Sheryl's Dispatches from Iran

Emails from Iran, Spring 2004 by Sheryl Shapiro

(Sheryl, thanks for giving me the permission to post your emails from your trip to Iran. I'm sure others will enjoy reading them as much as I did. Given today's political environment, personal exchanges like yours are more important than ever to bridge the gap between two very misunderstood cultures. Kheili mamnoon, Linda)

#1
"In the name of god the compassionate and merciful, we welcome you to Iran Air flight 720 to Tehran." Yep, this was the flight attendant's announcement, in Farsi then English before we took off. Needless to say, I have arrived and we've had a splendid first day—very safe and no problems for those of you who were worried.

The first big shocker was the inch-thick bundle of bank notes I received in exchange for $150. I’m a millionaire in Iranian rials. Each IR10,000 note is worth about $1.20, and everything is very inexpensive so far. The taxi from the airport cost $3; and we paid for our hotel in dollars, which everyone is always happy to accept. The room cost $10/person, which is pretty good for Tehran.

So far today we've arranged some plane tickets, wandered around the grand bazaar, and had a carpet viewing by some bazaaris (shop owners in the bazaar who are generally well-off) who dearly wanted us to buy something. But alas, it would be crazy so early in the trip to purchase anything—as there will be many more carpets to see over the next month.

For those of you I haven't talked to in a while, I’m here in Iran for one month, the first week-and-a-half of which I’m traveling w/an Afghan-American friend before she returns home and I’ll be on my own.

The law says that women must wear a headscarf and a coat of sorts to hide the curves. I’ve already purchased a lightweight black manteau (French for long coat) that comes to between my calf and ankles. It doesn’t have to be this long but I prefer to be conservative. I feel almost naked with the breeze blowing through compared to the light rain coat I had brought from home that didn’t breathe. It feels like springtime in the Rockies here—probably in the 60s.

Tehran is huge but one can easily walk around the central area without having to take a taxi. We took a local bus to the bazaar—the men in front, women in the back, just like Jim Crow days. I’ve heard this was at the request of the women who were getting hassled rather than a because of some restrictive rule to prohibit mixing of the sexes.

In Tehran it appears very free—it's not uncommon to see young men and women holding hands. The women are all wearing coats of some sort, though not all are full-length or dark. Some are dressed very chic underneath—high heels, trendy clothes, and some of the coats themselves are designer labels. Some of the shops in the bazaar sold tiny miniskirts. What one wears and how one behaves in private is quite different than what is done in public.

People have been very friendly and helpful, offering their phone numbers in case we need anything, making phone calls for us, and pointing out the correct bus and directions.

So the first impression is a good one—I am hopeful that the whole trip will be a success. Stay tuned for more from news from the axis of evil (NOT).

#2
Greetings from Shiraz in central Iran. We arrived here early yesterday evening after a very busy couple of days. Since last I wrote, we took a road trip north of Tehran to the Caspian coast. The young receptionist at our hotel in Tehran spoke excellent English and his brother had a car. They had a couple of days free and offered to drive us (of course we paid them) up north. They were nice guys. Don’t worry, we’re not just jumping into cars with anyone who asks.

We hit the road after stopping at their house to meet their mother and fill up a thermos with hot water for tea (no Starbucks here). It took about four hours on excellent roads, through terrain much like Colorado in the springtime. North of Tehran there are snow-covered mountains that you can see from the city.

As we drove northwest, the terrain varied from arid mountains to fertile green fields. There are lots of olive trees whose fruits we got to sample. We passed a large hydro project built by the Americans during the Shah's time.

After lunch in Rasht, we drove west to Masouleh, a village built into the side of a hill. There are many Iranian tourists traveling everywhere and we saw them picnicking on along the roadsides. We spent the night in Bandar-ē-Anzali, a port town on the Caspian Sea. There is a caviar plant in the area, as the Caspian is prime sturgeon territory. However, the sturgeon population has been seriously depleted in recent years due to overfishing and poaching. The caviar-making process is a national secret so visitors are not allowed. We spent the night in a cute “courtyard of bungalows” reminiscent of 50s motor hotels for about $10/room. On the beach out back was the rusted hull of a ship. The weather was cool and damp.

