the little travelers * travel blog

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Here's a current contest going on to win one of our dvds.  Good luck!  Check out the site while you're there!  Great blogging adventures in Dubai!

home for the holidays

well, not really.   We rented a bitty cabin in the mountains and enjoyed the snow.

Santa was very good to the girls this year...again.  

We brought the little ornament that the little sisters from Iran made for us and hung it on our tree.  I think it is actually a keychain, but I have a hard time imagining fitting this into my pocket- so we thought perfect as an ornament!  We each received one and they made them themselves, primarily out of salt.  The stars are metal, not plastic and fastened with little nails.

Nothing tastes better than fresh picked icicles!

leaving Iran

We need to head to the airport at 1am to check in at 2 for a 5 am flight.  Not fun times to travel with children.  The airport is packed and of course overheated.  Since we are so close to leaving and I'm overtired I find myself quite resentful towards the guy in front of me in short sleeves.  I am so glad I did not come here during the summer.  I would very likely have been arrested.  I just can't imagine having to keep covered up in that kind of heat.  In the cold, my hejab became my friend.  

One day when we were still with our lovely guide I had an itch around my elbow.  I reached up my sleeve to scratch it and it felt a bit rashy so I pulled up my sleeve to look at it- without thinking.  As I glanced at my elbow the guide turned around and her eyes bugged out like, "What are you doing?"  "Oh, oops.  I forgot."  I said.  But then started to think about it- we were driving through the desert- no one was around. Our driver though, was a man so clearly baring my forearm was inappropriate.

As I'm waiting to board the airplane with two sleep walkers I resolve to travel back home hejab-less. What are they going to do- send me back here as punishment?  We are once again traveling on Iran Air- an airline that enforces Islamic dress code.  Once we board the plane however, no other woman takes hers off so my resolve quickly turns to chickenness.  I keep it on the whole flight but once we land I see two other women pack theirs away- so I do too.  Now on an entire flight there are three of us that have exposed heads before actually ex.  Meanwhile, the plane is still taxiing to our terminal but at least 20 people- men and women- are out of their seats opening up the overhead bins despite the flight attendants demands to stay seated.  I sit in fascination as I watch an overt disregard for 'authority' on one level and complete conformity on another.  You can actually get arrested for disobeying the rules on an airplane.  Getting baggage out of the overhead bin while taxiing is illegal.  What is the difference I wonder.   Why so willing to break one set of laws, but not another?   One perhaps has nothing to do with religion?  who knows...

The trip here has been eye opening.  It was only 16 days due to a visa mix up. We initially wanted to stay for 30, the maximum allowed for Americans.  Two of us have a visa that expires mid December and one of us has one that is good until February as they are only good for 90 days.  It took us 9 months to get these visas so I decided to just make it work for as long as we could.  Sixteen days turned out to be the perfect amount of time for us for this kind of trip.  We did a lot of moving around and are pooped out.  We saw a lot of the country, but missed the Caspian region, which I really would've loved to have seen.  Overall, we felt very safe on our travels and didn't have any experiences that were in any way threatening.  Our 3rd guide was irritating, but harmless.  We felt a very strong sense of welcome by the people as a whole and a real love of Americans!  Something I had not expected- and something that is quite rare these days worldwide- so was a change.  We met some of the most generous people here that I've ever met anywhere and Iran will now always hold a special place in my heart.

So why did I go?  I get asked this question a lot!  Why Iran??  In California we live directly behind a Persian market where we'd shop often.  Each time I was in there I felt like the people were so warm and kind and like I really wanted to visit Iran someday.  I really love the food and the architecture and was irritated at our lack of knowledge about the place.  My girls are still young and are not exposed to the news so do not  know the word "Iran" outside of a traveling context.  This will not last forever, though.  But by the time they do hear of this country they will have already had another experience with it so will hopefully question what they hear about it.  

