Brazilian Wax And Genital Warts

From Tashkent to the border and Samarkand Kirgiz

Ilham did not drink but Akram had already raised his glass when Rano, cheeks reddened and makeup become inaccurate concentrated to give his toast. It was at least the 10th glass of vodka that I swallow bottoms up. Indeed
my promise of Samarkand had not taken more than two days. Ilham had shared the same taxi that I Boukara in Samarkand. I called him the day after I arrived in Tashkent to see the city accompanied by an Uzbek. He and his cousin Akram So I was out two consecutive nights in the bustling restaurants of the city. I could never leave a penny or buy a round as I could not refuse one. The Uzbek

love feast in all restaurants we visited, guests began to dance, women waving buttocks and breasts like oriental dances, imitating the English Sevillian with their hands and swinging his head like the Chinese.
The old and young wiggle on the runway, then returned to their table wearing a new toast to their friendship forever. Being the only foreigner, I got to wear toast with half of the table in honor of the French-Uzbek friendship or in honor of my new friends. My promise of Samarkand was not really tenable.


So muddy that I visited Tashkent, the largest city in Central Asia with its broad avenues Stalinist very few built, large spaces with their neoclassical monuments, its bars HLM, and its beautiful Metro parks. Uzbeks like the Iranian and Turkmen are definitely tree planters and garden-makers.
There is no real downtown, the only place is really lively around the place of Tamerlane, or stands a huge statue of him on horseback.
The middle classes get richer Uzbek seems there fast enough but the most popular seem to suffer from high unemployment, strike spaces are full. The poorest regret the time of Soviet and full employment and zero inflation. Their living condition has worsened since he seems to independence. The corruption of government employees and police it more difficult to maintain in small businesses that people try to climb.

is accompanied by Christopher and Maylis, cute couple traveling on the Silk Road, I climbed into the car towards Doueroya Fergana city which gives its name to one of the most fertile valleys Agricultural Central Asia in the Soviet years dedicated to the intensive cultivation of cotton.
is in the rain at 120 km / h on a road full of potholes, the notebook in his left hand, my camera in the right, insulting Uzbek drivers who do not store on the side, not forgetting to give them a nice sign of the hand for 4 hours D. told us about his life as the second wife of a rich man who was already in his fourth wife. Its benefits do not allow him to live properly, it was trading for any kind between Tashkent and Fergana, fattened the police and the path leading his trade with an iron fist. Holy woman!

I took the road the next morning to Osh, bus and taxi, then bus again. Once more I was told to beware Kirgiz ... The border crossing went smoothly and peacefully. Kyrgyzstan arrived, I was really getting deeper feeling more in Asia. PS: We'll have to wait to see me dancing with the beautiful Uzbekistan. My pictures of celebration have been erased by mistake ...

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Boukara of May 5 to 12

At the left of the e f RONTIERS Uzbek taxi drivers swarm around me, pulling me by the arm to their own taxi then argue screaming. I definitely do not like taxi drivers.
I end up in one, then turned round to greet the other passengers. Three huge smile full of gold respond to my hello. This will be one of the pictures I have of Uzbekistan.

In Uzbekistan, I am actually back in Asia. The population is the result of interbreeding between Millennium Persian, Turkish, Arabic, Greek, Mongolian and Chinese which were added more recently the Russians and the Koreans after the war. It is impossible to define the screw age of Uzbekistan. I would say it has its eyes very slightly flanged, straight brown hair, the back of the head is flat but it has not flattened the nose of China. Women have the appearance of Eurasian gypsy or sometimes. They are cute young but life can be spared not. The majority of Uzbek
married wear a flowered dress over a long underwear in the same fabric, often synthetic, damage to one of the leading producers of cotton. The heads are covered with colorful scarves equally.
Men are rarely dressed in the traditional way, by cons they often wear some kind of cap embroidered. As in all countries, the wealthier classes are dressed in Western style. One feels that one is here at the crossroads of peoples of West and East. Here stopped the progression of the Arabs, but also to the Buddhist religion. This place has benefited from its strategic position to develop cities rich and prosperous business leaving a rich historical heritage and beautiful. Boukara Sarmarcande and are the two jewels untouched by history.

