Sponge Bob

I have a confession to make, I love the cartoon Sponge Bob Square Pants. I especially love Sandy the squirrel. She is such an amazing character, with her little aqua suit and her treadmill. So it is with no disrespect meant when I say that many of the mosques in Iran remind me of characters from the cartoon. Imagine the central dome like the head of an octopus with two skinny arms raised to the sky for the hazzans. I can't help but think that the mosques are alive.

Khomeini's tomb, on the other hand, feels like it was designed by Disney for the live action version of Aladdin. It is huge and gold.

Compared to the dusty, drab architecture of most of Iran, the mosques are a welcome diversion. They have such vivid colors and dramatic shapes and style. If it were not for the mosques, Iran would be an architectural wasteland of yellow brick and marble façade boxes. Architects! Iran needs you.


3 days to Freedom
http://www.ahura.info/pressroom/press.html

There is this guy in America with his own television show who claims that he is bringing 50 planes to Iran on Friday in order to bestow freedom on this fine land.

How are Iranians responding? For them it is like the opening 5 minutes of Saturday Night Live. They think it's funny. Everyone I speak to is amused by the whole idea. Today I heard people joking about it. One claimed that it was a plot by the mullahs.

First of all, it is a logistical nightmare. Anyone who has ever landed in Iran's international airport would understand that. I guess he could land in Iraq and then bus the passengers of the 50 planes in, but that seems a bit silly as well.

They could parachute into the country.

They could all get visas and wait their turn on one of the airlines that flies into the country.

I guess we'll all know the outcome 3 days from now.

Normal Life

What does normal life feel like?

K and I recently took a trip to Europe where there seem to be many more devout Muslims than in Iran. The Islamic women wore a range of clothing from complete veil to simple scarf. Islamic dress seems to be more a matter of culture than religion. For instance, Moroccan women use tight black scarves to tie their hair back behind their head. The scarves are form-fitted to their own hair and have interesting knots in them. Turkish women wear their scarves pinned in some complex way on their heads. Their scarves are mainly drab with the occasional drab flower printed onto the scarf. Many of these devout women wear clothes that could get them arrested in Iran. (No wonder devout Iranian women chafe at the restrictions on dress.) Despite this, none of the devout women we saw in Europe showed even a strand of hair.

This is not the case here. I have seen women in chadors with fringe showing. The newest fashion is to wear a scarf that covers neither the front nor the back of the hair. This means that women with long hair let it hang down out of the back of the scarf.

When K and his family and I went out to eat the other night, I was wearing one of the longest manteaus to be seen that evening. Mine reaches my knees. It's last year's model. The newest fashions just cover the ass. I don't really feel like keeping up with manteau fashion myself. I'll just wear mine until it falls apart.

Why do I write this? Because I want to tell you what normal feels like. Normal is that religious and devout women have friends who are secular. Normal is having observant cousins and atheist cousins. Normal is a Republican woman married to a Democratic man.

My great aunt kept kosher, my grandmother (her sister) loved bacon (the other kosher meat), my grandfather's sister shaved her head and wore a wig. K's mother never took off her headscarf. He has a photo of me in a swimming suit sitting next to his mother in her scarf and long shirt. We are both happy. That's normal.

We recently had dinner with some friends in a hidden restaurant with actual atmosphere and professional service. There were all sorts of people there: families with all of the women in chadors and families with women barely wearing headscarves. Our host managed to procure whiskey for us, which meant that we were actually eating and drinking in a nice restaurant. It all felt so frigging normal.

Normal is such a simple thing.

Elections & Locusts

Back…
I wrote a long boring review of the events of the summer and decided not to post it. Suffice to say that the Olympics are way cool. That's all I have to say. I am no longer an Olympics cynic. I can't, however, help hating the opening and closing ceremonies (not the parade of nations, mind you.). Speaking of the parade of nations, didn't it seem like half the countries represented were wearing the KLM flight attendant uniform?

Okay, jump to the present. Two things: elections and locusts.

While the rest of the world might be worrying about whether or not Iran is about to become a nuclear power, (Iranians actually think that the earthquake in Bam was the result of an underground nuclear test.) Iran is worried about locusts. Every night on the news we see footage of the locusts in Africa. There is a very real danger that they might make their way to Iran. These locusts are truly a plague of Biblical proportions.

