Appendices

Appendix A
Notes for travellers:
Obtaining a visa, especially for Americans, requires as much
patience and flexibility as one can muster. On my second attempt,
it took about six months. To get the visa, you’ll visit an embassy
or consulate with an authorization code issued by the Iranian
Ministry of Foreign Affairs. Without this code, you have nothing.
Remember that its a huge pain in the ass for a visa facilitator in
Iran to get an American into the country at the present time. Just
because you’ve been given Dates X through Y doesn’t mean
those are the days you’ll be in the country. Its a shell game, at
least for Americans, but, quid pro quo, unless on scholarship, its
impossible for Iranians to come to the US.

Current to this writing Americans, while able to set their itinerary,
can only enter the Islamic Republic with a guide. Working
through an agency, a guide/agency payment will be made up front
using correspondence banks with approval from either US
Departments of State or Treasury. The tourist is responsible for
all the guide's accomodation, food and transportation during the
length of the visit. Prices of guides vary anywhere from $20 -
$200/day, some with car. The guide will most likely be contracted
through the agency. A good guide will daily save you through
random negotiation time, money and convenience. I had a great
guide, mash’allah, motshakeram.

Israeli stamps in your passport will mean denial of Iranian visa.
Foreign women are expected to wear long sleeves and a scarf, but
not a full hejab or chador (unless they so desire, it can be winter
there). Single women may need permission from local authorities
and/or a male family member to get rooms in hotels, especially if
you’re under 40. Men should also wear long sleeves and refrain
from shorts. Shoes much bigger than the feet that wear them are,
like so many places, quite popular in Iran.

The national currency is the rial. Presently a US dollar converts to
about 9100 rials. Here’s the catch: the notes are marked “rial”
and prices are typically written in rials, but everyone talks about
“tomans”, which is a factor of ten rials. 9000 rials = 900 tomans.
Know this.

US dollars are widely accepted in hotels. Money can be changed
on the street for a rate equitable if not slightly better than a bank
or exchange outlet. You will at various times have large wads of
cash on your person. Iranians know this. See: Safety (below,
Appendix G).

Alcohol is forbidden (re: available on the black market). If you’re
looking for a Girls Gone Wild experience, you’re in the wrong
place. An estimated 80% of Western Europe’s heroin addiction
arrives through Iran via Afghanistan performing a perfect act of
jihad - “let them kill themselves”; still, drug offenses will land you
in jail, maybe hung by the neck in public.

The two-word description for ‘Nightclubs’ in Lonely Planet sums
it best: “Dream on.”

Be sure to bring proper electrical converters and toilet paper.
From what can casually be gathered, abortion is a scientific act in
Iran. Iranians can acquire a temporary marriage, lasting as little as
an hour. When necessary, drawing water from the pitcher in a
hotel room’s refrigerator never led to a problem.

Iranians are obsessed with good behavior. If you’re polite and
show common courtesy, you’ll be fine in Iran. Even if you can’t,
you’ll probably be fine. Thankfully for everyone, Moslems in
general are laid back and hospitable, while most American
tourists travelling in Iran want to be there, study social protocol
beforehand and act accordingly, so Iranians have a pleasant
opinion of us.

Appendix B
playlist, one selection per day
Boards of Canada: Beware the Friendly Stranger
Boards of Canada: Gyroscope
Bob Dylan: Dirt Road Blues
Lee 'Scratch' Perry: Vibrator
The Dandy Warhols: Heroin Is So Passe
Heitor Villa Lobos: Ciclo Brasiliero (perf: Roberta Rust)
Ekova: Starlight in Daden
Judge Jules: Kosheen - Hide U
Symmetry: Silent Witness & Break - Again and Again
Thomas Tallis: Salvator mundi (perf: the Tallis Scholars)
Bunny Lee: Joshua Word Horn Version
Snap!: Rhythm is a Dancer
Husker Du: Do You Remember?
Public Enemy: Shut Em Down
Dizzy Gillespie: Bang, Bang
The Dandy Warhols: Minnesoter
Iggy Pop: I Wanna Be Your Dog
The KLF featuring Tammy Wynette: Justified & Ancient
Orchestra Baobab: Ray m'bele
Travis: As You Are
Richie Hawtin: Closer to the Edit, Tracks 14-17
Cassandra Wilson: Blue Skies
Lightning Head vs Kocani Orkestar: Usti, Usti, Baba
Josquin des Pres: Missa l'homme (perf: The Tallis Scholars)
Boards of Canada: Diving Station
K*Swing: Super Pet - Pet (Evil 9 mix)
K*Swing: Stich Up - Proper Filthy Naughty
Oliver Klein: Rheinkraft
Elvis Costello & The Attractions: The Beat
Peaches: Keine Melodien

And, of course, Paul Birken’s live set at Human Condition,
January 2003, left somewhere in Iran... I wonder where?

Appendix C
Hotels
Prices are approximate. Everything is negotiated in tomans.