Iran will be a place to them where they picked pomegranates and made friends.  It is the place with really cool hotels with baby camels in the middle of the desert and where they played in the snow for days.  It is really important for me when I travel with my children that I do not hold an agenda for them.  I did not take my daughters there to learn about women's rights and female suppression.  I have some interest in those areas, but I am an adult.  I do not interfere with their experience of a country by feeding them my adult ideas about it.  They are interested in interacting with nature primarily.  They are interested in playing and making friends with other children.  Their experience of this country is mostly a physical one.  As they are getting older they are asking more questions about things and obviously due to the dress code in this country more things came up having to do with laws and such.  They are in the age of 'fairness' and they did say, "It's not fair that men can wear short sleeves and can show their hair."  I did not encourage or discourage this kind of  talk but simply listened to them.  My hope for them is that having had the experience of traveling to a  place like this becomes part of who they are and when they are older can draw on this experience and somehow put it to good use.  I hope they, like our first guide, will someday lead a purpose driven life that incorporates all of their past experiences.

It is my hope that anyone who has been following the blog will come away with a deeper sense of the country and its people.  Even if our governments are not friends, we can certainly be friends with the people of Iran.  

And I bid farewell to the two men who have watched over me for the last 16 days.  From every single public building I have entered, they've been there.  They've watched every one of my meals, watched me check into my hotels, have looked up at me from bills while spending them, watched me in mosques, museums and snack shops.  To Khomeini on the right and Khamenei on the left, I bid you farewell.  May you rest in peace Khomeini and may you please live in peace- oh, and please, please let live in peace, Mr. Khamenei.

I will sign off on this trip with a favorite quote of mine that comes from A Course in Miracles that says, "The holiest place on earth is where an ancient hatred has become a present love."

more snow...

So, I met a whole new kind of Bush supporter here these last few days. (None are pictured here- these are just photos of folks having fun) These are young snowboarding types who actually love Obama- yet support Bush and really wanted McCain to win.  Why?  They have been hoping the entire duration of the Bush administration that the US would bomb Iran.  They feel the only way for their government to be overthrown is by outside influence.  I find this attitude both interesting and disturbing at the same time.  

"Why don't you do something if you don't like it?"  I say.  "We can't."  they reply.  I do not know what' s it's like to be raised in an environment like this, but I cannot imagine that I could ever have such a defeatist attitude.  But my upbringing is so different.  I'm the daughter of immigrants.  They left their country and surroundings because they didn't suit them on some level.  I've always been taught to change things I don't like- and have largely been able to do that. 

I remember when I first started working in the inner city in LA- the most shocking thing to me was the overwhelming attitude of apathy I found there.  I was working with teens and had expected to find the medias portrayal of these kids as wild and rebellious.  But what I found was the majority of them parked in front of a TV not caring about anything.  I was the one who was saying, "Aren't you mad?  Don't you care?"  Nope.  Most were happy to stay in front of their TVs are not care about much.  So here are these young men snowboarding all day hoping the US bombs them so they can get alcohol legally.    Over simplified, yes.  But that certainly was the gist of our conversation.

The little sister decides to get herself the shovel sled today too and it's working quite well!

Our last day in Iran is a good one.  Tomorrow will start our 2-day journey home.

snow days!

The part the girls have been looking forward to the entire trip!  So much fun.

As long as women tuck all their hair up into a hat, they can wear hats while skiing.  And this mom's s jacket is short!

The little sister's sled.  She thought the plastic one that the big sister bought looked 'dumb' so she found a piece of trash that worked well for her.

new guide!

Our savior arrived and was aptly named Mohammad.  He is a punky young kid with a funky hairdo and an attitude to match.  We are all quite happy to see a new and fresh spirit in the form of our new guide though he is 3 hours late. 

When checking out and the bellhop takes our stuff to the car  he sees me take out 30,000 rials and he says, “That’s too much.  Give him 10,000.”  I say, “Oh, really?  Our last guide told me to give all our guys 30,000.  He checks with the woman behind the counter and she agrees 10,000 is the right amount.  He then says, “Did he tell you to pay that much?”  I said, “Oh, ya!  And so much more!”  He says, “I hate Esfahanians!  They’re all like that!” I do recall now that our guide prior to the grouchy man said, “Esfahanians are known for being serious businessmen.”  I guess that her way of subtly warning us.  Anyway, I mention that he was quite aggressive in the money department and he immediately gets on his phone to file a complaint on our behalf.  Apparently the city of Esfahan will only allow their own tour guides to work in their city and networking with the boys is all part of their deal.  This guide has been trying to crack into the city saying the guides there are not well qualified.   It was our one sour experience.  He’s got me writing to the Ministry of Tourism to see if it’ll help guides from other cities be able to work there as well.  

