Equatorial inspiration

Ecuador – a little microcosm of the Andean countries; with mountains, forests and wildlife, all within easy reach. But since you can effectively get all this in neighbouring countries, why must one go to Ecuador? Well, for me, the answer is very easily answered by one thing place along – THE GALAPAGOS.

There is no place like it on earth!

I had first heard about them at school whilst studying Darwin and have really wanted to visit every since. Now I wish that I could do these Islands some justice, but it is hard to describe another planet. That is honestly what it is like – some Islands look like scenes out of Jurassic Park, or mars, or what the earth must have looked like when it was forming – all rocks, or Islands have one thing in common – each has its own unique and bizarre species.

It is not easy or cheap to get to the Islands. As with everything, I was rather last minute. During my South American jaunt I was resigned to the fact that Galapagos was something I would come back for, once I had some real money to splash out on a 6000 dollar holiday. But as I approached Ecuador, I began hearing of lots of inventive ways of making the Galapagos happen. Once I had arrived in Quito, all hopes were dashed. All boats (for a cruise is really the only way to see the Islands) were booked months if not a year in advance, and there were no last minute cancellations for when I was there. Not surprising when you consider that there is a no refund policy. So, I was either to give up or to take a chance and just fly out to the Islands, in the hope of getting a place on a boat, despite the odds.
Course I decided to fly out there, but the risk was an expensive one. The flights are at least 400 dollars, because the Islands are a good two hours away by plane from Quito, and there are only two companies that offer this route. Plus, and most unexpected of all, is the fact that as soon as you land in the wooden make shift airport of San Cristobel (the airport on the main Island of Santa Cruz was being repaired over several months, you are charged 100 dollars on the spot, for stepping onto the National Park. The Galapagos are one big natural reserve, of which 97% is under some form of conservation project and only 3% is habitable. Saying that, the Galapagos has a population problem!

I do not think that before my flight I had even thought about there being people in the Galapagos, let alone there being a population problem! But when the aeroplane landed and I took a taxi to the harbour…to my surprise, there was a big populated town, and all the things that come with it…sanitation problems, pollution, noise, children, schools…need I go on! This is not the Galapagos I was expecting! I hoped that the other Islands were not like this, but then I took a boat to the main Island, where the population was even bigger! I do not want to sound unfair, someone needs to manage the Islands after all, but like most people, I was just expecting wildlife. The reality is that most Galapaganeus have escaped from somewhere. There is a significant German population who left Germany during the war, and are now on their third generation, and many Ecuadoreans, who come for the money, because of the boom in tourism. The wages are definitely higher than mainland Ecuador, for many people, but then the cost of living is so very much higher, because almost everything has to be imported, and migrants forget this fact. Once at the Islands, those that do not know English or least a second language, then find that the main way to survive is through fishing. Like everything else in the Galapagos, this is lucrative, especially when fishing for sea cucumbers (they are sea creatures that look like cucumbers with many little rounded spikes, big, fat, squeegee and squirmy), and fetch a really high price in the far East. Now the problem is that as the population of the Galapagos has expanded, so the resources have been stretched, and the wildlife has come into real danger. The fish are being depleted fast, and yet illegal fishing continues because this is the only way that many families are able to feed their families. Other people come to capture, and export exotic wildlife – again illegal and endangering. The Ecuadorian military come and stay for target practice, with little regard for the environment and then there are the never ending trail of tourist boats, and all the services that are needed for them. This is a tough one – for the government, the tourist trade and the conversationalists (the front runner of which is the Charles Darwin Foundation). What can you do? People have been here for generations, and if you ignore this fact and their needs, then you will find frustrated youth, as is the case, for no one invests in their education or future prospects. On average, upon leaving high school a 16 year old Galapagiean is two years behind the mainland Ecuadorian educational system, and they do not have the basic language requirements for jobs in tourism and replaced by yet more migrants from the mainland. Other industries can not really flourish because of the restrictions in space and resources – 97% of the Islands must remain untouched, and just as well. So what is the solution? Well, the authorities decided 6 years ago, that if you were not a permanent resident of the Islands, then you had to leave after the expiry of your visa, and today they are backing this decision up more forcefully, for I saw them take a truck around the streets, and literally hurl all the expired temporary residents that they had weened out, into the truck – and on to a four day cargo boat back to the mainland. You now can not get a one way to the Galapagos, and if you disappear during your stay, you can guarantee, that everyone in this very tight knit community where everyone knows everyone – will know about it.

