Introduction
I left San Francisco on December 5, and spent three and a half weeks in Yemen living with a Yemeni family in the old city of Sana’a. Besides touring the country, I also took a short Arabic course at the Sana’a Institute for the Arabic Language. Three weeks of classes and I learned to say "oureed (I want) askreem." Not bad huh.
At the end of December, I flew to Muscat, Oman, via Dubai to meet up with my friends. I took a half-day bus tour around the city of Dubai during my long layover there. Then I spent four wonderful days in Oman enjoying the sun, the beach, the shopping and hanging out with my friends. I flew to Tehran after a 20-hour delay on Iran Air at Dubai airport. Two of my Iranian friends (husband and wife) and I flew to Mashhad, a major Iranian city just 200km west of the Afghan border. The next day we took an early morning bus to the Taybad border crossing. From there we took a three day trip to Herat, Afghanistan. I didn't mention Afghanistan before my trip because I didn't want people to worry about me or give me grief over it. Now I'm safely back at home, I can tell you all about it. Please read on.
We got back to Mashhad on the 8th of January and visited the holy site of Imam Reza in the evening. My friends spent the 9th socializing with their relatives and I mostly just ate and slept. We were supposed to fly to Tehran at 10:00 pm on the 9th. After a five hour delay (seems to be the theme of Iran Air on this trip) we finally got back to Tehran at 6:00 am the next morning.
The flight back home was on time and I got to SFO at 12:30 pm on Sunday. At customs, they sent me over to the "special treatment" line, asked me a lot of questions, and hand-searched all my luggage. It was not a half-hearted search either. They checked every single item and asked me what it was for and where I purchased it. They also flipped through every page of my notebook and asked me about the contacts I recorded in there. They took my business card and kept it. The officers were courteous and professional. After 40 minutes of questioning and searching, they were satisfied that I wasn't a terrorist and let me go. To put it in perspective, I've traveled to eight countries in the Middle East and took no less than 20 flights in the region and never once was I questioned or searched. But to be fair, they didn't have tourists fly planes into buildings either. My treatment in the Middle East would've been a lot different if 9-11 happened there.
One month is about as long I can be away without being too homesick. I missed climbing, my bed, Haagen-Dazs ice cream, Thai food, sushi, and fast internet connection, not necessarily in that order. :)
Keeping the dates straight was definitely a challenge. In Yemen and Oman it is year 1424, according to the lunar Hijriah calendar. In Iran and Afghanistan it is year 1382, according to the solar Persian calendar. A week ago we had Chinese New Year, so now it is year 4702 or the Year of the Monkey, according the Chinese calendar. In short, 2004 = 1424 = 1382 = 4702=Year of the Monkey. I gave up trying to figure out the months and dates. The only saving grace was that the days of the week are always the same everywhere in the world.
One event I missed out on - a big rig overturned on 280 near Serramonte spilling 33,000 gallons of ice cream on the highway. It took the crew two hours to clean up the road. If I were home, I would have gone there with a shovel, chocolate sauce and whip cream.
Yemen
Prior to my trip, I was warned by people who genuinely cared about me that going there on my own and living with a Yemeni family was perhaps not a good idea. On the other hand, I was given encouragement from many of my more open-minded friends and friends who had actually traveled to Yemen. In the end I took the advice from people who had been to Yemen rather than those who couldn’t even find Yemen (or Oman, or UAE) on a map. It was the right decision and my experience in Yemen turned out to be wonderful.
Before I met the Yemeni family, I did worry about things such as the language barrier, cultural and religious differences, and poor living conditions. But none of those concerns materialized. The family lived in a spacious three-story house with electricity, running water, clean bathrooms, and three satellite dishes. They welcomed me with open arms and went the extra mile to make me feel at home. After about half a day, I felt completely at ease in their house, sitting in the living room watching TV and playing with the kids. The mom was smoking a shisha pipe and complaining about her arthritic knee, one of her daughters and her daughter-in-law were cooking, one daughter was working at the sewing machine, and another daughter who is an elementary school teacher was grading her pupils’ exams. It wasn’t any different than spending three weeks with a French or Italian family. There were certain rules regarding women in public places that were quite different from what we are accustomed to. Bottom line, if you show a little bit of respect, you’d be amazed how much you get back in return.
