Friends and Family

Hello again!

Some of you have asked if I am going to be able to post any pictures while I’m here. We’re using a dial-up internet connection here in Tehran (there’s wireless and high-speed in plenty of places, including internet cafes, but I’m really only able to write and post late at night when we’re back at Nima’s aunt’s place where we’re staying and she doesn’t have internet, so dial-up it is) and our super old and slow laptop, so uploading pictures would take more time and computer power than we have right now! But we’ll see what happens!

As I think I have made clear from my earlier posts, the family here is absolutely wonderful. I’ve been trying to figure out what I can write that will be of interest, but won’t be 20 pages (or more!) long. So much has happened already that I have been having a really difficult time deciding what to share!

When we first arrived at the airport, and I met so people for the first time, I already felt welcomed and loved. That first night, when many more family members came over, those feelings continued to grow.

Just as a note, Nima’s aunt and uncle have six children (whose names all start with “M”), four girls and two boys, all of whom are now grown adults – the youngest just turned 40 years old. Most of them have spouses and multiple children of their own. Some of those children even have spouses and children too. This is not even counting Ahmad’s other siblings’ children who we’re not staying with and therefore don’t see as often. So, only counting Nima’s aunt’s extended family, the core family group is over 35 people and we’ve been seeing about 15 to 20 of them every night, sometimes as many as 30!

During all the time I have spent time with these people, even when I cannot communicate very well, I have felt like a part of the group. However, even with all of that, I wasn’t sure how to make stronger connections with specific people. It is hard to do that in any situation - and in any family - but with the added difficulty of the language barrier, I was afraid I’d never get beyond saying “hello,” “good-bye,” “thank you,” and smiling sheepishly whenever anyone said something that sounded like it could be a compliment or when I heard someone say my name (which is pronounced “Jenn-ee-fair” with the “r” sound rolled off the tongue a little). I was hoping to find a way to cross some lines and develop closer bonds with some of young women and girls who were anxious to get to know me, but weren’t sure how to approach it.

One cousin, Marzieh, is about 20 years old. She went to and graduated college in three years and now works at a youth organization. She still lives with her parents, who are very religious. She loves to sing and dance, listen to pop music, wear chic designer clothes, and has been eager to meet me for years. She was amongst the group at the airport that first night, but we didn’t really make much progress communicating at that point. The first afternoon we were here, we went to do some shopping to prepare for a huge party/dinner being planned and put on by Nima’s father and some of his nieces (sort of in my honor) so that everyone in the family – who live all over the place in the surrounding Tehran area - could be together for one special night. We went to two different bakeries and it was my first experience out and about in Tehran.

(There will be more on Tehran in future posts, but a quick note is that it is an amazing, busy city that I can’t wait to explore more!)

While in Nima’s cousin’s car, driving around to the bakeries, I was sitting next to Marzieh. I know that she loves music so, while we were sitting together in the backseat, I took out my iPod (Nima suggested that I play her some music, but I wanted to make sure she was interested first!), and just started fiddling with it and scrolling through the Artists menu. Marzieh was immediately interested. I held it out for her to look, and she took it and started to look through. She picked something randomly to listen to at first, but then I chose a song for her to hear (the new Muse album). I don’t even know if she liked the music (though I’m pretty sure she did), but what I do know is that she appreciated the gesture, and it seemed to open her up a bit. I also commented on her jeans and shoes, and how much I liked them, which I think really made her happy. After those two small overtures, she wanted to sit next to me during meals and tea and made some attempts to talk to me, even though I had such a hard time understanding her with my incredibly limited Farsi. (Incidentally, she knows some English since most Iranians study it in school, but I think she’s been too shy to try it out on me.) Over the next few days these short conversations in Farsi continued. Hand gestures, facial expressions, and a lot of pointing also go a long way.

On Saturday night, (the night after we arrived), a group of about ten of us took an evening walk in a huge park, called Park-e-Jamshid, that goes up the side of a mountain. The park itself was beautiful with incredible views of the whole city (more on this at another time as well, I hope!), but what I most enjoyed was the bonding experience I had with Marzieh and some of the other women who were also there. As we were walking, Marzieh and Maryam started singing and clapping along with music playing from their cellphones. Maliheh joined in and they sang and clapped their way to the top of one of the park’s seven tiers (each level of the park as you walk up the mountain represents a different province of Iran and has a dedicated tea house that serves food from that region). When we took a break from our little hike, we were all sort of standing around and they started to dance a little to the music they had been singing and clapping to.

(As an aside, the cell phone technology here is so beyond ours in the US that it is unbelievable! Music, videos, pictures…all on phones that aren’t iPhones or anything, just regular looking Nokia or Sony Ericsson phones…with quality far superior to anything I’ve seen back home.)

