like royal court of Karim Khan who, the 18th century ruler who is responsible for most of Shiraz’s historic buildings. 


There wasn’t much to see here to be honest but we did enjoy the actors who were walking around in period costume… 🙂


After lunch, Paddy and I headed down to Aramgah-e Shah-e Cheragh shrine complex. In 835 AD Sayyed Mir Ahmed, brother to Imam Reza’s (who’s own pilgrimage site is in Mashhad), was hunted down and murdered by the Caliphate.

We have had to overcome a minor frustration while sightseeing in Iranian cities. The very high entrance fees for all the attractions are prohibitive for those on a budget. If our guide book (published in 2012) is anything to go by, admission fees were nowhere near as extortionate a few years ago and it seems the government recently introduced a blanket tourist fee of 200 rials ($5) for most ‘attractions’. Even the smaller mosques now charge this fee and needless to say Iranians pay a fraction of the price or go free. 

We don’t mind paying to see historic buildings but it’s hard to part with $10 each time when you end up walking aimlessly around a semi renovated building with no explanations or guides in English.

The exceptions have been when visiting the major shrine sites. Both the Harem-e-Rezavi and Aramgah-e Shah-e Cheragh complexes were completely free to enter and we got a free English speaking guide to take us around.


Eating out isn’t dirt cheap either and there is a distinct lack of decent restaurants, with fast food joints and kebab shops making up the short fall.

Thanks to our amazing warm showers hosts however we’ve been able to avoid paying any hotel costs so far and we’ve enjoyed some tasty nutritious home cooked meals. 

Fahima cooked Ash one morning which is a thick vegetable soup found all over Iran. Shirazi’s typically eat it for breakfast.

That evening we went to the tomb of the famous Iranian poet Hafez. Iranians are very proud of their literary history and many of their great poets have been honoured with spectacular mausoleums. Iranians will make almost pilgrimage like journeys to visit these sites, touching or kissing the tombs while reciting some of their favourite verses. 

It was nice visiting after dark as the spectacular dome covering the tomb was all lit up and it was pleasant to walk around the surrounding gardens. 


We come across a small band of people sitting in one dark corner listening to one man who is reciting a whole chunk of Hafez’s works by heart. 


After spending some time near the tomb Fahima took us to the cafe to have our first taste of falooduh an alternative to ice cream but made of short strings of frozen starch. I think we’ll both stick to ice cream next time! 

The next day we had a relaxing morning at the flat and then spent some time food shopping before 
rounding off the afternoon with a traditional Shirazi pastime – a picnic in the UNESCO Bagh-e Eram gardens.

Not wanting to disturb Hamid and his family too much by overstaying our welcome we decided to spend a night with Azhang (civil engineer) and Bita (architectural consultant), another warm showers host who live in the west of the city for our last night before heading north to Isfahan. Actually they had only been signed up to the site for a week so we happened to be their first guests!! 


They were a super couple with a lovely apartment and we had a great evening with them and needless to say, we were VERY well looked after! 

They cooked us a delicious meal of Dizzie which is a very traditional Iranian dish.

A large watery stew of chickpeas, potatoes, lamb, tomatoes and carrots gets cooked on a low heat for a good few hours.

The liquid is drained into a large bowl and the meat and veg then pounded into a thick paste. 


Ladles of the liquid are placed in your bowl and then you tear pieces of bread into it. Some people like to mix the paste into their soup but others eat it separately with bread, salad, pickled veg and olives. It’s very tasty!

After dinner we took a stroll together in the local park. People stay up late here including young families so the park is a hive of activity. Azhang treated us to an amazing ice cream – another thing the Iranians do very well. 

In fact the average Iranian has a very sweet tooth and cakes, sweets, ice cream and pastries are eaten at all times of day. They love cake so much they even eat it for breakfast! 


The next morning happened to be a Friday, the weekend in Iran, so Bita and Azhang were able to have a long breakfast and then cycle some of the way with us on their own bikes. They are both very fond of the outdoors and have a dream to plan their own cycle tour across Russia in the next few years. 


