On my first sightseeing tour in Shiraz I got reminded that I am in the Islamic Republic of Iran. Within ten minutes I got reminded that I am a) not allowed to sing and b) not allowed to talk to girls. And that in the city of poetry and wine !!! I got so #@!¡¤ed that I thought of leaving Shiraz immediately! It all happened in the Arg-e Karim Khan, an old castle from the short period when Shiraz was the capital of Persia, Karim Khan was the ruler and long beards combined with extremely high turbans were very fashionable (according to the castle museums displays). The castle contains a nice orange tree orchard and an bath house with fantastic acoustics - while I was playing with the acoustics 2 iranian guys joined me and eventually we would start singing some improvised stuff together. It was great fun until one museum guard reminded us that singing was not allowed, grmpf! So we went out and while I was strolling through the orange grove I was approached by a group of 5 iranian girls eager to practice their english. While we were chatting another guard disturbed our conversation and told the girls that they were not allowed to talk to me, argh! I decided to stop sightseeing for now and did some route planning instead.
Back at the hotel a familiar face appeared: South-Korean Erick, the guy who carries a full-size guitar on his biker has been cycling one day behind me since Yazd. We soon started jamming again, yeah yeah yeah! In the evening while we were having dinner a girl from a group of Iranians brought us a plate of fruits. Very nice, thank you! Less than 5 minutes later she was back again, telling me: 'I love you very much'. Ugh, I really appreciated her affection, but that was a just little bit too fast for me. Moreover for the rest of the evening she would not leave my side, talking to me in Farsi, during me pictures,... We had some language-issues, so telling her that I prefer to know a bit more about the person loving me did not work. As Behrooz had told me: getting to know girls in Iran is easier and faster than one would assume.
The next day started late and relaxed. After an extensive breakfast I was joined by Erick and irishman James on my way to Hafez grave. Hafez, the great persian poet, a big influence for Goethe and many other German poets! On the way we met an Iranian guy with a guitar - he was an ok guitar player but a very good singer. He and another passer-by literally forced me to also play something, so that day saw me singing a Goethe poem on the street close to Hafez' grave - and this time I wasn't even stopped by some guard! The grave compound is some kind of pilgrimage site for many Persians. The grave itself is set under a small stone pavillon, set in a garden of Orange trees. I tasted the fruit of poetry: surprisingly sour and bitter. Or maybe not that surprisingly: after all a real poet has to know all the bitterness to create something sweet.
In the distance I could see a fire temple on a hilltop, so in my position as tour group leader I decided that we had to climb up there. It was more exhausting than expected, but we got some wide views over Shiraz, a fun park full of picnicing families and a ridiculously pseudo-modern hotel building.
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