The women – all Nima’s cousins of varying generations - were trying to get me to join in but I just wasn’t sure what to do. It wasn’t until Nima and some of the other men walked away that they really got into it. The reason for this is that, in Islam, a woman dancing in front of a man isn’t really permitted if the man is anything but a husband, father (or grandfather, etc), brother, or uncle. Cousins, for instance, are not allowed. But the woman tends to be the one that makes the decision about who they feel comfortable dancing in front of which is why they chose to wait for Nima to walk away before dancing with me.

The three women were singing and dancing around me in a circle and trying to show me what to do. Eventually we made our way over to a sort of gazebo overlooking the lit-up, nighttime Tehran where Nima was and, even though they stopped dancing, they insisted that we dance together as if we were bride and groom and were clapping, singing, and taking pictures and video the whole time. (This was something that has been reoccurring throughout the trip so far- I’m being received very much as a new bride being welcomed to the family which, as you’ll see, has influenced some of our experiences). Everyone seemed to be letting loose a bit, they were all so happy, and I felt connected to them in a totally new way. They had let me see a side to them that does not come out when Nima’s aunt, the matriarch of the family, is around. Even though she is so sweet, generous, and warm with me, she is extremely religious and has little patience for her children or grandchildren acting in ways that she deems disrespectful. But through this Park-e-Jamshid experience, I really felt as if I’d been let in on a little secret of some sort. Marzieh’s love of dancing and music also made this experience especially important and personal to her, and it added to our growing connection.

When it was time to get ready for the big party on Sunday night, I had absolutely no idea how to wear my fancy headscarf. I had confirmation from Maryam that it was a great color, and looked wonderful with my red dress, but just didn’t know what to do with it or how to wear it so it wouldn’t look stupid and keep slipping down. Through Ahmad, it was decided that Marzieh would show me what to do. She was amazing! She showed me about six different ways I could wear it and asked me to pick which one I liked best. Honestly, as a person who does not wear hijab, I could hardly tell the difference between the options, but I picked one I liked and she put it on me. It looked beautiful and all night she was fixing it and making sure everything was in place. A lot of people at the party even complimented me on how good I looked in the scarf. Again, this little connection made a huge difference and helped me to feel as if I had broken through in some way.

At the party, I also grew a bit closer to two of Maliheh’s grandchildren, Nikki - who is 11 - and Fatimeh - who is about 13. (They’re Nima’s first cousins twice removed, are you keeping track?!) When I had first met them at dinner on the first night here, they were both very shy and didn’t really speak to me at all, even though they kept staring at me. It had been the same at the party, until I happened to run into them in the bathroom. As I was trying to pump the soap to wash my hands, the dispenser broke and Nikki held it for me and pumped more soap into my hands. Meanwhile, Fatimeh was trying to adjust my scarf and futzing with my dress. These interactions with both girls seem so minimal, but from then on they were interested in taking pictures with me and just wanted to be close.

(The party itself was unbelievable. There were over 100 people there, all members of the family. It felt like a gigantic meet-and-greet, a family reunion, and a wedding reception all rolled into one. The range of different fashion styles, based mainly on the level of religious piety, was unbelievable. Every type of Iranian seemed to be represented in some way – from the most covered up, Islamic women (like Nima’s aunt Tal’at who is basically the exact social/religious opposite from Nima’s father, which is in itself incredible) to the most sophisticated looking women wearing beautiful manteaus, high heels, and gorgeous scarves that barely covered any of their hair. The funny thing is, even the most religious women were wearing fancy clothes and flashy jewelry under their chadors, which shows that the level of coverage is a totally personal choice and that it’s not based on being “against” looking good or being “modern,” but has everything to do with personal religious beliefs and how to present yourself in public. Obviously, I’m most impressed when the boundaries are pushed to their limits, which they are, constantly, by both young and old.

Some men wore short-sleeve shirts and jeans, some wore suits with ties (which is very un-Iranian, since neckties are generally seen as indicative of a negative Western influence) and shook my hand when we met. Others were very formal and traditional. Some of the young women had the fashion sense of a classy Upper East Side society girl, while others had more of a Long Island thing going on. Some of the women shook Nima’s hand when we greeted them, while others did not. A totally mixed bag of Iranian society. Again, an entire post could be (and hopefully will be) devoted to this party, but right now I’ll continue focusing on certain connections with people so I’m not going to get into the details of the party in this post.

When the party ended, a group of people headed back to Nahid and Mehdi’s house. They are Nikki’s (and her adorable, 2 ½ year old, younger sister Noorah’s) parents and they are wonderful, warm, amazing people. They live a fabulous apartment that I kind of wish I lived in. Fatimeh and Marzieh really wanted to dance (I think some others did as well, but weren’t quite as vocal about it) so Marzieh put on some music. We tried to dance a bit, but again, because of the incredibly frustrating “rules” about dancing, and the even more frustrating super religious relatives who tagged along to make sure there were no shenanigans, we couldn’t do it because Nima and a few of other men could not be around if certain women were dancing. Nima was nice enough to corral the guys into another room so that all of the women could really get into it. As soon as they left, the whole feel of the room changed. All of the women (except one) threw off their chadors and headscarves and danced like crazy to loud, “groove” music with techno dance beats.

