Visit Xerexes Gate in Persepolis!

At dusk in the ancient city of Shiraz, Iranians place flowers on the grave of the 14th-century Persian poet Háfiz, then reverently recite his poetry. This was my introduction to the love Iranians have for their rich, ancient culture.

Iran embraced many civilizations over the millennium and melded them into a unique national identity. Today the country is composed primarily of Persians, Azaris and Kurds. Proud of their Aryan/Persian roots, Iranians sometimes take offense at being called Arabs.

Iranians seem able to separate Americans from their government’s policies. While anti-American signs are common, the people themselves seduced us with their irresistibly warm welcome. We were often surrounded by crowds of children and adults, endlessly curious about us and America. Soldiers passing by in a truck flashed the peace sign when they heard we were Americans.

Iran is clean, modern and safe. Tehran, the smog-filled capital, is surrounded by beautiful mountains. There, the modest home of Ayatollah Khomeini, the father of the 1979 Islamic Revolution that toppled the Shah, contrasts with the Shah’s opulent palaces. Everywhere are beautiful murals, memorials to martyrs or clerics and illustrations of verse.

Teahouses, the primary places of social interaction, overflow with vibrant conversations. Most of the main food options in restaurants are kebabs, served with bread and rice, with pistachio candies for desert. Outside Tehran are vast deserts, lakes and snowcapped mountains. We visited Qom, Iran’s conservative religious center, and the crown jewels of Iranian history, Persepolis and Esfahan.

Persepolis, Darius the Great’s 518 BCE glorious religious hub, was destroyed circa 333 BCE by Alexander the Great. Esfahan’s centerpiece is the huge, 16th-century Naqsh-E Jahan Square, flanked on three sides by majestic blue-mosaiced palaces and domed mosques, their tiled minarets reaching toward the heavens. In the square, one gets lost in the maze of bazaars, with their arrays of artistic goods for sale — calligraphy, carpets, metal work, engraving, paintings.

Despite numerous invasions, Iranians have maintained their deep religious and social values and culture. The essence of their culture is rich with meaning and deeply sensual, as evidenced by its love of music and poetry. Musician Hossein Alizadeh spoke to us of how singing Háfiz’s poems connects him with his culture.

Today, Iran struggles to balance modern influences with beloved tradition. At one gathering in a private home, an Iranian-American youth played traditional music on the tar and daf, ancient instruments. At another gathering, a young man played the “Jelly Roll Blues” on piano. He was the son of our hosts, filmmaker Khosrow Sinai (whose film, “Bride of Fire,” recently played at the High Falls Film Festival in Rochester), and his wife, artist Farah Ossouli. Sinai summed up the contrasts, saying, “If tradition and modernity don’t come to an understanding with each other, there will be catastrophe.”
Unlike many other Middle Eastern nations, Iran has elected officials. Besides Islam, Christianity, Judaism and Zoroastrianism are officially recognized and represented in parliament. As a Shia Islamic republic, power in Iran lies with the Supreme Leader Ayatollah Khamenei, and the Assembly of Experts, who elect him. Laws are based on the ayatollahs’ interpretation of the holy Qur’an.

Most cultural activities are under government censorship, which often leads to repression of ideas considered alien to Islam. All women, including tourists, must wear the hijab (scarf) and manteau, a coat that extends to the knees, in public. Only in conservative religious cities like Qom are women seen in black chadors (not berkas), which are full-length “gowns.”

For some, the hijab is a symbol of modesty; for others, oppression. Under the Shah, women were forbidden to wear it, therefore, many parents chose not to send their daughters to school. Today, over 65 percent of college students are women. The hijab has become a fashion statement and Iranian women constantly push the envelope, hair tumbling out of colorful silk scarves and sequined jeans under their coats. Women are very much present in artistic, cultural and professional areas despite many Islamic prohibitions.

Our group of 14 included several American experts in Iranian history, government, religion and nuclear issues. We were sponsored by an Iranian government group, giving us access to political leaders, religious figures such as ayatollahs, archbishops of the Armenian and Caldean Churches and members of the Jewish community. We also attended a multi-nation meeting about Iran’s nuclear program, at which Minister of Foreign Affairs Dr. Mottaki spoke.