I signed up for an Arabic course at the Sana’a Institute for the Arabic Language (SIAL) before I came to Yemen. It was one of the ways that I could get a visa easily, and Muhammad AlAnisi, the director of SIAL, arranged the homestay for me. I wasn't sure if I wanted to sit in a classroom on my vacation. I thought I'd try it for a few days and see how it would go. My teachers were knowledgeable, ever patient, and attentive to my needs. After a week, I decided to stay and complete the course. I never did my homework (except for two days I think), and my excuse was I was too busy socializing. After a while, my teachers stopped assigning me homework all together. Since I was still struggling with the alphabet, Muhammad found me a calligraphy teacher to work on my writing. She had the most beautiful handwriting I’d ever see, but her talent was kind of wasted on me. If I got all the dots in the right places and didn’t miss any letters, I got a “montaz” (Excellent.) :) It was like going back to elementary school.
The two most "dangerous" things I did in Yemen were driving by the heavily fortified US Embassy and eating at KFC. Before I left home I promised my family not to patron any places that represent US interest, but I broke down. The Colonel’s chicken was too much of a lure after days of bread and beans. :)
The women spend most of their time cooking, cleaning, praying, taking care of children, watching TV, chatting and visiting friends and relatives. The men spend most of their time chewing qat a mild stimulant, socializing with their male friends, and driving the women from house to house.
Yemeni women love hammams (Turkish bath) especially in the winter when the small water heater in the house can’t provide enough hot water for a comfortable shower. Another reason is that after their monthly cycle, they need to take a shower or bath before they can pray. Going to the hammam is a whole family affair that involves six women and four children and takes an entire afternoon. We couldn’t all fit in one car, so Khaled, the younger brother, had to make two trips. We told Khaled when to come back and pick us up. The grandmother washed me and the four grand kids like an assembly line. When I got out of the hammam, Khaled had waited in the car for 20 minutes and it was another half an hour before the last straggler got out. That evening, we went to a double wedding. I asked if the grooms and the brides knew each other. Their answer was “of course not.”
One weekend Khaled, who worked as a tour guide for six years, drove his wife, son, sister and me to Thula and Shibam, both tourist destinations. At Thula, we ran into some tourists. They asked us to pose in pictures with them. If they did any reading on Yemen at all, which they should have done before coming here, they should’ve known that it was not appropriate to ask the local women to pose with them and no upstanding Yemeni women would ever have their pictures taken with strange men. I guess it is possible to see the country in a caravan of Land Cruisers, but never learn anything about the people, their culture or customs.
Late afternoon, we visited Wadi Dhahr and saw the famous Rock Palace - a dream house for rock climbers. http://www.booh.com/travel2/yemen/wadi_dhahr.htm Just set up an anchor on the roof and drop the rope down. If you can't pull the moves, you can always jug up the rope. Getting food and water up there might be difficult, but hey, you get to practice hauling for your first El Cap ascent. Actually there are stairs going up to the house on the front, but why use the stairs when you can practice your 5.13 moves?
The next weekend, the two boys had their 5th birthday party. They were absolutely adorable dressed in their robes and jambias (curved dagger.) The women were all decked out in their finest dresses. I was joking to my friend that Yemeni women veil because they are too beautiful to look at, and that was even before they started belly dancing.
It was both a privilege and a unique experience to get to know the family. In respect for the privacy of the women in the household, I won't mention their names or post much on the web regarding their lives. I'll tell you more in private conversations if you are really interested.
Many thanks to Muhammad AlAnisi, who arranged the courses and the homestay for me, and Greg, who told me about SIAL and introduced me to Muhammad. I would also like to thank Nabila, my Arabic teacher in the States, who got me interested in Yemen, Ziad, Nabila’s friend in Yemen, who took me to Shebani restaurant, the best in Yemen, just before I was about to starve to death, :) and Ziad’s coworkers who invited me to their homes, fed me, drove me around, and showed me all kinds of interesting places. Also my gratitude to all the Yemenis I met, friends or strangers, whose hospitality, generosity and friendliness made my stay such a pleasant and unforgettable experience.
Dubai
It was not on my itinerary, but everywhere I went in the region, I ended up transiting in Dubai.
I had a ten-hour layover in Dubai on my way to Muscat, so I got out of the airport and joined a half-day bus tour. Dubai is very much like the Hong Kong of the Middle East. It is an ultra-modern city with prices to match. It has more than 20 shopping centers with the Gold Souq being the most famous. Every other car on the street is a brand new BMW or SUV. On my way from Muscat to Tehran, I spent 20 hours at the airport, never got a chance to get out.