To all my Iranian conspiracy theorist friends: underground nuclear tests can be detected. An article on the Lawrence Livermore Labs website (http://www.llnl.gov/str/Carrigan.html) tells how the radiation finds its way to the surface through fissures and, yes, faults.

Iranians are all asking me about the US elections. "Kerry was up in the polls," an Iranian friend says.

"That was yesterday," I told him. "Today it's Bush."

"My God," another friend said, "Can't Americans make up their minds?"

There was a discussion of which candidate to support. Half of the table was pro-Kerry and the other half was pro-Bush. "Bush is much better for Iran," the initiator of the conversation said.

"Who will win?" They ask me. (I have noticed that Iranians never ask me who I think will win. They always ask me: "Who will win?" Maybe it's an artifact of the language itself. Maybe it is representative of the conspiratorial mindset of Iranians.)

"Bush," I answer.

"No, Kerry will win," says another.

"If the world votes, Kerry will win." (Which is precisely Kerry's problem, I think. Americans really rankle at being subjected to world opinion. Perhaps it's an irrational response.)

Bob Ross, The Joy of Painting, and a truck stop in Qom

We were on our way to Khorram Abad when we stopped to have tea and eggs at a truck stop in Qom. I like this particular truck stop, which is also a motel, because the restrooms are so frigging clean. There is a courtyard leading to a small mosque and the restrooms for men and women. Painted on the wall is a mural clearly inspired by Bob Ross via his television show: "The Joy of Painting."

Who knows when we first discovered Bob Ross and his happy trees, big brushes, and palette knives? It must have been channel surfing one day and hearing his soothing voice say "There…" My sister watched it with her husband to be all through college. "It was the perfect program for Sunday morning when you'd been out too late." (She probably meant: Sunday afternoon.)

The fact is Bob Ross is everywhere and appears just when you need him. He's like the Virgin Mary. I used to believe that the next great religion would have Elvis as its prophet, but now I am convinced that Bob Ross is a more likely candidate. He has to be much more popular worldwide than Elvis. Take Iran, for example, his show appears on television here and his kits and books are translated and prominently displayed in bookstore windows. Elvis, however, is nowhere to be found. (Although Metallica, The Eagles, and Eminem are all popular.)

I am not sure what makes him so compelling. Posters at the Jump the Shark website talk about his afro and his soothing voice and his anti-cool confidence. Maybe that's it. There is also something so cool about watching someone create a painting or drawing right before your eyes. To me it does not matter how much I may or may not like the style. It is a kind of magic. (I am still mesmerized by Mr. Drawing Board from Captain Kangaroo) And what is amazing is that people actually can learn the Bob Ross style. I saw a whole show of Bob Ross paintings created by a 7th grade art class. I was pretty amazed. Learning the style gave these kids so much confidence.

It's soothing too, to be in a strange country, close to its theological heart, and see a mural clearly inspired by Bob Ross. It's as though his ultra-mellow voice is speaking to you from the painting itself. For those of you traveling to Iran, you can check out the mural on the road leading from Tehran to Qom (unfortunately, you cannot get there from the reverse direction.). There is a motel on the right side of the road that has good pizza, good eggs, good coffee, and clean restrooms. This is not the only Bob Ross inspired painting in Iran. I will pay more attention in the future and list more of them.

I might actually start writing again. Until then, check out this article:

Bad Jens - Iranian Feminist Journal: "Performance in Everyday Life and the Rediscovery of the 'Self' in Iranian Weblogs"

Movies, tests, and…

Protests? No.

Our friend K came over to visit Friday afternoon. We went to an outdoor café for lunch. "I was watching the tv with my brother and it was all about how Tehran is up in arms and that there is a revolution and that there are fights all over the city."

We sat in the garden of the restaurant watching the fountain. I heard "…fights all over the city" and thought of boxing. "Iranian tv?" I asked.

"Los Angeles. They were like 'Get out into the streets. The revolution is happening.'"

"There weren't even police checkpoints last night. This year is a lot calmer," I said.

"Concour," K (my husband) said.

"What?"

"They had the tests for the university yesterday," his nephew explained. (There were 4 of us at lunch.)

"They are smart," we all agreed. (Which reminds me, K's niece and nephew have been here all week taking exams for the university. They could have bought the answer key to the tests, but they did not want to cheat. More power to them, I say.)

Reporters come to Iran and are taken in by the openness of the youth and the agitation and discomfort they see all over the country. They think that everyone is ready for political change. Frankly, I am more and more convinced that the agitation and depression expressed by Iran's youth have more to do with sex than with politics. Lately I have noticed bigger and bigger groups of young people mixing without being harassed by the police. Politics have taken a backseat to sex.