Graffiti while driving through Tehran on our way.

He is the first guide who drives himself so I get shotgun!  Leg room and not being between my darling children for the 6 hour drive we have ahead of us is a dream.  We are gaining a new perspective on the 20-something life in Iran since this time it is coming from a male perspective.  He’s lived in the states and Europe so has a good understanding of what life on the other side is like. Interestingly enough he says that Iranian girls are much freer than their counterparts in Europe, even in quite liberated countries like Sweden.  The difference with European girls is that since they are modern women they do what they want by choice, whereas their Iranian counterparts are trying to prove themselves as liberated as what they imagine girls in the West to be based on what they see in movies.  Many are trying to prove to the others that they are not going to be regulated by anyone else and in the process forget about regulating themselves.  This is the same issue we have with teens in our country- they confuse rebellion with freedom.  Acting out of anger against an establishment is not the same thing as making a decision based on what one wants to do.  That has very little to do with true freedom. 

We arrive at the hotel at about 8pm and in the hotel lobby is an Aussie in shorts with his legs up on the desk checking his emails.  It is a shock first of all to see someone else with  blond hair after 15 days, but more to see his absolute casualness.  It is not really OK to wear shorts here, even for men.  All the guide books warn against it -but here he is in the snow with outside temps at -2C sitting in shorts with fuzzy blond leg hairs sticking out.  On the one hand I am disturbed by the lax attitude in a country that requires, well… uptightness.  And on the other hand I am so happy to see such familiarity and informality I want to kiss him.  He’s half my age so I refrain but return a very hearty hello to his wide smiled, “Ello.”   This is the 2^nd to last day of our trip and the first recognizable tourists we’ve seen other than a Japanese group at the Imam Square and suddenly I’m excited to go back home.  Seeing this one small display of comfort says so much to me.  I think for the most part we Americans are a bunch of slobs compared to much of the world, but in all of that sloppiness is an ease that is difficult to describe.  It’s like a pair of comfy jammies- not always appropriate in public, but oh so cozy.  

Abyaneh

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.  

Esfahan, Day 2

We begin our day with a second attempt at taping or even photographing at a school. Our guide’s English is not quite as good as the last two and we seem to be having a bit of misunderstandings. Even though this was supposed to be arranged by the agency they left it up to him. He understood that I wanted to put the girls into a school for the day so I could sight see in peace without my children bothering me. So he asked all the wrong questions to get us there. Once there we were once again told that we could visit a few classrooms but could not film or photograph- the whole point of the second visit. I was wondering why he kept telling me the children should stay in the car with the driver while I went to Imam square by myself.   

I got this photo of the preschoolers at the school before they asked me to put my camera away.   

Anyway, we met a few other teachers and sat in on a 3rd grade lesson and an exercise class, that looked a whole lot like my Korean yoga class I take at home. A few interesting notes from the class was that once again the teacher explained to us that she gives the lesson and then it is up to the student to draw pictures and retell what they understood the lesson to be in their own words and through their own art.  She also explains to me about a bunch of herbs hanging on the wall. She says it is very important to teach the girls about natural medicine and healing their bodies with local plants and herbs so they do not become dependent on chemical drugs. There is also a plant experiment going on in the window. They have put cuttings of the same plant into glass vases with a different kind of water in each to see which will grow the best. Again, I am surprised by all of this and encouraged because they are teaching these girls how to think, the look at things critically, to experiment and look for results and to be healthy and in some regards self reliant. OK, so they go to religion class after this where they are told how to be ‘good girls’ and what that entails but that does not negate the other part. And, they can choose which religion to study!! Who knew this?? If a girls is Christian, Jewish or Zorrastrian she is exempt from taking Islam class and is given tests in her own faith. The one religion not tolerated by the government is B’ahai. 

We are once again whisked around by our guide at a fast past and finally make it to Imam Square this morning. It is a beautiful sight to behold- even in poor lighting!

The sun is actually out this morning, which technically I’m happy about. I do not do well in sunless climates but it couldn’t be in a worse position for photographing it. 