It was such a bonding experience that I got to participate in and which that Nima sadly will never be a part of (though we videotaped some of it to show him when we get home). It is so frustrating and infuriating that those are the “laws,” but somehow it creates an incredibly strong bond and community of women. I was, all of a sudden, part of a smaller group of women and felt like I was really an accepted part of the group and, more importantly, the family. Fatimeh was trying to teach me to dance the way Iranian women dance (I was terrible!) and Marzieh couldn’t get enough dancing time with me. Nikki danced too, but mostly just wanted to talk to me and show me things in her room. It was so incredible to see these women - whom I had seen almost exclusively in Tal’at’s home up until that point – break out a bit and show a different side of themselves and their culture. I was trying to take in every moment, but really what I took away from it all (to which my frustrations with Islamic law are second) were the bonds that I formed specifically with Fatimeh and Nikki.

When I just saw Nikki again this evening, she was so excited to see me and was eager to give me a nice big hug and kisses on each cheek as soon as I walked in the door. It really is so amazing to be able to connect and communicate with people with whom I can barely speak and I can only hope that these relationships will continue to grow over the time that I am here.

This post barely scratches the surface of everything I have experienced while I’ve been here but hopefully you get an idea about some of what has been going on. I’ll do my best to write about it all, but a lot of it will have to wait until we get back because there simply aren’t enough hours in the day!

Thanks again for reading! I loved all of the comments and emails from you all about my previous posts so please keep them coming!

A Girl and Her Doogh

Before we left I had a lot of people ask me what the food was going to be like. Even though we haven’t been here that long, I’ve already eaten some incredibly delicious meals that I want to let you all know about. As you’ll see, it is not your typical Middle Eastern cuisine. For instance, there is no hummus, or pita or falafel. It is really a cuisine all its own!

First off, every meal is eaten on the sofreh, which is a tablecloth placed on the floor. This is great for me since I’m a big fan of sitting crosslegged myself, so this is right up my alley. Unfortunately, Nima doesn’t love it – he prefers chairs with back support.

As I mentioned in my previous post, my first real meal upon arrival was halim. I was very surprised to find out that it had meat in it because the first bite just tasted sweet and creamy. The cinnamon and coconut really flavored it and it was a nice filling meal after many hours of traveling. I later learned that the reason we ate that first, at about 6:30 or 7am was because it is food that “gives strength”. It makes sense if you think about it. The protein from the meat mixed with the fast acting sweetness does make a great breakfast! It was served with sangak, which is a type of flat bread. There are many types of breads here: lavash (the thinnest of the three; about as thin as a tortilla), toftoon (a little thicker than lavash), sangak (thicker than toftoon and but still rather flat), and barbari (the thickest of all the breads, named after the Berber tribes known for this type of bread). So far I’ve had the lavash, toftoon and sangak all of which are delicious and come in large pieces that people fold over when they pick them up from the bakery. Also, bread is never put in bags; people just carry it home in their hands, even when they're riding on the back of a motorcycle!

For lunch on our first day, we ate a type of aush, which is basically a thick soup. There can be many different kinds made with many different ingredients, but the one we had was made with fresh greens and it had home-made noodles in it. When it was brought out (everything was served by Nima’s adult female cousins) it was in a huge steaming bowl. I tried to take a picture but it didn’t really do it justice. The aush was again served with break, this time with lavash, and it was delicious. Nima’s cousin also made some eggs that were cooked over hard with tomatoes. Although it was basically just an omelet with a slight variation on the eggs, it really was quite tasty! Alongside all of this food, was also a plate of sabzee. The sabzee have been a part of every lunch and dinner we’ve had since we got here. “Sabz” is the word for “green” in Farsi, so sabzee is “greens”. It is basically a salad, but is made with just greens- scallion, mint, lemon grass, and some other spicy leafy veggies that I didn’t recognize but certainly enjoyed. Sometimes there is a radish on the plate as well. There is no dressing on it and everyone uses his or her fingers to eat it. It is really refreshing and such a great way to have a simple healthy salad! I really want to find out exactly what is in it, because it is delicious and I’d love to start making it at home! We also had home made halvah with this meal. It isn’t like the halvah you can buy in stores in the US, but it is made out of flour, almond slivers, sugar, oil and has a consistency with saffron and rosewater flavors.

Dinner that night was a traditional dish called fesenjan. It is sort of a stew with tomato, pomegranate, cinnamon, and finely chopped onions. It is typically served with small meatballs in it, but since Nima’s father Ahmad likes it with chicken, and everyone here knows that, they made it that way. It was served over delicious basmati rice and, of course, with a side of lavash and sangak! Since this was a big dinner (about 25 close family members came over that night), there was another rice dish called lubia poulo, made with string beans, rice, tomato sauce, small chunks of lamb and various spices.

