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.