I’m trying my hardest not to think of last nights’ lighting while we were underground. I am filming there when I’m approached by a police man. I have been asked to stop filming or photographing about 5 times since arriving in the country so expect this will be the same. It’s always a bit intimidating when someone approaches wearing a machine gun but this man is smiling. He says, “Hello.” I say hello. Then he says, “Are you enjoying your trip to Iran?” Yes, I say. And then he says, “Is there anything else I can do for you while you are here?” No, I say skeptically as I’m still expecting him to ask me to stop filming once the niceties are over. He finishes with, “Please enjoy your stay,” and walks off. 

Later we meet with him again in front of the police station where there are quite a few machine gun wearing dudes. A few of them call to us to stop and I’m sure this time they will ask for my tapes or memory card as I’ve heard stories of. They call us over and ask if we would like a map. All of them are making goofy faces at the girls and attempting little English phrases. It is something I really really wish I could photograph! But then I would be guaranteed removal of my digital memories. 

After that we hit the bazaar, which had lots of treasures. Today was designated as our shopping day so we really wanted to stroll leisurely through the markets to choose our treasures.

Instead we were only taken to the shops where our guide is apparently getting kick backs. He’d drag us into a place, they’d give us tea and he would tell us to photograph them freely. Then in the end he’d say, “Please buy many things. They are so cheap! Each table cloth is only $60- buy many! So cheap for your country.” 

This attitude towards Americans is truly one of my pet peeves. There’s lots of things lots of other countries think about us that don’t bug me much but this idea that we are all filthy rich and buying many $60 tables clothes is nothing offends me. Maybe because I work really hard for my money in jobs that don’t pay much- like teaching. I don’t spend $60 on table clothes at home. 

The girls earned spending money by doing extra chores around the house the past year so they have spending money of their own. One tiny plate that was hand painted cost $40, so the little sister declined the purchase. Both the shop keeper and the guide seemed shocked. “But she likes it. She wants it. You should buy it!” they declared. I replied, “She had to clean the bathroom 40 times for that little plate and she doesn’t think it’s worth it. She’d rather spend it on something else.” They look at me like I’ve lost my mind. We leave the shop and wander to another across the way. The guide quickly tells us not to shop there and wants to take us to another ‘friend.’ The girls look at me and speak exactly what is on my mind right now, “I miss Titi” (the nickname we had for our other guide.) I really don’t enjoy being told what to buy with my own hard earned money by a bunch of men.

For the first time since being here I find myself growing defensive and that old “I am woman, hear me roar” attitude starts to rise up in me. It’s my money, not my husband’s. I’ve earned it and I will damn well choose how to spend it. So there. I know our guide is kind hearted and well meaning, but telling me what to buy and whom to buy it from is not something that sits well with me. We then head to lunch at a place where one of his friends works, of course. “The manager” of the place comes to our table and is very friendly. His English is good as he’s worked in Dubai. He brings the girls a plate of French fries we didn’t order because we’re American, which is all very friendly but the girls prefer the stew. At the end of the meal he helps me put on my coat- something that totally cracks me up until he asks for a tip! I do one of the things I’m very good at and play dumb. I laugh and say, “Oh, yes it is. Thank you!” and turn away. This way he is sure I have misunderstood him and makes him think I think he has complimented me on something making it quite awkward to re-ask for money, which luckily he doesn’t. I can’t wait to get back to our hotel for a break from all of these men trying to get into my wallet! I don’t know which is worse, sexual harassment or monetary harassment. Either way they are wanting something that I’m not wanting to give and it bugs me. 

A definite highlight of the market was going to the miniaturist painter. We watched him paint with the tiniest of cat hair brushes. He did little sketches for the girls and then pointed out one of his favorite paintings. “This is Scheherazade and the King. Do you know this story?” 

The three of us look at each other with eyes wide and answer in a resounding, “YES!” I tell him we are reading Arabian Nights right now and have been enjoying her tales each of our nights in Iran. We decide we should buy it. It costs much more than I normally spend on anything and is painted on camel bone, which I don't really approve of either but it feels right to buy it, so we do. 

A walk through the park has us come across this scene.  The photo is blurry but decipherable.   

I don't know if I'm in a bad mood from the money men or what but my reaction to this was one of near rage.  For some reason more than the idea of singing in public for women being illegal, more than the knowledge of swimming at beaches- even in a burkini- for women being illegal is these women here working out in this park dressed like this.  It could be the still PMSing aspect of life right now- but I feel like yelling, "Are you kidding me???"  I wonder how long I could live here before being arrested.  I seriously doubt I could make it through one entire moon cycle.