The other thing I have noticed is that television is much better when any unrest is possible. This weekend (Thurs. & Fri) you could have watched The Deer Hunter, Frenzy, Fellini's Roma, Jumanji, a Disney cartoon about Dinosaurs, and more that I am sure I missed.

I saw a brief anti-American demonstration as well. (I did not see all the movies I mentioned… there is too much to do for that). It was clear from the tight camera angle that there were no more than 20 people involved. I think you could gather more people in Austin, Texas.

I am taking a break from writing. Maybe I will write more than I think, but I am planning to take about 5 weeks off. Check back later.

Burnt out

Lately I have not wanted to write. Or maybe it is more accurate to say that I have had no desire to be polite. Part of the problem is that as my Persian improves so does my understanding of the television news. Now, like most Iranians we know, I just want to watch sports news. Aahh, women's archery: great! News about high school wrestling: double great. Water polo? You guessed it: wonderful. Football: can't get enough.

About a month ago, one paper had a headline reading that the government was looking for 2000 volunteers for suicide missions against Americans and Israelis. This, of course, caused ordinary Iranians to laugh. They found it ridiculous.

Last week, the Tehran Times had an editorial about the recent beheadings. It started off quite reasonably with a tirade against the beheadings and against the attempt of the terrorists to align themselves with Islam. The next step was to give a little slap in the face to fellow Sunni clerics who, the paper claimed, were not vociferous enough in their condemnation. The following paragraph blamed the terrorism in the middle East on Zionist forces and claimed that the beheaders were aligned with Israel.

After midnight, I have caught this little music video in English about how Islam is a religion of peace. It's a kind of We Are the World type song. Only the melody is worse. Listening, I could not help wondering, why couldn't they get Cat Stevens to write this tune? Could it possibly be more insipid? No way.

Cab drivers

Obviously we do not have a car, which is why we talk to so many cab drivers. So here is the cab driver update:

Lately, I have found myself in some customized cabs. One had quilt padding on its ceiling. A little crystal lamp hung from the middle. There was a wild array of checked and paisley fabric with green, pink, and yellow plastic baubles everywhere. I loved it.

Another cab was covered with medallions and badges. There were rhinestone eagles and horses, a pair of lovebirds, symbols from a variety of countries, and a small silver Statue of Liberty. The driver was a veteran of the war with Iraq and spent the trip discussing his experiences in the military with K. He was a gentle and sweet man.

Another had seats covered with cowhide.

One driver told us that one out of three drivers is an intelligence agent. I wonder if he was?

Another driver discussed the Gypsy Kings and the song "Hotel California." (Is there a more popular song in the entire world?)

Another driver was thrilled to find out I was American. "May you live a long life," he told me. "I myself never say 'Down with America.' I say, 'Long live America.' That's what I am saying."

"Iranians are the only people in the world who still love us," I said.

"No. That's not true. Everyone loves Americans. So maybe we do not like your government, but we like the people. Are there nicer people in the whole world? America is a great country, and Americans are nice people."

K actually agreed that Americans are nice. I was surprised.

The driver asked me about Bush and whether or not he would be reelected. I could not say.

Smog

Have I just gotten used to it, or is there actually less pollution in Tehran this summer? I mean, I can actually see the mountains and black junk is not coming out my nose (yet). By no stretch of the imagination is the air clean, but it does seem to be better.

One reason might be that the stinky, diesel spewing, public buses are being replaced by new natural gas buses. You get behind one of those buses and you don't smell a thing. It's great.


Oh yeah… and one more thing about my Dad…
Last night before I went to bed, I was thinking about mushball when I remembered the Dear Abby part of the story… so here goes.

There were a few times when there were not enough men for both teams. On those days (which were rare), my father would play for both teams. He would stay in the outfield the whole game, taking just a couple of minutes each inning to bat. I did not understand how he could play for both teams. I remember asking him, "How can you play against yourself?" I don't remember his answer, but I do remember his laugh.

What I did learn is that it is possible to be both competitive and cooperative. And everyone has more fun when the two are combined.

Thanks.

Happy Father's Day

And mother's day, and any birthdays I know I have missed.

My father wants cards for father's day. Honestly, he should just be happy that I can remember it at all! ;)

But I do… So this is dedicated to both my parents and to my whole family.