The next morning Nadia and I were due to fly back to Tehran from Rasht but the whole area was fogged in and the flight was cancelled. Of course we didn’t find out about it until after the guys dropped us at the airport, so the friendly airport manager fixed us up w/a ride back to Tehran with a police friend who was going that way. We arrived at the Tehran airport in time to catch our flight to Shiraz in that afternoon.

So far in Shiraz we’ve visited several beautiful gardens and mausoleums containing the tombs of the famous Iranian poets, Hafez and Sa’di. The flowers are blooming and air is perfumed with their scent. The locals say this is the best time to be in Shiraz (and all of Iran). We wandered around the covered bazaar, which is really a shopping center of winding aisles selling all sorts of things—clothing, hardware, fabric, dishes, and some handicrafts. Then we wandered into the Shrine of Shah –ē-Cheragh. Women need to wear a chador (the black rectangle of fabric that is pulled over the head and envelops the body like a cloak) to enter the shrine, so we borrowed a couple from a box out front. Lots of local women had to borrow them as well. The shrine’s walls and ceilings were tiled with pieces of mirror and the effect was very bright and shimmery. Women were praying, reading the Koran, talking quietly, and paying their respects to the entombed body of Sayyed Mir Ahmed by kissing the filigreed metal box surrounding the tomb. Some women were weeping as they were overcome by emotion.

Outside the shrine we saw a table with books staffed by two women with their faces entirely covered by a thin black veil. They were advocating ultra-conservative hijab, or dress, for women. This is definitely not the norm in Iran and is practiced by only the most conservative.

Aside from the head covering and coat, which can be any length from about mid-thigh down, the women are very stylishly dressed—make up, trendy clothing, and designer handbags. About half of the women choose to wear the chador, but underneath they can be very chic.

When we have conversations with people, from taxi drivers to shopkeepers, almost without fail, they are surprised we are American because they don’t see very many, and waste no time telling us that American people are good and that Iranian people like Americans, but Bush is bad. What can we do but agree? And on that note, I’ll say good night. Tomorrow we’re off to Firouz Abad for the day to see the nomadic Qashqai people.

We are safe and having a great time.

#3
Greetings from Yazd. We're in the east-central desert in the city of Yazd, famous for its Zoroastrian sites. We are staying at The Silk Road Hotel, a lovingly restored house with rooms surrounding a large courtyard and fish pond. It is beautiful and in the traditional style and located near the Friday Mosque.

From Shiraz we spent part of a day near Firouz Abad in search of the Qashqai nomads. We were able to spend some time with a family and their sheep and enjoyed their hospitality and tea.

We spent the night in the home of our driver, Rostam, along with his wife and three kids. I helped the women shell a couple of 50-lb bags of beans (the beans in the shell are like very large lima beans. We had a simple dinner of the beans, salad (which generally consists of greens, onions, radishes), a baked bean type dish, bread, yogurt, dates, and tea. Nadia is a vegetarian and is having a hard time getting a decent meal without meat. I eat most anything put in front of me except the sugar cubes offered with the tea. Iran is big on kebabs (lamb, beef, liver), which are served with rice, greens, and an onion. We’ve also eaten some eggplant dishes (though not enough). Breakfast is usually fresh bread, feta cheese, jam, butter, and tea. Some of the hotels prepare eggs on request. The food is not heavily spiced, but it is flavorful.

Another interesting thing in Iran is the traffic in the cities, especially in Tehran—far worse than anything we have in the U.S. There are many cars going every which way and there appears to be little rhyme or reason to the traffic patterns and rules, not to mention complete gridlock at the intersections. To cross the street, one just plunges in and keeps going. The cars never seem to hit the people and all seems to work out. The police, who are often stationed at various points, care nothing about jaywalkers, motorcycles going the wrong way up the street or on the sidewalk, or what we would consider traffic infractions. I haven’t yet figured out what they do.