I was most touched by our conversation with Mohammed Khatami, former president of Iran and a leader of the reform movement. His engaging manner and surprising footwear (penny loafers) contrasted with his black robe and turban. The black turban indicates that he is a direct descendant of Mohammed. He hopes for better relations with the United States, calling for “a dialogue of civilizations,” but says the Bush administration has destroyed these hopes by ignoring Iran’s numerous offers for unconditional negotiations. He remarked, “Despite the hostile confrontation between our two countries, we can look deep down and find factors that serve the interest of both countries.”

The message we heard repeatedly was that Iran does not want war, does not have a modern history of expansionism, and has repeatedly called for a nuclear-free Middle East. And, Iran believes it has the right to a role in regional decisions and is concerned about America’s attempts to diminish it.

Many Iranians we met expressed strong dissatisfaction with their government, but resented outside interference in their country. “You can help us by leaving us alone to solve our own problems,” one woman said, a sentiment echoed by the Armenian archbishop.

Iran is full of contradictions and often seen through a distorted political lens. It’s not a paragon of democracy, nor is it part of an “Axis of Evil.”

Unfortunately, politics causes us to lose sight of the universal core of humanity that could unite us as friends if the madness of fear and war were not so prevalent.

By Lynda Howland

Try Iranian food!

A foodie noshes his way around modern Iran.

You think you’ll find tuna on a bagel in Iran?” my assistant Kathy asked as I shut down my computer for the next three weeks. I laughed. Finding my favorite lunch was the least of my concerns. I was, after all, traveling to a country that President Bush identified as one-third of the Axis of Evil.

I’d wanted to visit Iran for years to view its ancient monuments and to understand this country that was closed off to Americans for a generation. But there never seemed to be a good time, and now was no exception. There’s been recent U.S. saber-rattling over the Iranian Revolutionary Guard’s involvement in Iraq, and ever-pressing questions about Iran’s nuclear capabilities and support for terrorist groups. That’s not to mention the hateful pronouncements from its president, Mahmoud Ahmadinejad.

And yet, much to the consternation of family and friends, I was determined to go.

I was concerned for my safety, of course, but what would I eat in a country known as much for its meat and kebabs as for its exquisite carpets? Given that I follow Jewish dietary laws and eat only kosher meat, I expected to adopt a largely vegetarian and fish diet during my journey. Just in case, I stocked up on granola bars and packets of instant oatmeal.

I arrived in the middle of the night, and was met by immigration officials who took their time questioning and fingerprinting me. This lengthy welcome was instituted in response to similar treatment of Iranian nationals visiting the U.S. My guide, Cyrus, and Joseph, my driver, waited patiently until nearly 4:00AM., then dropped me at my new temporary home: the Laleh International Hotel, formerly the Intercontinental Hotel before the 1979 Islamic Revolution. Save for the Intercontinental trash bins in its guest rooms, the Laleh retains little vestige of its past.

After a few hours of rest, I returned to the lobby to meet Cyrus, Joseph and Carl, a Canadian artist and university professor who would prove to be a perfect travel companion. Though 66-years-old, Carl was hale and hearty, which he attributed to early rising, yoga and a meat-free diet. Knowing our food constraints, Cyrus took us to the Coffee Shop & Veggie Restaurant of the Iranian Artists Forum, a stone’s throw from the former U.S. Embassy where American hostages were held for 444 days. They were released when Ronald Reagan took the Presidential oath of office on January 20, 1981. Today, with anti American slogans and murals painted on its outer walls – including the Statue of Liberty’s face rendered as a skull – the facility is home to the Den of Espionage museum.

The Iranian Artists Forum is a world apart from politics and international intrigue. It hosts performances, film screenings, art exhibitions, lectures and the only vegetarian café of its kind in the country. It was opened eight years ago by Behrang Aman, now the restaurant manager, and professor Bozorgmehr Golbidi, a European-educated food industry expert and one-time Stockholm disco manager. The pair also oversees the only vegetarian supermarket in the country, where they make tofu and vegetarian cheese and prepare traditional Iranian dishes using meat substitutions.

