Redefine Iranians

16/6/11(Thu)

Right after crossing the Armenia/Iran border at Norduz at around 5.00pm, Steven and I were stranded at the border post, in front of a group of Iranian taxi drivers because he refused to hitchhike. (It was rude to dumb him as I have made an indefinite deal to cross the border together). Ok! They were not pushy(because they didn’t have to!) as well as they were not willing to put down the price. I usually don’t cross a border if the day is not young but because of meeting Steven in the Armenian town of Kapan, I compromised as I thought it would be cheaper to have another person sharing the cost. Apparently I was wrong. It was a long story. What I want to say is that traveling with another traveler met on the road is like choosing a travel partner. Compatibility is my top priority concern. Not everyone understands the true meaning of backpacking and budget-traveling. So to break the deadlock as well as the language barrier, one of the taxi drivers called his Iranian friend who works as a part-time translator there. Gomez was indeed a friendly Iranian guy. He showed up just to meet us up but he wasn’t helpful in getting us a fair price because he was too keen on meeting and socializing with us – the foreigners. So, eventually three of us(only two of us paid!), sat on an overcharged taxi, were on our way to Tabriz. The sky was already dark when we arrived in the city of Tabriz. We were then invited to stay overnight in Gomez’s house where we were offered smuggled Beer and Brandy.     

Yes, Iranians are friendly, helpful and hospitable.

Gomez's house

17/6/11(Fri)

Steven, a British, was lying under a tree at Poet’s Memorial Park. I sat beside him. In front of us is a group of young Iranians fond of learning British Standard English and also foreigners. We spent almost the entire afternoon having a ‘communion chat’ in which the topics always circled between English idiom and proverb and also drinks, girls, sex and entertainment. Feeling bored of idiom and proverb, I was then brought to have a leisure walk at the park where they explained to me and even demonstrated in front of me on how an Iranian guy dates an Iranian girl. I was also having the pleasure to listen to the singings of an amateur Azeri-Iranian singer, in public. We clapped according to the rhymes and I treasured the experience I had at that particular moment. When Steven and I were about to leave, they wanted to know what time shall we meet again tomorrow. 10am? Here?

Yes, Iranians are friendly, helpful and hospitable.

A group of friendly Iranian

5/7/11(Tue)

I was on my rush to the Uzbekistan Embassy as soon as stepping out from the Qeytarieh Metro station, only to find out that nobody can guide me to the Uzbekistan embassy by bus. Everybody asked me to take a taxi, not taking seriously to my ‘No Taxi’ principle. Then an Iranian guy, who failed to guide me to a bus, brought me to his friend. His friend is a calligrapher. They sat me down and offered me tea, which I disrespectfully rejected, as I was catching time. I really had no time for tea and courtesy alike. Again, they suggested me to take a taxi, as if they were deaf to my numerous claim of ‘No Taxi’ principle. The calligrapher, whom I had a mere 5-minute conversation with (I didn’t even know his name), eventually squeezed a IR 100,000 cash note into my pocket and urged me to go, despite my strongly refusal. Damn it! I really appreciate all kinds of help but not money. I just want a bus.

Yes, Iranians are friendly, helpful and hospitable.

6/7/11(Wed)

On a night bus from Tehran to Esfahan, a young Iranian guy greeted me and asked me to sit next to him. Worn in Giorgio Armani outfit, he told me he wants to study PhD in Malaysia. He asked me which is the best university in Malaysia and I told him University of Malaya, feeling unsure. The subsequent conversation saw me struggling to keep my face from kissing his, a mere 15 cm-distance but the more I retreated, the more he engaged. I was sweltering and tired and I wasn’t ready to socialize on a bus, especially on a night bus where the only thing I can think of is sleeping. While I salute his determination to try to communicate in his poor English, I was succumbed to tiredness of guessing and catching his idea. So I closed my eyes, giving an obvious hint that I want to sleep. The subsequent moment saw me answering his relentless questions with my half-open eyes.

Yes, Iranians are friendly, helpful and hospitable.