Here in Yazd we have been approached countless times by women and teenaged girls who speak very good English. They are thrilled to talk with us and show us around. The people of Yazd have a reputation of being highly educated. We spent part of yesterday evening in the home of Hamida, a very conservative, super-smart 15-year-old and her family. Her mother was killed in the Bam earthquake while visiting her brother, who was doing his military duty, and her brother was injured. (Military duty is mandatory for all men. They usually do it before or after university or when they are around 20). We had tea, watermelon, and cookies and they drove us back to our hotel at almost midnight. People stay up quite late in Iran. During the day the shops can be quiet, but at night the streets are crowded with people. Dinner is eaten around 10 pm or later.

Well, I’m off to catch the bus to Esfahan, four hours away. I’m still having a good time. Traveling around it is very easy and the people are wonderful.

#4
Greetings from Esfahan. We arrived here two days ago after a five-hour bus ride from Yazd. The bus cost approx. $2.50 and they served juice and cookies.

The transportation system is very good and inexpensive. The bus stations are cleaner than those at home—large, airy waiting rooms, many counters for the different bus lines. Buses leave frequently for various cities so you can book a ticket in advance or just show up and buy one. There are several classes of buses: small minibuses for shorter trips that are old, often decrepit, and don’t go very fast; large older buses like the 1950s style ones in America, that are functional but not extremely comfortable for long rides; and nice, large new ones that look like tourist buses, with big windows and comfortable seats that serve snacks and are spotlessly clean. All buses are very cheap but the nicest ones cost slightly more . An internal flight costs less than $20. Taxis around town are less than $1.

Esfahan is a beautiful city, the center of which is Imam Khomeini square. It's a huge rectangular area surrounded by mosques, shops, and green grass. Locals hang out and picnic, stroll around, or just enjoy the outdoors. There are many beautiful parks in Iran and all are well-utilized by everyone for visiting, picnicking, exercising, or just enjoying the outdoors..

There is also a lovely river in town spanned by about 11 old stone bridges, many hundreds of years old. Some of the bridges have tea houses where you can sit and drink, smoke a water pipe, and enjoy the view.

Yesterday was our day to visit the various religious sites: the beautiful Vank Armenian Church, whose museum has a small Rembrandt drawing; a Zoroastrian temple—very simple but elegant; and we also stopped by a synagogue. A kindly woman caretaker let us in when I told her I was Jewish. From what we've been told, there is not much religious discrimination in Iran except sometimes toward the Bahai. People often asked about my religion and I told them my family was Jewish. There was never any negative reaction toward this and often, people would say that Muslims and Jews were brothers and had some of the same figures in their histories.

We continue to make many friends, young men and women. The attention by everyone is completely non-threatening or aggressive—strictly out of an interest in foreigners and offering hospitality, which is part of Iranian culture. We went to a movie last night with a young man who studies English at school. He was exceptionally articulate and thrilled to talk with Americans as opposed to other English-speaking foreigners. Tonight we are invited to the villa of his professor of this young man for tea.

We are among the few Americans people have seen for a while. There are some tour groups, mainly German and Japanese, but generally, the country is not overrun with foreign tourists. The Iranians themselves travel around their country quite a bit, however. We have met independent German, Swiss, and Japanese travelers and they have all had the same positive experience.

What we hear at home about Iran and how it really is are quite different. It's technologically very advanced, the people are well-educated, and the country has many natural resources. They take great pains to maintain parks and public areas. There is virtually no litter in the cities—only the usual blowing plastic bags along the road sides. There are few dogs (except helping the herders), so there is no mess and the accompanying flies. Pretty much without exception, the toilets are clean and goods are available—including some American products. Many of the hotel rooms even have small refrigerators because often the Iranians carry their own food with them rather than going to restaurants. The women are an equal part of society and are free to pursue whatever occupation they like, drive cars, travel freely alone. Iran is not the Third World—it's a developed nation as much as anywhere in the West.

