Departure from Yazd for Shiraz and invitation to the mosque

A farewell breakfast with a cheese omelette is Pascal’s favourite restaurant.

This is certainly why Pascal loved this town so much; it’s hot, but we eat well there.
We take back the taxi that drove us to Saryadz the day before (10 000 IRR) for the Yazd bus station.

We are chained for 8 hours by bus to Shiraz. It’s always very hot. The temperature at 10:00 was 34 degrees.

We arrive at the Guest-house around 5pm.

Always faithful to our habits and business, we go on an expedition to discover the city of Shiraz.
Difficult to describe Shiraz, the city is much more modern than Yazd, wide avenues, large buildings, many museums, many more tourists as well (although in Iran, it is very relative), the city being close to Persepolis.

The picnic evening turns into a mosque evening with free meals 🙂
We enter an alley on the right, which was supposed to take us to our hotel, located on the parallel boulevard.
A young man on a bicycle, coming in the opposite direction, accosted us.
Usual exchanges of courtesy, where we come from, how many children do we have, girls, boys, etc…
A few people from the next building join the conversation and invite us to attend the evening ceremony at the mosque. To help us get out of our hesitation, two glasses of lemon juice are offered to us. We are even promised a free lunch basket distributed to all participants.
We’re looking at each other. With nothing to lose, we agree. The kindness of our guests convinced us (our stomach, which was crying famine, had nothing to do with it).
Once again, foreigners are rare in Iran. It’s very surprising to be the object of so much attention.
Then we are invited to participate in the celebration separately. The prayer room is divided into two parts by a curtain, with men on one side and women on the other. The destinies of Christine and Pascal separate.
On the male side, at first, men enter and leave regularly. Some say their prayers, but most of them talk to each other. A snack is served (tea, pastry). An imam appears, sits on his side. The oldest ones come to greet him.
Then, as the tone becomes more and more serious. Notables from the neighborhood come to talk, an imam launches the prayer. The standing men begin to dance in a concentric circle by hitting their chest with the arm, becoming stronger and stronger.
The feminine side is more of a tea room atmosphere. The women chat while the children play on the carpets. At the height of the men’s ceremony, some women, especially older women, hit their torso softly as a sign of support.
The children are very curious, want to know everything about this stranger and call the people who speak English to find out more.
Christine didn’t see the time. As for Pascal, the two hours in the mosque seemed very long to him.
We return to our hotel, escorted by the one who will be our guide the next day to Persepolis.