Water from the showers (and bathtubs) is drawn off via floor
drain, meaning that your bathroom floor may be flooded. Most
tourist restaurants and hotel rooms have western toilets, but
expect squats everywhere else.

Each of these places has breakfast (flatbread, cheese, honey/jam,
tea, perhaps over-medium eggs, sometimes olives), sometimes
included depending on what was negotiated.

Parasto Hotel (Tehran): $25/night, western toilet, internet access,
solid fundamentals for non-First World accomodation.

Amir Kabir Hotel (Kashan): $30/night in low season, western
toilet, internet, close to Fin Gardens, CNN, good restaurant
featuring “bear” (non-alcoholic ‘beer’) and “freighed chicken”,
though its known for its traditional “fesenjun” - chicken in
pomegranate & walnut sauce.

Aria Hotel (Esfahan): great deal in a great location, less than $30
for both of us - reasonable negotiation (unlike next door) -
delightful cleaning lady who will wash your clothes (twice when
they're really dirty), bathtub, odd-ish balconies overlooking the
main thoroughfare - so much of Iran is retro because its old. The
owner speaks English.

Malek-o Tojjar (Yazd): atmospheric traditional hotel hidden
inside the bazaar through a labrinthe of lanterned alleys opening
into a courtyard whose tent-ed roof still features Pahlavi lions
sewn into the canvas, about $30-35/night for both of us (low
season prices), internet access, good restaurant, {room didn't
have a sign pointing toward Mecca}, very popular
chaikuneh/hubble bubble spot in the evening (women smoke the
water pipe, I saw a four year old enjoying the galyan), rooms a
little smelly but olfactorily adaptable, young & friendly staff who
speak some English and can hook you up with a driver to Chak
Chak, western toilet/clean bathroom; worth the months I spent
dreaming about the place.

Eram Hotel (Shiraz): located in heart of the city, about $45 for
both of us, BBC, western toilet/clean bathrooms, the local Super
League Football Club stays here before its games, walking
distance to the bazaar, internet access at the hotel or across the
street.

Morvarid Hotel (Tabriz): The Hotel Sina turned down the easiest
money they would have made all year, because we didn’t end up
staying overnight in Tabriz. Next door at the Morvarid it was $20
for both of us.

Shurabil Hotel (Ardabil): lovely location on a small lake with
dramatic mountain background, doubt anyone had been there in a
while - it was the dead of winter - but the guys running the place
are very friendly, their kids quite precocious and eager to practice
English, naturally took a bit for the large rooms to warm up in the
cold weather, $20-25 dollars for both of us.

Iran Hotel (Anzali): balconies overlooking Caspian lagoon -
especially pretty at sunrise, could use fresh carpet, internet access
a good distance away managed by a woman who played the same
Reza Sadeghi song over and over - mash’allah it was a nice song
- some pizza places nearby; large bathroom, $30-35 for both of
us.

Iran Hotel (Qazvin): one of the best deals in Iran, central city
location, $20 for both of us, clean rooms with IKEA-type
accessories. I thought my neighbors were having sex, but it was
just the pidgeons cooing on the bathroom window sill.

Golestan Hotel (Tehran): $26/night for me, odd flickering
flourescent in my room but it didn't keep me up, clean and
comfortable, good deal in decent location near dozens of office
furniture stores, friendly staff. Saw Barcelona take down Chelsea.

Appendix D
Transportation:
Drivers went between cities for about $20-30 dollars. In-city taxis
were less than 50 cents to a dollar or more. Day drivers to places
like Persepolis, Chak Chak, Abyeneh, Masuleh, Alamut run from
$15-$30. Bus tickets, depending on the quality of the bus, range
from $2-6 per ticket. Airfare from Shiraz to Tehran on Iran Air
was about $30 a person. Two first class/sleeper car train tickets -
had we used them - from Tehran to Tabriz cost $30. Bus drivers
adorn their vehicles with translucent stickers proclaiming “Only
God”, “Best Quality” and “WeLcome to my bus”. Every driver’s
dashboard carries a stuffed animal.

You will invariably encounter drivers who initially turn down
payments that represent a significant portion of their monthly
income. They’ll accept eventually, but its your responsibility to
insist.

Appendix E
Food and bathrooms:
Meat and rice. Doogh is a yogurt drink. Pizzas are eaten with
ketchup (except by me) on top of the cheese and meat. For the
rice and kebab crowd, spoons scoop up more than forks, one of
the reasons your Iranian friend will almost certainly be done
eating before you. Oranges are lemons. Sweet-teeth richly
satisfied from an abundance of confection and fruit.

Iranians know they eat too fast, but H2 says they don’t really care
about their health. Its a “Go with God” attitude. If you’re
travelling in a taxi at 200 kph, intersect a killing wind and your
number comes up, so be it. Don’t worry so much. H2 continues
to study engineering because “Iranians never know what their
future holds”.