Tomorrow we will take a bus north to Kashan.
#5
Greetings from Hamadan. I feel like I’m home—there are huge snow-capped mountains to the west of here and the air is fresh and cool.

Nadia left for Tehran yesterday, so I’m on my own with no worries. The 40th anniversary of the death of Imam Reza was the past couple of days so not only was it a holiday—lots of Iranians traveling, but a lot of things were closed. We watched a large parade of male mourners walking down the street in Kashan, beating their chests in time to the drums and chanting along with the loudspeaker.

We spent a delightful half-day in Abyaneh, a mountain village with narrow, winding alleys and stacked houses made of mud-brick. I had a letter to deliver from my Farsi tutor in Boulder to her friend in this village. They hadn't heard from each other in over four years. We asked around town for "Salthanat Khanoum" and sure enough, we found her. She was happy to receive visitors bearing greetings from her friend in America. She invited us in for tea, fruit, and cookies and even offered to have us spend the night, but we preferred to stay at our hotel in town. Many times on this trip both Nadia and I were asked to stay at people’s houses. I’ve found that except on rare occasion, I prefer to stay in a hotel where I have privacy and am not bound to entertain or be entertained..

Since I last wrote from Esfahan, we were invited there to the home of a professor of English (via his student, our friend Hamed). This man's home was a three-storey villa with a huge living room furnished w/faux French Louis furniture, with enough chairs for a party of 20. The kitchen was larger and better equipped than most of ours. We were offered home-made wine, fruit, and sweets and listened to his talented sons play flamenco guitar and drums. The older son is married and he and his wife live in the lower level of the house. When the younger son marries, he will move upstairs. Unfortunately they were headed to a party so we could only enjoy their hospitality for a short time.

After Nadia left yesterday afternoon, I took a bus to Qom, Iran's second holiest city. I was headed west to Hamadan, but there was no direct bus until the two days later so this afforded an alternative. When I arrived in Qom, there were no more buses that evening for Hamadan, so I purchased a ticket for this morning and a taxi driver took me all over town in search of a "cheap, safe" hotel. The driver wouldn't take me to any of the cheap places mentioned in my guide book, telling me they weren't safe and were full of "bad people." We finally found a suitable option, Hotel Bibi, for $10. I had a huge room with my own bathroom and kitchenette, within walking distance to the main Mosque. I spent the evening wandering the makeshift bazaar set up in the former river which is now a paved-over parking area. Because of the Imam Reza holiday, the town was packed with Iranian tourists as well as people from various Arab countries.

This morning I took the 7 am bus to Hamadan—approximately five hours. The driver and his helper found a single woman to sit next to me (they try not to mix the sexes unless they are related). The guys offered me tea from the ubiquitous air pot, which all Iranians carry with them. They fill them before leaving on a journey just like we stop at Starbucks. We also stopped halfway here for a tea/rest stop. It's easy enough to make myself understood and understand the gist of what is being said to me. People are very helpful to the degree of finding taxis, showing me where to go, etc.

I found a cheap hotel here in Hamadan, $6 with the bathroom down the hall. It's right off the main square and near the bazaar. This afternoon I visited the shrine of Esther & Mordecai, which is believed to house their remains. Esther was the Jewish wife of Xerxes I, who is credited with organizing the first Jewish emigration to Persia in the 5th century and Mordecai is her uncle. A Jewish man let me into the shrine and showed me around.

Another quick note about the food. They have the most delicious garlic yogurt here—thick and rich. After a lunch of minced lamb kebabs, salad, and yogurt, I’ve been wandering the streets and back alleys. As usual, I found the butcher section of the bazaar, which I always enjoy. I treated myself to a banana milkshake before logging on.

