Hello all,
I can't believe it's only been Day 6. It feels like I've been here a lot
longer. It's a rare rainy day in Tehran and I thought I'd take the time to
write a long update. I've somewhat settled in here and am in a holding
pattern awaiting formal press credentials from the government. I just arrived
home following a long cab ride from a building (a house really) where a lot
of the foreign press rent space and hang out.
The people I'm staying with are gems. I feel really lucky to be here with
them. They're close friends of my parents. Their neighborhood, Jordan Street,
is fancy and urbane, the closest thing to the West Village not just in Tehran
but in the entire country. The other day, Ali, the 31-year-old son, loaned me
a copy of his book of Beckett plays. Yassi, the 28-year-old daughter, is a
video editor with a journalism degree and likes electronica. Last night,
Majid, the father -- walked into the room "The Dutch philosopher who
wrote,'In defense of insanity,'" he said to Ali. "Five letters. Do you know?"
How cool is that?
Except for Ali, they're all dual Canadian citizens and have a Vancouver
residence. They choose to live here. Outside of the young, another
Iranian-American journalist here said to me, almost all exceptional people
have long since fled Iran.
I'm still not at all used to the idea of hijab. Even after a week here, it's
completely horrifying and in utter bad faith to me that a woman wearing jeans
and sneakers and sexy blouse while sitting at home, must by law throw on a
raincoat and put on a headscarf before heading outside.
If she's heading to work at one many governmental or quasi-governmental
organization, she has to put on even more "modest" attire, a chador or some
kind of medieval head covering that makes her look like a nun.
Maybe I'm superficial and decadent and Western. And yes, there may be much
more pressing life and death matters facing the people here. But it's the
only thing I could unflinchingly call evil about Iran. Fuck hijab.
In comparing Iran to other places I've visited, I'd say it has parts of Cuba,
pre-1989 Communist Europe and Mexico: Cuba's isolation from the rest of the
world; Communist Europe's bizarre socio-political strictures; and Mexico's
vibrant commercial life.
But there's something else here which I've encountered nowhere else. At first
I thought everyone here was just a little tired. And yes, maybe in comparison
to me, who got up early this morning to go jogging in nearby Park-e Mellat
(the People's Park), maybe they're just a tad laaaaazy. But I've realized
that what I first thought was tiredness was actually something much more
profound and unsettling and is going to make it a bit more difficult than I
thought living here for a while.
That something is despair, a palpable sense of hopelessness among all except
the young.
As Sussan, the lady of the house where I'm staying explained to me, everyone
here has seen things no one should see. Like what? Like a well-liked
shopkeeper getting dragged from his store, laid out facedown on the street
and whipped for being the wrong religion.
But the main reasons for the hopelessness are the economic devastation and
rampant corruption that have driven everyone but those with strong ties to
the government or to the West into poverty. My Farsi is improving quickly,
and I've already begun talking to people from various walks of life.
Especially cabbies, who all want to talk your ear off. When they hear my
strange, Westernized accent they actually become even more friendly and
talkative. Even though they might charge me just a bit more for the cab ride
than they would a local.
I won't yet get into some of the more politically charged comments people
make about current affairs. "Everyone in this society has become a crook," is
an oft-heard comment. "You can't trust anyone anymore. Not even family."
"It's like the mafia took over." I gotta watch it here. Many people are more
desperate than they look and everyone's looking for an angle.
On the plus side, everything here is dirt cheap if your pay is in dollars and
the food is damn good. For lunch, today I went to a pan-Asian restaurant
called Monsoon, possibly the most expensive place in town. The bill for two
people came out to about 120,000 rials. That's $15. A 30-minute cab ride
clear across town comes out to 15,000 rials, or less than $2. The biggest
problem I have with the money is that they don't have big enough
denominations and you have to carry around ridiculously large amounts of it.
That and the pictures of Ayatollah Khomeini on the 10,000 and 5,000 rial
notes.
Kind regards,
Borzou
P.S. I love it when folks ask me questions, cuz it gives me ideas for writing
stuff in these updates. Feel free to ask questions.
P.P.S. Feel free to forward this around, just don't have it formally
published anywhere, as it could create problems for me here. If you wish to
subscribe, send a completely blank email to [EMAIL PROTECTED]
--- Begin Message ---
Hello all,
I can't believe it's only been Day 6. It feels like I've been here a lot longer.
