"The killing winds"
We have to stop along the road from Esfahan to Yazd because the desert winds whip across the plateau at clips of hundreds of kilometers an hour. The driver can't see. H2 asks if we have "the killing winds" in the US.
Yazd is the second oldest mud brick city in the world. The preferred mode of transportation is motorcycle. Its night and we're waiting for a taxi to take us to our hotel. Two men on a moto stop by and give us fresh cucumbers as part of the last night of Ashura ceremonies. There is a candlelight service in the public square.
Iran is a destination for nosejobs, which cost anywhere from $800-1500. There must be a good doctor in Yazd because I see at least half a dozen people with bandaged noses.
H2 has recognized my habit for asking questions I already know the answer to.
*
Zoroastrianism was the first religion on earth that worshipped one God. Most Zoroastrians now live in India; their stronghold in Iran is Yazd. "Good thoughts, good words, good deeds" was the motto of Ahura Mazda, its deity. Its been said that it would be the major religion of world today if Persepolis hadn't been burned down 2500 years ago by Alexander the Macedonian (he's not considered so Great around here).
The Zoroastrians have kept a fire burning in Yazd for 1500 years. The Towers of Silence lie outside the city limits. They're built atop two desert mountaintops where the Zoroastrians would bring their dead. Teens on motorcycles populate the area today, roaring through every path they can find. When I reach the summit, a man picnicking with his family comes to me and gives me an orange and kiwi. He's classically Iranian, offering what he has to others first.
Inside the towers, a magi (priest) would sit with the deceased until vultures came. Whichever eye they poked out first would determine the afterlife of this person. This was apparently still in practice until about 40-50 years ago.
Nowadays, there's a cemetary down below. Written on many of the gravestones are Ahura Mazda's edict of good thoughts, words and deeds. One man has engraved "welcome to my spot". Further down a young family burns incense over two graves. They tell us their beloved were engaged to be married before a car crash took their lives at age 23.
*
"God Damn the Mother and Father of Anyone Who Leaves Their Trash Here", proclaims graffitti scrawled on a wall in the alleys of the old city. H2 says God must be very busy.
The old part of town is all twisting alleys, light and shadow. Its designed in such a way to maximize and cool down the winds as they enter the town. Another of Yazd's great ancient engineering is the badgir - wind towers that allow the air enter from any of four sides, then funnel it down over a pool of water so that its cool and comfortable by the time it reaches the ground floor.
H2 and I enter the alleys at night for maximum effect. Something is happening. Motorcycles rip by us and around a corner we encounter young boys dressed in regal and traditional garb. Chanting comes from a makeshift mosque nearby where the boys will perform the martyrdom of Imam Hossein. We're invited in and I immediately take my shoes off. H2 pulls me aside and says its not a good idea. He's right, not because its inappropriate for me to be there, but my presence has excited the boys and the older gentlemen in attendance are perturbed by the distraction. We head back into the maze of alleys.
*
"Down on your knees". A woman who works at our hotel is practicing her English and this is one of the phrases she's written down for her lesson. H2 says this proves most Iranian women are feminists. (I studied feminist film theory for about three years at university and normally I would engage him in a discourse about feminism actually having more to do with a structural analysis of the means of production and dissemination, but we're in a hurry to catch our bus).
The previous night over tea and hubble bubble, I asked him if the law was changed tomorrow and women no longer had to wear head covering, what percentage would dispense with it. He says about 30%.
There's actually a very vibrant women's movement in Iran. In places like Tehran, women seem almost to be challenging authorities to arrest them. Typically, a cop would simply say, "please, ma'am, use your scarf." Women make up over 60% of university students, but a much smaller fraction of the workforce, meaning Iran has a vast untapped resource. In the bank where we exchanged money in Esfahan, at least half of the desk jobs were employed by women. But in the small businesses that line the streets you rarely see women working.
A lot of people might not want to hear this, but they'll just have to clench their teeth and swallow hard: millions and millions of women in this world choose to be Moslem. When Karen Hughes made her visit to the Middle East last year on a goodwill tour, there was one moment when she was away from the US administration's famously choreographed and controlled appearances. The women who approached her made it clear in no uncertain terms that despite their struggles, they did not appreciate the way the West portrays Moslem women.
