Tehran
Sunday Nov 9: from Dubai to Tehran.
Kendrick and I spent 5 days in Iran last week - we didn't want to tell people about it until we got back, because even though we were assured of it being a safe trip, we knew that some people would not (or could not) feel the same until we actually lived to tell.
This is how it started. As we were planning our trip to Dubai a couple of months ago, we asked our friend Cesar to recommend a nearby country that we could visit while in the Middle East. Two of his suggestions interested us: the Maldives, and Iran. Kendrick's love of luxury led us to research the Maldives first. We quickly discovered that it would be a beautiful, boring, and outrageously expensive destination (1000CAD per night!!). Iran on the other hand, raised up some scary images from the media. But after some coaxing from Cesar, and a lot more research, Iran appeared to be more and more of a place with great tourist destinations and friendly people. The tipping point for me was the travel report for Iran by the Canadian government. It rated the safety level of Iran to be the same as the Phillipines, and Thailand - two places I have visited without batting an eyelash. So we decided on five days and four nights in Iran, and four destination cities in total.
There were of course a couple of initial hurdles, first of all the visa. My hair needed to be covered in the picture so I wrapped up my head in a t-shirt and a winter scarf, snapped a serious pose, and sent in the application. Kendrick's picture on the other hand has him beaming at the camera. Our visa were approved after several visits to the Iranian embassy. Later, in Tehran, the Iranian passport control officer took a look at Kendrick's visum and told him it was a good picture.
The second hurdle was to get a real outfit for the journey. In order to do this, I enlisted the help of my Afghani co-worker, Najimi. We went shopping in Copenhagen (Norrebro) to get an outfit that would conform to hejab. After being fussed over like a barbie doll by the owner`s mother, a grandmotherly Lebanese lady, I left the store with three sets of cotton-polyester head coverings, and a black, long sleeved tunic with a matching black scarf/veil. The tunic was lined and made of some kind of polyester-acrylic mix. I was a little worried about how hot it would be to wear that outfit for the five days we were to be in Iran, but the forecasts seemed generally mild, so I purchased.
The night before leaving for Iran, Virginie and I clowned around with the outfit for the sake of the camera, and our audience of Cesar, Kendrick, and Vega.
But as we boarded the plane, the time came to put it on for real. I could not have been more self conscious if I had to board in a bikini. The problem was the veil - it was difficult to pin it in place, and it was at first suffocating, and then afterwards very difficult to keep in place. Other ladies on the plane whipped out scarves or handkerchiefs which seemed to magically stay on without making them look stupid. Most of the women had some hair showing, but I was going to play it safe and have no hair showing at all. In the end, it was not a great decision. Not only was the veil slippery and inconvenient, it also seemed to gather up dirt, dust, and the unique smell of every place we visited. By the end of the trip, I abandoned the veil altogether, preferring to go out with the snug fitting head cover and showing my "bangs".
Arriving in Tehran, we checked into our hotel and got our bearings. We had changed our money in Dubai and were walking around with 6 million rials. 1 US dollar is equivalent to approximately 10000 rials. But the locals like to talk in terms of tens of rials (tomand) which confused us very much at the start of the journey. Given that, and the fact that the taxi driver charged us double what was written in the lonely planet guide got me into a foul mood! (We expended a lot of energy on this trip haggling and bargaining, especially in the bazaars).
So we decided to walk down to the Tehran bazaar and check out the Golestan Palace. Tehran is an awful place to take a stroll. The air is smoggy, the sidewalks are small and crowded, and crossing the street is a lesson in survival. Nobody respects the traffic lights so it is a constant game of frogger, with cars weaving in and out of the non existing lanes. We tailed the locals first to get a feel for it, and by the end of the trip we were dodging cars like Persians. :)
The Palace was closed on a Sunday, so we took a few pictures from the outside with the guards. The bazaar looked crowded and unfun, with lots of junk on sale, so we decided to use the remainder of our time in Tehran exploring the US Den of Spies (ie the former US Embassy of Iran). This is when we had our first taste of Iranian hospitality - a random passerby, Ali, stopped to chat us up, asking us where we were from and what we thought of Iran, and then he personally escorted us to the nearest Metro station. Before leaving us he insisted on leaving his phone number and told us to call him if we needed anything, ever. This was a pattern that we encountered over and over again, all through Iran. Friendly, curious people who wanted to talk to us (and perhaps practice their english) and learn about Canada (and how to get in). They also never quite believe we are Canadian until we say that our parents are Chinese.