Browsing through the classified section in the Khaleeji Times, Dubai's English Newspaper, was definitely an eyeopening experience. Some shinning examples:
"OUR TEAM UNDERTAKING SOFTWARE PROJECTS AND WEB DEVELOPMENT FOR CORPARTES AS WELL AS STUDENTS .WE REQUIRE NOW SOFTWARE DEVELOPER WHO IS WELL VERSED IN VB,SQL-SERVER ,ORACLE, MS ACCESS AND OTHER WEB DEVELOPMENT TOOLS. (FEMALES ONLY). PEOPLE FROM DUBAI ONLY REQUIRED"I can sort of understand why people want to hire females as receptionists, but a software engineer? I can't help but envisioning the manager being a dirty old man.
"Female Arabic/European candidate with a formal MBA/Marketing Degree .UAE Exp minimum 5 yrs in Mass Media/Advt/PR/ Signage Industry with excellent Industry contacts. UAE Driving Licence holders prefered ."What about the Americans, Australians and everybody else? And guys, you are just out of luck.
"FRESH CHARTERED ACCOUNTANTS (Ref: CA/4) (3 positions)Wow, age 26-28. That was a narrow range.
Various large companies based in UAE
Newly qualified CA / CPA
1-2 years experience in big audit firms or large corporate houses
Age 26-28 years
Salary Dhs.4000-5000
Excellent growth prospects"
ELECTRICIAN - REF: EG/E/2064 Diploma in Electrical engineering with minimum 5 years experience as an Electrician. All categories including Srilankans, Filipinos, Nepalese can apply. Direct hire. Abu Dhabi based.It's so nice to know that Srilankans, Filipinos, and Nepalese can apply for this job. I guess they are not allowed to apply for any other jobs listed here.
The next one gets even better:
RELATIONSHIP MANAGER Location : Abu DhabiCan you even imagine any US companies putting up ads like this?
Salary : AED 15,000 +Bank Benefits
6 years of stretching experience in Corporate Account Management and Relationship Management Experience
PROCESSOR - Corporate Banking Unit
Location : Dubai & Al-Ain Branch
Salary: UAE Nationals - AED 6500
Expat Male / Single Ladies - AED 5500
Expat Married Ladies : AED 4700 + Bank Benefits
4-5 years of banking experience in credit and knowledge of Financial Analysis is must, Preference would be given to candidate who can join immediately.
Oman
Party Like It's 1424
I flew to Muscat on December 30 to meet up with Nabila, her daughter Bisan, and her friend Muna from Abu Dhabi. We spent four fun days touring Muscat and the surrounding areas.
After Yemen and Dubai, the two polar opposites of the Middle East - one being ultra traditional and conservative, the other being ultra modern and open, I wasn't sure where Oman lay on the scale. As soon as I got off the plane, I realized hejab was totally unnecessary since I was the only non-Arab wearing a scarf.
Oman is much closer to Dubai than Yemen. Due to the large expat population, people pretty much dress as they like. Omani men mostly dress in the traditional robes called dishdasha and brimless caps called kumma. Omani women wear either black or colorful abbayas (floor length choir robe thingies) with scarves, but no veils. Most of the high end beach resorts are filled with Europeans seeking a tan in the middle of the winter. I was shocked to see some tourists, who obviously have no respect for the local culture, walking around in tank tops or lowcut dresses with spaghetti straps. Perhaps I stayed in Yemen too long since no locals or any of my friends raised their eyebrows.
The capital city Muscat grew from a small town to a modern city in less than 30 years. The infrastructure here is quite impressive, in a way better than the States. Miles and miles of excellent highways lined with grass, flowers, meticulously pruned shrubs and palm trees. Most of the houses we saw were white, mansion-sized with beautiful colored glass windows and occupied huge pieces of land (one football field per house.) The same house minus the football field would cost two to three million dollars in San Francisco. The price of food and everyday items were about the same as that in the US. Everyone spoke excellent English. All road and store signs were in both English and Arabic. Because of the large Indian and Pakistani population in Oman, you don't need to speak Arabic to get around here. But if you don’t speak English, you'd be in trouble.