It’s a rare rainy day in Tehran and I thought I’d take the time to write a
long update. I’ve somewhat settled in here and am in a holding pattern awaiting
formal press credentials from the government. I just arrived home following a long cab
ride from a building (a house really) where a lot of the foreign press rent space and
hang out.
The people I’m staying with are gems. I feel really lucky to be here with them.
They’re close friends of my parents. Their neighborhood — Jordan Street
— is fancy and urbane, the closest thing to the West Village not just in Tehran
but in the entire country. The other day, Ali, the 31-year-old son, loaned me a copy
of his book of Beckett plays. Yassi, the 28-year-old daughter, is a video editor with
a journalism degree and likes electronica. Last night, Majid – the father --
walked into the room “The Dutch philosopher who wrote ‘In defense of
insanity,’” he said to Ali. “Five letters. Do you know?” How
cool is that?
Except for Ali, they’re all dual Canadian citizens and have a Vancouver
residence. They choose to live here. Outside of the young, another Iranian-American
journalist here said to me, almost all exceptional people have long since fled Iran.
I’m still not at all used to the idea of hijab. Even after a week here,
it’s completely horrifying and in utter bad faith to me that a woman wearing
jeans and sneakers and sexy blouse while sitting at home, must by law throw on a
raincoat and put on a headscarf before heading outside.
If she’s heading to work at one many governmental or quasi-governmental
organization, she has to put on even more “modest” attire – a chador
or some kind of medieval head covering that makes her look like a nun.
Maybe I’m superficial and decadent and Western. And yes, there may be much more
pressing life and death matters facing the people here. But it’s the only thing
I could unflinchingly call evil about Iran. Fuck hijab.
In comparing Iran to other places I’ve visited, I’d say it has parts of
Cuba, pre-1989 Communist Europe and Mexico: Cuba’s isolation from the rest of
the world; Communist Europe’s bizarre socio-political strictures; and
Mexico’s vibrant commercial life.
But there’s something else here which I’ve encountered nowhere else. At
first I thought everyone here was just a little tired. And yes, maybe in comparison to
me – who got up early this morning to go jogging in nearby Park-e Mellat (the
People’s Park) – maybe they’re just a tad laaaaazy. But I’ve
realized that what I first thought was tiredness was actually something much more
profound and unsettling and is going to make it a bit more difficult than I thought
living here for a while.
That something is despair, a palpable sense of hopelessness among all except the young.
As Sussan, the lady of the house where I’m staying explained to me, everyone
here has seen things no one should see. Like what? Like a well-liked shopkeeper
getting dragged from his store, laid out facedown on the street and whipped for being
the wrong religion.
But the main reasons for the hopelessness are the economic devastation and rampant
corruption that have driven everyone but those with strong ties to the government or
to the West into poverty. My Farsi is improving quickly, and I’ve already begun
talking to people from various walks of life. Especially cabbies, who all want to talk
your ear off. When they hear my strange, Westernized accent they actually become even
more friendly and talkative. Even though they might charge me just a bit more for the
cab ride than they would a local.
I won’t yet get into some of the more politically charged comments people make
about current affairs. “Everyone in this society has become a crook,” is
an oft-heard comment. “You can’t trust anyone anymore. Not even
family.” “It’s like the mafia took over.” I gotta watch it
here. Many people are more desperate than they look and everyone’s looking for
an angle.
On the plus side, everything here is dirt cheap if your pay is in dollars and the food
is damn good. For lunch, today I went to a pan-Asian restaurant called Monsoon,
possibly the most expensive place in town. The bill for two people came out to about
120,000 rials. That’s $15.
A 30-minute cab ride clear across town comes out to 15,000 rials, or less than $2. The
biggest problem I have with the money is that they don’t have big enough
denominations and you have to carry around ridiculously large amounts of it.
That and the pictures of Ayatollah Khomeini on the 10,000 and 5,000 rial notes.
Kind regards,
Borzou
P.S. I love it when folks ask me questions, cuz it gives me ideas for writing stuff in
these updates. Feel free to ask questions.
P.P.S. Feel free to forward this around, just don't have it formally published
anywhere, as it could create problems for me here. If you wish to subscribe, send a
completely blank email to [EMAIL PROTECTED]
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