I stopped a few days Boukara, places and downs drawings make this a charming and pleasant even with the tourists who agglutinate. Madrassas, mosques and caravanserai are sometimes remarkable. The majority of these were built during the reign of Shaybanids who made it their capital.
The Soviets tried to eradicate Islam, madrassas are more than places selling souvenirs and carpets often enough ugly, it is the same for some mosques. The city takes a little look of a city museum. These places are not the atmosphere full of students of madrassas and mosques Iranian.

Christophe, a Belgian traveler, kept me company for a few days and ended up leaving for Tashkent following a dog bite. I realized my chance until now have not had any health problems, communication problems and sometimes unhealthy places hospitals in these less developed countries (although the USSR has allowed the development of many infrastructure and training of doctors) can lead to real anguish that only a return to the house to relieve them.

After five days, I finally emerge from my lethargy and resumed my journey towards Sarmarcande.
Sarmarcande is a relatively modern city and the agréab . The Russians have built Victorian houses, the avenues are wide and lined with plane trees. The old city does not have much interest but few streets retain a certain charm with old traditional houses.
Tamerlane left here some of the finest Islamic monuments of Central Asia. Sometimes it is curious to see this man who was one of the bloodiest conquerors of history but also one of the most discerning patrons of his time. Today he is revered by the Uzbeks, the country's unity was partly built around the myth since independence.

The Registan is the most famous landmark with its three magnificent madrasas, we imagine the place filled with merchants, camel, from the Silk Road. Tourists have replaced these colorful markets. The sunset is reflected in the façade, which then becomes entirely golden.

The most beautiful monuments to me is the Shahr-i-Zindah the family mausoleum of Tamerlane and favorites. The maus olées are linked along a lane on a small hill, 15 domes rise above the walls are sand-colored brick and facades are covered with very fine ceramics of intense blue. It is a true masterpiece.

A young student, a Jewish family in Samarkand was proposed to me to discover the nightlife. We started with a blues bar, nice enough served by the young Russian, Korean and Armenian and have chained by a nightclub in a basement, the same had drunk vodka at a music both Uzbek and International pop a bit cheesy. Very few women seem Uzbek out here.
Samarkand
I left with a terrible hangover, promising not to be touched, broken promise ...

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100 days already

100 days already!

I through 10 countries, some at a run some more slowly and traveled over 11,000 kilometers. I slept in hovels and luxury hotels. I eat everything I was proposing in the stalls at the roadside or in the souks and never be sick. I travel in old and dirty trains, in buses and ramshackle wooden boats, but also in luxury trains, buses modern I have always been welcomed by fellow travelers.
I have so many email addresses I forget that sometimes the owners.

I prison in Lake Nasser, the Red Sea, Arabian Sea and the Persian Gulf. I crossed the Red Sea and the Strait of Hormuz. I saw the source of the Nile.

I crossed deserts and mountains of 4500m high and vast plains. I saw people or women hiding derrriere black veils, I saw women walking naked. I saw very poor people, other oppulants too little.

I saw the most beautiful women in Ethiopia and the most beautiful eyes in Yemen. I hate Pizza Hut and Oman, Dubai madness amuses me. The Iranians by their modernity surpirs me behind the mask of Islam.

I saw the splendours made of human hands, the pyranides of Egypt and the temples of Karnak and Abu Simbel, the churches of Ethiopia, carved terraced mountains of Yemen and their villages perch, pisa skyscrapers in Hadramout and the skyscrapers of Dubai, I saw the sublime and beautiful Samarkand Isfahan. I've seen horrors built by man, or rather by the desire of some men megalomaniac almighty.

I saw unforgettable deserts, white sand dunes of Egypt and Sudan. I always loved the people who lived there.

I saw beautiful scenery in Ethiopia, wild animals and men free and proud.

I pass by people not happy, others sad and alone, having lost their families, illness or an earthquake. I saw children laughing and begging others in a violent rain with a plastic bag for an umbrella. I saw the carnage of the disease disappeared from us.

I saw women working tirelessly in all countries. Be happy ladies live in our Western countries.

I saw people with skin colors and different customs, all proud of what they were. All welcomed me with kindness, all helped me when I needed it.

