Schools, Nose-jobs, Traffic, Afghanis, Women in Jail,

 We found them drinking red bull, play fighting in the
yard, and running around like psychos.  They were
bursting with life and excitement and energy.  It was
so thrilling to be around exciting girls, finally.  My
cousin’s school friends took quite a liking to me as
well and I felt that for the first time, I had
actually found people that were like me.  Her other
friends (these were her closer friends) were slightly
more subdued.  They didn’t seem to like me at
all…maybe it was because I was American, maybe it was
because I am a shitpig.  In any case, I didn’t really
bother with them.  It was clear to my cousin that I
preferred the crazy ones to her closer friends so she
just left me alone with the crazies for the rest of
the day.

 Their school was like a Hollywood movie set.
Everything was covered in marble from floor to ceiling
and there were marble fountains on every floor as
well.  They had their own swimming pool and a huge
prayer room lined with Persian carpets for whoever
chooses to pray during school hours.  They go to the
most expensive school in Teran, and I was there for an
exhibition of their work – like parent’s day and a
science fair melded into one except without the
parents.  Curiously, the students were there looking
at each other’s work and displaying their work to
other students instead of their own parents.  There
was food and delicious cakes in every room we went to.
In the religion room, the cakes were made to look
like open Korans.  On a side note, all the students
are taught Arabic, so that they might be able to read
the Koran, and English too, because it comes in handy.
The artwork was utterly breathtaking.  These high
school students were working at the level, and with
the materials, of the graduating college students at
my university.  There were these amazing pieces of
stained wood and black paint, and intricately indented
copper pieces.  Likewise, the science projects far
surpassed those at my high school.  I found myself
genuinely “oooh-ing” in wonder.  I’ve never seen such
a quality facility with such a level of education
before.  My cousins tell me that though their primary
and secondary schools far surpass the level of ours,
our universities are far better than theirs.  I’m not
so sure about that, considering that I managed to
graduate.

 Nose jobs are all the rage here.  Men and women alike,
run around sporting mummy-like bandages on their noses
as if it’s a fad.  I don’t know why.  I didn’t think
that Iranians had especially big noses but I guess I
was wrong.  The procedure is ridiculously cheap
compared to other countries.  My cousin commented, “In
America, they get boob jobs; here, we get nose jobs.”


 Traffic here is insane.  It is everywhere, even in
residential side streets.  Somehow, it’s even worse
than LA.  The lines for gas are about an hour long and
it goes for less than forty cents a gallon here.  The
cars don’t seem to follow any kind of order on the
road; meaning, they don’t have or obey any lane
separators.  They just go where they can fit their
cars and will drive in between two lanes for longer
than they are in one actual lane.  Or they will drive
with 80% of the car in one lane, and 20% in the other
lane for the whole time.  There is endless honking and
people just walk on the side of, and sometimes
through, the freeways.  It’s total chaos.  One day,
our taxi actually drove on the wrong side of the
street downtown to forgo traffic.  Some streets in the
middle of downtown are blocked off to all cars except
for buses and taxis because there is so much traffic.
Tehran has a permanent cloud of exhaust looming over
it, and the city is so huge, that the size, as well as
the pollution, prevents you from seeing to the other
end of it.  Thankfully, most of the cars are small,
prius sized vehicles.  My cousin, six of her friends,
and I, managed to pile into one of these cars,
miraculously, with our heads hanging out the windows
and people strewn about on top of one another, it was
insane. 

 The motorcyclists are the craziest, most badass
drivers in the whole world though.  They follow no
rules whatsoever.  In addition to weaving through
traffic at all hours of the day and quite dangerously
too, they run red lights, ride on whatever side of the
street they want to, they even ride on sidewalks.
It’s crazy. 