When I told my mother that my family would always be more important to me than K, she said, "K is your family." Such a simple thing to say…such an important message to me. It is because of the lessons I have learned from my own parents that I have learned to treasure my own relationship. This is the first thing that I have to thank them for.

I am disorganized, scattered, and unfocused. I have my parents to thank for this. These qualities have made my life endlessly interesting and really quite wonderful. So this is the second…

Once we get past two, there are too, too many things to say. The one thing I want to stress is ho amazing it is that small things become so important to your life. I remember little conversations, one-time events, an hour or two spent with family and friends. These memories have such power. I keep learning from them and enjoying them.

For instance, I remember watching my Dad play mushball (16 inch softball) at our grade school's field. The police came because a classroom window had been broken. "Are you kidding," one of the men said. "You think we could hit this mush ball that far? It had to be one of the golfers." My dad went up to bat next and hit the ball farther than anyone had ever seen the mushball hit. "Good thing the cops weren't here to see that," one of the men commented.

I remember sitting with my mother and brother at the Chinese restaurant near my mom's store. My brother was complaining about my father's temper. "Why is it that he gets mad at me one minute and is my best friend the next?" my brother asked.

"Would you prefer it if he held a grudge?" my mother asked.

That was that. No more complaining.

And I remember jumping from a dune on the shore of Lake Michigan and wishing that my parents would let us go into the water that was over our heads.

I cannot describe the good luck I feel at having been born into my family. I only wish that I could spend more time than I do with all of them. Thanks you guys.

Tornado country

Just in case you *do* live in tornado country, The Onion has this helpful advice:
The Onion | Infograph.

All earthquake, all the time…

Iran is a rumor mill. After the earthquake in Bam, there were all sorts of rumors. Some people said that the earthquake was caused by an underground atomic test. Others said that the people of Bam were warned the night before. Every little tremor in the country was reported on which gave people the illusion that the small tremors were not normal. People have said that America has a new satellite that can predict earthquakes all over the world; others have claimed that x-rays will give them the information they need to predict the "Big One."

Every time you turn on the television here, there is a discussion about earthquakes. Predicting an earthquake is still impossible; predicting an earthquake is possible; what to do in an earthquake; what not to do… that sort of thing. Honestly, I am not interested in long-term predictions. I do not care if you can tell me that in the next 10 months there will be an earthquake. That's like telling someone in Oklahoma that there will be a tornado this summer. What I want is a few minutes, but I'll settle for a few seconds. This article says that a few second warning is indeed possible: (http://www.signonsandiego.com/news/science/20040602-9999-1c2warn.html). If you give me a few seconds, I'll go outside with a mattress on my head. How about it? Is the Iranian government willing to spend $20 million on an earthquake warning system? Seems like a good deal to me.

More talks with taxi drivers
"The problem with Iran," the driver told us, "is that we are not free. That is our problem. Khatami has been great. He has opened things up a lot and life has gotten better for us."

"I don't know why the government is complaining about America in Iraq… for 8 years, during the war, all we heard was how bad Saddam Hussein was. Now they want us to be unhappy that America removed him? Why? America did the right thing, and they are still doing the right thing."

"When the new government comes in, there will be a civil war. The government bothers young people too much. Young people cannot take it anymore. We will have a civil war."

"Make sure to tell Americans that we are not their enemy. Iranians are not the enemies of America."

Bamshad

At about 10:25 every evening almost every television set in Iran is tuned to channel 3 to watch a show that almost everyone calls "Bamshad" but which is actually called Nokhte Cheen (Dotted Line). If you walk down the streets of any city in Iran at that time, you will hear the sound of the show coming from almost every home. If you don't have a tv yourself, all you have to do is open your windows and listen. People with satellites turn to the domestic channel for this program. Advertisers have learned that Iranians watch this show. As a result, it now has the most advertising of any show I have seen in Iran.

The show is funny. Even for me, with my limited understanding of the nuances of Persian and day-to-day culture. Bamshad, while not exactly the star, is irresistible. Fat himself, he wears a very obvious fake belly that accentuates his weight. At first this character annoyed me, but like everyone else, I have grown to love him. Especially when he sings.

Just two nights ago, the topic of the show was the earthquake. The characters ran out into the streets, camped in a park, kept their hands on the walls to anticipate tremors, and pretty much gave us all an opportunity to laugh at our own behavior. We also were treated to Bamshad's singing. He sings one song about how "you" broke "your" promises. You can hear people singing this song themselves in every corner (that I have been in) of Iran.