We missed breakfast the second day (we overslept) and then had the leftovers from dinner for lunch. For dinner last night we had kashk-o-bademjan made with stewed eggplant with butter (or oil), sautéed herbs, and garlic, and served with a glop of kashk, which is sour, thick yogurt! People put it in many things to make it a little creamier. The kashk-o-bademjan was also eaten with the sangak and served with sabzee. It was so delicious, hopefully I’ll get a good recipe for it.

As you can probably tell, rice is a staple here! Some of the other rice dishes I’ve had in the past few days are: shirin pulo (sweet rice with orange flavor), baghali poulo (fava bean and chopped parsley, dill and lamb), and zereshk poulo (currants, saffron and chicken). I’m sure there will be more forthcoming.

One of the best parts of having rice so often is the way they cook it. Somehow it is cooked so that the bottom layer of rice (smothered in butter and oil) cooks to a perfect crispiness and makes another dish unto itself. It’s called tadik and it is amazing! I’ve tried to do this at home in the past, but it’s never come out the way they do it here.

Whenever guests arrive in someone’s home, they are presented with a plate of miveh (fruit). Typically porteghal (oranges), seeb (apples) and khiyar (cucumbers) are served with a small knife for peeling. Sometimes when your hosts want to make an impression they will have splurged on kiwi (which is pronounced ki-vi because there is no “w” sound in Farsi - I happen to love the way they pronounce it and have found myself saying the same thing) and moz (banana). I had heard about this tradition and was looking forward to it. Needless to say I have not been disappointed!

So far I seem to be averaging about five cups of cha’i (tea) a day and sometimes more! Tea is served before meals, after meals, in between meals, and during any time when one might be sitting around for a few minutes. It is delicious loose-leaf tea brewed really strong and then cut with hot water. I plan to bring some home to share!

Iranians have a real sweet tooth and many things are made with a lot of sugar. Desserts are super sweet and shirini (sweets) are always being offered along side a nice hot cup of cha’i.

Yesterday evening, on the way home after a long walk in a beautiful park, we stopped for a cup of freshly-squeezed anar (pomegranate) juice. It came with a little warm-up treat of thinly sliced pomegranate fruit leather. The juice is served with sprinkle of mixed spices that sort of tasted like brown sugar, cinnamon, and nutmeg. Nima thought there was some cumin in it too, but I disagree.

Before I finish, I must tell you about my favorite drink, doogh. It is basically a yogurt-based drink that has some carbonation. Nima absolutely hates it, but he’s the only one. I love it (even though the idea of it isn’t very appealing) and drink it whenever it’s offered to me. Hopefully I’ll find a good doogh distributor in Brooklyn when we return so I can keep it up.

Okay, that’s all for now. Sorry to dwell so much on food and not on what I’m seeing, doing, and how really incredible it is here, but I promise to get to that soon. I just wanted to get this stuff out of the way first.

Ok, sleep time now and more adventures tomorrow (complete with rice, tea, and doogh, I’m sure).

Shab bekheir.

Inja hastam! (I’m here!)

Salaam from Iran!

After about 22 hours of travel (door to door) we arrived safe, sound and exhausted at Nima’s aunt’s house at about 5:00am Friday morning, which is 8:30pm Thursday evening New York time. As I’m writing, we've barely been here 12 hours, and there is so much to say that I don’t even know where to start!

First off, the flights were long but hassle-free. I was able to sleep for the entire first leg of the trip, from JFK to Heathrow, while Nima watched movies and played computer backgammon on the in-seat tv screen. After a four-plus hour layover, we got to our gate and watched the lounge fill up with Iranians waiting to board the Iran Air flight to Tehran. There were a lot of different types of people waiting to board the plane, older people traveling alone, couples traveling together, and families with children of all ages.

When we were airborne, we studied some Farsi and had the best airplane food I’ve ever eaten! It was Iranian food after all and it was a nice little warm up for what I’ll be eating over the next few weeks. Something that was really interesting about the flight on Iran Air, was that it was the most social flight I’ve ever been on. People who were not traveling together and had never met before were engaged in conversation and enjoying each other’s company. Everyone was so kind and interested in one another. On other flights I’ve been on in the past, people seem to go out of their way to avoid conversation with their neighbors. That may seem unimportant, but it really changed the entire feel of the flight and the time passed quickly.

Towards the end of the six-hour flight, Nima’s mother Ann and I started to get ready for our arrival in Tehran. We put on some make-up (most of you know I am not a make-up person…but I figured I’d give it a shot since most of the women in Iran are really into it!) and made sure we had our scarves ready! As the flight attendants announced our final descent, all of the women on board calmly put on either hijab (head scarves) with long jackets, or full chadors, in order to be appropriately dressed for arrival. I had painstakingly ironed my scarf that Ann had brought back as a gift from Nima’s aunt Tal’at the last time they were in Iran, because I thought that would make for easy situating when it was time to wear it. I thought I was all ready to go and then, of course, the scarf wasn’t sitting right. I couldn’t get it to stay flat on my head and I was struggling to get it to stay on with out strangling myself. It was making me nuts! Nima, Ann and Ahmad assured me that it was fine, and that it looked great, and since I couldn’t seem to do anything about it I decided to let it go. I now realize I had absolutely nothing to worry about.