I was drunk the vodka Uzbek to alcohol and to Ethiopian honey cocktails from Dubai, I'm drunk qat from Ethiopia and Yemen. But I have not tasted opium from Iran.

100 days is too long. My family and I miss my friends. The beers on Friday night between pots, patios de Paris, springtime in the south, diners at home, lunch at Gregoire, aperitifs made good wines and kemia of JM & MC, meals at Jean and Brigitte, the mediterranean sea, its light and easy living.

Thanks to those who leave me messages on this blog, Christilla, Isabelle, Alice and Malthilde and all others.

I continue my journey motivates and always curious what I discover and the people I meet. Tashkent has a few more days and I go in the direction of the Himalayas! In addition I do not go alone, I make some friends ...

I will prefer the those ...

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Towards

Mohamed was 7 years old when his great-grandfather died. Deep affection the old man tied to this child. Mohamed, the old, loved the groin of his lineage, he had learned how to make traps for birds, shoot stone-throwers, fish in rivers. He had also taught Arabic and Cyrillic alphabets, so that on arriving at school his teachers were surprised by the knowledge of this young child, but not so surprised when they knew who he was great grand son .
Indeed, the old man was respected in his village for his generosity, his wisdom and his actual beliefs. Upon returning from the war, he did not hesitate to distribute its assets to help his friends, neighbors and other villagers. He had spent his life as well, spend it earned as if it was not for him. He was old and lacked almost nothing despite the successes and deals they had enjoy throughout his life. Mohamed
enjoyed walking with him, lived a great pride when passersby greeted with deference loved one who was holding her hand.

One morning the old man got tired, and stiff joints more painful than usual, the work of a long life of hard work had been due to the flexibility and vitality of his body strong and resistant . A great weariness pervaded his whole being.
The child was like every morning to salute his back grandfather. This morning, the old man said: "Mohamed, it's time for me to die, I worked all my life, and so hard since the age of 8 years. But I can not die today because I still have to teach you what life has taught me. You must promise me never to forget what I'll teach you about life, men and god. "

And so every morning the old man rose ever more tired and more tired, but every morning he repeated these words to his great grand son, "Mohamed, it's time for me to die. But I can not die today because I still have to teach what I learned in my life. You must promise me never to forget I'll teach you about life, men and god. "
He seated him near the child to him and passed his knowledge and wisdom.

He learned that his ancestors were massacred at Merv. It explained that Merv was then a huge and splendid city, which had over 200 Madrasas, magnificent mosques, and all the passengers and traders admired her beauty. He told her how Genghis Khan, Mongol conqueror famous demanded his ancestors a tribe ex orbiting gold and grain but also the most beautiful girls in the city. His ancestors opposed the request. For three, he heard nothing more about Genghis Khan. One morning Tolui, the most brutal son of Genghis Khan reached the city gate at the head of a brutal army came Merv scratch card. Mongolian soldiers invaded the streets and killed one by one her inhabitants, destroying the palaces and mosques. Each soldier killed each saber or knife, more than 300 people, men, women or children. The few survivors

returned to the devastated city, had no time to bury their dead, their torturers reappeared to finish what they had not finished. He told how, Sultan Sanjar died of a heart attack when he heard the horrible devastation. The Mausoleum this man now sits amid a vast expanse surrounded by ancient walls still standing of Merv, as if to remind the world what happened here.

Mohammed also taught him the old generosity, explaining that the property was the fruit of labor but not without the will of god. "God gives or takes. The fruit of success is not yours, it should serve your family, your friends and neighbors. Then God will give thee again. It was well for me."

And so for thirty days, the old Mohamed Mohamed taught the young, making him promise not to forget. The thirtieth day, the old man had trouble getting up, he called his great grand son and said: "Mohamed, it's time for me to die. But I can not die today. I have one last thing to teach."

