The afternoon sped by after a quick lunch and a quick nap, and my cousin and I set out to a plaza called Haft-Hoz lined with various stores selling fake brand-named clothing, restuarants, etc. As we walked along the main street my cousin explained to me that the street was known for "girl-play,"and I instantly thought of prostitution. But, in the Islamic Republic of Iran everything risque, lewd and lascivious is drastically mitigated in meaning. Men and women are not allowed to be seen together in Iran if they are not married, and the only means of legally getting married in Iran is by an arranged marriage by request of the male and his parents. As we walked by a grandiose police station juxtaposed conveniently to a mosque with fifteen police cars having lined the streets in that area as well as many policemen, my cousin told me that if a male is caught even giving his phone number to a female they can be prosecuted (persecuted).
Though I was planning on doing so, I decided to pass on "girl-play," and kept my phone number to myself.
We had planned a rendezvous with one of my cousin's friends and went about picking two others up. As we met each one a double-kiss was customary and I was taken aback by the level of comfort and openness that each friend shared with the other. Farzand, a fair-skinned, bigger-built Iranian with voluminous hair wasn't afraid to use his voice, and he immediately started a conversation with me about film. He listed his favorte movies and actors, Mare-ell eh-streep, Kee-uh-noo Rihvs, Veel Eh-Smeth, and jokingly ooed and ahhed as I corrected his accent.
Farzand and I got along well. We began talking about the politics of Iran and his liberal views thoroughly surprised me. Against the idea of Islamic and Republic being used in the same title and against the politics of Ahmadinejad, Farzand stated that George W. Bush is good for Iran, because a president like Ahmadinejad needs someone to keep him in check. I left America which has a 20% approval rating for the man, and a liberal male in the Islamic Republic of Iran is telling me that President Bush is a competent president.
After wiping the vomit from the side of my face, the conversation carried on and my cynical friend, maybe that's why I was drawn to him, told me that Iran definitely had atomic bombs, and that Iran, with contempt for America and with the fear of Apocalypse with the coming of the Prophet of Time, would, if it could, drop an A-Bomb on Israel. Later the same person who was opining these far, far left political ideas thought I was mentally-retarded for saying that I'd marry a girl if I knew she wasn't a virgin.
The car-ride took us to Bom, another place for get-togethers built atop a mountain where I glimpsed a fantastic panorama of Tehran. We later receded into a building with a mini bumpercar rink and shared a game of foosball, or hand futbol, with the guys. After a sweat-and-scream inducing game we dropped our shoulders and sipped on non-alcoholic beers.
After dropping Farzand off after he through a small hissy-fit about wanting to be home, we drove to yet another hooka bar, since Majeed, one of the friends, was going to school three hours away in Shomal the next day. The time spent with my cousin and his friends was enjoyable. While on the road they gasped everytime a high-end Mercedes drove by and asked me a steady stream of questions about America and the people there.
"So, are all American women not virgins?"
"How big is your house?"
"Do you go see movies with girls?"
"How fast is your internet?"
The six of them, though, were unhappy with Tehran and wanted out. Farzand reiterated time and time again that I should not live in Tehran and that the fun I was having was a mere facade.
As I told my cousin about my future plans of going to Egypt, he told me, "and if you're lucky you can get your greencard, go to America and get a decent job." We eventually left the hooka bar. The car ride home took longer than expected because Majeed vomited twice on the way back. The friends immediately pulled the car over and in an act of hospitality I had never seen, got out and bought him a drink from the closest store, offered him gum.
Eventually my cousin and I were dropped off and after a long day, made ourselves ready for bed. As I dozed off I thought about my cousins, his friends and the familial, fraternal bonds they shared.
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2 comments:
I just came across your blog. There's an Iranian comedian here in NYC, Dan Ahdoot. He was seen on Last Comic Standing. He appeared on the show at a really young age. I think at the time he was 24 years old or so. His website is Standup Dan.com. The reason I mention him is that I'm a standup comedienne and I figured why not celebrate the similarities, as well as the differences. Cheerio!
It's as if they're on the border-line b/w intrigue and a sense of appall. It's really interesting to know their perspectives first hand, and not through the news.
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