Ok, so that is enough about the population. Now the real Galapagos, which after saying all that, is actually being preserved wonderfully! The Charles Darwin Foundation, National Park authorities and others are doing a great job of keeping the reserve as they found it. One of their biggest successes are their eradication programs. Almost every pest has been dealt with in order to preserve the Galapagos…pigs, rats, goats, have been hot of literally. Even harder animals, like ants – have been painstakingly trapped with miles of peanut butter covered sticks, hour after hour, every metre apart. And if a lady bird has to be bought over from Australia in order to eat the cottony cushion scale, so be it. There are three Islands that you can not step foot on. Although this may not sound like much fun – diving, snorkelling, swimming, or canoeing around them then remains exceptional. The clearest of waters, the sea life, the caves, craters, colours of the rocks and the vegetation is like none other in the world. Most of the other Islands have no inhabitants, and you can explore them through day trips from your boat. Each Island almost has it own set of species.

Flightless cormorants - flightless because once they were blown off route to the Galapagos, they found that they did not need their wings anymore, all the food they could every want was in the waters, and so they began diving for survival instead.

Marine Iguanas – which are so well camouflaged into their surroundings that you do not even notice them in your bath – even thought they are lying on top of one another for body heat, with their head at a perfect angel to the sun, in order to absorb as much heat as possible, that is until they do a large, grotesque sneeze!

There are also land and lava iguanas, which stop to look at you straight in the eye.
Sea life is out of the world. As you sail from Island to Island you see dolphins surfing the waves that your boat creates, hammer headed sharks in whole schools, and then the captian saw something in the distance. He had spotted it from the ship, because just its spout of water reached about 30 feet, and although it was at least a kilometre away, you could hear that spout miles away. It was the Blue Whale, and as it got closer we could see it clearly dive back into the water – and its endless back! It was huge, at least 100 feet – without exaggeration. Imagine an animal that ff it were just to open its mouth an entire double decker bus could slip in without even noticing. The largest animal on earth!

Blue footed boobies – these are the funniest looking birds ever! They have bright blue or purple feet, and are beautiful! They have the funniest habits, with dances and their own dance and monogamous habits. They also have a red counter part, called the red footed boobie, funnily enough!

I learnt a lot about birds during this trip, simply through observation. How flamingos do a dance that looks just like flamenco, with their wings spread wide and a spin following their tail. This is where the word and dance flamenco comes from!

You also realise that we glamorise nature and consequently get a reality check. For example, nazca boobies, like hyacinth macaws are really peculiar, they generally produce two eggs, but knowing that when they hatch they will feed only the stronger one, because two are not manageable. Nazca boobies also have a loyalty to lifelong monogamy, and take it in turns to look after the nest whilst the partner goes looking for food for them both. Women on the trip were very eager to point this out as an example to men! Meanwhile men would laugh at the efforts of the frigate birds, which blow up a red sac under their chin, into a big heart shaped balloon. They then sit like that for days during the mating season, hoping to attract a willing female!

Saw the warrior nature of mockingbirds, which literally will come and investigate everything in their territory, whether you are human or not, and if you do not come bearing food, then frankly you are not welcome. This is one thing that really startled me when I first arrived. The animals really make it clear that these are their islands, and they never run away in fear of you. The mutual respect makes for fantastic relationship opportunities; least I thought so until I came across the Sea Lions, who have other ideas.