We exited the plane into Khomeini International Airport and slowly made our way to the passport line. I had anticipated seeing lots of the large, intimidating images of Ayatollah Khomeini plastered everywhere. I’ve never really seen one in person, and because I can’t think of another way to describe how I feel, I just think it is a little overwhelming to see large pictures of leaders (religious or not) posted around. Anyway, as it turned out, I didn’t see a single one! In fact, the airport – which is huge and very new – was one of the most laid back, easy-going airports I’ve ever been in. I couldn’t help thinking that I was now in a country many people in America, like Hillary Clinton for example, describe as a heavily-monitored “military state,” meanwhile I didn’t see one police officer or military person patrolling the airport. Security, in the way we would recognize it in a US, didn’t seem to be much of a concern. The person sitting at the passport desk took the passports, asked if it was my first time in Iran, and stamped all four of our passports and sent us on our way.

As we were walking to the baggage claim, we heard shouts of “Dāyi! Dāyi! Ahn! Ahn!” (which means “Uncle! Uncle! Ann! Ann!”) We looked up and saw one of Ahmad’s nephews, Mohammad Reza waving and coming down the stairs into the baggage claim area. As our eyes scanned the huge crowd waiting behind the partition separating arriving passengers and those picking people up at the airport, we realized that there were nine other people there waiting for us! Every time I looked over, there were five women in chadors just staring at me, giggling, and excitedly waving. It was so unreal. I didn’t even know them, yet I found myself waving back as if I were greeting old familiar family members. This surprised me, since I usually don’t like meeting new people and it is often difficult for me to feel immediately comfortable in new settings. But seeing their excitement just brought me right in and I immediately moved past the nervousness about meeting them and was able to just feel the thrill and curiosity about who everyone was and what they were going to think of me!

After passing through customs (which literally consisted of putting our bags through an x-ray machine that no one was monitoring), we made our way as quickly as possible to go meet the family that was waiting for us! I was received with open arms and kisses and hugs by all of the women. To my surprise and without hesitation, two of the men (who are not supposed to touch me due to religious and cultural reasons) even shook my hand right there and then, in front of everyone! I was not expecting this at all, and to have it happen before any actual interaction was really incredible. Not only did they shake my hand, but they did it in front of older (more traditional) family members and also in the middle of a crowded airport! It may seem like a minor thing, but actually it was a really courageous gesture of affection towards me and, because I expected the exact opposite, it was even more meaningful and important. In contrast, as thrilled as Nima’s female cousins were to see him again (everyone had tears in their eyes), they stopped short of physical contact. This made the handshakes I instantly received even more amazing.

We finally made it out of the airport and into the three different cars that would take us all to Nima’s aunt Tal’at’s house. As we walked to the car, one of the female cousins, Maryam, kept grabbing hold of my arm and kind of giggling with excitement. Everyone was so genuinely excited to see me and I think they were in just as much shock and disbelief that I was actually there as I was. Nima and I drove in Mohammad Reza’s car with Maryam and Maliheh (Mohammad Reza’s aunt and mother, respectively), none of whom speak much English, so we all did our best to make small talk with our limited conversational abilities. The months and months of Farsi lessons and flashcard quizzes during our flight seemed to fly out the window as Nima and I bumbled around to find words we knew how to say and verbs we could try to conjugate. No one seemed to mind.

On the half-hour drive from the airport, we got a little tour of Tehran as Maryam pointed out different squares and universities on the way to the house. Beautifully colored lights lined the dark streets and lit up the tunnels and bridges all the way from the airport to the apartment (in Namju, one of the older neighborhoods in the center of the city). The green, white, and red of Iran’s flag were prominently featured everywhere. It was breathtakingly beautiful and a really amazing way to be introduced to this incredible city.

As we neared our destination, we stopped quickly to pick up a steaming pot of halim, which is an Iranian breakfast food made with meat, sugar, wheat, butter, coconut, cinnamon, and other spices, all of which are slowly stewed into a consistency like Maypo. And yes, the halim store was open at 5am. Welcome to Tehran.

We finally arrived at the house and were greeted by the welcome scent of esfand, incense being carried to the door by another eagerly waiting relative. We took off our shoes (as you must), dropped off our bags in the downstairs apartment we are staying in and headed upstairs. Nima’s aunt was waiting with open arms and I was finally able to put a face to this person I’ve heard so much about (and even spoke to on the phone once, sort of). She was so happy to meet me. She welcomed me to the family with many hugs and kisses and was so impressed when I told her (in well-practiced Farsi) that I was very happy to finally meet her.