At the site of the former US embassy, we were accosted by another young friendly local, Benzad, who tried to help us get into the former embassy grounds. We were blocked from entering by the men at the gate, next to the large sign that said "Down with USA". Benzad apologized for his government, and insisted on helping us to our next destination. How about some food, we asked, and he enthusiastically set out for a rather long walk to a local fast food joint, where he promised to bring his fiance to meet us. Kendrick had a chicken sandwich and I had a greasy vegetarian pizza as we chatted politely to Benzad and Zahra. They complimented my messy hejab, and we told them about the Canadian immigration points system. They then helped us get back to our hotel, and we turned in early in order to catch our 5:40am flight the next day to Yazd.
There were several other recurring themes on this trip that I will mention now. When in public, every 15 minutes or so, we would get people exclaiming on the street that we were Japanese or Korean. (There are no US or Canadian brands in Iran - but we did see lots of Japanese, Korean, French, Swiss, and German). We did not meet any other North American tourists, but we did run into: Chinese (PRC), Japanese, Russian, English, French tourists, roughly in that order of frequency. Iranians considered us to be very exotic... so much so that people would run after us all the time to talk to us (or at least attempt), or to offer us tea, or to offer us a ride. I could see people staring at Kendrick all the time. Men would often speak to Kendrick and not to me, shake hands with him and not to me. When they did speak to me, or of me, I was mistaken for being Malaysian several times. At the airport there was always a separated section for women when passing through security. Kendrick and I could not hug or kiss in public, holding hands seemed to be okay but not many people did it. The hejab was very irritating but I did get more and more comfortable with it. I did however resent the fact that I could not have breakfast in the hotel in my pajamas.
Kendrick and I spent 5 days in Iran last week - we didn't want to tell people about it until we got back, because even though we were assured of it being a safe trip, we knew that some people would not (or could not) feel the same until we actually lived to tell.
This is how it started. As we were planning our trip to Dubai a couple of months ago, we asked our friend Cesar to recommend a nearby country that we could visit while in the Middle East. Two of his suggestions interested us: the Maldives, and Iran. Kendrick's love of luxury led us to research the Maldives first. We quickly discovered that it would be a beautiful, boring, and outrageously expensive destination (1000CAD per night!!). Iran on the other hand, raised up some scary images from the media. But after some coaxing from Cesar, and a lot more research, Iran appeared to be more and more of a place with great tourist destinations and friendly people. The tipping point for me was the travel report for Iran by the Canadian government. It rated the safety level of Iran to be the same as the Phillipines, and Thailand - two places I have visited without batting an eyelash. So we decided on five days and four nights in Iran, and four destination cities in total.
There were of course a couple of initial hurdles, first of all the visa. My hair needed to be covered in the picture so I wrapped up my head in a t-shirt and a winter scarf, snapped a serious pose, and sent in the application. Kendrick's picture on the other hand has him beaming at the camera. Our visa were approved after several visits to the Iranian embassy. Later, in Tehran, the Iranian passport control officer took a look at Kendrick's visum and told him it was a good picture.
The second hurdle was to get a real outfit for the journey. In order to do this, I enlisted the help of my Afghani co-worker, Najimi. We went shopping in Copenhagen (Norrebro) to get an outfit that would conform to hejab. After being fussed over like a barbie doll by the owner`s mother, a grandmotherly Lebanese lady, I left the store with three sets of cotton-polyester head coverings, and a black, long sleeved tunic with a matching black scarf/veil. The tunic was lined and made of some kind of polyester-acrylic mix. I was a little worried about how hot it would be to wear that outfit for the five days we were to be in Iran, but the forecasts seemed generally mild, so I purchased.
The night before leaving for Iran, Virginie and I clowned around with the outfit for the sake of the camera, and our audience of Cesar, Kendrick, and Vega.