Sea lions are everywhere, and look like the most lovable creatures, with their silky black coats and long sensitive whiskers…until you hear them snort at you that is, or waddle towards you, thinking that you may be their mother and a source of food. They have no shame, it does not matter how old they become, they think they can always go to their mother and suck for milk, no matter how much the mother protests. I have seen real fights between a thin mother and hungry children, and at the other extreme I saw a child, suckling its mother, who was suckling the Grandmother! They are not only aggressive when they are hungry, but also when they want to play. The only incident I have ever had in the sea or oceans happened at the Galapagos, when I was snorkelling off an Island, and as I turn around to see what moved behind me I see the teeth of a giant sea lion heading directly for my face! I could not believe it, and do not ever think I have swam so fast. I thought I had got away, and confused the sea lion by splashing lots, but no. The sea lion was again in front of me – with all teeth bared, and went straight for me. What? Can this really be happening? Is this not only in films? With a sea lion of all creatures? I could not believe my eyes, and it was not until the sea lion raced after me, making contact whenever it could, that I really got the message. The shore was too far so I made a bee line for people I knew from my boat. Bill was out snorkelling with his son, and as soon as he saw my white face heading right for me, he knew I was in trouble. 'Oh My God Daniel there is a sea lion chasing Mandeep. Come here quick Mandeep!' I did not need an invitation on this occasion, I was already there. The next thing I heard was 'Daniel that sea lion attracts, its just bit me!' Ok, that was it. A group of people were not enough to scare this sea lion, s/he was having a field day! All of us raced back to shore, with the sea lion at our feet or by our sides when it could. As we ran on to the shore, people on the beach were staring at them, with a 'What's wrong with them?' look. Thankfully, giving credibility to our fear, the sea lion did not stop in the water, it got out and flapped all the way up to the beach, with its mouth open wide still hungry for blood.

Apart from the animals, Galapagos is a world on to its own for many other reasons too. Like the fact that people tend to go missing, never to be found again. This happens a little but more often then I would like to mention. But whether you are diving, swimming or simply going for a walk, make sure there is someone with you, because the Islands do not belong to people, remember. The Islands have a very rich history of pirates, legends and scientific discovery, so they are great to explore and learn from even today, and many traditions remain. For example, on one Island is post office bay, where there is a post box that has been running since the pirates. As you come through the Islands, you leave your mail in the post box, and depending on the address you pick someone else's mail up – and hand deliver. The idea is that there are people coming from all over the world to the Galapagos, so frequently, that someone is bound to be coming from wherever you wish the postcard to arrive.

Ok, as you can tell, I could go on and on and on…but instead I will just create a picture with this poem type thing, below, in the hope that you all are inspired to jump on a boat and cruise around the islands. I promise you – no matter what the cost, every penny is worth it.

Golden Rays shining, Turtles grazing under water, Old Giant Tortoises lonely, Storm Petrols diving, Albatrosses feeding, Dolphins laughing, Frigates trying, Blue Footed Boobies incubating, Mockingbirds investigating, Sea lions demanding, Blue Whales spouting, Islands hiding, Cacti ruling, Colours surprising, Nazca boobies caring, Flamingos dancing, Red footed boobies parading, Cushion Cottony Scale dying, Australian Lady Birds thriving, Iguanas changing, Hawks watching, Owls howling, Hammer Headed Sharks speeding, and so much more as you stand there in the midst of it, invisible.

Vietnam

Vietnam is different to other places. It strikes an emotional cord with almost everyone, whether they have visited or not, but this is magnified umpteen times by a visit. Regarding the war I can imagine it being a little like visiting Iraq in the future. Everyone would have something to say…either about its history, how they felt during the war, or the situation of the country today. But Vietnam is also emotionally striking in terms of its beauty – scenic beauty, cultural beauty, and human beauty.