Before and after Bamshad, there is news and anti-American propaganda. One piece of anti-American propaganda features the statue of liberty spinning against a red background. Her flame morphs into a cup of skulls. Her face morphs into a skull as well. A man sings an anti-American song while the words to the song run along the bottom of the screen: kind of the bouncing ball effect. K's niece was thrilled to discover that the statue actually existed in America.

Sing-along

Who doesn't like a song they can sing along to? Having a good voice doesn't matter. It's just singing that matters.

Iranians love their music. They love their own pop music and their own classical music and their own folk music. On a bus crowded with hip, young students, the driver was playing Haida (I am sure most of my transliterations of Farsi or incorrect. Just say them aloud with an American accent, and you may have an idea of what I am hearing), and the students were all singing along.

In an intercity taxi, our driver was playing a selection of Iranian tunes, and everyone was singing. On one cross-country trip, I heard the pop star Mansour so much that my dreams were permeated with his lyrics for weeks (Divuneh shod divoneh: I am going crazy; Beza bereem: Let's go; Azizah delehman: My sweetie).

Music does not divide generations (yet) in Iran. Sure, people listen to Western and Arabic pop, Electronica, Haitian and African music, and too much Celine Dion,… Sure Eminem graffiti is everywhere along with Metallica grafitti… but most Iranians also listen to and love their homegrown music as well.

Aftershock
The day after the earthquake, threats of aftershocks kept everyone running in and out of their houses and places of work all day. First our neighbor walked up and down the street getting people out of their houses. "They say an earthquake is coming." Everyone came out of their houses. I tried to explain that I thought earthquake prediction was not quite possible, but apparently there was a small quake that only I and the seismograph noticed. (There are probably tons of those small quakes every single day.)

Second, K's brother called to tell us that the police were calling schools and telling them to take the students out, so we went outside again. Then a friend's mother called… then the tv news said to leave your house. The next day's news said: don't worry. This news made everyone worry more.

People are scared of Tehran. K's family keeps telling me to come visit them. "No way are we coming to Tehran," people outside the city say. It's not hard to imagine an earthquake destroying Tehran. In fact, it is hard not to imagine it.

I have been terrified of earthquakes my whole life. I blame it on my Old Testament childhood. All those Bible stories must have seeped into my unconsciousness somehow. Not that being scared of earthquakes is not smart, just that I don't really know why I have always been scared of them.

Thanks to Kaveh for this link:
To the USGS info on the quake in Iran.

Earthquake

There was a 6.2 earthquake 70 kilometers north of Tehran, which we felt. The house shook, and it took me about 2 seconds to get out and onto the streets. Our whole neighborhood was there. People were shaken and friendly. We all milled about for about 30 minutes before going back into our houses.

K is putting together an emergency evacuation pack. "Aren't you supposed to do that before the earthquake," my sister, an earthquake veteran, joked.

I don't mind saying that I was scared, and that I still feel a bit woozy from my fear. The earthquake occurred in the north of Iran, which has much more wood structures than any other part of Iran. A 6.2 in Tehran itself would be devastating.

Marmulak (Lizard)

One of our stops on our travels around Iran was Khorramabad. We stopped there to visit the castle-like structure that dominates its skyline. From our short visit, I can say that Khorramabad is kind of a strange place. It is a city dominated by men. The women you do see mainly wear chadors or simple black. Even beige seems colorful. On the other hand, under the women's chadors, you can catch a glimpse of sequins, flowers, and bright, bright colors. According to our Iranian friends, most of the men from Khorramabad were sepa, pasdaran, or basigi. This means they were either volunteers or in the elite forces. This is a religious city where people take their daily prayers seriously. I say this, because as we were ascending into the castle we heard a group of men joking with each other. The older men were teasing a young man about his decision to study to become a "marmulak." Everyone, especially the young man, laughed. Later, when we were walking on the streets, we heard "Marmulak!" from a cab filled with young men. The appellation was directed at the cleric who was walking nearby.

Marmulak is the Persian word for lizard. It is also, by far, the most popular movie in Iran. It is Iran's Shrek 2. Everyone we meet in Iran is talking about the movie. "I had to wait 2 hours for a ticket," one of our young friends told us. "But it was great. The best movie of the year. No doubt."