8/7/11(Fri)

‘Do you speak English?’ I was greeted while wandering around the so-called World’s second largest square – The Imam Square in Esfahan. Oh…I thought it was another group of young Iranians who were probably asked by their teacher to practice English with foreigners. ‘Do you speak English?’ ‘Do you speak English?’ Ermmm…the more I heard this, the stronger I have the feeling as if they speak English and I’m a foreigner emerged from middle of nowhere who needs helps. It wasn’t until I was regret to have given them a ‘yes’ reply that I realized ‘Do you speak English’ is the only English they are able to speak out other than ‘Hello!’, ‘How are you?’ . And yet, they insisted to sit me down and expect to talk. Oh goshh! If you can’t speak English, what are you expecting?

Yes, Iranians are friendly, helpful and hospitable.

Imam Square

12/7/11(Tue)

I was on my way to Persepolis – the ancient Achaemenid Empire, a.k.a. ancient Persian Civilization. Rumor has it that there isn’t any public transportation to get there except by taxi or tour, which I hate both. And the rumor turned out to be a fact when I came here to further testify it. There isn’t any public transportation to get to the site. Nevertheless, it doesn’t mean that you have only two choices. As soon as I alighted from the minibus in Marvdasht, in less than a minute, a private car pulled over in front of me and two Iranians in the car asked me where I was going. I said Persepolis. They waved me in. ‘No money’, they said. They told me they were here to help people getting to the site. I smiled, in doubt. It wasn’t until I reached the site that I was approached by another Iranian man with his little daughter. He promised his wife to bring a foreigner back to his home in Marvdasht today for lunch and it turned out to be me. He then paid the entrance fee for me, which I failed to resist. Acted like a tour guide, he showed me around and tried to explain as much as he could remember all the possible stories behind each site. I was like a cow led by a farmer. While visiting such an important archeological site like this, I usually prefer to be alone. I want to see the things in my own pace and pleasure. Total freedom and flexibility is what I can’t let go. While seeing him climbing up and down with his little daughter, sweating like hell, I was about to say no to his invitation because I still wanted to see the sites and I didn’t want him to suffer because of me but I couldn’t resist the temptation of his promise to bring me to Naqsh-e Rostam, another not less amazing site on a cliff where no public transportation will go except private taxi, I suggested him to take a rest under a shade while I explored the site. So he decided to wait for me in the car park and ‘gave’ me 15 minutes to explore all the sites. 15 minutes? To be honest with you, I didn’t really care. It was after 45 minutes before I met him in the car park. We then had a delicious lunch at his home. It’s rice with chicken! The last time I fed myself with rice was like months ago. He then played a VCD showing the ancient Persepolis site and explained around patiently to me. It was almost 4.00pm when he kept his promise to bring me to Naqsh-e Rostam, which I thought he must have forgotten.  

Yes, Iranians are friendly, helpful and hospitable.

Persepolis

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This is a story about a Korean girl and a Swedish guy in Iran. The story began when the Korean girl arrived at the airport in Tehran at 3.00am, without an Iranian visa. Yes, without an Iranian visa. Why and how could that happen is another story. While deciding to buy another flight ticket on the spot to fly to Turkey, an Iranian, of course is a guy approached her. After dealing with the custom officers with a bit of endeavors and of course money, he eventually ‘bought’ a visa for her, on arrival. Then the Korean girl ran into a Swedish guy who also just arrived at the same airport with his bicycle. There was nothing wrong with this Swedish cyclist. He has his Iranian visa sitting tight in his passport. Somehow both of them were greeted again by the same Iranian guy whom nobody can explain or figure out why he was loitering around at the airport in the middle of the night! Appeared a bit blurred and tired, the Swedish guy told the Iranian guy he would like to change some money at the airport. So was the Korean girl. The Iranian guy advised them no to do so as he explained that the exchange rate at airport is always the worst and instead gave them a bunch of Iranian Rial cash, before dragging the two helpless-like foreigners to his palace house where they spent a total of four nights there. After times and times of counting and converting the Iranian Rial to US dollars as if there was something unbelievable, it was approximately $250 with the Korean girl and $130 for the Swedish guy.     

Yes, Iranians are indeed friendly, helpful and hospitable.