I'll start with the beauty first because it is so immediately impressive, the rest you have to dig around a little deeper for. Vietnam is worth a visit just for its nature. It has covered with lush paddy fields, of a variety of greens, from head to toe. Worked on by people dressed in all vibrant colours you can imagine, topped off with the classic conical hat. And, no this is not just a performance for the tourists – this is the dress all the time and everywhere. The whole country walks around in these enormous conical hats, and most women also cover their faces with a mask that runs from ear to ear. Colour of skin, as everywhere in Asia, is important component of beauty, and the Vietnamese go to extreme lengths to preserve their original cream satin. The agriculture is split amongst the diversity of minorities, and they are most varied and striking in the mountains, like their environment. In the lower planes, Vietnam is blessed with idyllic coastal scenes. Plus in the north there is Ha Long bay, misty waters housing big dragons according to mythology, and the mountainous Islands jutting out of the waters sure give this impression, whilst in the south you can get lost in the myriad of rivers that make up the Mekong delta.

The minority culture, as in any country, is the most interesting. They have classic ways of dealing with everyday problems that would be good for us to draw from in our day and age. For example, what to do when the parents of the girl that you are besotted about do not like you, and will not allow you to take their daughters hand in marriage? Well, traditionally, and even today, one of two routes are chosen. You either elope with the girl – but this is only acceptable for a three day period at the most. If within these three days the girl refuses to eat anything from you, that is her way of making it clear that she rejects you (I guess to listen to what she is saying is not enough, given what complex creatures the female species is), if she cant cope with the hunger and eats something, then it is clear that she is comfortable with the idea of sharing every meal with you hence forth for the rest of her life, too. The second option is to make her pregnant (I assume with consent), the classic cross cultural route for men and women to ensure that there is a life long bond and commitment between two people.

Vietnamese culture is unique and interesting in many other respects too. The country is not so big but the difference in language, dress and traditions is vast. What speaks volumes is that minority groups today make more of an effort to learn English than Vietnamese, in order to make money from tourists, and to spread understanding about their specific tribe.

At first you would be excused, like I hope I was, for being desotted by the beauty of the women here. It is really hard to stop staring, because not only does the way their slick hair frame their deep soulful coal like eyes and full lips memorise, but the way in which the traditional long dress flatters their body, it is as if the women are slender leaves gently floating in the wind over a lotus lake. It may seem like I am romantising the women (me? never!) but really, their dress, that fits their top after and then falls straight over their bottom half in one continuous piece of silk and colour, makes them the most elegant creatures on this planet. The language, music and dance are all equally as harmonious and elegant.

So the country is beautiful, in many ways, it is also dynamic – in that the population is young, and energetic, and they work, work, work - to get ahead. This is why they are one of the fastest growing Asian tigers with annual growth commonly over 9%.

All of the above the government is keen to promote, so although Vietnam is a little more relaxed than they used to be about the north – south route that visitors take during their trip, still everything is highly regulated. It is difficult to go off the very well beaten track, so not only are the same places visited by everyone, but almost everyone is limited to the same tour companies or organisers. This is the same for anything regarding the war too. You can visit the Cu Chi tunnels for example, which is an intricate labyrinth underground where the Vietnamese would hide, during the war. This was not just for the lucky few. The tunnel system was vast, stretching from Ho Chi Minh City (the capital in the south) as far as the Cambodian border – over 250 km of tunnels. They are several stories deep and have living quarters, kitchens, trap doors, weapon factories, field hospitals and command centres. Saying this, they were a measure of desperation, and really the only way to save your life, for you would have to be desperate to go into a clay oven – which is what it was like underground. I am not claustrophobic but even I could not handle the confined space and was ready to run out within minutes. Only it is not possible; the tunnels are tiny – you have to scrunch up in a ball, and shuffle along on your arse with your knees next to your face, and once a tunnel start it seems to go on and on, and there is level after level, further into the depths of the soil. It was really interesting how this system worked to save so many lives. Firstly, the doors into the underground system were really were camouflaged and covered, and tiny, so that only Vietnamese hips could squeeze through, not American (no offence intended). When American police dogs were sent to search the area the Vietnamese would place America clothing near the doors so that the dog would walk on by! If an American was searching the area, there were trap doors awaiting with large and very sharp nails pointing up to catch the body. It was possible to live underground for there was provision for everything. The smoke coming from any cooking in the kitchen would be spread through ventilation tunnels underground, and these tunnels were so long and wide that any release of smoke would be too faint to notice. Course, all of this did not prevent massive nuclear bombs being dropped and destroying massive sections of the country as was the case when Agent Orange hit the soil.