There's a running joke in Iran when women are asked if they can vote, if they can work, if they can drive, if they can go to school, if they can walk alone. "What do you think this is?", they reply, "Saudia Arabia?"
{ed: Saudia Arabia, where women can't do any of the things Iranian women can do, that was home to the majority of people who terrorized my country on September 11, 2001, and where H2 alleges that Wahabbis have permission to murder Shia, is, of course, an ally of the United States.}
Shirin Ebadi, a lawyer in Tehran known for taking some of the country's toughest cases, won the Nobel Peace Prize a couple years ago.
*
We're in the town of Kharanaq for a quick visit. Archaelogists think there's been a settlement here for 4000 years. Only about 200 people live there now and most of them are crowding the road for a parade celebrating the anniversary of the Islamic Revolution in the late 70s. H2 tells me they're chanting "Down with USA".
Hi!
*
After a visit to Chak Chak, a fire temple in the beautiful desert mountains outside Yazd, famous for the Zoroastrian princess who disappeared here during the Arab invasion 1300 years ago, where a man has been tending the temple for 60 years, we catch our bus to Shiraz.
The bloom is off the rose. Its raining and the drive takes 8 hours instead of 6. A baby is crying for most of it. The driver keeps taking cell phone calls and uses what H2 calls bad words. (Still, nothing compares to bribing your way onto a West African bus only to be packed body to body in the midday heat without air conditioning.)
OMG, the inconvenience! : D
Midway we make a stop for evening prayers. All the men get off but one. Since we're coming from Yazd, I figure he's Zoroastrian. It occurs to me that most of these men would not normally go to prayer, but the pressure not to be The Guy Who Didn't Get Off The Bus For Prayers is considerable.
It turns out, H2 tells me, that hardly any of them went to pray at this stop. They were just stretching their legs.
*
I'm having a recurring dream that I fly back to the States for no apparent reason.
In tonight's dream, I'm sitting in a cafe drinking beer with Dan Bergin who has just informed me that he's become a member of the WTO. (This will come as quite a surprise to those who know Dan, as well as Dan himself, I'm sure!) I step outside the cafe to see a woman I don't know performing a striptease. I fly back to Iran.
*
On the evening of September 11, 2001, Tehran held the only candlelight vigil in all of the Middle East and Central Asia.
Yazd is the second oldest mud brick city in the world. The preferred mode of transportation is motorcycle. Its night and we're waiting for a taxi to take us to our hotel. Two men on a moto stop by and give us fresh cucumbers as part of the last night of Ashura ceremonies. There is a candlelight service in the public square.
Iran is a destination for nosejobs, which cost anywhere from $800-1500. There must be a good doctor in Yazd because I see at least half a dozen people with bandaged noses.
H2 has recognized my habit for asking questions I already know the answer to.
*
Zoroastrianism was the first religion on earth that worshipped one God. Most Zoroastrians now live in India; their stronghold in Iran is Yazd. "Good thoughts, good words, good deeds" was the motto of Ahura Mazda, its deity. Its been said that it would be the major religion of world today if Persepolis hadn't been burned down 2500 years ago by Alexander the Macedonian (he's not considered so Great around here).
The Zoroastrians have kept a fire burning in Yazd for 1500 years. The Towers of Silence lie outside the city limits. They're built atop two desert mountaintops where the Zoroastrians would bring their dead. Teens on motorcycles populate the area today, roaring through every path they can find. When I reach the summit, a man picnicking with his family comes to me and gives me an orange and kiwi. He's classically Iranian, offering what he has to others first.
Inside the towers, a magi (priest) would sit with the deceased until vultures came. Whichever eye they poked out first would determine the afterlife of this person. This was apparently still in practice until about 40-50 years ago.
Nowadays, there's a cemetary down below. Written on many of the gravestones are Ahura Mazda's edict of good thoughts, words and deeds. One man has engraved "welcome to my spot". Further down a young family burns incense over two graves. They tell us their beloved were engaged to be married before a car crash took their lives at age 23.
*
"God Damn the Mother and Father of Anyone Who Leaves Their Trash Here", proclaims graffitti scrawled on a wall in the alleys of the old city. H2 says God must be very busy.
The old part of town is all twisting alleys, light and shadow. Its designed in such a way to maximize and cool down the winds as they enter the town. Another of Yazd's great ancient engineering is the badgir - wind towers that allow the air enter from any of four sides, then funnel it down over a pool of water so that its cool and comfortable by the time it reaches the ground floor.