I am feeling completely fine about traveling alone. Truly, it is safe—women walk around at all hours. I’ve not been hassled at all—most people are respectful. Of course, they know I am a foreigner and sometimes people call out "hello" or "where are you from." People who speak English will often start a conversation. Transportation is cheap and convenient and I don't foresee any problems.

I plan to leave here tomorrow to go to Sanandaj and then Kermanshah to see the Kurdish people.

#6
I arrived last night in Tehran from Kermanshah in western Iran via an eight-hour bus ride through beautiful, fertile country with some snow-covered mountains in the distance.

This afternoon I’m flying south to Bandar Abbas, across the Straight of Hormuz from Oman. I will suffer the heat and humidity for a couple of days to see the port city and the different types of people in the south of the country. There is also a special market in a nearby town that is supposed to be very good. At the end of the week I will fly back through Tehran and head north to Gorgan to see the Turkomen people on the Turkmenistan border.

I spent several days in Iranian Kurdistan, in the cities of Sanandaj, Kermanshah, and Hamadan. There is a hefty population of Kurds in western Iran, Turkey, and Syria. Some have come from Iraq where they were gassed by Saddam Hussein. They are exceedingly handsome, proud, and hospitable. Many of the men wear the traditional baggy pants with a cummerbund and the women wear long, glittery or velvety dresses. Outside of Sanandaj and the villages, the Kurds tend to dress like everyone else so they blend in.

I’ve been traveling by bus and minibus. The transportation is frequent and inexpensive—no need for reservations. I just show up at the bus terminal and wait for the next vehicle going my way. On the long rides, people share their food with me and I offer my dates, raisins, and almonds.

A note about the West’s perception that all the women here are swathed in black. The law requires only that one’s hair be covered and that a somewhat shapeless coat be worn over the upper body hiding the female form. Some more conservative women do wear the traditional chador (black sheet) over their clothes. At first glance it appears that most of the women wearing chadors are dressed in the same black color, but if you look closely there are many different fabrics, designs, and styles. Some of the chadors are beautiful black print on black fabric. Some of the fabric is silk. I had to borrow a chador to go into a mosque in Shiraz, as it was a very holy site. It took two hands to hold it on, as it kept slipping off my head. The women hear have it down to a science. Some just wear scarves and short coats of any color. I the cities they tend to be more colorful and don’t even cover all their hair with the scarf. In the outlying areas it tends to be more conservative. I’m wearing my headscarf and thin black coat, along with sports sandals and no socks. I think my bare feet attract the most attention, but plenty of women here wear sandals without socks.

This morning I walked by the former US Embassy here in Tehran. There are a few anti-American murals and slogans, but that and a billboard are the only anti-American sentiments I’ve seen in all my travels. Keep in mind they come from the government and not the people. The distinction is as great as the American people and our government. The people’s interests and sentiments are not necessarily represented by the government, but at least in the rest of the world, the people know this (and that other governments don’t always represent their people), and take it with a grain of salt.

Well, I’m off to have a quick bite to eat then I’ll head to the airport. People continue to be friendly, curious, and helpful. I have not had any problems or felt unsafe at all—it is easier to travel here than most anywhere else I’ve been.

#7
Greetings from the Persian Gulf. I am in Bandar Abbas, the main port city in the southern part of Iran, across the Straight of Hormuz from Oman and Dubai. It is hot and humid, probably around 100 degrees, but I haven't melted yet (pretty close though). I vowed not to complain about the heat and really, it has been very comfortable.

Today I took a trip to Qeshm Island, a 30-minute boat ride on a 30-foot launch. The other passengers were locals, some going to work on the island, others shopping, as it is duty free. We were each issued life jackets, but the zippers were broken and the sides were not connected, so we just tied the rope around the waste. There are many fishing boats in the area as well as cargo ships. I met a female water-quality engineer from Tehran who was in Bandar for work but going shopping on the island. She hooked me up with a taxi driver who drove me around the island for six hours in his Hyundai. I am perfectly capable of arranging these things myself, but when someone takes the interest and trouble to help, it’s best to accept and say thank you. There were lots of burgundy Toyota pick-up trucks on the island and Korean cars—as opposed to the white Iranian Paykan cars seen elsewhere else.