Cha’i (tea, obviously) and gaz (delicious pistachio marshmallow like candy) were immediately placed in front of us and it was then, for the first time, I was able to really look around and realize where I was. I had arrived in Iran, I was meeting the family, and somehow, for some reason, I felt completely at ease and comfortable.

It was really amazing to meet such welcoming, loving people who were so happy to see all of us. Life is definitely different here (more details on that in future blog posts), but it all feels totally natural. I’ve never been so far away from home, or spent so much time with so many people I’ve never met and a language I barely understand, but it already feels like family and we haven’t even been here a full day!

I have so much more that I want to share, but I have to find the time to write it first! I’ll try to post more in the next few days.

Talk to you soon!

Khoda Hafez!

Well, today is the day! We're heading out of NYC tonight, we'll spend a couple of hours in Heathrow tomorrow and then head to Tehran from there!

From what I've been told we're going to be met by a large group of eagerly waiting family members at the airport even though it will be 2:30am when we arrive! I can't even begin to predict how seeing them all for the very first time will feel. I keep having these moments of anticipation - both excitement and nerves, I'd guess - during which I feel my heart rate speed up for a few beats. I think the reality of this adventure is finally starting to sink in!

The one specific point in time that I keep thinking about over and over again and trying to imagine is that time after we land in Tehran, when everyone is shuffling around getting bags down from the overhead compartment, checking the backs of the seats for iPods, books and any other belongings, and then just waiting for the airplane door to open. I'll just be waiting and waiting, not really knowing what is going to greet me on the other side. Trying to make sure my scarf is somewhat securely attached to my head, going over my Farsi phrases, keeping myself calm through baggage claim and customs...it is going to be insane! I just really can't imagine what it is going to be like and I am so excited to find out.

I'll keep you posted on that and other news as best I can over the next three weeks. Please send me any questions you have and I'll try to answer them (or find the answers to them) while I'm there!

Thanks for reading!

Hate Expectations

For anyone still wondering what Iran is like, here is what I've heard...I'll keep you posted.

One week to go!

I had an experience today that has moved me to write. As a non-writer, that was a crazy feeling for me to have. I was taking care of some errands this afternoon and someone I know asked me when I was leaving to go to Iran. I responded, with excitement and pride in my voice, "One week from today!" At first, I got the response that I am fairly used to by now. "How are you feeling?" she asked. As usual, my response was something along the lines of "I'm really excited! I need to pack, but I think I finally have all the clothes I need, so that's a relief. I really can't wait!"

What happened next, though, caught me off-guard. In retrospect, I suppose it shouldn't have, but it did. The person with whom I was speaking said something to the effect of "Well just watch out for that Ah-ma...Amm...Ammadi...Ammadeen...hmmmm, oh wait...I know, someone said... I'm-a-dinner-jacket."

[I've since learned that this offensive way of remembering how to pronounce the name Ahmadinejad (the elected president of Iran's last name) has been around for years, and has sometimes been attributed to Katie Couric. Somehow, today was the first time I had heard of this.]

Anyway, this person then went on and on about "that crazy I'm-a-dinner-jacket" and how I needed to "be careful" of him when I'm in Iran. This all made me feel a number of different things...none of them good.

First and foremost, I immediately felt insulted and hurt by what this person had said. Secondly, I wanted to explain how disrespectful I thought these comments were. However, because I was in the middle of doing a thousand things at the time, including making preparations for being away from my classroom for over a week and a half even after school vacation ends, I chose not to say anything.

But I was left with a terribly uncomfortable, offended, and almost sick-to-my-stomach feeling. As I mentioned in my first post, I understand certain worries that people who care about me may have had, or are still having. I understand the concerns of people who don't know much about Iran and are unsure about what I'll experience when I'm there. I feel like, through the conversations I've had with these people, I completely understand where they are coming from, even if I am not concerned at all about the same things.

This was totally different though. This was hurtful. It was patronizing and condescending. It made me feel attacked, which, in turn, made me feel instantly defensive. I can't really put my finger on it. I just know that there is a difference between being concerned and voicing those concerns and being offensive and culturally insensitive - intentionally or not.

This person was not only supposedly "concerned" based on what she has heard or read about a country or person in the media, but was taking it to a totally different level of being offensive and, in my opinion, racist. I truly believe that making fun of a foreign-sounding last name, because you can't be bothered to figure out how to pronounce it, is racist. If she has such strong feelings about the person she's talking about, perhaps she should first learn how to say his name. But the thing is, she probably doesn't know anything about Ahmadinejad, which, to me, makes her off-hand and uninformed comment all the more stupid and inappropriate. Meanwhile, she probably thought she was being cute and silly - which is even worse.