I do not know if you have heard much about Agent Orange, but when I think of nuclear bombs (which I do often;) I think of Hiroshima first. But in fact the affects of Agent Orange have been horrific and are being felt in Vietnam even today. One thing definitely worth doing if you are fortunate enough to have time in Vietnam, is to go to the war museum in HCMC. This is one of the most disturbing museums that I have ever been to, but well worth it, for it is one of the few places where you can hear about the war from another perspective than that of mass media. The photographs are great, plentiful and very telling – making you want to serve your life as a war correspondent, because that is all we really have today for a glimpse of what was experienced by this nation for so many years. Our education must go beyond the war to then look at what has happened since which has actually been more crippling to Vietnam than the war – economic sanctions. Ever since the war, until only very recently ie. The Clinton Administration, Vietnam has suffered economic sanctions comparable to Cuba. Neither the USA nor any allies was allowed to deal with Vietnam, for trade or otherwise, until Vietnam returned the 'Missing In Action'. This means that the Americans believed that Vietnam had many US soldiers hidden in the country…who were in action and then went missing. Despite Vietnam's continuous and loud insistence that this was not the case, and sending the showing the body parts of the lives that were lost in Vietnam, America insisted that economic sanctions be enforced until these people were returned. Well there were no people, and all these years on, Clinton deemed the sanctions as unnecessary punishment, and they have been lifted. But in the interim Vietnam has been seriously disadvantaged in the world market and this has had serious consequences on people's everyday prospects.

Back to the museum. I had visited the museum with an American friend of mine, Jean. I had told her that some American members of my family, namely my grand father, told me that he would still never consider coming to Vietnam given the guilt he felt on what the nation had suffered. Jean looked me straight in the eye and said this was silly. She did not feel guilty for something that her ancestors did, and only a few power hungry ancestors at that, and besides, it was now history. That day we experienced something that changed the both of us, and our view on this forever. We went to an orphanage.

This might seem like a strange thing to do, but in Vietnam there are almost government more orphanages than schools. As a tourist, you will never come across them, or even hear of them, because they are hidden intentionally by the government, for they do not portray the imagine of Vietnam that they would like. But the fact of the matter is that almost one in every four children is born with Spinabifida in Vietnam. Agent Orange did not only kill, but has contaminated food for the next 400 years in Vietnam, at least. This food, when eaten your entire life, is affecting the future generations, because so many children grown with deformities in the mother's womb. Spinabifida is the principle disorder and means that the child never grows properly. Their bones are never fully formed, especially the spine, and so most can not carry their own weight, or stand straight, let alone walk. The relationship between Agent Orange and the obscene numbers of spinabifida children has been proven my American doctors and lawyers despite vested interests, because they are undeniable. When a Vietnamese mother gives birth to such a child her choices are few.