Then we head back to our hotel for our 5 o’clock pick up from our new friends. The little pink bunny is waiting with her parents in the hotel lobby when we arrive at 4:40. We head off to their very tasteful apartment in the suburbs about 15 minutes from the hotel. It is a two bedroom, probably about 1000 sq ft. and is as modern as any in the states -aside from the squat toilet in the bathroom, which is new and modern and clean- it’s just a squat style. It is supposed to be a much healthier position to be doing your business in by physiological standards. 

The second we walk into the door the wife whips off her hejab with more defiance than I’ve seen on a woman here so far. I also remove mine and she gives me an irritated look, not at me but at the hejab and sort of rolls her eyes. “Stupid.” She says. She plops herself on the couch and her 14 month old climbs into her lab clearly positioning herself to be nursed and pulling on her mom. I’m a little taken aback by this when she whips out her boob and the toddler nurses right in front of all of us. I want to stand up and cheer! I don’t know why this has surprised me so much but I am suddenly full of questions. A handful of interesting factoids: The government requires women to nurse here.  They encourage women to nurse for a full two years! Most make it to at least 16 months.

It turns out the husband did have a slight agenda in inviting us and asks for a bit of help deciphering his grad school applications paperwork. I’m happy to help. The girls play with the little one happily and the wife of course feeds us non-stop. As he’s showing me all his paperwork, we come to a copy of his diploma and transcripts. I really wish I could’ve taken a picture of it because I cannot remember the wording exactly but right on the diploma it states that not only did he complete his course work for a BS, he did it with the ‘fear of God in work and in deed.’ I laugh out loud when I come to this section my eyes wide with amusement until I look at him. He is deeply embarrassed by this and says, “Maybe the college will have same response as you when they see this?” I try to be a bit more sensitive and say, “Maybe, but they will understand it is the country’s policy and has nothing to do with you.” He says, “I hope so.” Meanwhile CNN is on in the background and they are doing a special on the current Haag now going on in Mecca. He looks at the TV and says, “So stupid. So many people, so much wasted money. What for? For nothing.” Our previous guide’s parents are currently in Mecca and she was very proud of this. She has already put in her name into the annual lottery for 10 years from now and is already excited about it. This man sees it differently. He will sell all of his belongings when he leaves for America for grad school. Student visas are not that hard to obtain and the Iranian government will make him sign something that promises he will come back and work here with his degree. But most do not come back. If this is the choice he makes his child and wife will likely never see their family here again. It is difficult to get a visa to the States for tourists and his family will not be able to come back for visits and leave again. Decisions here are often permanent. He has many questions about finances and whether or not he currently has enough money saved to last for two years. So I log onto Craigslist, which surprisingly is not blocked and check out housing in the area near the school. His eyes again grow misty as he’s looking at the housing prices. We are looking near schools in Texas and Alabama. I am equally envious with housing prices! In Alabama a new 2 bedroom gated apartment in Mobile near the ocean with a gorgeous pool, workout room and tennis courts runs about $750/ mo. He says, “This has always been my dream to work so hard to become a student in the US. I imagined myself living in very uncomfortable quarters and working as a dishwasher all night during this time, but now I see this prices and realize I can live like an Arabian King while doing my studies and bring my family too. I can’t believe it.” I tell him my grocery budget, gas prices, how much I pay for utilities and clothing. He realizes during our conversation that he does in fact have enough money for the next two years to pay for school and take good care of his family and is beside himself with joy. I am too. 

Then I am once again distracted by the TV which now has some political comedian on whose face I recognize but don’t know his name. They are running all sorts of clips of Bush making his infamous blunders. I say, “The people of American are happy to have Obama as their next president, but the comedians are very sad. Mr. Bush has given them all so much material these past 8 years.” The wife really laughs and even the husband, who is a great fan of George can’t help a small laugh.

Iranian men...

Our new tour guide is not exactly what any of us expected.  Since our last two guides were in their 20’s we somehow had the assumption that our 3^rd would be the same.  He isn’t.  He’s in his 60’s minimum, probably 70’s and is delightful.   He moves at a quick pace and really wants to keep us moving.  We hit the bird park in the morning and then a few other sites that he had us moving in and out of the car at record pace. 

