We left Esfahan in the morning for Abyane up in the mountains. This is a small village halfway to our next destination, Dizin. The scenery was beautiful most of the way as we followed along a range of snowy mountains. The contrast between the desert and snow has a stark kind of beauty that looks a whole lot like Arizona.
Once we arrived in the small village our guide took us for a walk. He kept telling the girls to be careful and, “Don’t walk there- you’ll crack your head!” “Don’t fall. It’s slippery!”
It was pretty funny and quite ineffective. They came up to me a few times and asked why he keeps telling them what to do.
We stopped again at a woman selling her goods, where he directs me, “Take her picture.” So I do.
She is lovely. Then he says, “Now please buy something
from her.” So again, I end up
reluctantly buying something. I’m
not at all opposed to supporting local artists but do enjoy choosing myself
what and whom I’d like to support.
He stops at one woman who is selling dried apples. He takes a whole handful and says,
“It’s free. She wants to give to
you. Please take it.” At this point I feel like saying to him, “Stop telling me things are
free and then to pay for it!” but I don’t. He thrusts a big handful at the little sister who shakes her
head. He says, “Take it” So she shakes harder. I tell her that she can say, “No, thank
you.” if she doesn’t want any so she says, “No, thank you.” He says, “Yes! Take it!” and she hides behind me. I tell him that she doesn’t want any
and he tells me, “You should tell her to take it.” Now he’s pushing things. I’m still smiling on the outside but am ready to end our
walk together. I’m thinking how
different my account of this country would be if I had a guide like this the
entire time. I wonder if I would’ve
made it till the end.
Seriously.
He told us we were meeting our new guide at this city at
noon that would take us up to our next destination and stay with us the rest of
the time. It is apparently another
man. This time the girls have just
said, “We hope it’s someone fun!”
They no longer care if it’s a man or woman. He dropped us at our hotel at 2pm and then said the guide
would be here in the morning. This
is how all of our days have gone.
Within minutes of each other the stories are quite different and we have
no idea which one is correct until it happens. We say our goodbyes at the elevator and I thank him for
everything. He then says, “It is
our custom for you to tip us.” I
understand tipping and all of that but I really like tipping people when I feel
like they’ve done a good job. I
know he did his job in a way that he thought was good, but we are paying a private tour guide
rate in Euros that is competitive with rates in Europe and Japan- they are not
in anyway cheap. Our last guide spent
up to 10 hours with us a day. His
maximum has been 4. Every single
place he took us to put high pressure on us to buy things and it just wasn’t
very relaxing. I think the working
rate is plenty for working only 4 hours a day. So I really did not want to give him a big tip on top of
it. He tells me to pay the driver
$50 tip because that’s, “so little and he has many children.” He says, “Give me your wallet and I
will pay him.” I say, “I will pay
him.” And keep my wallet in my hand but this does not stop him from reaching
over into my wallet and pulling bills out. I pay the driver the $50 tip, as he’s already been paid for
the trip. I hand it to him and
say, “It’s not a little bit of money in my country. It’s a lot so please stop saying it’s so little.” He says again to me, “It’s
nothing.” I say, “It is a lot for
me.” And get into the elevator giving him exactly what he keeps telling me my
money is worth- nothing. I don’t feel particularly good about it
on my ride up the elevator but am glad the interaction is over. I should’ve probably given him
something and chocked it up to cultural differences in language and
expectations. Suddenly I’m
keenly aware again of my womanhood in this country and probably didn’t give him
anything just because he’s a man demanding something from me, a woman. I’m not an Iranian girl and he can’t
make me give him a tip so I don’t.
Feeling defiant and as
rebellious as if I were 16 again I find myself quite irritated. I feel guilty for not having given him
a tip but at the same time cannot imagine feeling good about giving him one
either. Maybe it’s just one of
those situations that has no good solution. But I like to imagine all situations can have a happy and
peaceful resolution. Maybe that’s
my lesson from this country. Maybe
there really are no good solutions to the problems that currently exist in this
part of the world. Or maybe I’m
just tired and need a good night’s rest.
We are the only guests in this whole hotel right now as it
is very off season. We are alone
here in the middle of the mountains and there is only one woman on staff here
and the rest are men. At dinner we
are alone in a huge dining room with 3 men repairing window cracks next to us
so we enjoy the delicious scent of silicone caulking as we eat our soup. The one young man who has a wild crush
on the little sister and keeps making googoo faces at her and little clicking noises with his tongue, has told me to remove my hejab.
No one is here he says and you don’t have to worry. Suddenly, I’m feeling like I might like
to keep it on! I do untie it from
under my chin as eating with it on does drive me crazy but leave it loosely
on the back of my head. I feel
weird being in front of these 3 men without my head fully covered.
Weird.