“In Iran, people aren’t familiar with vegetarianism,” Aman said, as he seated us on the terrace. “They think it’s only vegetables, so they’re surprised when they come here.” The menu was indeed, a surprise, and we ordered the Lotus Set, which included rice, veggie stew, soup, salad, pakora (deep-fried vegetables), a slice of pizza, vanilla pudding and a fruit drink.

Over the next several weeks, my 2,100-mile Iranian adventure was as much punctuated by visits to magical sites and extraordinary encounters with warm and welcoming people, as it was by frequent culinary surprises. Joseph always seemed to know the most scenic rest stops, whether alongside a river or at a mountain pass. Spread out on the trunk of the car, he poured cups of cinnamon tea while Cyrus opened up a pouch filled with a mix of pistachios, walnuts, almonds, cashews, sultanas and dried mulberries. But the real jewels were apricots the size of silver dollars, chewy, sweet and moist. In Kermanshah, an ancient city 325 miles west of Tehran (and just 75 miles from the Iraqi border), we met several bakers who were eager to show off the local specialties. Naan berenji are round white cookies that melt in your mouth; naan gandi is sugar bread that went perfectly with the evening’s tea.

That’s not to say that we ate only snacks. Fish kebabs and vegetable omelets were everywhere. Then there are dishes like ash-e reshteha soup of noodles, mint, beans, spices and ground vegetables with fried onions and yogurt; and dolmeh peppers stuffed with rice, beans and vegetables; and mirza ghasemi, a mixture of eggplant, tomato, egg and garlic. I reveled in the simplicity of steamed turnips and marveled at the number of rice dishes — one with dill, beans and garlic was a particular favorite — and the varieties of yogurts, whether plain, with shallots or with celery.

Desserts, too, were a pleasant surprise. Though I didn’t take to the saffron- and rosewater-flavored treats, a Shiraz specialty called faludeh was more than enough for my sweet tooth. These starch-like noodles are made from rice or potatoes, and flavored with lemon juice and other toppings. Ma’joon is a mixture of milk, walnuts, banana, honey, nuts (including pistachios) plus cocoa and ice cream; some versions are topped with ground figs and coconut. I sampled hard candy made from the zesty zanjafil while waiting in an Isfahan carpet shop for my purchases to be wrapped. And there’s nothing quite like eating halva in a country that’s been making it for thousands of years.

But my biggest culinary surprise was yet to come. As it turns out, there are kosher butchers in Iran. They serve a community of between 11,000 and 20,000 Jews (estimates of Iran’s remaining Jewish population vary). In Tehran, Shiraz and Isfahan, I was invited to Sabbath dinners, which follow Friday night services at the synagogues. We started with the traditional prayer over wine (which though it was banned following the 1979 Islamic revolution, Jews are allowed to make for religious observances). In place of challah, the braided bread that’s familiar to European Jews, was sangyak, a flat bread with holes. Dinner itself was a parade of dishes, starting with fresh fruit and followed by spicy beef stews, pungent chicken dishes and tadik, a layer of crispy rice that’s taken from the bottom of the pan. Thanks to Cyrus and Joseph, I was able to impress my hosts with the food-related Farsi words, the most important being hoshmaz: “delicious.”

Three weeks later, as my journey across Iran came to close, I thought back on the fascinating people I’d met and beautiful places I’d seen. But most of all, I remembered the food. On my last afternoon in Iran, I asked Cyrus and Joseph to drop me off at the grocery store down the street from the Laleh hotel. I wanted to pick up some Iranian tea and fig jam. When I unzipped my backpack, Cyrus peered inside.

I showed him my stash of emergency food–the granola bars and instant oatmeal. We laughed at my overabundance of caution as I removed the packages from my backpack. I needed to make room for all that I’d bought.

“As we say in the U.S.,” I said as I handed them over to my new friend ‘It’s like bringing sand to the beach’.”

Visit the Armenian Churches!

