There were two hot topics at every dinner party. Number one: The Obama / McCain presidential election. Number two: The merchants in the bazaar went on strike. The strike was significant because the last time the bazaar’s lights went dark, it signaled the start of the 1979 Islamic Revolution. This time, the government wanted to impose a three-percent value-added tax.
Evidence of the strike really hit home when we were spending time with our family friend, who happens to be a jeweler. We sat in his store one afternoon drinking tea and eyeing all the gold, as the jewelers began locking their doors. I went outside to witness the commotion and noticed that one by one storeowners were bringing down their storefront gates. Our friend explained that his choices were dim, “It’s wrong for us to close our doors, but it’s even worse for us if we don’t.”
Tehran has also become synonymous with traffic. Whether you are driving to the airport, cruising on Africa Boulevard, or visiting the Borj-e Azadi (Freedom Tower), chances are you are stuck in one of the busiest cross sections of the city. You have to give yourself hours of buffer-time whenever you leave your house (if you are brave enough to endure the traffic, that is). And as far as the rules of driving in Tehran… there are none. Three-lane roads turn into five-lane roads, and the goal of every driver is to avoid hitting any pedestrians. And yet, I repeatedly heard my uncle claim that “Iranians are the best drivers in the world.”
Monday, October 27, 2008
Thursday, October 23, 2008
Persian Carpets
I spent many of my days wandering in the bazaars of Tehran. And by wandering, I mean weaving through the crowds, clenching my purse, and making sure my headscarf didn’t fly with the wind. While in the bazaar, my grandmother took my mother and I to a carpet gallery that showcased carpets of all sizes, colors, and cities of origin. Carpets from Tabriz, Mashad, and Kashan. Many of the carpets illustrate Ferdowsi’s masterpiece, the Shahnameh (or the ‘Book of Kings’). Born in 935, Ferdowsi wrote one of the most notorious pieces of Persian literature, capturing the culture and tradition prior to the Arab conquests.
But the most amazing evidence of craftsmanship was in a large room above the gallery. My mother and I were in awe as the carpets were unfolded and revealed. They stretched over 100 meters. Each corner of the carpet told a different story: never-ending floral and symmetrical patterns. And yet, the most amazing tale is what it took to create such works of art. Each one took four years to complete.
But the most amazing evidence of craftsmanship was in a large room above the gallery. My mother and I were in awe as the carpets were unfolded and revealed. They stretched over 100 meters. Each corner of the carpet told a different story: never-ending floral and symmetrical patterns. And yet, the most amazing tale is what it took to create such works of art. Each one took four years to complete.
Wednesday, October 22, 2008
City of Kerman
A few days before I left Iran I made a day trip to Kerman (an old city in southeastern Iran). One of the first places I went was the Ganjali Khan Bath. Each section of the Bath was designated for a different group in society. Merchants, Clerics, Farmers, etc. They would bathe separately while enjoying fruits and smoking hookahs. The bath had an entrance from the bazaar, which sold a variety of spices, large pots, and crafts. As we walked through the bazaar, we stopped at a bath that was converted into a teahouse. I drank dark tea and listened to the musician play the daf and sing old Persian songs. He took requests from the crowd and even followed us to the exit, making sure we didn't leave before hearing the song of our choice.
We hired a driver, drove through the desert, and arrived at Bagh-e Shahzadeh. An oasis in the middle of a dry, mountainous region. The trees captured my eyes immediately. Beautiful, large trees. And somehow, in the middle of the desert, they are covered with bright green leaves and bare fruit. The palace was built during the Qajar Dynasty, and it now serves as a restaurant and garden. While I was there, a group of 20 tourists from New Zealand also made the trek to eat kebab and enjoy the view.
The Tomb of Shah Nematollah Vali (a Sufi poet and scholar) was surrounded by clear, green glass. People would pray and throw money through the slot. Alongside Tomans were wrinkled Washingtons and Lincolns. On our way out, I noticed two Sufis standing in the doorway of the entrance. They prayed before they took one step inside. Dressed in all white, both were adorned long, dark beards. They walked right by me. The younger of the two went up to one of trees, said hello, then kissed it. My heart swelled.
We hired a driver, drove through the desert, and arrived at Bagh-e Shahzadeh. An oasis in the middle of a dry, mountainous region. The trees captured my eyes immediately. Beautiful, large trees. And somehow, in the middle of the desert, they are covered with bright green leaves and bare fruit. The palace was built during the Qajar Dynasty, and it now serves as a restaurant and garden. While I was there, a group of 20 tourists from New Zealand also made the trek to eat kebab and enjoy the view.
The Tomb of Shah Nematollah Vali (a Sufi poet and scholar) was surrounded by clear, green glass. People would pray and throw money through the slot. Alongside Tomans were wrinkled Washingtons and Lincolns. On our way out, I noticed two Sufis standing in the doorway of the entrance. They prayed before they took one step inside. Dressed in all white, both were adorned long, dark beards. They walked right by me. The younger of the two went up to one of trees, said hello, then kissed it. My heart swelled.
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