The island (and the southern coast here) is arid and barren, with some palm trees and scrubby thorn bushes. There were some white, rocky escarpments on the island. We visited a cave, which had been under water many years ago, and there were fossilized sea shells embedded in the walls. There is electricity everywhere, though there are only a few towns and villages. We saw some camels and goats wandering around—the camels are used for milk.

I asked to see the fish processing plant under construction and Hussein, the driver, arranged it for me. We were served tea and biscuits (cookies) by the site manager, who then called the site project manager (who spoke excellent English) to show me around. First I had a tour of the blueprints via AutoCAD software on his laptop. The plant is about six months from being finished and will be the largest fish processing plant in the area. It is a joint venture between Germany and Iran. All the equipment inside—boilers, desalinators, etc., were German. When complete it will process approximately 4,000 tons per day and employ 700 people, including the crew of 15 fishing boats who will fish with purse seiners (that's a pouch-like net dragged behind the boat in deep water—yes, I knew this already).

All the water here comes from desalination plants, as there is not much groundwater. The plant in Bandar Abbas must have a filter that needs replacing because the tap water is pretty salty. This is the only place I’ve drunk bottled water. I’ve not had a moment’s stomach trouble and have, as usual, eaten and drank everything put before me.

We also visited the mangrove swamps, where I went for a boat ride with an Arab-type man on a 15-foot launch. (There is more of a diversity of faces here—black Africans, Arabs, etc). There is an incredible richness of bird life—cormorants, ibis, sand pipers. We motored in an out of the estuaries and the sea breeze felt damned good.

We also passed by Hengam Island, the site of the Iran Air plane downed for no reason by the American military. My driver was very upset about this incident, telling me that babies and women were washing up on shore.

I got back to town around 4 pm and promptly had a banana shake, a shower, and a nap. Then when it cooled off, around 7 pm, I visited the 400-year-old Hindu temple; however, there is no longer a Hindu population here. I met a German guy and two educated, well-spoken Iranians from Kermanshah, and we spent the evening walking around and talking. We visited an indoor shopping mall that was full of people escaping the heat. There were lots of knock-off designer products made in China, like blue jeans, perfume, Nike shoes, etc.

We wandered along the boardwalk by the sea to the fish market, where morning and evening, the fresh catch is brought in. I saw some really nice looking tuna and lots of fish that were fairly familiar, but I wasn't sure of their names. They also had some shrimp and a small shark.

We had a dinner of fried fish, salad, and soup—very good and cheap, and now I’m writing you at 12 midnight. People stay up late all over Iran, not eating dinner until around 9 or 10 pm. They also have a siesta during the heat of the day, which is vital down here.

I wish all of you could experience the genuine kindness and hospitality I have been shown by the people of this country. Our governments may have their problems, but certainly this does not apply to the people, who are welcoming and generous.

#8
I’m back in Tehran for a day after an unexpected delay in Bandar Abbas.

My flight, which was to have left yesterday around noon, was cancelled along with all the other flights, as there was too much fog. I sat in the airport for about eight hours, had lunch courtesy of Iran Air, and then shared dinner and a hotel room with some new Iranian filmmaker friends. We went back to the airport at 6 am and flew out at 7:30. I had intended to fly to Gorgan on the Caspian coast this afternoon to see the Turkomen people and attend the Monday market, but I was tired of airports so I will take the bus tomorrow. During my wait in the Bandar airport, I met a man from Gorgan who will be happy to receive my call when I arrive. The delay didn't pose any real problem—it's just one of the things one must deal with when traveling. Flexibility is a must.