Then he took his breath and thought for a moment as if to find the right words to tell this child for so long that his mind and soul kept buried in the depths of himself.
"My dear and very dear Mohamed, I'm gonna say is the hardest thing I have to tell you. It is in the life of a man of dark periods he must free himself before he died.
I've already told the great war in which I joined to defend the USSR. I was proud to go and fight for this nation. I left my family with some good, we certainly had the largest herd and the best lands in the region. "

The old man told the war and then in detail the defense of Stalingrad, cold, hunger, mud and fear of death but also the courage of some, the strength of other characters on the battlefield.
Then he resumed "Mohammed, I killed men, many men besides, and never regret. We had lots of wins, then we advanced, always faster to get to Berlin first. The euphoria of victory made us mad. "

The old man paused a long moment, then replied:
"One evening I was walking in an alley in Berlin, we had drunk too certainly forget. I heard a shot, then I think I remember this Shooting in the vapors of alcohol. I decided to mount my gun in hand. I forced the door of an apartment, then I saw a woman who yelled to my view, terror or rage. I ' had no time to think, I was already pressing the trigger and fired on the defenseless woman. She fell once on the floor, I saw so young and handsome face that I had to kill.
But it 's added to all others, it was war, we had no remorse. "

The old man's face was contorted by the memory, the more tired eyes, pale complexion. He took a deep breath and said
"I went to leave, when I heard behind me a child crying. I turned and I saw a child no older than you, Mohamed, who was holding a gun in his hand and I was, his blue eyes full of tears. The child was me
finger on the trigger, I could not move. My whole life flashed in that instant, the face of this woman and extended the life I'd just take him, all these men I had killed all the evil I had done. This weapon and those eyes full of tears, were for me as a reflection of my consciousness.

The child was not shot, he dropped his weapon. I remained motionless a few moments and realized that God had to make my life. Only God could stop that child. I left. I cleaned my gun and a few days later I could go home. I was no longer the same man I had a debt to God.
I distributed my wealth to the poor, widows, helped rebuild the village without his men and people to relive. I spent my life making money and give it immediately to help people around me certainly to redeem myself in the evening the dark streets of Berlin.
His lips were dry, but the face was relaxed, he said:
"Know, Mohamed, only God gives life. Pray every day to thank him for his kindness to you. What horror has taught me I want you to learn that you never have to suffer for your actions. "
On these last sentences, the old man shook his head tenderly and her child:" Mohamed I taught you everything that life had taught me, never forget. Now I can die in peace. "

The next morning the little Mohamed found his great-grandfather, lying in bed, lifeless.

Mohamed's face was filled with tears, he apologized for his emotion. We arrived at Farab. He parked his car, a friend, intimate certainly took us to a photo shop to print the photo of us in front of the Mausoleum of Sultan Sanjar, then I put down a taxi for the last kilometers to the Uzbek border.

I crossed the border without much difficulty among women screaming and fighting over the arm loads of bags and under a blazing sun. Two hours after I was at Boukara, happy to rest a few days after this race in Iran and Turkmenistan.

Red After Mole Removal

Turkmenistan Uzbekistan 4 and 5 May

We left the boarder in the middle of green mountains that we desc ndues up the great plain of Central Asia. Turkmenistan has made a vast flat expanse of desert and oasis in which 4 cities were built. 4.5 million people are living above a gas reserve of the largest in the world.

The population is a mix of Turkmen, big brown eyes a little flanges, and the blond Russian low-rise jeans and belly button looks.

The only city that deserves attention is the delusional Ashgabat city dedicated to the glorification of the dictator designer, who died in recent months but still very present . The city is spread over several kilometers but seems empty part of the population. Avenues still wider and still few cars. They are lined with huge neoclassical palace covered with plates of white marble and gold, before which enthroned \\ portrait or a huge golden statue of Niyazov. The moments of the cities are tricks to the glory of the dictator on which gigantic statues representing the open arms to the people.
Nevertheless, urban planning seems to have been thought Wide tree-lined avenues, large squares, multiple parks, unity in the architecture. Unfortunately, beyond the glorification of the dictator ideuse, Ashgabat is a city in poor taste and seems hopelessly empty. But who knows, maybe in a thousand years, Ashgabat will be considered one of the masterpieces of the 21th century.

power keeps wages very low despite the country's wealth m ais consumer goods do not cost anything. Full of gasoline costs $ 2 a loaf, a Coke cost 5 hundred a meal 1 or $ 2. The Turkmen live decently and easily but can not leave their country. A taxi to 300 km costs 15 dollars, it is collective 5. Only hotels appear to be relatively expensive.