From what I can gather, Marmulak is a series of comic sketches that poke fun at Iran's clerics. K and I tried to see it last week, but the line for tickets stretched several blocks. Last week was supposed to be the last night of the movie. The government belatedly decided to pull it from the theaters. "It is a symbolic gesture," K's nephew told me. If Khorramabadis are making jokes at the expense of the clerics, the film has already permeated every level of society.

You can get bootleg copies of the film at stores all over Iran. Some are even selling the uncensored version, which many of the people we spoke with saw. "It has 20 more minutes of uncensored comedy," K's brother told us. "You have to see it."

One should not make the mistake of thinking that just because Iranians are laughing at their clerics that they have lost their faith in Islam. Praise for the film has come from some of our most religious friends. K's sister, who is a believer, loved the movie. Iranians, I think, have lost faith in their clerical elite and in the utopian vision of an Islamic society. All well and good I think.

Women, again

"Women would be much less sexy if they were not wearing manteaus," K's brother told us the other day. "They are so tight and sexy looking now, it would be better if the women were wearing their normal clothes."

It's hard to believe that in certain areas of Iran, women will not be dressing according to their own tastes by next summer. Things could change of course, but right now, many more young women than last summer wear their scarves low on the back of their head. (The best thing to do, it seems, is pull your hair back in a ponytail and then rest the scarf on it.)

The hemlines have come up and the waste lines have come in. It's fashionable to wear manteaus so tight that the buttons are stretched. At first I thought that women were just buying their manteaus too small or gaining weight. When I went to buy a new one a couple of months ago, the sales clerks all tried to convince me that the manteau that was too small for me was the one I should get. "It's too tight," I told them. "It looks better too tight," they responded. It was then that I finally caught on to the trend. D'oh.

On our travels we talked to many groups of young women. At one tourist spot we met a group of about 20 university students who wanted me to explain to the family we were traveling with that they were dressed conservatively because they were in university. "But they look so great," the man of the family commented. I had to agree, they did look great.

The thing I keep saying about Iranian women is that they are really fun and really different when no men are around. (They can be fun when men are around too, but not as…) One of our friends told us a story that reinforces this point. He went to Damascus last year with a tour group of about 45 people from about 12 different (mainly Western) countries.

"There were busloads of women making pilgrimages to Damascus. You could always tell when a busload of Iranian women had arrived. You could hear them laughing with each other before they got out of their buses. Then they would get out and come directly to our group and start taking pictures of us. This was a bit strange for us because we were the ones use to making the pictures," he laughed. "Within five minutes the women were all practicing their English with our group. The other women from different countries never approached us. Only the Iranian women."

We related this story to K's sisters. "Iranian women are more religious than Iranian men," they told us. "That's why we go on more pilgrimages than the men. But also we go just to be together and have fun."

Born free

"What is it like for someone who was born free to live in a country where you are not free?" K asked me.

"It's not easy," I answered.

"I am not myself here," K added.

Joop, aged 16, Netherlands

It seemed like every foreigner traveling in Iran during the past couple of weeks was either from France or the Netherlands. The French women wore their scarves either in turbans (like the clerics in Iran) or barely covering their hair. Few, if any of them, bothered with a manteau. The Dutch women, on the other hand, were much more conservative. Some of them even wore long manteaus and hoods instead of scarves. Still, they managed to look stunning.

During our spring travels we met up with a great family from the Netherlands and did some traveling together. Their son, Joop, was quite the attraction. Tall, blond, and cute, he attracted notice from Iranians of all ages. I am sure that almost every Iranian with a camera who crossed our path has a photograph of Joop. He was photographed with babies, young women, old women, young men, old men; women in chadors and women wearing their sexy manteaus. Joop has to have been the most photographed person in Iran during the last month. I doubt that more photos were taken of even Khatami. Joop handled it exceedingly well despite the fact that we Westerners are fairly squeamish about having our photos taken.

I thought that it would be impossible for us to see a taller person than Joop during our travels. He is well over 6 feet (but normal in his class in the Netherlands, can you believe that? "It's because we Dutch sleep so much," his mother told me), but with all of the Dutch tourists in Iran, we did manage to see two men who were taller.

What surprised me most about the Dutch tourists was how little they spoke with another. "We can talk when we get home." So many times we found ourselves in situations where Iranian or American tourists would have talked to each other and shared their experiences, but the Dutch were silent with one another.

