...No write
Iran daily life
Just sick of politics I guess. I forgot how to write about day-to-day life because it seemed there was no day-to-day life. But there was. There were the mountains, the taxi drivers, the jokes, the kindnesses, shopping, worrying.
Speaking of worrying… In the past 27 years Tehran has grown from something like 4 million to something like 20 million. “That doesn’t include the Afghans,” someone told us the other night. “They try to disappear into the crowd.”
The buildings are still going up. Everywhere we go, there is the sound of jackhammers, the smell of tar, and the sight of steel frames going up into the air. I thought the building would slow down when sanctions were threatened, but it’s sped up. Maybe the owners are worried about increases in the prices of building materials.
“I am so confused,” a recent returnee and very dear friend tells me and K. “I was coming from the airport with my dad, and I asked him, ‘where are we?’ he told me the name of the street. I always remembered this street as so beautiful, and now it was just ugly. Really ugly. Tehran is an ugly city.”
I have learned to find Tehran beautiful in its own way.
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