2 large columns framing the entrance to my hotel. The spacious lobby kept the charm of a more glorious past with its immense staircase. Reception held by a large Russian too Masked hands curled in rings too was only a small counter which exceeded this old blonde head and unpleasant. On the first floor, another Russian voluble but equally large, the curlers in horses accompanied me up to my room, huge. The lights were not working when they were still standing, dirty and broken beds, the bathrooms with a shower without water and without a sink faucet, all covered with dirt and Tatra. The toillettes not working more. But all retained a certain charm of the Soviet empire collapsed.

After 24 hours in this crazy city, I went to Mary, sad and ugly city, built by the Soviet years the 60s. The place was too murky to spend a night, so I negotiated with a taxi to go to the border by making a stop in Merv, the price of taxi is cheaper than a hotel room glaucous.

off I went to Uzbekistan.

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Iran - Tehran - Mashad May 2 to 4

I left Isfahan early morning. After 4 hours of road in a barren desert surrounded by ocher cliffs, I came in this modern city at the foot of a mountain, still snow covered. The city is noisy and active. The streets teem with cars and motorcycles. I'm only 24 here. I would not have time to meet with contacts Cyrus and her friends give me, I will not have time to know the other side of Iran .
I would not have time to accept the invitation of an Iranian go skiing for the weekend .
I see that the parks Teheran, busy streets, the National Museum and the embassy district. No way to change the dates of my visa Turkmen.
I will drag in the cafe or Naderi Iranian youth and Iranian lunch or just drink tea, it still feels here that Iranian Islam is more liberated than other countries I tie. Young people are not afraid of physical contact and share their table. Tourists do not like
Tehran, but I loved his animation compared to the quiet provincial towns. The nights do not seem very busy but another Tehran exists, I will not see her.

I left the next evening by a train deluxe Mashad with two French and Martial Anne in wedding trip on the Silk Road until late August. The train was spotless, the service excellent, the food was good. Arrive Mashad on 4 in the morning I had time to see the shrine of Imam Reza , one of the holiest sites in Shiite Islam. The Iranians come here each year per million.

I found a bus to the border Turkmen. Some passengers dressed in baggy pants, caps of white and wearing a long beard, his face more angular share my journey.
After 3 hours, a former police officer being part of the trip, taking care to find a taxi for the last miles of mountains. He takes the registration number of the taxi and my name, just to reassure me. The taxi will prove very nice and very funny tick, he will kiss me leaving.
The border is a sort of huge building crashed in the mountains, the output of Iran is going smoothly, I am asked what I think of Iran and what I in thought before leaving. We wish me safe journey and told me to pay attention to Turkmen, they will say the same about Uzbeks.

Two young soldiers in the eyes greet me on the side flanges Turkmen, welcomes me, after the passage of a few seconds the doctor, I pass through customs without difficulty and embarks on a shuttle Ashgabat. A border of plus and unlike what I was told, customs and police did not try to extort a few dollars.

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Iran: Isfahan of 29 to 1 May

Isfahan is the height of his reputation. There are few places that arouse admiration. Islamic Art Central Asia has reached its peak here. Is Esfahan is not as charming as other historic cities, it releases the power of the empire of its creator, Shah Abbas Grand but in respect, harmony and elegance of an art successful and sublime.

The place of the Imam is a marvel and two mosques two masterpieces of humanity, one is almost sober, the other is majestic.

palaces of Isfahan are lavishly decorated with frescoes, wooden pillars and ceilings painted or sculp. They are not pretentious externally, they have rather a lot of charm.



Bazaar of Isaphan is a huge maze. His first aisles are filled with souvenir sellers and carpet but that is sinking a bit, there is everything a supermarket has to offer, food, clothing, household appliances ... but also birds, spices, each driveway offering a particular product type. The charm is of course no comparison.
The bazaar is also home to some beautiful madrasas and caravanserial 's a little run down but is still active in its streets away from tourists that I ate my best meal of Iran . In shopping for a stall, I used the hatchet once and kidneys grids full of grass, it was delicious.
At the end of the bazaar, after almost 30 minutes of walking we reach the mosque Jameh another beautiful mosque in Isfahan .

