SHE SAYS

As my sister is in town I asked her write the latest entry:

 

On Si o Seh Pol, Isfahan.


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"25 years!" my brothers pointed out when I arrived at Tehran's main airport - Mehrabad. I was 4 years old then - I don't have many memories before this age, but I have seen the photographic evidence and heard many stories!

I was little nervous when landing and going through passport control, as I had been warned there would be a small family precession waiting in arrivals, but after collecting my baggage I was relieved to see only my two brothers, father and step-mother greeting me with a bunch of flowers.

My first morning was spent going to a local park, before which I noticed that my short denim-jacket was creating quite a stir due to my rear being not so literally on display! Unfortunately I had only brought short jackets as I was only aware of covering arms, legs and hair. Once a 'manteau' was purchased and discretely swapped behind a tree and we were on our way.

Following an afternoon nap (something my father likes to take regularly!) we went to my grandmother's house to meet some of the family. I was a little anxious about this moment as I had not seen these relatives for so many years. This was especially odd as they seemed to vividly remember me as a young girl whereas my memories were so vague.

First to see me was my grandmother ("Mudar Bozorg" as she is known) who greeted me in Farsi, followed by "how ahrr ya?" - one of her two English phrases, I later gathered. I mumbled back some Farsi and kissed her three times on the cheeks. I was then introduced to my aunt, uncle and cousins (who also live with my grandmother) and was similarly greeted with three kisses by my aunt and a hand shakes from the men - but only when their hand was offered as I later learned was correct. Soon after I met another of my father's brothers and respective family, whom unlike other family who have been to England, I have not seen since my last visit. My aunt was very pleased to see me, taking a liking to my hair (straight and in a short bob, quite unusual in Iran I've noticed) and making comments regarding my build relative to the other family members.

The evening was pretty much what I expected, due to what I'd heard from David's previous visits and the few Iranian ways I had experienced whilst growing up: sitting on the floor to eat; everyone helping dish up and tidy away and lots of talking over one another. Whilst sitting before the food I became confused by the appropriate etiquette, at first I wondered whether to wait to start eating before everyone was present (as would be expected in England), yet everyone tucked in with disregard.

As it was the new year just before I arrived, the streets were rather quiet, so I was yet to see the famed madness on the roads as we traveled around. The next few days were spent either at the family sports complex or round people's houses for "Aid Didani". This tradition is where friends and family visit one another while indulging in fruit, nuts and sweets with the odd occasion where one returns the favour. Two or three of these within a day became hard work, particularly when I have no idea what the conversations were about! While doing the rounds, one of the things I noticed was that sons and daughters remain with their parents until they are married, which is not as soon in their life as I initially thought.

For the past four days we have been in the old capital of Iran - Isfahan. Here we visited various galleries, exhibitions, mosques, bazaars and even a church. As the new year was still being celebrated it was extremely busy (I got to see the mad driving and the aftermath of a couple of crashes!), particularly on Sunday as it was the 13th day (the end of the holiday known as "Sisda be da") of the new year where one normally takes to the outdoors and dines among nature. The dress in Isfahan is a little more modest than that of Tehran, which could have explained why I got stared at quite a lot, or maybe this was because I seemed foreign, as I could understand no other reason why so many people gazed. On a couple of occasions the religious police - Basij - asked me to fix my headscarf yet when they were told by my father that I was a tourist from England they made swift apologies even gave us free entry to one of the mosques!

I have found the Iranian food to be a little monotonous as one can't get a quick sandwich or a light snack - and obviously there is no alcohol so this is a two-week detox for me! Another noticeable difference to England is the condition of the roads and paths - Claims Direct would have a field day with "no win no fee" cases! But along with many other things in Iran, the poor conditions will be attended one day, "inshallah".

I find Iranian folk very contradictory - within the home they can't do enough for each other and won't let you leave, plying one with gifts, but on the roads and around the streets it's everyman-for-himself, yet when it comes to helping with directions I noticed, they don't hesitate in responding!

Finally, I would like to add, should I ever live in Iran, I would find socialising very hard due to unrelated men and women not being able to mix freely. And I note, where women are restricted in their clothing, they seem to make up for it in other ways - namely by wearing a LOT of makeup, having very high hair-dos (which seem to correlate with wealth) and wearing varying degrees of bleached-blonde highlights. Similarly, men also like to groom themselves by either matching the height of the ladies hair or growing it long and slicking lots of gel through their mullets.

I heard news that I may go to a "gathering" this week so am looking forward to seeing the illicit culture for my generation! Other than this I am eager to see more sites in Tehran and fill the memory on the digital camera.