One of the highlights of my trip to Bandar, besides surviving the heat, was the fish market. I went back the next day early in the morning as the catch was being brought in. I saw men unloading the boats, weighing the catch, and cleaning the fish. There were women buying and selling as well. People buy lots of fish, whole fish or parts, and they can pay someone to clean them or take them home as is. There were lots of colorful characters there, including the famous masked women of the area who wear a rigid mask across their nose and eyes. This is said to be because of custom rather than for religious reasons.

Unfortunately, my trip to Minab to see the market there was a bust. The same bad weather that was in Bandar was worse in Minab—strong wind, dust storms, and zero visibility, so I cut my losses and headed back.

Today I met the man who sponsored my visa. He and a friend who spoke good English picked me up at my hotel and we went for lunch. I had already eaten a magnificent Indian meal so I let him insist that I have some ice cream so I wouldn’t have to sit and watch them eat. He offered to help in any way he could, but I told him securing the visa was quite an accomplishment and besides meeting the head of the country, there was nothing else I could think of that I needed.

Another thing I’m loving about Iran are the rock-hard beds in all the hotels, which I find extremely comfortable. The pillows are like sandbags and also hard. I am sleeping very well so everything must agree with me.

Did I mention they have my favorite squat toilets here—generally clean, and there is always running water next to the toilet in the form of a tap with a hose. I always fantasize about bringing one home! (Email privately if you want the how-to details.)

#9
Hello again. I returned last night from Golestan province, near the Caspian Sea and the Turkmenistan border.

I took a super-deluxe bus from Tehran seven hours to Gorgan, over a steep, winding mountain pass. Once we got further north the terrain turned very green and lush.

I called my friend Shahryar, who I met in the Bandar Abbas airport during my unexpected delay. He lives in Tehran but was working in Bandar then visiting his family in Gorgan. He and his mother picked me up from the hotel and showed me around town that evening. We went carpet shopping for the family’s new apartment to some very nice stores. Iranians love carpets and their houses have large, room-size ones on the floor. We then returned to their house where I met the rest of the family and had a fine dinner of spaghetti, salad, tea, and dates. I also met Shahryar’s friend and neighbor Mr. Barshan, a young history professor who is studying English.

The next day I took a minibus alone to Gonbad, about 1½ hours away. The highlights of that town are the Tower of Gonbad, a brick tower over 1,000 years old said to be somebody's tomb. I was also interested in seeing some Turkomen horses, so I got a ride to the race track. They only race on Friday, but I was able to wander around and see the brood mares and really nice horses in the stone stables. That satisfied my need for animal contact, which has been going unfulfilled here in Iran (I did pet a parrot at a restaurant).

Many people in Gonbad are Turkomen and you can see the Central Asian influence in their features—some look like they are Chinese or Mongol, which is fitting because this is right along the Silk Route. The Turkomen women wear beautiful flowered scarves with fringes on the edges. Some of the older men wear longish jackets and lambs wool hats or caps and cloths tied around.

That evening I was taken by Mr. Barshan to meet his English professor, Mr. Ali Royej, who lived in the U.S. for 24 years until recently. He invited me to call home on his phone, then after serving tea, we went to dinner at a nice restaurant near a forest park. Later we visited his brother and family in a lovely home, where we were again served tea, fruit, and sweets. You can’t visit anyone here in Iran without being offered food, and they are quite offended if you don’t eat something. Often the hosts will just watch the guests eat without eating themselves.

Early the next morning I took a minibus to Bandar-ē-Turkman to see the weekly market. It was full of more interesting Turkomen people buying and selling, regular clothing like we wear, plastic ware, fruit and vegetables, etc. It was a wonderful way to spend a few hours, wandering around watching the people in the market.

I hopped a minibus back to Gorgan and then got another deluxe bus back to Tehran, where I arrived at 8:30 pm. After the long day on the bus, I headed directly for my favorite Indian restaurant and then to the hotel and bed.

Today, my last day in Iran, I will visit the grand bazaar in Tehran, some palaces, and hopefully the crown jewels.

All in all, an excellent trip made more so by the people. Thanks for accompanying me on my adventure.

sheryl