Bisan's aunt Hanan, who lives in Muscat, found us a great hotel, invited us to her house, drove us around and fed us. She (or the maid) is a great cook. I was happy to eat on a table again, but missed eating with my fingers like I did in Yemen. Hanan's oldest son works in Abu Dhabi and he drove here with Muna. Hanan's daughter is going to school in the UK. Her youngest son speaks such fast Arabic that even Nabila and Muna had trouble understanding him. My broken Arabic provided constant entertainment for everyone. I have yet to utter one complete sentence that is correct in both grammar and pronunciation, but that didn't stop me from trying. I told Muna that if I got three out of five letters right in a word, it was her job to guess what I was trying to say. She said it didn't work that way.
When Hanan was with us, she was on the phone constantly talking with her kids. Nabila said that her cell phone must be the busiest in Oman or maybe in the whole Middle East. Hanan likes to keep the car windows closed and the AC on full blast even when the outside temperature is pleasant. Once when Bisan, Muna and I were in the backseat, I opened the car window just a little bit to get some fresh air. Hanan asked who opened the window, immediately closed it, and locked all the doors, all while driving, talking on the cell phone and carrying on a conversation with Nabila. Bisan, Muna and I were laughing hysterically in the backseat. Hanan asked what we were laughing about. Muna and Bisan said it was my Arabic.
We spent New Year’s Eve on a private beach sipping sodas and eating kebabs. Nabila was in the bathroom at 12 midnight and she missed the count down. The next day Hanan got us a bungalow on the private beach and we all went swimming. I never expected to get a tan in the Middle East, but I did.
Herat, Afghanistan
My Iranian friends Hamed (husband) and Parastoo (wife) and I took an early bus from Mashhad to the Afghan border. After getting our passports stamped, we simply walked across the border.
There were hundreds of laborers on the Afghan side building roads and houses. They paused and stared at us as we walked by. I don't usually mind being stared at as long as people are not trying to sell me stuff, but this was a bit too intense for my comfort level. Here Parastoo, who wore a coat and a scarf, was just as out of place as I was. The dress code for women here is either the light blue burqa or the black chador. As soon as we entered the parking area, we were surrounded by a mob of 30 or 40 men trying to get us to ride their vehicles, but they were only interested in talking to Hamed as if Parastoo and I were never there. I backed off and let Hamed negotiate the price with the crowd. In the next three days, we took several taxis and trips. I was never in the decision making process despite the fact that I was the one paying most of the money. Hamed and Parastoo have always taken good care of me, so I trusted them to make all the decisions. Sometimes you just have to swallow your pride and go with the program.
We found a shared taxi that would take us to Heart for less than $10 per person, but we had to wait for it to fill up. I thought I was able to escape the staring eyes once I got into the minivan, but no. Seven or eight people had their faces pressed against the window and stared at us. I joked with Parastoo that she was welcome to borrow my veil if she felt too uncomfortable. After waiting in the car for an hour and a half, we finally got on our way. The driver adjusted the rear view mirror so our eyes met dead on. He drove the entire way glancing at the mirror every few seconds. I pulled the scarf over my face and slept most of the way.
The distance between the border and Herat is 120km. The first 80km or so is a well maintained dirt road. I’d read many accounts on how horrible this road was in various reports, but I thought it was just fine. We were able to travel at 50-60km/hour. It’s much better than some of the dirt roads in California that we have to take to get to our climbing destinations. The last 40km approaching Herat was newly paved. The Iranian government funded the project to extend the road all the way to the border, and the road construction is slowly making progress. There wasn’t much to see until we got to Herat. The outskirt of Herat is used as a depot of some sort for big trucks, running or not. There were literally thousands of them filling the entire hillside. Engines, axels, transmissions, wheels, truck beds, and autoshops everywhere.
Parastoo’s friend who recently traveled to Afghanistan gave us a contact in Herat and assured us that we could stay at his house. We asked around a little bit and quickly found his shop. Haji Zaherjan Taman is a business man trading goods between Iran and Afghanistan and owns several shops. He has a minivan, a Land Cruiser, and a nice house with a big yard. He certainly is doing much better than the average Heratis.