But as we boarded the plane, the time came to put it on for real. I could not have been more self conscious if I had to board in a bikini. The problem was the veil - it was difficult to pin it in place, and it was at first suffocating, and then afterwards very difficult to keep in place. Other ladies on the plane whipped out scarves or handkerchiefs which seemed to magically stay on without making them look stupid. Most of the women had some hair showing, but I was going to play it safe and have no hair showing at all. In the end, it was not a great decision. Not only was the veil slippery and inconvenient, it also seemed to gather up dirt, dust, and the unique smell of every place we visited. By the end of the trip, I abandoned the veil altogether, preferring to go out with the snug fitting head cover and showing my "bangs".
Arriving in Tehran, we checked into our hotel and got our bearings. We had changed our money in Dubai and were walking around with 6 million rials. 1 US dollar is equivalent to approximately 10000 rials. But the locals like to talk in terms of tens of rials (tomand) which confused us very much at the start of the journey. Given that, and the fact that the taxi driver charged us double what was written in the lonely planet guide got me into a foul mood! (We expended a lot of energy on this trip haggling and bargaining, especially in the bazaars).
So we decided to walk down to the Tehran bazaar and check out the Golestan Palace. Tehran is an awful place to take a stroll. The air is smoggy, the sidewalks are small and crowded, and crossing the street is a lesson in survival. Nobody respects the traffic lights so it is a constant game of frogger, with cars weaving in and out of the non existing lanes. We tailed the locals first to get a feel for it, and by the end of the trip we were dodging cars like Persians. :)
The Palace was closed on a Sunday, so we took a few pictures from the outside with the guards. The bazaar looked crowded and unfun, with lots of junk on sale, so we decided to use the remainder of our time in Tehran exploring the US Den of Spies (ie the former US Embassy of Iran). This is when we had our first taste of Iranian hospitality - a random passerby, Ali, stopped to chat us up, asking us where we were from and what we thought of Iran, and then he personally escorted us to the nearest Metro station. Before leaving us he insisted on leaving his phone number and told us to call him if we needed anything, ever. This was a pattern that we encountered over and over again, all through Iran. Friendly, curious people who wanted to talk to us (and perhaps practice their english) and learn about Canada (and how to get in). They also never quite believe we are Canadian until we say that our parents are Chinese.
At the site of the former US embassy, we were accosted by another young friendly local, Benzad, who tried to help us get into the former embassy grounds. We were blocked from entering by the men at the gate, next to the large sign that said "Down with USA". Benzad apologized for his government, and insisted on helping us to our next destination. How about some food, we asked, and he enthusiastically set out for a rather long walk to a local fast food joint, where he promised to bring his fiance to meet us. Kendrick had a chicken sandwich and I had a greasy vegetarian pizza as we chatted politely to Benzad and Zahra. They complimented my messy hejab, and we told them about the Canadian immigration points system. They then helped us get back to our hotel, and we turned in early in order to catch our 5:40am flight the next day to Yazd.
There were several other recurring themes on this trip that I will mention now. When in public, every 15 minutes or so, we would get people exclaiming on the street that we were Japanese or Korean. (There are no US or Canadian brands in Iran - but we did see lots of Japanese, Korean, French, Swiss, and German). We did not meet any other North American tourists, but we did run into: Chinese (PRC), Japanese, Russian, English, French tourists, roughly in that order of frequency. Iranians considered us to be very exotic... so much so that people would run after us all the time to talk to us (or at least attempt), or to offer us tea, or to offer us a ride. I could see people staring at Kendrick all the time. Men would often speak to Kendrick and not to me, shake hands with him and not to me. When they did speak to me, or of me, I was mistaken for being Malaysian several times. At the airport there was always a separated section for women when passing through security. Kendrick and I could not hug or kiss in public, holding hands seemed to be okay but not many people did it. The hejab was very irritating but I did get more and more comfortable with it. I did however resent the fact that I could not have breakfast in the hotel in my pajamas.
posted by Gina at 12:06 PM
2 Comments:
I would say that this is an adventure not a vacation,and I clearly understood why you guys did not tell us beforehand,but remember ,mom wants to know everything.
don't take the lisk!
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