I entered Iran through Armenia over land. Salam Iran! (salam is hello in Farsi) I passed the border in the early morning while the sun was shedding its light on the transition of the landscapes, settlements, colours and the different alphabet on the signboards. I was in a new country now. My first destination was Tabriz.
Tabriz is the capital city of West Azerbaijan province and the biggest city in the northwest. Despite that the official language is Farsi in Iran, in this north region since the population consists of Iranians of Azeri etnicity, the language is Azerbaijani Turkish. As my mother tongue is Turkish I had the advantages of this similarity in communication.
Entering a new country requires some new settings. At first it can a little disorienting to be in a country that uses a different dress code, a different official calendar (hijri/shamsi calendar here), a different alphabet, a complicated currency. Although the currency is Rial, Toman is commonly used. (one toman equals ten rials) Life is cheaper compared to European countries, especially because of the recent devaluation when rial went down to one sixth of its previous rate! The transportation is ridiculously cheap since it is an oil rich country. (For instance shared taxis carry you in neighbourhoods for 0.2 dollars. When travelling with my friends car, we paid 4.5 dollars for the oil for 500km road!)
Ok now coming to some attractions of Tabriz;
Jameh mosque (above) is most noteworthy for its two tall minarets. Prayer halls are impressive with many domes, coloumns with earth coloured bricks which I will come across many times in different parts of the country.
Citadel (above, on top) is the remnants of the city wall of Tabriz that dates back to 14th century. Clock tower (above) -also known as Municipality Palace- is used as the city hall. It has a peaceful back garden to relax and rest in the city when needed.
Blue mosque (above) derives its name from its blue tile works. It has some fine Islamic calligraphy examples inside. Unfortunately it still bears the scars caused by a massive earthquake in 1779. Nevertheless there is something special about this mosque, it holds a beautiful, peaceful energy.
Above we see beautiful perspectives from outdoor spaces of Blue Mosque. The capture on the right is quite like how I travel, spiritually from one treshold to another, in a soft kind of surrender. I’m leaving all the rest to the universe and the gifts are coming accordingly. I’m in gratitude for this magic!
To me the best attraction in Tabriz is the old Bazaar (below) which is the biggest in the country and one of the most important commercial centers along the silk road. This UNESCO World Heritage site dates back to 16th century.
Tabriz Bazaar has many sections; jeweleries, carpets, rugs, cloths, woolsorters, shoemakers, coppersmiths, pots and pans, spices, vegetables, dried fruits… One of the biggest section is for carpets and rugs as Tabriz is a worldwide famous carpet making center in Iran and in the world.
Mohammadi rose (above) with its unique taste, distinctive flavour and enchanting smell is very famous in Iran. You see it everywhere. I love it! All Iranian houses have a bottle of rose water in their kitchen and it is used as a main ingredient in many sweets, foods and in the drink called sherbet. Dried flowers are added to the tea or even to the yoghurt. Rose has been cultivated in Iran since ancient times for its numerous qualities in medicine, nutrition and cosmetics.
When wandering around in Tabriz, if suddenly an old man runs up to you and invite you to his shop for a tea, don’t get surprised. He is Amoo (uncle) Ali (above). He has been working in his little shop in the downtown for 55 years where he repairs sewing machines. How cute! This was one of my first contacts with legendary Iranian hospitality. In Iran accepting invitations usually lead to great moments.
Amoo Ali’s main interest is to learn about the world. Just like me! This enthusiasm of him pulled in almost 8000 tourists so far into his shop. I talked about my journeys. He talked on the significance of poetry in Iran which was exactly one of the most appealing things I wanted to discover about Iran. Erfan, his dear friend and companion helped us in the translation with his amazing English. At the end with a sincere smile Amoo Ali said; “Today is a beautiful day because I have a guest. My shop became beautiful. I hope you have a happy life.” What an innocent simplicity! Pure and lovely!
I enjoyed walking and getting lost in the alleys of Grand Bazaar and observe daily life of Iran which was quite new to me. When resting at some corners, interestingly for many times, some young people approached me as they recognized that I was a traveller. The conversation usually began with the question of what I thought about Iran. Shortly after that they poured out their heart, telling me about their quests, despairs and their longing for finding peace within and out. This was quite surprising me as I encountered these talks many times. I did my best to listen to them in an authentic way and come up with some orientations which may invite peace within.
These people above are Shakiba and Amir, my lovely hosts in Tabriz. They did whatever they could to help me, to comfort me. They became my little sister and brother to whom I cherish.
Their house is in the suburbs of Tabriz where is a relatively more conservative area. In my first transition days in Iran, it was quite challenging for me not just to get used to wearing hijab (mandatory head cover) but also to get used to the discomforting glances of the people in the neighbourhood. The children weren’t commonly smiling back to me when I smile to them. Why? Lack of trust? Fear? By these observations, I found my energy becoming more stiff. Then empathy arised showing me how social conditions and the environment effect the human nature and attitudes.
Starting off from Tabriz I did a trekking to Mount Avrin which is the highest in West Azerbaijan province. This also gave me the chance to see the landscape of this region in broader perspectives in the vicinity of the mountains.
Before we started trekking, we first head to west to the city Khoy which hosts the tomb of Shams Tabrizi (below) who was a 12th century mystic. He is know as the spiritual mentor of Mewlana Jalal ad-Din Rumi. There are many stories about how he died, some say he disappeared, some say he get killed, some say he died in Khoy. Nevertheless his tomb stands in Khoy in the memory of this great mystic and teacher. I was there to pay my deepest respect.