There are no social benefits, monetary or otherwise to help look after a spinabifita child. It is a life long job and to work after birth would be impossible. If there are other children in the family, which there often is, then their quality of life drops dramatically too, and the bottom line is that it is unaffordable in terms of time or care, for most mothers/ families. So those families that are not able to cope either drown the new born, if they have they can bring themselves to do this, or drop them on the door step of an orphanage. For this reason there are thousands of orphanages all over Vietnam, government run with about thirty or more cots and two or three nurses. The children never see day light. Their life is their cot, and as they reach their teens they are transferred on to a bed. They are well fed, and looked after, but to give attention, love and the human touch to each in accordance to what a child needs (let alone a spinabifida child whose life is confined to a bed) is impossible. I will be honest. I could not visit a government orphanage. I am ashamed to say this, but I could barely handle the pictures and the journey that I was taken on in the museum, I really thought that I could not handle this in real life, and so I decided to give and share in a private orphanage instead. There are not many private orphanages (by private I do not mean that parents have to may for their child to be looked after, but just that they are not government orphanages), but there was one that I had heard about that I was excited to visit. The model of this orphanage was unique, in that it was an Old People's Home and an orphanage in one. This is brilliant because there are Old People's Homes are unheard of in Vietnam, thought there is a need amongst the poorer family's as anywhere in the world. It is not uncommon to see old people sleeping on the streets of HCMC or Hanoi. There was one old lady that I would pass everyday in HCMC, who owned nothing but a stove, and she would cook soup for passer-by's in the day, in order to earn enough to eat her-self, and then sleep on her cardboard mat under the same single white sheet at night. I hate to say it but the first time I saw her I thought that she was dead, until I saw her at day and night, and day, always in the same position, same clothes, same hair style, same expression on her face. You get the idea. So this orphanage is great, because the old people are fed and have something to live for – giving love to the orphans, and the orphans are infinitely happier than in government orphanages, for they are taken out of the cot, played with and loved all day.

Even visiting this orphanage, with is paradise actually, was hard, hard, hard. The child I spent the most time with was 15, rarely handled because she was so fragile, and cried had tears in her eyes when she was touched. Hung is her name and her entire body is hardly bigger than my arm. At a first glance she seemed to be just bones and a pair of dark, soulful eyes. As we got to know one another and she left comfortable enough to respond to me, I was glad. But for the longest time it was just painful.

I could talk more about this experience and Vietnam, but in all honesty I don't think the black on this white page does any justice to what people here have experienced, and what you experience with them. I am glad that this young, dynamic nation is so focused on the future, on working hard and is so ready to embrace the opportunities in the world, now that the sanctions have been lifted. I found that not to be emotionally or otherwise affected by Vietnam is difficult. People are engaging and want to engage, but at the same time there is a lot that one can only imagine about their history. These imagines are important in understanding people's reactions here to everyday things, to foreigners, and to their own future.

To be lost here – is great!

The Islamic Republic

The Islamic Republic of Iran

Ever since I can remember I have wanted to go to Iran, yet contrary to popular belief this desire did not begin when my visa application was rejected by the authorities in Tehran, but rather with childhood stories from the Sikh Holy Scriptures. Our Guru’s travelled Iran, some of our scriptures have come from Persian Sufi Saints, and many of our Shabads (hymns) are in Farsi or include lots of Farsi. It felt as though we were brothers, and all the Iranians I have had the fortune to meet became very good friends. An Iranian brother I always carry with me, I had met ten years ago whilst studying in Australia. I had always hoped to visit Iran with Nima, and then when I was living right next door in the UAE, and eager to go, I learned that it was not so easy for him to visit either.

In many ways the Persian Gulf seems like the exact opposite of the Arab Gulf, and this difference is witnessed as soon as you try to visit the countries. The UAE is easy to visit, because you do not need a visa and everyone is welcome (admittedly things are a little different with Saudi), but once in the country the local population are actually rather closed. Acquaintances are easy, but friendships, such that you are always in touch, at each other’s houses, and in each others lives is a little more difficult. However, in Iran’s case, it is the Government that closes the country making visits difficult, whereas the local population is easily one of the most open, friendly and hospitable ever experienced in the world. The country is not only closed to foreigners, but even to Iranians living abroad. The aforementioned Nima, who lives in Vancouver, cannot go to his home country, because like all young Iranian men he is obliged to serve in the Iranian military for two years, and if he were to go back to Iran he would either have to stay to serve or pay a lot of money to buy himself out. My visa application was rejected – because I hold a British Passport. Stood at the Iranian Visa office, in the UAE, with my head covered, looking all subdued, I was told I will get what I deserve which is what the British give the Iranian applicants. I didn’t say a word, though puzzled because there is a thriving Iranian community in the UK. So, I just applied again, as an engineer this time, under the supervision of an Iranian friend’s construction company. This worked.

