Best Spring Ever

Rain and wind and grand lightning storms have conspired to make this a glorious spring in Tehran. We’ve had wind so strong that it breaks lightbulbs, blows over potted trees, opens closed windows and chimney flues, and unties headscarves. It also carries the city’s pollution away.

I’ve been trying to go walking in the mountains every weekend to savor the clear views of Tehran and smell all the honeysuckle and wild flowers blooming: a great change from diesel fumes.

A man in a white Peykan drove us home from a trip to Jamshidiei Park. His windshield was cracked and there was a photo of his father under the mirror. “This car is 40 years old. It’s a junker,” the man says.

“How can you say it’s a junker?” my co-hiker asks. “What other car runs for 40 years? You think the new Peugeots will run for 40 years? Will the Prides run for 40 years?”

“You’re right. This car has served me well.”

“Is that your father?” I ask.

“He died before the New Year.”

“May he rest in peace,” my friend says.

“I miss him. It was just the two of us. I miss him.”
We stop at a traffic light. A man with a violin plays “Tanha Mundam” (I am left alone). He comes to our window. The driver beckons him over. “Play for me. My heart needs music.”

The light turns green and we give the violinist tips.

“He was good,” I say.

“He knows one song,” the driver replies.

“They all know just one song,” my friend replies.