The Dutch, however, speak with everyone else. Iranians seemed particularly drawn to the Dutch family we were traveling with and engaged them in all sorts of discussions. What surprised K and I the most was how many soldiers came up and talked to them. "They are not allowed to speak with foreigners," K explained. Many of the soldiers leapt into discussions about politics and culture that surprised me. It seems that Nicholas Kristof had similar experiences during his trip to Iran.

Shy no more
It is impossible to be shy in Iran. Sure, Iranians can feel shyness, but they cannot act on it. Even the shyest child has to learn to carry on a conversation. Iran is curing me of any last vestiges of shyness that may have lingered from my teen years (I think I became more shy as a teen than I was as a child.) In Iran you are expected to discuss your age, your weight, your family state, and any other bit of personal information with anyone who asks. You may be asked to dance or sing at a family gathering, and it would be terrible to say no, no matter how uncomfortable it makes you. (Not that I did not say no hundreds of times, it's just now that I have learned to play along, I have much more fun everywhere.)

It is with my new brazen personality that I embarked on our spring travels. This means that I talked to all sorts of people I would have not spoken to before. In addition, I allowed myself to be the center of attention more than once without retreating into a corner and blushing until my face felt like it would burn off.

It is fun not to be shy. I would recommend Iran as a cure for those of you facing any issues with shyness. Mind you, you'll have to stay long enough that you are no longer annoyed by all of the attention you will receive, but it will be worth it.

Mohammad, aged 12, Shiraz

May 11, 2004

Well it's been a little more than 10 days. I am currently sitting under a mulberry tree beginning this account of my spring travels. The mulberries in this tree are white, not the reddish-purple I am accustomed to. When I asked how long until they would be ripe, I was told that they were ripe now. I spent a good half hour feasting on white mulberries.

Mohammad, aged 12, Shiraz
If you have met Mohammad, aged 12, of Shiraz who is practicing his English, please email me (responses@gmail.com). I met him and so, I am certain, did every foreign tourist to Shiraz. We met at Hafez's tomb, where his father and another man were trolling for tourists who could help young Mohammad practice English. He had been studying for a year and already his English was better than that of most of the translators that I have met in Iran. As we spoke, his father urged him to get me to talk faster and ask more difficult questions. I think the conversation was more difficult for me than for Mohammad.

Hafez's tomb was really wonderful. It was packed with tourists and Shirazis alike. People surrounded the grave reciting Hafez's poems to each other. Most squatted by the grave and placed two fingers on its marble slab and whispered a quiet prayer. Mohammad told me that they were whispering verses of the Koran.

I had heard a lot about Shiraz before going there. All over Iran, Iranians told me how wonderful the people of Shiraz were. Iranians complain about each other incessantly, but when it comes to the people of Shiraz and Rasht (I haven't been there yet), they have nothing but good things to say.

I was prepped to fall in love with Shiraz, so it should be no surprise that I did. "The people here are educated," K said. "That's why they are so friendly and why they care so much for their city."

We had lunch in a really wonderful place: a restored bathhouse. Every single person in Shiraz tells you to eat there, so we did. An amazing threesome played and sang traditional music. I would have been happy to pay to see them (which we did, since the food was more expensive when the band was playing.) Children danced. People snapped their fingers. (You haven't heard fingers snapped until you have heard Iranians snap their fingers.) I told K that the whole place felt one beer away from being on its feet dancing.

I read that Hafez was offered several court postings but turned them all down because they required that he leave Shiraz. After going to Shiraz, I have a better understanding of why he would want to stay there.

Spring Travel

April 28, 2004

You guys are going to have to forgive me if I spend my free time enjoying Spring in Iran instead of writing for this Blog. Spring here is pretty frigging great. First, Tehran is as clean as it can possibly be. You can actually smell flowers instead of smog. The sky is a bright blue and the mountains are sparkling. We are driving around, visiting different people and places, looking at the young green and the random red wildflowers. We actually drove through a part of Iran that was pristine (I am afraid to say where we were, because I don't want to see plastic bags and other unburnable trash blowing through the country side next time we go there) and empty. We drove for an hour and only saw two other cars. We did see several herds of sheep: several Nomadic tribes are moving to their summer homes right now, so you see a lot more herds moving by the side of the road now.

Looking forward to more Spring travel. Stop by here in about 10 days, maybe I will come inside then…

Hoax

I need to mention that one of my correspondents wrote me that the attack on the mosque was a hoax. Thanks for the information.