Why is it so difficult? Does the Iranian Government not want visitors? Does the Iranian Government not want non residential Iranians to visit? Does the Iranian Government not want young, idealistic, educated, young men to come back? You got it. No. I learned, slowly, slowly, that though Iran is a world away from the images we are fed through the media, the Government would rather keep up appearances, and do whatever they want in their own country, without frequent outside scrutiny. ‘They can say whatever they make believe’ type attitude, hence we in the media, use the same old B-rolls of outdated footage, again and again, about the same, stuck, nuclear weapons story. Accurate information is not easy to obtain, and so the stories continue.

So I had no idea what to expect upon entry in Tehran, all I was told before hand was to buy a long coat and to take a few scarves, and that I would wear these items all the time when in public, and in potential view of the police. Despite having searched the Abu Dhabi malls until 10.30pm the night before and being all covered in the longest coat I could find, within half an hour of being in Tehran, I was ‘warned’ by the police because my above knee coat was too short. Sunday evening, entering one of a beautiful feature filled gardens called Bagh Mouseh Honar-e Iran (Iranian Art Museum Garden), was my first interaction with Iranian police, and thereafter I never wore that ‘short’ coat again. The warning was sincere and strong, and suddenly I understood why the girls didn’t wear knee high boots when asked not to, and why the youth don’t play card games, and why no one speaks about the regime in public.

I could talk about my experience in Iran endlessly, because it was so rich and varied in culture, language and its people, but in order to keep this letter a digestible length I will just share a few stories.

The Islamic Republic of Iran may sound like a strict title for a country and faith, but actually this is the only formal Shi’a country in the world, and I witnessed more ‘spirituality’ than formal religion. Although Mullahs (the Islamic Clergy) rule the country and are everywhere (I attended a public gathering in Yazd at which Mullahs were preaching to the city about rights and wrongs), the average Iranian did not seem to be following orthodox rules. Few prayed five times a day, even fewer visited working Mosques, and you can have a glass of Shiraz in Shiraz. Yet, this is not to say that people are not in his remembrance - constantly, but just not in the way that the Mullah’s would like. I understood why when I was invited into the Mosque of Mirrors in Shiraz. Unlike the other Mosques I visited, which were so stunningly beautiful but not operational, this mosque was magnificent and in use. It was small and as I began to take off my shoes a little man out of no where threw a sheet over me. I am serious, a bed-sheet. It wasn’t a purdha, burka or abbaya and shayla, I am familiar with those, but a bed sheet, without holes for the arms or head; you were just meant to wrap your whole body up and hold it. Now I understood what all those women, walking around Iran covered with a big, fat, black sheet felt like. It is just as unmanageable as it looks – hard to walk, turn your head or move properly. This ‘chaadar’ looked as though it had been washed a million times, and so whilst I was in the Mosque another kind gentleman came up to cover me with a newer one. I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry and quickly took my leave.

More spiritual encounters occurred away from the beautiful mosques and in peoples’ homes. I was invited to a Sufi worship in Kurdistan with some friends, where people were praising, worshiping and connecting with Allah through music, song and dance. Women and men were in separate rooms/ halls and the same music and the same energy it seemed flowed through them both. In no time at all, both sets were in rhythmical trances – without consciousness they seemed to have entered another realm. At times it was moving and at other times incomprehensible and even shocking, but the hospitality always remained the same – people were loving and looked after all their guests as if each were an image of God his/ herself.

