Mashhad

Sina invites me to stay with him and I agree. He is not into Ta'arof - the Iranian practice of offering you something without really meaning it - and I'm very happy when he lets me chip in on the taxi ride. Due to the constant scamming of pilgrims, the taxis in Mashhad have meters, so for once I'm not worried about being ripped off. Plus, I'm with an Iranian.

Sina's 'cave' is pretty cool. An architecture student, his whole house is covered by posters of various designs and cluttered with models. Pretty versatile guy - plays basketball, umpires baseball, writes poems, listens to cool music, makes great photos. We sit down to eat some lunch, then take a taxi to Hooman and Pooya's place.

A family of architects, their house is rather interesting, the drafting room in particular. Sina tells me that he goes to see the two identical twin brothers whenever he feels bad. They are never unhappy. I believe him. There are few people I've met with so much warmth, and such a lasting sense of humour.

The plan is to sneak me into the Mausoleum of Emam Reza - holiest site in Iran, closed to non-muslims. We first enter the enormous new courtyard, half finished concrete structures surrounding it. A guards pads me down, but it's no problem. The Jameh mosque is superb. The brothers explain that you are dwarfed by the greatness, but are able to relate to and find yourself in the details of the flowers or the intricate calligraphy. On the side is a huge staircase, carved out of a single piece of wood, with the doors shut. According to legend, the 12th Emam shall ascend it at the end of the world, when he returns.

We take off our shoes, and proceed to enter the mausoleum. It's amazing.... halls and halls, the walls and ceilings covered entirely by a mosaic of mirrors. Within each hall people praying - Arabs, Iranians, women, men (although some sections are gender-segregated). Finally, the tomb of the Emam - a shifting mass of bodies, each one straining to touch the sacred sarcophagus. The women are in a specially segregated, glass corridor - a mass of black. The prayers are mixed with weeping. The atmosphere is like nothing I've ever seen.