The modern city is very nice, although the architecture is unremarkable, the streets are covered with trees, parks are very beautiful and fond of the Iranians to walk or eat ice .


The old bridges in Isfahan are one of the prides of the inhabitants. Tea houses occupy some arcades and often have terraces on the river Zayamdeh .
The teahouses are places very pitt oresques, I love dwell in the early evening to smoke a shisha called qalyan has fresh mint.

Iranians as a Persepolis take care of their heritage and are proud of. Much more and much better than the Egyptians.

I could not stay there very long, but I'm happy to have seen and have seen how this civilization has been refined and retains a share of this refinement.
Isfahan is a unique and wonderful!

click love to see more photos

Cold Sores Or Impetigo

Iran: Yazd from April 27 to 28


It was 6am when the taxi has engulfed the streets of Pisa of Yazd. ECHAPPEE only city that has throughout its history to the barbarian invasions and destructive o nt ravaged the Persian Empire.

The taxi left me at the entrance of an alley covered and lighted small yellow lights. I push a carved wooden door and found myself in a room beautifully decorated with wood paneling, a little further opens a large tent covered with short, it is also equally beautiful and covered carpets and decorated with a pool in its center. This is my hotel. It has
Yazd found the most beautiful hotels and a morsel of bread.

This city is a maze of streets that we do not see the houses and palaces hidden behind mud walls, alleys and covered bazaars. The only pomp appare nt is the magnificent mosques, palaces, however, there are many, they testify to the rich past of this commercial city in central Iran.


The city is one of the nicest cities I have traveled, people are more welcoming than elsewhere. It is not uncommon for an Iranian motorcycle offers me my deposit if I seems a little lost. A little video support:




The team of the hotel will keep me company during the evenings. They tell me their stories and some funny sayings Iranian: God did not plead on Thursday evening, there are too many feet into the sky for God to see your hands!
They explain the short-term marriage in Iran. It is possible for a couple to get married for a few days and even for a few hours to spend an intimate moment together. These marriages take place before a mollah or not, but if they are surprised it is better to have some witnesses. For them, this is getting the consent of two people. They are mostly women having been previously married, if they are still virgins, the subject becomes a bit more complicated.

Islam is very present in Iran and many Iranians seem very religious but it is rare to see men do their prayers in the street, the call to prayer does not seem to be so followed. Women are actually veiled but none (aside Bandar has) does not hide his face. Young people wearing veils that fall behind, shorter jackets and sometimes heels, and does not lesignent makeup. It's not as bad as you can imagine France or the West, and in fact less hard than in Sunni Islam although some Sunni Islam may be more apparent liberal as in Egypt. Unfortunately the government has launched campaigns to stop the liberalization of the outfits, the following sites have clearly shown: http://www.farsnews.com/plarg.php?nn=M239368.jpg

bad, they are quite beautiful without their veils ...

Yazd is also the religious center of a very ancient religion and deemed the first monotheistic religion in history, anterior even to Judaism, Zoroastrianism, the religion of the Persian Sassanid empire. His god is Ahura Mazda, to go back through the wing man, a symbol of Iran.
The fire temple keeps a lighted a flame, they say, for 4000 years. The zoroiastriens are often traders. Their diaspora allows them to accept bank card payment from Dubai.
There are also two strange boxes, call Towers of Silence or the dead were left to the vultures to avoid polluting the earth. I

Quite Yazd in the early morning, to join the legendary Isfahan!

2 Horses Click on to see more photos

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Bandar Abbas - Shiraz - Persepolis

The heat was intense and dazzling sun was out of the customs on the Iranian port of Bandar e Abbas, Iran's major port since the Iran - Iraq.