The whole time at the bird park he kept telling the girls, “Hurry up, let’s go.”  I’m really not used to moving at someone else’s pace.  

The last two guides moved at our pace but this guide wants us to keep up with him and it’s well, a different experience for me. 

I mostly smile and ignore him and keep at my own pace. 

He drops us off at our hotel at noon and says he’ll be back at 4pm.  I am surprised by this since our last guides spent all day with us so this drop off at noon is unexpected but I must say greatly appreciated.  Except our hotel room is shockingly horrible.  All our other accommodations have been quite nice but now that we’ve had two days in a row with time to actually spend in our room it figures that it is a depressing, cold, stinky nightmare. 

He is back at 4 and our itinerary says we will go to the covered bridges.  The guide books are full of the praise for the ambient tea houses along the bridges and I am excited for this adventure.  Just as we are driving to the bridge the clouds begin to part for the first time in more than 4 days.

The sun is low and glowing on the bridge beautifully.  We cross the bridge and he is telling us again to hurry up.  

I mention something about the tea houses and he says, “No, no tea houses. Come on- hurry up the driver is waiting.”  I do my best to linger and take some photos.  

We get back into the car and he says, “Now we will go to Coffee Net.”  This is what internet cafes are called here.  This morning I told him I’d like to go to one to check in since I cannot access it with my American laptop. 

I protest, “Oh, but the light is so beautiful now.  Can we please stop at another bridge or mosque?” 

“Yes, to Coffee Net.” 

We pass Imam Square and I can see the dome aglow in the setting sun.  It takes my breath away.  I say, “Oh, can we please stop here quickly.  The light is so beautiful.” 

“Yes, yes, tomorrow we will go there.” 

“No, now.  Can we please stop?”  

“No, not now.  To coffee net now.” 

So with the best light and most spectacular scenery since arriving in this country we head underground to -not a coffee net -but one of his friend’s, who is a carpet salesman with a computer.  We are dressed in umpteen layers of warm clothing expecting to be outside for hours tonight since the bridges are most beautiful at night.  Now we are downstairs being served tea by a bunch of carpet salesmen in a toasty room with the strong scent of butane in the air.  They are offering to give us a good deal on a Persian rug that we don’t even need money to buy!  WOW!!  This is too good to be true.  We only need to charge it – Master Card or Visa- anything ok!  And we can have a $5000 rug for free!  The internet takes about 6 tries to connect and all my hopes of writing a quick email to family saying, “Still alive and having fun” and running back upstairs to the light have disappeared.  I am now sweating into my layers and tired of saying, “Thank you, they are beautiful, but I’m not interested in purchasing a carpet or a rug.”  We go back upstairs to a dark night sky.

He drives us straight back to our hotel and says we can get dinner here.  I feel like I’m in a bad joke now and say, “I thought the bridges are most beautiful at night?” 

“Yes, yes.  They are.” 

“So why aren’t we going to them?”

 “Yes, yes.”  He replies.  

I then say, “Please drive us back to the last bridge and drop us off.   We will walk home after.”  It is over 3 miles away but he is fine dropping us off.  We are relieved to be on our own but then he says, “You should put your camera away because my last tourist got his stolen here at night from him even though it was around his neck.  But he was a man, maybe you will have no problem because you look strong so can fight.” 

“Yes, yes.” I say and get out of the car.  We walk around a bit and there are tons of people out as it is their weekend.  Then we go to a hotel for dinner and ask the hotel to call a taxi for us to take us back to our own hotel.

We also met two other men today.  One, a Bush supporter.  No ordinary supporter, either.  This man in his late 20’s was moved to tears when he spoke of what Bush has attempted to do in the Middle East.  He was saying that  he really respects Americans and the whole world can really learn from us about how to function.  He says he knows many Americans do not support President Bush because we’ve lost so many American lives to try to help the Middle East so he can understand my anger.  I say, “It’s all lives lost most Americans are mad about- not just American.”  He looks confused.  I say, “An Iraqi life lost is as sad as an American life lost.”  “No, no.”  he says.  “Not true.”  “American life is more important because they are helping.”  I think this goes along with their whole martyr thing here.  It’s a difficult concept for me to grasp.  But all over the country there are still pictures of martyrs- soldiers who lost their lives fighting in a war 20 yrs ago. 