H2 and I enter the alleys at night for maximum effect. Something is happening. Motorcycles rip by us and around a corner we encounter young boys dressed in regal and traditional garb. Chanting comes from a makeshift mosque nearby where the boys will perform the martyrdom of Imam Hossein. We're invited in and I immediately take my shoes off. H2 pulls me aside and says its not a good idea. He's right, not because its inappropriate for me to be there, but my presence has excited the boys and the older gentlemen in attendance are perturbed by the distraction. We head back into the maze of alleys.
*
"Down on your knees". A woman who works at our hotel is practicing her English and this is one of the phrases she's written down for her lesson. H2 says this proves most Iranian women are feminists. (I studied feminist film theory for about three years at university and normally I would engage him in a discourse about feminism actually having more to do with a structural analysis of the means of production and dissemination, but we're in a hurry to catch our bus).
The previous night over tea and hubble bubble, I asked him if the law was changed tomorrow and women no longer had to wear head covering, what percentage would dispense with it. He says about 30%.
There's actually a very vibrant women's movement in Iran. In places like Tehran, women seem almost to be challenging authorities to arrest them. Typically, a cop would simply say, "please, ma'am, use your scarf." Women make up over 60% of university students, but a much smaller fraction of the workforce, meaning Iran has a vast untapped resource. In the bank where we exchanged money in Esfahan, at least half of the desk jobs were employed by women. But in the small businesses that line the streets you rarely see women working.
A lot of people might not want to hear this, but they'll just have to clench their teeth and swallow hard: millions and millions of women in this world choose to be Moslem. When Karen Hughes made her visit to the Middle East last year on a goodwill tour, there was one moment when she was away from the US administration's famously choreographed and controlled appearances. The women who approached her made it clear in no uncertain terms that despite their struggles, they did not appreciate the way the West portrays Moslem women.
There's a running joke in Iran when women are asked if they can vote, if they can work, if they can drive, if they can go to school, if they can walk alone. "What do you think this is?", they reply, "Saudia Arabia?"
{ed: Saudia Arabia, where women can't do any of the things Iranian women can do, that was home to the majority of people who terrorized my country on September 11, 2001, and where H2 alleges that Wahabbis have permission to murder Shia, is, of course, an ally of the United States.}
Shirin Ebadi, a lawyer in Tehran known for taking some of the country's toughest cases, won the Nobel Peace Prize a couple years ago.
*
We're in the town of Kharanaq for a quick visit. Archaelogists think there's been a settlement here for 4000 years. Only about 200 people live there now and most of them are crowding the road for a parade celebrating the anniversary of the Islamic Revolution in the late 70s. H2 tells me they're chanting "Down with USA".
Hi!
*
After a visit to Chak Chak, a fire temple in the beautiful desert mountains outside Yazd, famous for the Zoroastrian princess who disappeared here during the Arab invasion 1300 years ago, where a man has been tending the temple for 60 years, we catch our bus to Shiraz.
The bloom is off the rose. Its raining and the drive takes 8 hours instead of 6. A baby is crying for most of it. The driver keeps taking cell phone calls and uses what H2 calls bad words. (Still, nothing compares to bribing your way onto a West African bus only to be packed body to body in the midday heat without air conditioning.)
OMG, the inconvenience! : D
Midway we make a stop for evening prayers. All the men get off but one. Since we're coming from Yazd, I figure he's Zoroastrian. It occurs to me that most of these men would not normally go to prayer, but the pressure not to be The Guy Who Didn't Get Off The Bus For Prayers is considerable.
It turns out, H2 tells me, that hardly any of them went to pray at this stop. They were just stretching their legs.
*
I'm having a recurring dream that I fly back to the States for no apparent reason.
In tonight's dream, I'm sitting in a cafe drinking beer with Dan Bergin who has just informed me that he's become a member of the WTO. (This will come as quite a surprise to those who know Dan, as well as Dan himself, I'm sure!) I step outside the cafe to see a woman I don't know performing a striptease. I fly back to Iran.
*
On the evening of September 11, 2001, Tehran held the only candlelight vigil in all of the Middle East and Central Asia.
posted by s. at 11:50 PM
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