said.
“Yes, but I do not like her,” he said without a moment’s hesitation, whilst shaking his head.
“I think maybe I do divorce.”
He paused uncharacteristically now for a whole second. “But it is unfair for woman with children.”
When I asked him why he didn’t like her, he came out with a gem. “We have nothing in common. I like detective stories but she doesn’t like them!”
Ricardo and I were in stitches. It sure would have made for some interesting marriage guidance counseling, maybe with him imploring her, “Darling, please, for the sake of our marriage, I beg you to at least try some Sherlock Holmes or Perry Mason. Is that too much to ask?”
Ricardo asked why he had married her if he didn’t like her.
“I meet her twenty-four hours before and think, mmm why not!”
I could well imagine him thinking just that. Her family, he explained, were friends with his family so it had been an arranged marriage. This he said was normal. Whilst on the subject of marriage, I took the opportunity to ask him about the sigheh temporary marriages and if they were common.
“You need not worry, have sex with anyone you want and do not get the marriage. It is not a necessary!”
We were in stitches again. We continued down the road chatting and laughing with him all the way to Ricardo’s hotel. Ricardo went inside to get things organized; I stayed outside with Mr. Enthusiastic. I suggested we sit on the sidewalk whilst waiting, but on looking at it he said, “It is dusty we will lean against car instead.”
I queried the wisdom of this as I was wearing my backpack and didn’t want to scratch a car.
“In England, do people mind you leaning on or scratching their cars?”
“Yes,” I told him.
He laughed and said that no one minded in Iran, and to prove the point he started hitting a car parked next to us. I half-expected some burly Iranian car owner to come out and administer a swift serving of on-the-spot justice with a golf club. Luckily, none was forthcoming. It was all completely and utterly insane but I loved it. Iran was my kind of crazy place.
Ricardo took forever getting ready, and after a while, Mr. Enthusiastic said with a laugh, “Maybe they kill him inside!” Whilst waiting, he told me his dream in life was to one day visit neighboring Turkey and to be a tourist there. It made me feel very lucky to be able to live my dreams and go more or less where I wanted. I told him I hoped that one day he would get to visit Turkey. When Ricardo appeared again, he was told by Mr. Enthusiastic, in a matter-of-fact, manly way, “You have very beautiful eyes.” Mr. Enthusiastic turned to me for an endorsement. “Doesn’t he have beautiful eyes?”
“Um, yes, very beautiful,” I said.
Our new friend walked us to a spot where we could get a shared cab to the bus station. On the way, he had a business proposition for me—it went something like this: if I bought things in London and he bought things in Iran, could we swap and make lots of money? I didn’t quite grasp the subtleties of how we made all the money and asked for clarification. He replied, “But I want to be rich; how can you help me?!”
Before we parted company, I asked him his views on the government. He didn’t like it. “The people now think maybe they make mistake.”
He also was of the opinion that the people were scared of the government and that the government used religion to “control the people.”
He offered to hail a shared taxi for us and speak to the driver personally to make sure he charged us the correct price and didn’t rip us off. “It is better. Maybe driver try hanky panky!”
We laughed again. He waved down a cab for us, had a brief chat to the driver, and said goodbye. Both Ricardo and I were sad to see this cheerful and just plain nutty guy go. Inside the cab, we were greeted by a suited Iranian man who warmly welcomed us to Iran and told us how much he hoped we’d enjoy his country.
Iran and the
“Yes, but I do not like her,” he said without a moment’s hesitation, whilst shaking his head.
“I think maybe I do divorce.”
He paused uncharacteristically now for a whole second. “But it is unfair for woman with children.”
When I asked him why he didn’t like her, he came out with a gem. “We have nothing in common. I like detective stories but she doesn’t like them!”
Ricardo and I were in stitches. It sure would have made for some interesting marriage guidance counseling, maybe with him imploring her, “Darling, please, for the sake of our marriage, I beg you to at least try some Sherlock Holmes or Perry Mason. Is that too much to ask?”
Ricardo asked why he had married her if he didn’t like her.
“I meet her twenty-four hours before and think, mmm why not!”
I could well imagine him thinking just that. Her family, he explained, were friends with his family so it had been an arranged marriage. This he said was normal. Whilst on the subject of marriage, I took the opportunity to ask him about the sigheh temporary marriages and if they were common.
“You need not worry, have sex with anyone you want and do not get the marriage. It is not a necessary!”
We were in stitches again. We continued down the road chatting and laughing with him all the way to Ricardo’s hotel. Ricardo went inside to get things organized; I stayed outside with Mr. Enthusiastic. I suggested we sit on the sidewalk whilst waiting, but on looking at it he said, “It is dusty we will lean against car instead.”
I queried the wisdom of this as I was wearing my backpack and didn’t want to scratch a car.
“In England, do people mind you leaning on or scratching their cars?”
“Yes,” I told him.
He laughed and said that no one minded in Iran, and to prove the point he started hitting a car parked next to us. I half-expected some burly Iranian car owner to come out and administer a swift serving of on-the-spot justice with a golf club. Luckily, none was forthcoming. It was all completely and utterly insane but I loved it. Iran was my kind of crazy place.
Ricardo took forever getting ready, and after a while, Mr. Enthusiastic said with a laugh, “Maybe they kill him inside!” Whilst waiting, he told me his dream in life was to one day visit neighboring Turkey and to be a tourist there. It made me feel very lucky to be able to live my dreams and go more or less where I wanted. I told him I hoped that one day he would get to visit Turkey. When Ricardo appeared again, he was told by Mr. Enthusiastic, in a matter-of-fact, manly way, “You have very beautiful eyes.” Mr. Enthusiastic turned to me for an endorsement. “Doesn’t he have beautiful eyes?”
“Um, yes, very beautiful,” I said.
Our new friend walked us to a spot where we could get a shared cab to the bus station. On the way, he had a business proposition for me—it went something like this: if I bought things in London and he bought things in Iran, could we swap and make lots of money? I didn’t quite grasp the subtleties of how we made all the money and asked for clarification. He replied, “But I want to be rich; how can you help me?!”
Before we parted company, I asked him his views on the government. He didn’t like it. “The people now think maybe they make mistake.”
He also was of the opinion that the people were scared of the government and that the government used religion to “control the people.”
He offered to hail a shared taxi for us and speak to the driver personally to make sure he charged us the correct price and didn’t rip us off. “It is better. Maybe driver try hanky panky!”
We laughed again. He waved down a cab for us, had a brief chat to the driver, and said goodbye. Both Ricardo and I were sad to see this cheerful and just plain nutty guy go. Inside the cab, we were greeted by a suited Iranian man who warmly welcomed us to Iran and told us how much he hoped we’d enjoy his country.
Iran and the
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