The next man was a father and husband in his early 30’s.  He will be going to grad school in the states next year and befriended us in a restaurant.  “When I will go to your country next year my daughter will have the same rights as your children. I can’t believe this.  It is so incredible to me.”  He looks over at his little daughter in a pink snow suit with bunny ears on top and is now choked up so much he can no longer speak.  He taps his chest and says, “I’m sorry.  I really love your country.”  He wonders why I am traveling here with my children.  He then invites us to dinner tomorrow night but says, “I understand if you’re worried about accepting such an invitation because of hostage situation.”  Um… since Americans have not been taken hostage in roughly 29 years in this country it is not an active concern of mine- to be taken hostage by a family with a pink bunny.  We accept our invitation and they will pick us up at our hotel at 5 tomorrow.  

Esfahan

Is a lovely city with lots of sprawling boulevards and parks along the main river.  This is also where the famed bridges run.  We have left our lovely guide and driver that we have come to adore so much.   Our goodbyes were actually quite sad.  We hugged and said we’d stay in contact.  Then there was our driver -a very sweet man probably in his 50’s.  We’ve spent many days with him and have eaten all of our meals together.  I want to hug him but then remember I can’t.  Then shake his hand?  Nope, still touching.  He places his hand on his heart and smiles a very gentle smile, his eyes look deeply into mine.  This gesture without touch or words I find more intimate than many hugs I’ve received – particularly by those people who thrust their shoulder at you and then whack you on the back.  It is honest and genuine.  I feel my eyes moisten.  Then our bellhop summons us towards the elevator and we leave each other.  When they return to their car they find a small gift waiting for them on their seats.  Just as our elevator door opens she runs back into the lobby thanking us for the gift and another round of hugs ensues.  She promises to write and offers to send a particular confection that girls have been devouring by the box to us at any time.  It is all very sweet and I’m trying very hard not to cry!  She has definitely left her mark on our lives and in our hearts in the very unique shape of herself.    She has finals for university and in the morning we will meet our new guide.  A man.  I requested a woman guide and was under the assumption that we would have the same guide the entire time but that is not the case.  The girls are bummed and have lots of resistance to a man guide.  I am of the mindset that things happen as they should so am open to this change of plans.  I must admit that I still have much inner resistance and some fear to looking at many of the men I see around me. 

Today as we drove from Yazd to Esfahan we were stopped 3 separate times by police.  The first time our driver was asked to pull to the side and we were not let through the mandatory stop.  Our driver was questioned about many things, asked for his license, registration, etc.  In the end he was reprimanded by the police man, who wears a machine gun across his chest,  about his muddy license plates.  Our driver gets out and wipes off the plates with some tissue.  He gets back in the car and is laughing at the absurdity of the situation.  Our guide also laughs and says, “What a stupid man.”  I relay what has happened to the girls and they say, “He should’ve seen the car yesterday!”  as our car was covered in mud from driving through the flooded city.  The second stop happens and I am looking at the officer with inner distain waiting for him to do something equally as irrational.  He pokes his head into the car and looks at the girls and smiles a huge toothy smile and says, “Salam.” (hello)  I am proved wrong.  He is dressed in fatigues, has a thick wooly beard and looks just like all the posters of terrorists hanging in our local post office.  I know I have more work to do on releasing judgment of these men.   Our new guide will apparently be with us for the rest of this trip.

Since our guide left us at 3 oclock this afternoon and our new guide will meet us at 9am in the morning it is the first time we are left to ourselves for more than sleeping since we arrived.  This is not technically legal as we are Americans and are required to be under licensed supervision at all times. 

I think the implication was that we stay in our hotel but instead  we relish in our freedom and take a walk along the river and go to a park.

We even order a take out pizza all on our own and are able to read our total in Arabic numbers!  

As we walk along it starts raining on us again and the little sister begins to sing, 

Rain is falling,

Rain is falling,

Clouds are forming,

Clouds are forming,

 And then says, “Sing with me, Mommy.”

“I can’t.” I say.

“You can’t?  Why not??”

“It’s illegal for women to sing in public here.”

At this, the big sister bursts out laughing.  “Illegal??  How can singing be illegal?” 

“It just is.”  I say.

“So only I can sing because I’m still young and don’t need my head covered?”  says the little sister.

“Yup.”  I say.

“Goody!”  she replies and goes on skipping along and singing her song.