Beer

I was in the car with a relative tonight heading to the mountains for some tea and hookah when a guy on a moped rode up next to me on the passenger side. My window was rolled down and he bent down and peered in (not looking at the road, but hey, who does?) and said in a thick Shirazy accent "Do you all want some beer?" Um.... I started to say no but my relative, who was driving said, "What is the percentage?" The guy on the moped fell back behind the car and zoomed onto the driver's side (mind you, we are driving during this whole exchange) and responded "5 percent. Heineken. 24 pack for 60,000 toomans ($60)." Apparently this was a good deal so my relative told the moped guy to follow us into a side street so we could do the exchange more privately.

"Now, you're positive this is 5%" asked my relative. The moped guy assured him it was good. They proceeded to haggle and the price came down to 55,000 toomans and my relative told the guy to wait in front of this house because one of his friends wanted to buy a 24 pack also. We gave the guy the money and he quickly put it into the trunk of the car. We also got his cell phone number for future alcohol endeavors. We programmed his number and saved his name as "Booz Amin." Then we drove off while he waited to make his next sale to the friend.

All of a sudden, my relative stopped the car and went to the trunk and brought a beer to the front. It was not a Heineken. It was called "Oettinger." On the can the word "Alkoholfrei" was written in lovely, large, cursive letters. Alcohol free.

We tried to track the guy down and he was gone. We called and he said, in that same thick Shirazy accent, "Sorry, you got the wrong number." And so it goes!

First Days in Tehran

So i decided to start a blog for anyone who wants to see what I'm up to in Iran because most of you probably have no clue what it's like here. Honestly, I had no clue either. Iran is incredibly complex. It will be hard to write about this country without political observations and implications, but I will try because I don't particularly want to go to prison. So, I guess my first observations are that the traffic is insane, the women are beautiful, the city is filthy, and the Alburz mountains rise up abover Tehran like a grand old king surveying his land. This city is enormous. When I saw it from the sky before I landed, I couldnt believe how sprawling it was. The traffic is literally the worst in the world and there are almost no rules or regulations and even the few there are are hardly followed.

I have to wear the hijab (scarf over my head, coat or tunic down to my knees) but it is so funny to see how this traditional and Islamic dress has evolved. Girls wear Prada sunglasses, scarves that barely cover their heads, tight trench coats that perfectly outline their breasts and butts, and enough makeup to scare RuPaul. Walking down the street, I see these girls and then next to them I see these black masses, women who glide down the street with only their eyes visible to the world. The contrast is amazing.

I feel that the word contrast pretty much embodies Iran. Contrasts exist in all realms of life here. Somehow Tehran is modern, but medieval. The people are not free, but they are just on the brink of excercising freedom. Everything here is an "almost." It is almost a cosmopolitan city; it is almost tolerable to live this way; i almost understand this way of life. But not quite.

I think the most surprising thing I have discovered so far does not lie with the discoveries of this city or its people, but something I have realized within myself: The smell of mint and rosewater awakens a comfort and patriotism that I didn't know existed inside of me. I've spent a lot of time in the car just sitting and gazing at the city and it has inadvertently awakened a feeling, a strong affinity, a sadness, an aggressive defensiveness against those who are hell bent (or supposedly heaven sent) on ruining this country - this country I barely know but feel a part of and seems to be a part of me.

More to come!