Generally homes are the only place people can be themselves and practice in the way they want to. Saying that, there are all forms of active mosques, churches and temples, and even Gurdwaras from the Guru’s time, standing tall and alive. I found spiritual practice, thoughts and talk to be a commonality amongst all. Perhaps this is because the authorities are so far removed from such practice that people hold it close. Or perhaps because the country and traditions are full of spiritual philosophy, Ostad Elahi’s memorial for example, is visited continuously for an exchange of love and wisdom. Or as I was told, connection is the purpose of life since Zoroastrian times in the C5th. Rather than Eid, Iranians all still celebrate the Zoroastrian New Year at the beginning of spring called Norooz. Believing in active participation in life through idea of good thoughts, good words, good deeds – Zoroastrianism has perhaps had more direct influence on mankind than any other faith.

Either way, I felt at peace, and seeing the Sikh spiritual sign everywhere – even on the Iranian flag, helped. Persian’s say that they use the Sikh Khanda because it spells Allah, but perhaps this is just a continuation of all the other things that they have used/ borrowed/ taken from India. During a mind boggling tour of the National Jewellery Museum I was told smugly that 90% of the treasury’s wealth was taken from Punjab in repeated battles, and most recently and gleefully by Nadir Shah in 17th century. I was then given a guided tour of the Koh-i-noor which was apparently gifted by the Sikh Army, to the Iranian Royals – I had a hard time imagining the scene. The Sikh Symbol here, known as the Khanda, looks just like Iran’s Symbol with a squiggle on top (see above;)

Still, I guess the fact that I could understand about every fourth Farsi word, that I look Persian, and can connect with my brothers and sisters so easily counts for something:)

Forgiveness was made easier by the overwhelming taro goodness that was shown to me. Perhaps it is because the country has been kept closed that there is a real keen interest in foreigners, to the extent that one day, whilst randomly walking through a small Kurd town called Sanchez we were stopped by a lady who had clearly ran out of her kitchen (her apron was still steaming!) and insisted that we join her for dinner! On another occasion, after admiring a sculpture of Mastoore Ardalan the most admired Kurdish historical lady I asked if the piece were for sale, not that I could carry it home. When the world-class sculptor finally stepped into the workshop to be asked, he said no, and then promptly walked over to me to gift me the piece instead! Seriously!

Material matters are easy in Iran, in comparison to marriage! I was surrounded , , matters are not so easy when it comes to proposing to a lady or visa versa.
The historical and modern beauty in Iran is so overwhelming that your eyes begin to hurt from an overload of the magnificent impressions on your eyeballs every few moments. I would suggest taking your time in exploring one of the oldest continuous major civilisations in the world, with remains from over 4000BC. Once a world Superpower, Greater Iran included the modern nations of Afghanistan, Pakistan, Turkmenistan, Tajikistan, Azerbaijan, Uzbekistan and parts of Turkey and Iraq, and this is history remains close through the sites, stories and arts. Visiting the memorials of the poets such as Hafez and Sa’di in Shiraz, the gardens, rivers and palaces in Esfahan, the temples and Gods at Pasargad, and Kingdoms at Persepolis, and then travelling from Kurdistan to Baluchestan, seeing all the variety in between – I just cannot do justice to it all in words.
There are many reasons not to visit, and the Government can give you more. Persians themselves are tired and another revolution or even gradual change in the political regime will take time. The Mullah’s have a tight grip of the country and other Iranian’s are still leaving in droves. Opportunities if you are not connected are scarce, corruption is rife, and freedom is severely limited. Whilst I was there our neighbour immigrated with his parents, and his betrayed goodbye was gratified on his bedroom wall - ‘G’bye forever oh unfaithful nation’.

Yet, all I can say is that if you haven’t already, it is worth a visit, and then another. Behind closed doors, there is perhaps more action, philosophising, art, creativity and business than ever before. The birth of a new generation has bought hope back to the souls of the inhabitants of this nation of historical survivors.