I never said too much of this for fear of attracting all the wrong attentions but I once travelled to Iran.

Now that Obama is president, it’s time to tell travel stories.

Iran, is a fascinating country.

When I exchanged my US dollars, i got money back in plastic bags, literally. Two plastic bags of indecipherable Iranian currency utensils in exchange for two hundred American dollars.

In customs they held me to inspect a Pink Floyd album for inflammatory expressions (Division Bell, not a very good album, it was deemed not offensive enough to Iranians custom officials).

The first thing I noticed out from the airport was that I couldn’t tell which side they were driving on. The roads were big and plenty wide and the cars were all small and of the same colours and they drove wherever they like. Some drivers appeared to have been engage in a very prolonged private conversation on what would have been the designated fast lane for traffic. These people didn’t know left from right – it’s a common symptom in developing countries – check Hanoi, Bangkok, Jakarta and Manila for examples.

I spent time in Qom – the hotbed of Iranian revolution – the city is a dignified town that have educated the most brilliants of Iranians for hundreds of years. Imagine Cambridge leading the revolution against Tony Blair government. It was delightful. Books and music were cheaper than anywhere else in the world because they were all pirated. The Iranians are lovely people, however, and their own culture thrives with great movies and good artsy vibes. They know how to entertain themselves.

It helps that Iranian girls are some of the most beautiful creatures ever made on planet earth. All girls are drop dead gorgeous – so long as you’re willing to speculate on everything other than the face. Iranian girls spark with beauty and they were just easy to watch. They’re also the smartest people in the world. Two of my smartest professors in the UK in the esteemed profession of computer architecture are Iranians. The Iranians are blessed with the rare mix of good looks and functioning brain.
Proof that pretty girls are smart, too.

I stayed in Qom and decided to study Philosophy for a little while, it happened to be the only class I could enrol since I speak neither Persian nor Arabic. I lived in one of the student housing and spent time with all the other full time students. The Lebanese are also the most beautiful people in the world but they tend to have a nastier brother.

The lessons were intense but they have so much references crammed in their libraries these people reflects an almost biblical ideal of smartness. I learned more of Hegel and Wittgenstein and Karl Marx and Adam Smith in three months of study in Iran compared to my one year in Germany. These people are fiercely smart and they are always the most dangerous of all peoples.

The Iranian arts fascinated me and i couldn’t get enough of it. I spent days and days walking around the art markets, spending ridiculous amount of money on paintings and scraps of prints to take home. I was on the road for a few more months and most of the accumulated junk were left in airports all over the world later.

The Iranians are beautiful people with truly beautiful reflections.
The girls know the words to Bon Jovi, just as likely as they were to quote Rumi and Hafiz in their original lines. They steal my heart when they do that. Courting is always more exciting if you don’t understand the languages.

The Iranians drink tea in very small cups and put the sugar cube in their mouth before each sip. You’re also not to lounge in any tea shops. Two tiny little small cups and you will be asked to leave. You don’t read books in tea shops. Period.

They consume an unhealthy amount of this Coca Cola looking drink. It looks exactly like Coca Cola but didn’t taste like one – tho not too perennially bad. I’m sure a lot of them were diabetics but i am not of the medical profession. Did i say they were very pretty people?

Most Iranians have no idea that the outside world don’t speak Persians – everything on their television is dubbed into Persian (just like the Germans). The taxi drivers chatted during an entire four hours ride in languages i don’t understand. And yes, taxis there have two drivers, one to swap funny in-jokes with. And occasionally, they also take other passengers to further cheer the atmosphere. I guess that makes it more like a bus, but in a taxi shape, very confusing to describe, really, you just gotta go and check it out yourself.

In my spare weekends, I ventured to other places. Isfahan was the city with the tombs of angels and Mashad was a grand palace of charms. Tehran was the capital with too much of it all and smelled of nothing but power. Revolutionary dreams and their grand boulevards. It’s an idea in its expiration date.

There was another guy just as crazy as I was and as we were lost wandering the vineyards in Shiraz, we decided to see how things were on the other side.
We got on to a bus to Iraq two weeks later.