'Goooood Morning Vietnam!'
My trip this time was to the city of Tehran, in one of the most talked-about countries in the news... 'Iran' of course. The flight on Iran-air was smooth, and the stewardesses were most attentive. However, I was informed that we would stop in Hamburg for re-fueling, due to the sanctions put upon the country by most Western countries, the direct flight from London to Tehran is now disrupted.
It was made in 1987 and I recall clearly seeing it in a London cinema with my mum, Hala and my aunt Joanne, visiting London.
'Goooood Morning Teheran!'
My trip this time was to the city of Tehran, in one of the most talked-about countries in the news... 'Iran' of course. The flight on Iran-air was smooth, and the stewardesses were most attentive. However, I was informed that we would stop in Hamburg for re-fueling, due to the sanctions put upon the country by most Western countries, the direct flight from London to Tehran is now disrupted.
Surely all this refuelling business only adds more carbon dioxide into the air. But do they care?
Anyhow, once in Tehran's Emam Khomeini airport, the passports were checked without any hassle and as soon as I arrived at this six-year-old airport, some 64 km outside the city, I saw my suitcases on the conveyor belt... Well, one and a half suitcases really but who's counting. Cases on a trolley, I made my way out to meet my pickup.
I got to the apartment with two suitcases, two large carrier bags of duty-free and a 'big-ish' handbag at 5 am to be greeted by Hala and her glance of 'no surprise there', looking at what surrounded me. We went on chatting until sunrise and could barely sleep even at 9 am from all the excitement of plans for the days to follow.
On the first afternoon, we walked around the neighbourhood. A spring-like day in sunny Tehran and a mourning holiday due to Imam Hossein, a third Imam, who was martyred with his family over a thousand years ago. For a couple of days every year, he is mourned by well-to-do families preparing rice and special stew dishes in their homes, or in mosques, distributed in take-away boxes to anyone queueing at their door, in two separate rows of men and women.
"Com' on Hala," I said as we passed the bystanders at the mosque, "Let's queue up, I'd like to experience this."
"But Haldita..." Hala did not seem convinced but eventually agreed.
We waited in the queue and finally decided: "Hey sis, I think they've run out of food here! See, maybe I'm just not meant to get anything for free in this life!" I said smiling. "The food is meant for people who need it most, let's leave."
As we walked away, I looked back to see the door open and food being handed out. Oh well, some things are simply not meant to be.
As we got home, the young couple who lived in the apartment across the corridor came to visit. Carl and Minu walked in with a handful of goodies; Persian delicacies and flowers. It is accustomed as a welcoming gesture for family and friends to pay a visit to newcomers, bringing gifts. They had returned from a short trip to Orumieh in the very North West of Iran. Carl told us of his visits to the area as a child, where they camped on the island in the middle of a turquoise lake, covered by flamingos.
On the first afternoon, we walked around the neighbourhood. A spring-like day in sunny Tehran and a mourning holiday due to Imam Hossein, a third Imam, who was martyred with his family over a thousand years ago. For a couple of days every year, he is mourned by well-to-do families preparing rice and special stew dishes in their homes, or in mosques, distributed in take-away boxes to anyone queueing at their door, in two separate rows of men and women.
"Com' on Hala," I said as we passed the bystanders at the mosque, "Let's queue up, I'd like to experience this."
"But Haldita..." Hala did not seem convinced but eventually agreed.
We waited in the queue and finally decided: "Hey sis, I think they've run out of food here! See, maybe I'm just not meant to get anything for free in this life!" I said smiling. "The food is meant for people who need it most, let's leave."
As we walked away, I looked back to see the door open and food being handed out. Oh well, some things are simply not meant to be.
As we got home, the young couple who lived in the apartment across the corridor came to visit. Carl and Minu walked in with a handful of goodies; Persian delicacies and flowers. It is accustomed as a welcoming gesture for family and friends to pay a visit to newcomers, bringing gifts. They had returned from a short trip to Orumieh in the very North West of Iran. Carl told us of his visits to the area as a child, where they camped on the island in the middle of a turquoise lake, covered by flamingos.
"Flamingos?" I questioned. "And are they still there? A few perhaps?"
"No," said Carl with a sad expression on his face. "There are priceless minerals in this area."
Minu, his beautiful wife continued: "I brought back some special soil from Orumieh to cure Carl's grandma's troubled knees. This soil has been known to cure different pain in the body."
We visited another couple I met in London through Hala, at their high-rise apartment with a view of the mountains running across the North of the city. How hospitable and loving they were with their greeting, constantly offering us food and their warm smiles. Essy and Niloo had lived abroad and came back to live in their home town many years ago.
We watched a concert on their big screen, performed in a hall downtown Tehran called The Vahdat Tallar, by some traditional musicians, playing instruments of heavenly sounds, with lyrics of Rumi, the Sufi poet. Very moving.
Tehran, with its sunny days, and the warmth of hospitable friends I am meeting, is surely growing on me faster than mushrooms grow in a forest. No Facebook yet and no Blackberry... Rest is good.
"No," said Carl with a sad expression on his face. "There are priceless minerals in this area."
Minu, his beautiful wife continued: "I brought back some special soil from Orumieh to cure Carl's grandma's troubled knees. This soil has been known to cure different pain in the body."
We visited another couple I met in London through Hala, at their high-rise apartment with a view of the mountains running across the North of the city. How hospitable and loving they were with their greeting, constantly offering us food and their warm smiles. Essy and Niloo had lived abroad and came back to live in their home town many years ago.
We watched a concert on their big screen, performed in a hall downtown Tehran called The Vahdat Tallar, by some traditional musicians, playing instruments of heavenly sounds, with lyrics of Rumi, the Sufi poet. Very moving.
Tehran, with its sunny days, and the warmth of hospitable friends I am meeting, is surely growing on me faster than mushrooms grow in a forest. No Facebook yet and no Blackberry... Rest is good.
Pictures of Tehran on my instagram account 'Haldita'
@halditanotes
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