 This is not an easy city for a pedestrian.  Cars won’t
stop for you and you have to worry about getting run
over on the sidewalk.  Once I waited to cross the
street fifteen minutes and even then no cars stopped
for me, I just stopped caring and walked right out in
front of them.  People get their cars scrapped all the
time but they usually just yell at each other in their
cars and keep on going.  This type of accident is more
common than a full on fender bender because cars are
always trying to squeeze into places they clearly
don’t fit in, as opposed to just not paying attention.
It’s too much trouble to stop in the middle of
traffic to get someone’s insurance info.  They’ve made
talking on cell phones illegal in cars though, not
even passengers can use their phones, apparently.
What I don’t understand is why they don’t use a small
portion of their police force to control the crazy
traffic here, or at least to stop motorcycles from
riding on the sidewalks.  These guys get to ride
around lawless as if Tehran were their own personal
playground but if I have to worry about being seen
with a man in public?  It’s totally ridiculous. 

 I asked my family if we have an army here.  They told
me that we do, but it’s more like the CIA than an
army.  Instead of attacking other countries, they
attack their own people.  My aunt said that once they
showed a woman getting stoned to death on TV and she
was the only one she knew that watched it because
everyone else didn’t want to feel “uncomfortable.”
Women don’t like to think about the fact that they
have no freedom here.  They just drink their bootleg
vodka (which is gross, by the way, because of how it’s
made and stored) and make jokes and forget that it
sucks to be a woman in this country.  I’m appalled by
their indifference but at times I understand it.  My
aunt said that at first, women protested the new
regime but they soon met with the burning sensation of
teargas in their eyes.  She also told me that they
would arrest female protesters and cut up their faces
so bad in prison that you could tell who didn’t agree
with the regime by the deformities on their faces.
Now there’s nothing anyone can do. 

 My family is considerably wealthy for Iranian
standards.  Like America, the middle class is
disappearing here and my family happens to be on the
more desirable side of the gap.  One of my uncle’s
in-laws has a male maid from Afghanistan in their huge
country house.  We went there for a party and,
naturally, I was curious about his story so I tried at
every possible moment to “find myself in the kitchen
at the same time as him.”  They caught me trying to
talk to him and made me leave immediately.  They
couldn’t understand why I was trying to communicate
with him at all.  Later, I found out that Iranians
have a bit of prejudice towards Afghanis because most
of them blame Afghanistan for the decline of Iran.  I
don’t know which is better, my original assumption
that they are just hoity-toity bourgeoisie, or their
seemingly ridiculous prejudice.
 
 In any case, they are a bit high class for my
standards.  They are more concerned with clothes, and
makeup, and material things that anyone I know and
they are totally uninterested the things that I’m
interested.  It’s quite the challenge trying to fit in
with them.  I don’t know what to do.  I’m entering a
mild depression here.  I feel that I have no freedom
to do the things that I want to do.  I ought to just
suck it up, though.  I am in a new place, and I don’t
have to work, and I’m meeting new family, and learning
Farsi, and reading, and writing.  I have to remember
to make the best of things while I’m here.  But
everything seems to bug me lately.  Hair in my face is
just an annoying symptom of this scarf covering my
head.  Heat is an annoying symptom of my dumb uniform.
I feel physically imprisoned in this thing.  I look
like a black amorphous blob floating down the street,
sweating, and irritated by everything.  Everyone is
unbelievably nosy here too.  Why does everyone look at
me?  I’m not doing anything out of the ordinary.  My
cousins say that I just look like a tourist.  I’ve
taken to just staring back at everyone and waving. 

 I have so much time to think here.  It’s nice to able
to think about things without any outside influences
because I can’t talk to anyone about anything anyway.
I miss having girlfriends so much though.  I miss
having a best friend.  I miss friends.  I get so
depressed without them.   I don’t even see the
prospect of making friends actually happening.  How am
I to meet them?  Men and women are not supposed to be
seen together in public, so there is no where to meet
anyone unless you meet them through family.  All my
aunts met their husbands through family.  Boys and
girls aren’t friends here, it’s too much of a risk, I
think.  The only time boys and girls converse is when
they are courting one another; so you either have a
boyfriend, or you simply don’t talk to any boy unless
he’s your relative.  As for girlfriends, and all my
cousins met their girlfriends through school and even
so, they mostly just hang out with their sisters.  I’m
fucked.  I don’t go to school and my family is totally
square-ish.  Now I can see why my dad left to come to
America.  He is the only non-square in the family, and
this is confirmed by other relatives too.  I’m in a
terrible bind.  I’ve only been here two weeks and I
feel like I’ve exhausted my patience already.