[Incidentally, this person happens to be of Italian heritage and has an Italian last name. But I would never make comments about the prime minister of Italy's name - or use some dumb mnemonic device that I heard from some TV personality - despite the fact that I find many things he says and does offensive. Voicing concerns or asking questions is one thing, but making fun of a name that may be difficult for some people to say because it happens not to be a common English name (despite being 100% phonetic) is ignorant, close-minded and offensive. Ahmadinejad is a five syllable word written in English, using English letters. Just read it. Alexandria, Philadelphia, and Michelangelo are other five syllable words. Chances are she doesn't have to whisper "McKellen Jello" to herself when remembering who sculpted the statue of David or painted the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel. No one is expecting her to know what احمدی‌نژاد says.]

I'm an American who now has an Iranian last name. I also now have Iranian citizenship and am the newest member of a large Iranian family. This may be why I was especially hurt. I felt like my family's culture and language was being attacked, which made me feel that my family itself was being attacked - through ignorance in this case. I was angry, frustrated, and insulted by our interaction. I now realize it was because she said something racist. It was ignorant and racist and that is all there is to it.

Maybe I should have addressed all this with her right then and there, but I didn't because I didn't have the time or inclination to get into the type of conversation that would have been necessary to explain how I felt and why I felt that way. All this had absolutely nothing to do with whether or not I agree with or support the words or policies or leadership of President Ahmadinejad himself. This was purely about disrespecting a culture, language, country, and people of which I am now a part - and proud to be.

Situations like this may seem petty and easy to blow off, but I have encountered more and more of them as my Iran trip becomes more and more of a reality and has gotten closer and closer. In a way, things like this make me feel like I understand what it's like to be discriminated against. It makes me understand what it's like to be personally insulted by other people's stupidity, stereotypes, and bigotry. The affront is no longer abstract - it affects me, my husband, and our family. I often find myself feeling disappointed in people I have known for a long time. I find myself defending a culture that, for most Americans, is "foreign" but for me is now family.

The reason for this is that, even though I am still a white person living in the United States, I now realize I am defending myself.

*****

I'm going to try to post at least one more time before we head out..one week from today! In the meantime, please chime in with whatever thoughts, comments, concerns, or questions you may have. I'd love for this whole thing to be interactive if possible, but I guess that's up to you.

Thanks again for reading!

2 weeks and counting!

Hello! Welcome to my very first blog post! Usually I leave the writing to Nima, but this is something that I feel I want to document myself and share with people.

As you probably know by now, my husband Nima and I are heading to Iran with his parents to meet the hundreds of relatives on his father's side of the family. We'll be in Tehran for a total of about two weeks, and will be traveling to Shiraz, Esfahan, and Persepolis for about a week. I'm hoping to be able to write and update you all while we're gone, but if not, I'll post everything when we get back. As I'm trying to prepare for this amazing three week trip to Iran, there has been a lot to figure out and deal with. Some of it is the typical stress of going away for three weeks: What if I'm allergic to something? How much Benadryl does one need? What if I can't sleep? What if something I eat upsets my stomach? A trip to CVS should help me with that, but it is just a lot to plan!

Then there's the fact that Nima and I have been working on our Farsi, but I fear we've been a little too laid back lately and I'm not confident with my language skills at all. I have some key phrases to say that I hope will wow my relatives, but other than that I plan to do a lot of smiling, nodding and repeating words that seem appropriate. We'll see how that goes!

Recently, my focus has been on figuring out what clothes I need to bring with me. The rules aren't as strict as I had originally thought. I don't want to turn this into a lecture or an essay about women in Iran, but I would just like to assure those who are worried, that women in Iran do have to cover up, but they don't wear burqas (like in Saudi Arabia and Afghanistan) and are not required to wear full chadors, which are the almost sheet-like full coverage (except for the face) garments that you may see some Iranian women wearing in pictures. The law is that women wear scarves to cover their hair, cover their arms up to the elbows, and to have their bottoms covered. As you can see from the pictures, many women have their scarves sitting right on their buns with the front of the head completely exposed. There is a difference between what is required and what many of the more religious women choose to wear. However, it recently occurred to me I had nothing that fit the "past the elbows and covering the butt" rule! I tried looking online and ordered a few things from official "Islamic clothing for women" websites, but in the end they weren't quite right. As it turned out, H&M saved the day! Just when I thought I was all set I looked at the weather forecast...it's over 80 degrees in Tehran this week! So, of course, I just had to order a few more, light-weight things. I think I'm all set now, though. Of course, I don't think there should be any laws about clothing, but I am relieved that I'm not traveling to Saudi Arabia or Afghanistan! I can show my face, my hair, and even brightly colored toenails, if I'm so inclined.

