Around town and back home

Dad says that he thinks 90% of Iranians don't like the government here, 80% in rural areas and villages. He said that he speaks against it every chance he can get, and that people tell him he's crazy to talk like that. He says, unless his life is in danger he'll say what he thinks. Like father, like daughter....

Riding the subway is also fascinating. The first two “wagons” are women only, and the rest are ostenisbly for men but women can ride there too. We rode during rush hour today and people packed in so tightly you couldn't move! The signs are also quite delightful. Look closely at the one in the middle; it cautions women against getting their chador or manteau caught in the escalator. We were in the mixed-gender car during a particularly jam-packed time and the other woman next to me took it upon her self to keep me steady as the car rocked as there was no where for me to hold on. I also spotted two men holding hands, very loosely, on the escalator. When they got off they continued this way, gently clasping fingers. I can't imagine what it must be like to be gay here; doubtless incredibly stressful. Dad says this is very common for men and they are probably not gay.  

We walked to Dad's music school where he takes Tar lessons to see about getting a violin lesson while I'm here, and we walked around the neighborhood where Dad did his last year of High School. He grew up in Kermanshah, a small rural village a few hours from Tehran. He never thought he would leave Kermanshah, but that last year his sister Ame Pari was in Tehran in school and possibly going to get divorced. So Maman, Dad, and Amu Said came to set up house with her and dad did his last year of High School in Tehran. He told me that right away he realized that he hadn't learned anything in the last 3 years, and that if he was going to be able to go to University he would need to study hard and pass the test. He'd never been a good student but now he worked hard and managed to pass the test! We also walked by Amu Bagher's school, which is a historic site.

Dad's school

Bagher's school

Amubagher's school

My cousin Farshad (Ame Pari's son) and his wife Benafsheh arrived today. They live in LA, and the last time I saw them was over 20 years ago. They are both so sweet and also fluent in English! After dinner tonight, everyone sat around telling funny stories over the customary dessert, fruit and tea. One story had them all nearly doubled over in stitches and Benafsheh took pity on me to explain that when Persian women fly internationally, they always choose to use the wheelchair because then they don't have to know their gate, etc., they are just delivered to where they need to go by an airport attendant. Even though they are totally able-bodied, most of them choose this option for the ease of not having to deal with the chaotic airport traffic, finding the gate, etc.. Dad says that at the gate, there are often 40 women lined up in their wheelchairs.

And, it turns out, Ame Pari, my spunky 73 year old climbing-trees-in-high-heels super aunt....
“Your Ame Pari when she came to visit us 20 years ago, she arrived in a wheelchair!” and Ame Pari looked over at us from the sink with that impish grin and twinkle in her eye, and in her delightfully thick Persian accent exhuberantly exclaimed “Free ride!”

Dad also recounted many of the stories that my Agha (grandfather) would always tell. He died about 4 years ago and I feel a little devasted to not have gotten to spend more time with him before that. But I can see that here, the way to keep those who have died alive is by telling their stories and laughing as you would if he were here telling it.