We brought some sandwiches and snacks from Iran, thinking that we might have trouble finding food we liked in Afghanistan. My first surprise in Afghanistan dinner at Haji Taman’s was one of the best home cooked meals I’d had on the trip. I was expecting the same old overcooked and dried up kebab meat, but they served us tender lamb shanks cooked in a stew with vegetables, saffron rice and a big bowl of sweet oranges. Wow! Hamed is vegetarian so I happily ate both my and his portion of lamb. After dinner Parastoo and I went to sit with the women in the family room while Hamed and the men chatted in the living room. Haji Taman has four daughters and two sons. They were all sitting around a low table with their legs tucked under a heavy quilt draped over the table. The mother motioned us to sit with them and here I came across my second surprise the kursi. There was hot coal in a pan under the table and a plastic barrier around the coal to prevent people from getting their feet burned. The quilt was to hold the heat in. As I curiously explored the kursi, the kids giggled.
The next day we hired a taxi for $15 to drive us around all day. We went to a couple of dilapidated mosques and several tombs belonging to famous Persian writers. Hamed and Parastoo toured the cemeteries and read the tomb stones with great interest. I pretended to be interested, but most of the time I had no idea what I was looking at. We also visited the old headquarters of the mujahideen at the top of a hill overlooking Herat. The whole compound is now being converted into a city park. There is a nice swimming pool, but the water was filthy. We then went to the bazaar which turned out to be the highlight of my day. The bazaar stayed open throughout the day and was bustling with activity. I wasn’t interested in anything they were selling, but I enjoyed people watching. Most Afghan men wear turbans, baggy pants and robes down to their knees. The majority of them have either mustaches or long beards. Compared to the clean shaven Iranians, they look more rugged. There is an interesting mix of ethnic groups here. I saw traces of Persians, Arabs, Pakistanis, Russians, Turks, and Mongolians in their faces. Those with dark skin and striking features looked quite handsome in their white turbans. Some looked like they just came out of a cave and badly needed a shower, a shave and some clean clothes.
Most of the women wore the blue burqa that covers them from head to toe. A piece of mesh in front of the eyes enables them to see, sort of. Occasionally, I saw an odd woman in an Iranian style chador. When we were walking around in the bazaar, three women in burqas came up to Parastoo and said to her, “You have a good life. God help us get rid of this burqa.” It was sad to hear that because two years after Taliban, women still have to walk around with this freaking piece of mesh blocking their view. At the same time I was encouraged. As long as women are brave enough to walk up to a stranger and express their views, they have not lost hope. Actually burqa is probably the least of their problems. Besides poverty, the Afghan women are also fighting an uphill battle for basic human rights.
After the border experience, I wasn’t sure if taking pictures at the crowded bazaar would attract too much attention. To my relief, people went about their business and left me alone for the most part.
Later on my friends took me to the office where the Americans are stationed. I talked with an army reservist from San Jose. He said the unit is like an armed Peace Core and its primary objective is to help the locals build roads and schools. The local mujahideen provides protection.
That evening, I sat at the kursi and chatted with the mom and the kids. The girls are going to school now, thanks to UNICEF. They praised the Americans for driving out the Taliban. Ismail Khan, the local warlord backed by the US, brought peace and prosperity to the region, but he also rules with an iron fist and has an atrocious human rights record. The US has been criticized for cooperating with the warlord, but the way I see it is that peace has to come first before people can even think about economic and human rights issues. Once people’s personal safety can be guaranteed, other improvements will eventually come along. I asked the family if the Americans should leave Afghanistan. They said the Americans were the good guys and they should stay. Earlier that day I asked five or six people the same question and they all said the same thing. I believe it was their honest opinion since most people assumed that I was either Japanese or Chinese and had no reason to lie to me.
Afghanistan does not have shiny mosques or fancy hotels to offer tourists, but its people and beautiful landscape more than made up for it. I enjoyed my stay here and intend to come back in the near future.
Iran - the Second Visit
When I visited Iran a year ago, I thought it was very conservative. Second time around, I had a very different perspective. I never thought I'd describe Iran as liberal, but it really is when compared to Yemen or Afghanistan.
In the northern part of Tehran, you have to look really hard to find anyone in chadors. The Iranian version (excluding the chador) of hejab is almost half-hearted. With so much hair and figure showing, I don't know if it is still considered as hejab. Iran has laws that require women to wear hejab while Yemen doesn't. Iranian women (excluding those still in chadors) wear just enough so they don't get arrested. Yemeni women choose to wear hejab because of tradition and religion. Iran is also far ahead when it comes to education, career opportunities, status, and equality for women.
