Qom

This is a sensitive subject, in which we will tell our impressions and experiences with all the respect that deserve those who practice Islam.

Iran has two cities that are considered spiritual centers in the country: Qom and Mashhad.

We would go first to Qom that was in route and we had planned to go to Mashhad by plane later in the journey. However, because of our experience in Qom, we changed our minds.

When we arrived, the first thing that caught our attention was the strict clothing of the women: all with chador and at least 90% percent in rigorous black, including gloves. We had read that one of the most beautiful and important sanctuaries for Iranians was precisely the Hazrat­e Masumeh which contains the tomb of Fatima, the sister of Imam Reza who was buried there in the 9th century, so off we went!

The 300­meter walkway, as well as the central square are quiteimpressive in materials, shine and care. The sanctuaries that we know of virgin of Guadalupe, Fátima or Lourdes are really humble beside this one!

And so, this was our experience:

We arrived at the front entrance of the sumptuous complex on aWednesdayaround6:30 pm, after being stared at as aliens as we approached it. Tickets and entrances were separate for men and women.As women, we went to our corresponding side and joined about 10 others of whom we could only see their faces standing as guards; some with metal detectors at hand and others revising the women before the rotating doors. When they got a glimpse of me and my friend all of them froze as if posing the question ‘what on earth are you doing here’?!

On a simple reaction we were immediately stopped in a corner, and one went to a telephone and we started waiting: 5, 10, 15 minutes in total silence.Other Iranian women arrived, they were searched and entered, all in absolute silence. Those who entered did so after looking at us from head to toe.It was quite strange, we felt naked even thoughwe had never worn so much clothing in our lives!

Finally, the telephone rings, the same one that had called before answers, listens and hangs up. The verdict: we could not enter. If we still wanted in we should return the next day at8:00 in the morning. Taking deep breaths, we went out. Maybe a half hour had passed and the plaza was filled with women, an ocean of black cloth.

We walked to our left and there we found another door. As good Latinas, we had to try again. The panorama was the same, with the difference that we met a young girl who smiled and in English told us that we should have a full chador and showed us a little window acrossthe street where to buy it.

What a mess was putting that sheet on, it slipped and we had no way of holding it steady! In the end we just attempted at covering everythingbut the face so we wrapped ourselves up as well as we could, and returned.Again, we met the smiling girl who apologized as much as she could and told us to return at8 amthe next day.

The men had a totally different story. They went in straight away, theywere not submitted to a rigorous inspection and they were simply told they could come back the next morning with a guide.

After our failed attempts, we decided to sit down for a while on the walkto watch the families go inside the sanctuary. Someorganized themselves on the floor for picnics (an Iranian family tradition), a lot of them leaned on the floor to pray, and the occasional children ran around in play.

On Thursday very early, we wrapped ourselves up again in our chador sheets, as our men wore only long sleeves and pants.We hoped this time we could merge into the crowd, but that was hardly the case, everyone could tell we were foreigners. When we arrived, we were greeted by a smiling and friendly woman who answered all our questions.

In some other visit to Sanctuaries, we were also greeted by female volunteers tagged ‘International Affairs’ which are of much help.

We finally got to know the amazing sumptuousness of this sanctuary. The number of tiles seems infinite! In my husband engineer’s eyes and humor, he exclaimed: “what a good little contract this was!”.Between all the gold and silver our attention shifted to all the people on the carpets: sleeping, sitting, talking, eating, walking from one side to another on the huge courtyards (this sanctuary has 4, others less) and praying in the small sacred sites to which we did not have access. Then we got the explanation: the mosque is exclusively for prayer, while sanctuaries are places to meet and hang out.

Days later in Isfahan and in other places talking to Iranians,referring tothe strictness we felt in a place like Qom, we saw that they also considered this city like one of those places where you don’t really want to be at.

I can recall another awkward religious moment, this was in a parking lotin Shiraz.A man who wore executive clothes went out of his way to help us enter into another place. He not only convinced the people at the booth but waited for us to come in.As we parted ways, I extended my hand in gratitude, while he very kindly replied: “I’m sorry, I do not shake your hand because my religion is Islam and it does not allow me.” I did not know how to react; all sorts of questions arose in my head!But the only thing that seemed right was to apologize for my ignorance.