After 15km of cycling together we stopped to say goodbye. But not before we let them have a go at riding the tandem! They coped pretty well considering we were heavily loaded!

So we find ourselves heading north up to Isfahan which we hope will take around 5 days on the bike. We might end up taking a bus from a town called Semirom. 

Persopolis

 It was time to dive into Iran’s ancient Persian history and where better to start than Persopolis, the ancient city of the Achaemenid empire which sits north east of Shiraz. We would take a bus from Yazd, spend a night camping next to the ruins and spend the next afternoon cycling the remaining 60km to Shiraz after visiting the site. 


From the very beginning, Persopolis was intended to be a ‘showcase city’ to illustrate and flaunt the wealth, power and artistic superiority of the Achaemenid empire. 

Construction started in 520 BC under Darius I and added to over the next 150 years by his son Xersus and other subsequent rulers. It’s worth pointing out that Britain was still stuck in the Iron Age with the Celtic people building their ditch and bank forts at this point and the great Roman buildings such as the coliseum wouldn’t be built for another 550 years. 


It’s also worth noting that unlike many of the great Greek structures which were being built at around the same time (e.g. Acropolis of Athens) Persopolis was built, not by slaves, but by paid labourers and artisans, a testament to the humility and egalitarian approach adopted by Persia’s rulers.

The geographical location is significant – it sat at the centre of the empire which, at its height, encompassed Afghanistan and Pakistan and stretched all the way west to parts of present day Greece, and south to Ethiopia.
Historians believe the city which, sits elevated on a towering 12m stone platform, was used for an important annual gathering on No Ruz (Persian new year) when subjects from across the empire would travel to pay tribute to their King. 

The city was taken, looted and later burned by Alexander the Great in 330BC and then for 2000 years much of it lay beneath large dunes of sand and dust which helped to preserve what was left. Archaeological excavations started in the late 1800s.

Unfortunately we forgot to change the battery in the digital camera and so had to make do with Paddy’s phone for the second half of our visit…


Even though there is little left of the sparkling city there’s enough to spark your imagination. 


A majestic double staircase leads up to the city complex and then a walkway takes you through a towering doorway called the Gate of All Nations which is flanked by giant winged bull creatures.


There are some amazing bas-relief sculptures decorating the Apadana palace and staircase. They depict the delegations from the Empire’s various provinces arriving at the city gates baring gifts of cloth, livestock, pottery and furniture. 


The Palace of 100 Columns and the Tripylon are pretty awe inspiring mainly due to the height and number of stone columns which make up the structures. These would have been vast halls with towering ceilings and polished stone walls but historians argue over their exact use and purpose. 


It was possible to climb up the hill to the tombs of Atraxerxes II and III which offered amazing panoramic views of the site. 


It was a great morning and because we had camped so near the site we were among the first in at 8am, missing the worst of both the crowds and the heat. 

After a hurried lunch of Falafel rolls and Zam Zam cola (which we later realised we never paid for!!!) we got ready to cycle to Shiraz. Our exit was delayed due to lots of people wanting to pose for photos with the tandem. 

It was great to be back on the bike – our first proper cycle in Iran – but it was during the hottest part of the day and I was still getting used to wearing full hejab and a headscarf under my helmet. It was incredibly uncomfortable cycling up the hills!! 

We arrived at 5ish and the white sprawling city of Shiraz which, sits at the bottom of a vast valley, appeared before us. Flanking our road into the city was a lovely pedestrianised boulevard, a waterfall tumbling down the rock face behind.

We lingered for a while soaking up the atmosphere. That day happened to be a national holiday so there were lots of locals milling about, having picnics (a favourite pastime in Shiraz we are told). 

Along the terraced walkways a number of free-runners were practising their moves. This one guy (who could clamour up the whole complex in about 20 seconds) climbed up this vertical surface and then polished his set off with a headstand on the edge of the highest wall… 

We’d have three nights in Shiraz staying with a couple of warm showers hosts before cycling north to Esfahan.