One thing the Iranian women should learn from their Arab sisters is how to wear a scarf. Even some of the women in chadors can't seem to keep all their hair under cover. Iranians wear the scarf in granny style - fold the scarf into a triangle, put it on the head and tie a knot under the chin. The scarf constantly slips backwards therefore needs continual adjustment. The Arab women wrap the scarf around the head a couple of times and hold it in place with pins - not only does it cover all the hair, but the scarf stays on all day!
I didn't spend much time in Iran on this trip. The only city I visited other than Tehran was Mashhad. There is only one main attraction in Mashhad and that is the mausoleum of Imam Reza. Many Shiites consider a trip to Mashhad next in importance to a pilgrimage to Mecca or Karbala.
The tomb itself and the surrounding structure are off limits to non-Muslims. As the guidebook points out it isn't because of faith, but because of certain cleaning rituals that should be performed before entering the compound. If you are not a Muslim and you think you can blend in, you should at least follow the rules regarding prayers and perform Wudu'. If you don't know what I'm talking about, you probably should not attempt to visit the tomb. The outer area is accessible to the general public. A chador is required for women even if you just want to see the outer area.
My Iranian friend said that if I could keep the chador on for 20 minutes, she would take me inside. The chador is just a piece of cloth without any buttons or velcros. You have to hold the sides in with your hands at all times. I figured that if a woman riding in the backseat of a fast moving motorcycle carrying a child could keep the chador on, I should be able to keep it on while walking.
I did my part and didn't cause any trouble. My friend turned out to be the troublemaker. The woman frisking her at the entrance scolded her for having on too much makeup . The comment went something like, “You are here to see Imam Reza, not to attend a party.” My friend had to wipe off her lipstick and eyeliner before she was allowed in. I tried my best not to laugh. The place is huge with multiple entrances. We forgot where we checked in our shoes, so we had to walk around a couple of more times before we found the right exit.
Cameras are strictly forbidden. I couldn't find any pictures of the interior on the internet. You won't find any interior pictures in books either since showing pictures of the tomb is considered disrespectful. It would be mean for me to brag about how beautiful it is inside since most of you will probably never see it. All I'll say is that Iranians know how to build mosques and they definitely keep the best to themselves and their fellow Muslims.
At Mashhad airport, we found out that our flight back to Tehran was delayed for five hours. There was nothing to do at the airport. A planeful of people sat on the benches watching the word "Delayed" flashing on the monitor. A bunch of guys sitting behind me discussed whether I was Chinese or Japanese thinking that I couldn't understand them. "She is Chinese." "No, she is Japanese." “I think she is Chinese.” It went on and on for five minutes and was getting annoying. I finally turned around and said to them in Farsi, "Chini!" They were really quiet after that.
Our flight finally took off at 5:00 am. United should be happy to know that they are not the worst airline, yet.
I spent the last day in Iran visiting the bazaar and the carpet museum. There is a row of metal posts at the entrance of the bazaar to prevent vehicles and carts from entering. The space between these posts is about 12 inches, just a bit wider than what I needed to fit through. I told my friend that half of the Americans would not be able enter the bazaar.
We have a motorcycle called Yamaha while Iran has a bus company called Ya, Mahammad.
In the evening I had dinner with a couple of British friends I met at Bam last year and a couple of Iranian friends. The flight home was rather eventless.
Iran is a great destination for travelers who seek culture, unmatched hospitality, and a bit of adventure, but it is no paradise for average Iranians who are trying to make a living. The country is ruled by a bunch of fundamentalist mullahs hell bent on keeping the liberals and reformists out of the government. Even though the elected parliament, the Majlis, is controlled by the reformists, the mullahs have the final say on everything according to the constitution. Student protests are brutally suppressed. Activists who participate in and journalists who report on such events routinely get arrested, tortured and executed. Islamic laws severely restrict women’s rights when it comes to marriage, divorce, child custody and freedom of travel. Right now, the reformists and conservatives are engaged in a bitter battle during which 130 out of 290 Majlis members resigned in protest over the exclusion of reformist candidates in the upcoming election. If the reformists gain the upper hand, Iran may become the closest to an Islamic democratic country of all the countries in the Middle East. (Turkey doesn’t count since it has a secular government.) It would be interesting to see the outcome.