I happen to really like the little manteau shirt/jackets that are in style in Iran these days and was really excited to have an excuse to buy some of my own. I find them really flattering and I've already been wearing them around Brooklyn. I also think the hijab (head scarf) is really beautiful. The colors and textures can be really incredible and, honestly, I think that the way they frame the face is really attractive. I was talking to some friends about it recently, and all three of us agreed that in a way they are even kind of sexy! It is crazy that something that in its true form is meant to be modest actually seems kind of seductive, in a way. I'm really looking forward to seeing what it is really like to wear one. The only thing I am worried about is my comfort level. I have never enjoyed having things around my neck, and it wasn't until recently that I even started wearing a scarf in the winter time. I do have some beautiful scarves to bring though which hopefully won't slip off of my head the whole time. I hear even the Iranian women have a tough time keeping them situated, so all of the futzing I'll have to be doing won't be a problem.

Interestingly enough, make up and designer jeans are of incredibly high importance in Iran. I definitely need to practice my mascara wearing skills if I'm going to keep up! It makes sense, if you think about it. When most of your body is covered up, you need to accentuate the parts that aren't. The sad part of that is that, along with the jeans and make up, nose jobs are also incredibly popular. While I'm not a big fan of plastic surgery, I can totally understand why this is the trend.

An experience I'm really looking forward to is the time I'll spend with just the women in the family. From what my mother-in-law has told me, things are very different when there are no men around. As a rule, the only men I can physically touch are my husband Nima and my father-in-law. That is going to be really strange for me, I think. It will be difficult to meet someone and not shake their hand or give them a hug. I suppose I'll get used to it, but I think it will feel really unnatural to me at first. (Similarly, Nima isn't able to touch any of the women, except for his mother, his aunt, and me. That even includes his female first cousins who are thirty years older than he is and are now grandparents! This was very difficult for Nima during his last trip...but it makes the rare instances of breaking the rules all the more exciting and emotional.)

When it is just the women, though, I won't have to worry about all that, or my scarf or what I'm wearing. I imagine that the women there have a very close bond because there are a lot of things that they can do as a group, that they can't do with men around. I think just the letting go of some of the rules, uncovering and showing their style is really important for them to do together. I know that I have some cousins who are looking forward to taking me shopping. I'll keep you all posted, but I think that is going to be a pretty amazing experience.

The most difficult part of preparing for this trip has really been building for a while. This trip has been in the works, literally, for years. When Nima went to Iran for his first visit, five years ago, he came back with pictures and stories that made me realize I needed to go at some point in my life. Since we've gotten married, it has been a priority of mine to figure out a time when it would be feasible for me to go. I was actually the one who pushed for this trip to happen this year! Throughout these past few years, I have spoken to many people about my hopes to travel to Iran. The reactions I've gotten have ranged from rude and dismissive, to supportive, curious and excited. The most frustrating responses I've gotten have been something along the lines of, "Why would you ever want to go there?" The simple answer is: "Why wouldn't I?"

I have family there. My husband's father was born and raised there. Iran is an important part of Nima's life and has become an important part of mine. What many people don't seem to realize is that, not only is Iran a beautiful country with a history and culture that is older than most other countries in the world, but it is also a place to which Nima feels very strongly connected. It is truly a part of who he is and, because of that, I too feel connected. I want to see this incredible country, not only to meet my new relatives, but also to experience the culture. Over the past few years, I've read books and articles and watched movies and television programs about Iran and what always stands out is how wonderfully welcoming and kind the Iranian people are. I want to experience that first hand.

As a side note, if you want to check out some of my favorites, they are: Mirrors of the Unseen: Journeys in Iran by Jason Elliot (here's a book review), In Defense of Iran: Notes from a U.S. Peace Delegation's Journey through the Islamic Republic by Phil Wilayto, and the Rick Steves travel video called Iran: Yesterday and Today (you can watch the whole thing on Hulu!).

There are also some people in my life who, while they understand why I am going, are simply concerned, and I completely understand that. So much of what people, especially in the US, read, hear, and see on TV about Iran is negative. Iran is portrayed as the number one enemy of the United States. It is hard to see that and then learn someone you care about is going there.

Then there are the people who are excited for me, eager to hear about what I see and learn, and seem to think that this trip is an incredible opportunity for me. I've even heard "Wow that is amazing, I wish I could come!"

The three types of reactions I've just described are clearly just the extremes, and many people feel a combination of all three, but these reactions, especially of those I care about, have really impacted me over the years. I've always been excited to go, but I've been anxious about talking to the people who aren't so supportive of this trip. I have to admit that many times I've gone out of my way to avoid conversations about my trip with certain people. I want my friends and family to be excited and understand my reasons for going, but I've also had to remember that it may be hard for them to do so. I have experienced a range of emotions myself throughout the entire planning process, and I'm sure the same will be true when I'm there. I am not worried about feeling unsafe or uncomfortable, but I do realize that because I haven't been there yet, I may experience something different from what I am expecting. I truly don't know what my experience will be. What I do know is that I'm going with an open mind and plan to write and speak honestly and openly about whatever that experience turns out to be.

Please feel free to share this with anyone you feel might enjoy reading it! I welcome any questions or comments you have as you read, and I hope you enjoy reading about my adventures in Iran!