The formalities were quick and simple and the customs police and cordial. For my two companions Afghan, Haji Bashir and the transition was more laborious, the Afghan immigrant workers from Iran and as with us, they are subject to the same difficulties.
We all agree the bus station, they took the direction of Mashad and Shiraz me. The great progress before the station was filled with a mixed population has the image of the city. The Iranian Bandar have the most diverse backgrounds, some are black faces of Somali women are very beautiful, others are of Arab origin and the oldest women mostly wear masks covering their faces, others have blue eyes or green, some say they are descendants of the Portuguese installed very long on the shores of the Persian Gulf in particular has Hormuz, Bandar other faces of the fars, very dark-skinned and thick body hair. There are also more Afghan square face and high cheekbones with a closer look East.
When we entered the hall station, I was surprised by the roar of cities on behalf of Iran sellers hoping to attract customers. It is fun to watch passengers bewildered and trying to guess what will be their choice. My Afghan friends took care of me find a bus. They then invited to lunch in a covered street behind the station, then they left me with concern.
I went to visit Bandar and a taxi dropped me at an internet cafe or a band of young, jeans and t-shirt Desiel branches offered me a drink, offered me internet and how to surf sites banned in Iran.
I joined the station, the men invited me to drink tea, another older and a little crazy to me talk of Victor Hugo, Jean-Paul Sartre and Brigitte Bardot. Another age of other references, until now I had mostly been right Zidane and Chiraс. He then sings a song English "God is the Greatest." I'm Quite the world with a pen and a keychain offered by a merchant, makes a copy of the Koran on Mary and the test of God is the Greatest. The reception on the shores of Iran was more than warm.

After a night on the boat, so I chained for a long night bus to Shiraz. Two Iranians passionate student of international politics, asked me many questions about the French election campaign they had followed in the newspapers. Their support was total Segolene, representing for them the option most democratic and fairest for the people. They spoke more quietly in their own president, Mahmoud Ahmadinejad, the Iranians kept thinking that some poverty, a people whose main CONCERN is to find work and feed his family cares little freedoms. He believes that he is "crazy" but that Bush is no better, they did not fail to recall that European governments and americians supported Saddam during the Iran-Iraq war that seems to have deeply traumatized Iranians.

I arrived in Shiraz was the dawn of time to rest a bit, then I went to visit the modern town preserves some very beautiful buildings left by the Zand dynasty which had made their capital, beautiful parks, a very lively bazaar and the tomb of the poet Hafez, which is open every night a crowd came to honor him by reciting poems:

"Her long hair was in disarray, her face was hot and covered with dew, her lips smiled, his shirt collar fell slightly apart
she sang a love poem she had a goblet of wine available and it was slightly out of control her beautiful eyes were warlike and her lips expressed regret
She came harmed the past at my bedside at midnight and sat She put his head in my ear and with a gentle voice she said
"Ah, my faithful lover Are you sleepy? U No love at night if a wine that is offered is unfaithful to the love he does not become a worshiper of wine O
Puritans, move away and do not blame the Libertines who drank wine to the dregs since besides love, no gift we have not been made on the first day of the World

The pace of provincial towns resembles life in the south of Europe, after the city falls asleep 13h, then 17h to Top open again and the city is filled with walkers or families come to eat ice cream on the lawns of the city. where life seems sweet and nice.

Shiraz
But it's also a few kilometers from Persepolis, the mythical city of antiquity conquered by Alexander. He has stolen treasures including the fabulous legend recounts that he took more than 3,000 camels to transport it. Shortly after the fire has ravaged this shrine, the archaeol ogues shares remain the responsibility of Alexander.
What the fire had not destroyed the European archaeologists have wins in their museums. The Museum of Persepolis of Tehran and the pale in a document collections of the Louvre. The site
concervé nevertheless a certain majesty with its monumental staircase, a few massive and beautifully carved doorways of bulls or horses, and especially the reliefs very well preserved. The most beautiful being the one who represents the delegations of the Persian Empire, Ethiopians, Arabs, Thracians, Indians, Parthians, elamiutes, Medes ... has come to take their toll Achaemenid Emperor. One can imagine well enough the beauty of the site and the extreme delicacy of its architecture.


carved tombs of the kings Darius 1 and 2 and Cyrus the cliff not far from Persepolis are also remarkable. The site recalls Myra in Turkey and its Lycian tombs.

that evening, I took the road to Yazd. My trip to Iran was a race, my visa Turkmen leaving me only 10 days.

Click the lion to see other photos .