Wednesday, May 20, 2015

MAY 20, 2015: IRAN - The Persian word for garden is....




....paradis, a place of beauty and peace. Persian paradises were famous for their 'unearthly'beauty. So you can see how the word entered the European languages to mean our heaven, the  Garden of Paradise. The love of gardens translates to cities filled with tree-lined streets, beautiful flowers along the roads. Roses are a favorite especially an exuberantly red beauty gilded with brilliant yellow and fragrant...as a rose should be.

We stock up on provision for Hossein’s Mobile Grocery: junk food. Corn chips. Peanuts 'picnic' cookies with coconut or banana, saffron ice cream.  Our Hossein is a junk food junkie.

Ah, the bakery. The local bread is much better warm...but what else is new?

We’re involved in a bumper bash accident, not our fault.  A man takes us across the street to get water from a spring and to find a shady spot. Ours is on a ledge under an arcade, front row sears for the drama across the road. He offers us coca cola and tea. Classy people.

The actions across the street need no translation: crowd bends to check damage in car 1, much head shaking. Everyone moves to car two, ditto. Everyone adjourns to the shade. The police arrive. Even though the other driver turned in and hit us ..and the other driver admits that at first...when the policeman rules in his favor ( local favoring local we guess since the other driver is clearly at fault) he asks for repair money ( I have two kids at home, yada yada yada.) Negotiations (and the futility of contesting the police decision on the other guy's turf) lead to a cash settlement of 3 million Rials, about $100. We raid our wallets.

Now for our car. Of course someone at the police station has a brother who is a repairman so off we go.  Again we have front row seats. One mechanic....and several' sidewalk supervisors'....remove and comment upon the bits and pieces of the poor injured Renault. The scene could be anywhere men bond over fixing cars. We, of course haven't a clue.

The guys are trilingual: Persian, Turkish, and Kurdish...and apologize for not speaking English. We feel very small!

Jacks and torches appear. We are part of the show. Den takes and hands out photos. Smiles follow in a language we all understand. These guys are a hoot, good-spirited, clearly friends. So they serve us tea amidst the car parts.

Classy people!

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