Then from Khoy we headed to west again, to the mountain village Hesar through deep and rocky valleys. The road trip on the meandering narrow dust roads was breathtaking. Eventually we were at Hesar, a Kurdish Village which was almost 50km close to Turkish border.
The residents of the village have their own traditional way of living which is a great example of a skillful adaptation to the harsh conditions of climate and landscape. In winter snow rises up to 2m making this area more isolated from the main settlements. This gives way to a self sufficient life in harmony with nature. Locals take use of any natural materials therefore you see adobe houses everywhere as well as straw and dried dung piles in every garden. Their main source of income is sheep and goat farming and carpet weaving.
The people are extremely warm-hearted and welcoming. I see innocence in every face. The women at first look with a shy but curious glance. But then when they see you smile, they smile back right away with the prettiest and friendly look. Oh and the sweetness of those children! Everyone learn to be a shepperd in young age. I am always touched by these kind of utterly different lives in the mountains, isolated from the modernised world.
Before we move on to the arrival at the village and the climb of the other day, let me give a necessary detail that is a significant part of the story. Just two days before, I was in Tabriz old bazaar looking for myself a red shawl. Surely I needed to have a hijab to cover my hair but why red? God only knows! I looked and looked and looked for it in so many shops in the old bazaar -which is the biggest bazaar on the entire Silk Road- but I couldn’t find it. Why it wasn’t there in the midst of thousands of shawls? God only knows!
So after we arrived at the village, we first gave our information to the soldiers since we were so close to the border. Then we located ourselves in a village house that is open to mountaineers. The sun set down, then the cold night compassionately prepared us for the pretty hard climb of the other day. We sat around the fire, under the spectacular view of the night sky with thousands of stars. Some elders graced our circle with old Azeri songs about the mountains; how mountains listen to us in silence, how they keep our secret with no judgement. These poetic moments filled our eyes with tears of love. This showed me once again, one way or another every human being has his/her own personal griefs. And mother nature is a great healer.
Next morning we began our walk at the dawn. It would be a long and tough ascend and descend all day long and we had quite a distance to cover, an altitude difference of 1400m from 2.300 to 3.700m. The first half was relatively ok. We gave a break at a small lake and drank from pure and vitalizing springs.
My initial intention was to feel each and every breath I take and listen. Under my feet, I was feeling the sleeping landscapes that were said to be a heaven of flowers in spring. As I proceeded higher, it started to be breathtaking to see the mountains lining up one after another in the horizon. The clouds were casting their shadow on the multicoloured landscape. The springs surprisingly popping up from many points were carrying life to mother nature. Many crows and coveys of partridges were up in the air.
I was feeling that the summit would be the perfect setting for my intimate ceremony. Each time I enter new lands (this time it was Iran) I do this; inform my coming, ask for permission to enter and express my willingness to be included by the wisdom and all sorts of blessings that are embodied there. Then I pray for protection, growth, joy, wisdom and love.
During the entire climb, my grandmother showed up many times, filling my heart with her wise presence. She was a strong Anatolian woman with a vast compassionate heart who handed down to me the spirit of my nomadic ancestors. Then out of the blue, a forgotten memory revealed itself. I remembered, it was just a few months before she passed away, she said to me in a humorous and yet wise manner: “Your partner in life should be a shepherd!” I remember how together we laughed at this. I knew that my dear grandmother had her heart in seeing me getting married, as many of the elders dream such things for their young ones. But why she said a shepherd, God only knows!
So I started contemplating while taking my steps up to the summit. My mind was linking its tangled parts, revealing some unexpected informations. Couple of months before, in Dersim, in the sacred lands of Alevi people, some elders said to me that shepherds were the ones that live in more existential discoveries rather than relative realities. Many prophets like Moses, Abraham, Jacob, David were known to be shepherds. And metaphorically Jesus was said to be the shepherd for his people. I was opening to the insight that; just like a shepherd always keeps watch of his sheeps, so our essential Self always watches over us.
Gradually I realized that what my grandmother said to me was part of a divine conversation, reaching me from beyond. In her words shepherd was synonymous with my essential reality, my true nature. The companion I long for so deeply is ultimately the Divine Love. I don’t need to search for it, look for it somewhere else. The treasure is within. Ah what a blessing this was!
Last part of the climb was quite tough, rocky, steep and slippery. But in the end the view was so magnificent and rewarding at the top of Avrin, at 3700m. On the tip of the summit there was a circular stone wall. Even though it was looking like a ceremonial structure, most probably it was constructed to protect sheeps from strong winds. I was so tired, my body was at its limit, my legs were almost trembling. I approached the stone wall to catch my breath. As I approached I saw something red, silently waiting there on the wall. I reached out for it, took it in my hands and there it was, the red shawl! Waiting to meet me!
You can imagine how I was blown away. At that instant a deep knowingness, an immense Love saturated my whole Being and blessed me with wonderment and grace. The shawl (or the robe of love, Kaftan Al Hub in this story) showed up to be a reminder that the treasure and the companion we all long for is always and already within. Wanting to be seen, not just within this poor dervish but within each and every being.
The shawl has been my companion since then, in my pilgrimage in so many different lands on our dear Earth. Its fabric is already thin but the beauty it represents shines as brightly as the day it came to me on top of Mount Avrin.
