Hi Readers, from Dubai – back in civilization, after some days in the wilderness aka Iran. We have now successfully navigated all the political and geographical twists and turns for having a B757, filled to the brim with American uber-millionaires, who were very warmly welcomed to a country whose capital city has whole buildings proclaiming DEATH TO AMERICA etc etc.
Imagine if you can, checking in with Iran Aseman Airlines at Isfahan with a 32kg suitcase and being asked ” Is that all ?”
Imagine asking for an aisle seat on the emergency exit and being told ” That’s a good idea …”
Imagine a B727 with a picture of Ayatollah Khomenei on the front bulkhead, staring down the cabin at everyone and looking totally constipated, just daring you to even think about having a good time.
Imagine a preflight p.a. invoking the will of Allah, inshallering you about even getting off the ground here, let alone flying and actually landing at the other end.
Imagine being seated in your emergency exit aisle seat, with a young guy sitting in the window seat, who starts to talk and confesses that he doesn’t like flying and therefore as there is no one in the middle seat, he will move into that so that we can be elbow to elbow and leave the window seat empty. So I suggest that HE sit on the aisle and I will take the window, which is done and then a young girl boards with a glass bowl full of goldfish (I’m not making this up) and the steward thinks she should sit with this on the emergency exit, so he moves over next to me and we are now happily squashed, with me up against the window, which is just what I was trying to avoid.
Then Iranian/Islamic sensitivities come into play and it’s not nice for a young woman, looking like a nun in training, to be up against two guys, cos who knows what un-Islamic ideas they may have (and in front of the all-seeing eyes of a dozen goldfish no less…) so she is seat swapped with a guy two rows ahead, so exit the goldfish, who are so crowded that they are likely to be belly up before we reach Dubai and our new friend arrives and proceeds to chatter too loudly in Farsi (not one of the romance languages of the world) in the middle seat for the whole one hour to Dubai.
Well, if you got all that, your imagination is quite good.
In Dubai, flights such as these arrive at a separate terminal on the other side of the runway, as I think the sight of 100 Iranians (plus moi, as the sole gringo) may be too much of an excitement for the regular pax and lead to tears before bedtime. Even the immigration guy who admitted me didn’t quite believe that I had actually arrived with this motley gang, many of whom would have done v well in a lookalike competition for Long John Silver – they have a piratanical look about them.
Goldfish are v much part of the Iranian New Year, which in case you have forgotten, is about to be celebrated – (year 1380 for those of you who like statistics). They are bought and exchanged and generally given a short life, mainly I should think due to lack of 02, in the N Y period, along with small pots of sprouting grass seeds. All supposed to remind you of new beginnings in life (though in the case of the goldfish, there are new endings coming too…) There is a p.r campaign afoot to have people release them in ponds, once they have had enuf of being reminded of new life and basically want to sink back into their old ways. This may be good news for goldfish.
Iran was abuzz with New Year festivities (well it’s about as festive as you can get on a diet of gallons of tea), which means firecrackers at night, some of the severe detonation type and two nights ago there was much ado with fires which people were leaping across in order to purify themselves. It’s one of the rituals.
The way from the airport is also frequently blocked by masses of cars going out to welcome returnees from the Haj. This is the most important thing to happen in many people’s lives and therefore has to be recognized by everyone they know deciding to go to the airport to welcome them home. It’s total chaos. I had seen cars with much bilious green bunting and had thought it some wedding sorta thing but discovered that of course it is the green of Islam, so we all piles into the car, from toothless grandma down to the youngest infant, plus HUGE bunches of flowers and head for the airport. There was an Iran Air 747 coming in, which shall we say can seat plus/minus 350, so if you multiply that by probably 10 people coming to meet you, all armed with bunches of flowers, then you can begin only faintly to imagine the scene. Fortunately, there is always a separate Haj terminal, so this ordeal does not have to impinge on the usual sober and dull side the airport activity. But of course Idda loved to go see it all first hand.
In fact, Iran is just a whole mass of sober and dull stuff. No one looks like they are having an even halfway good time. And it doesn’t really look like they miss it too much. We must look a complete gang of libertines. Only concession to our lifestyle is with the guys, all of whom are much into sticky and powerful colognes, applied liberally. When it comes time for the ritual male/male 3 kiss goodbye, if you get hugged by many in succession, then you take on an aroma totally unique….
One little ps. This was the second time I had met flying goldfish. Flying from Calcutta to Dhaka, many years before, with my good friend Carolyn, a young Indian girl boarded the aircraft with a small but real fish tank with many confused occupants. The only trouble was in mid-flight, where it was lodged on the floor at her feet, she managed to knock it over. All of us around were looking under our seats for leaping fish and the cabin crew came with pots of water from the galley to refill the tank. Who says flying is boring ?
This is already too long …more to come.
timothyvalentinestravels 