Service in restaurants may not be what Americans are used to.
Remember where you are. Iran, like many places, can be dusty
and trash strewn. There are squat toilets. H2’s father told me of
an American who exited an ‘Old World’ facility with the seat of
his pants drenched, repeating, “You Persians are really smart.”
After some prodding, he added, “You must be smart to use one
of those things without getting wet.” Apparently, he sat down in
it.

Converserly, there’s the story of a Persian guy who comes out of
a Western commode perplexed, the floor covered. He, allegedly,
got up on the seat and used it like a squat.

Appendix F
Random:
Iran is three hours and *thirty minutes* from Grenwich Mean
Time.

Persians are not Arabs and they’re not Turks and they’ll tell you
so. Neither are they terribly casual about telling you what’s
wrong with Arabs and Turks. Women who can afford them
sometimes wear colored contact lenses to take the ‘darkness’ out
of their eyes. Iranian men consider themselves black.

90% of the conversations transcibed here were conducted in
English on my end and Farsi on my counterpart’s, with H2
translating. Sorry for the dream sequences, its so rare that I
remember my dreams I have to write them down when I do.

The comments are on, have at it. Feel free to remain anonymous - if it isn’t
obvious, I’ve done so to protect the identities of anyone
responsible for me should I have gotten myself into trouble. My
paranoia couldn’t sustain any pitched level once I was there,
however. Should you post, please keep it clean and refrain from
needlessly confrontational dispatches. Befarmayid.

Appendix G
Safety for Americans:
Well, you live in a dangerous country, so a trip to Iran is probably
going to be pretty relaxing. Before I left there was a story about
gangs who tied up homeless people and beat them to death with
baseball bats. The perpetrators were not Hezbollah, nor Hamas.
They were teenage Floridians.

A couple years ago the US State Department re-issued its Travel
Warning concerning Iran. The next day the Iranian Foreign
Minister released a press statement saying “Americans are safer in
Iran than they are in America.”

Your friends will say, “Tell them you’re Canadian.” There are a
lot of reasons why this is wrong {google “canadian iranian
photojournalist”}. It seems to me the best thing you can tell an
Iranian is that you’re American. In ten thousand years, the
Persians have been on top several times, they know what its like
and appreciate the American position.

I don’t say this to be anti-gun - I had my first gun permit when I
was 12 - but outside an elite game-hunting class its illegal for a
private citizen to own a gun in Iran. True, American gun rights
advocates would say the makeup of the Iranian government is
precisely the reason they should possess, its also true that there is
little or no gun violence in Iran.

Of course, you assume some risk no matter where you travel. It
requires research into customs and history - thankfully, its
fascinating stuff. Travellers should take care, however; tourist
kidnappings have happened in southeastern Sistan & Baluchistan
province, not because of politics or religion, but drug running.

*

In at least two of our hotels signs were hung with a quote from
Imam Ali to the effect: “Any traveller in a Moslem land that loses
his property should have that property replaced by the
authorities.” This was IN THE HOTEL.

Besides a handful of carpet dealers and five-star hotels, your
Western credit cards are worthless in Iran. American banks are
sanctioned from doing business with Iranian banks. That means
every traveller who arrives in Iran must do so with all the money
s/he plans to spend in cold, hard cash on their person. Iranians
know this.

Petty and violent crime against tourists is virtually unheard of in Iran.

"That's why they buy it."

Back in Tehran, we spot two women driving without scarves,
basically a big ‘eff you’ to anyone who sees them.

In the hotel, the woman working the kitchen leans over the counter
to ask, “Mister, Iran good?”

*

The Persians have probably had a good laugh at my expense -
‘ghameh zani’ translates to ‘knife’ beating.

*

Unsure of how the Samara Shia shrine bombing is playing in the
west, its big news in Iran.

Its appalling. “Bebaxshid”.

“Why?”, H2 asks me, “its not your fault.”

The Ayatollahs have called for restraint. The politicians call it a
failure of the “arrogant occupation”. The all-sports channel breaks
into its programming to announce that for the next seven nights, the
network will show sad movies. The clerk changes the channel.

President Ahmadinejad is giving a morning oratory. One channel -
IRINN - carries the broadcast. He competes with an exercise
program; a kids show featuring cartoons, puppets and bunnies;
educational lessons; memorial footage of the shrine in Samara; and
old school TV drama ala “Streets of San Francisco”.

The ticker maintains...

“Experts: NHS Breast Cancer screening program saves 1400 lives a
year”...

“New guidelines: hospital patients should be routinely screened for
malnutrition and offered specialty nutritional support”...

“Study: Sharks may be more vulnerable to fishing industry than
previously thought”...

*

I don't know if you've ever been to the Tehran bazaar.

“Be sure to look up in your English translator a word spelled
‘c-h-a-o-s’,” I suggest to H2. “You’ll use it more than ‘augur’.”
Maybe its the train of pushcarts pummelling us, perhaps the blue
Saipa pickups driving in the enclosed alley, probably the Fire Engine
called into the bazaar to extinguish some fireworks.

The previous night we watched “Training Day” on satellite TV. I
tried my best to explain its enunciation of the American vernacular;
the dialect of the street being difficult for H2 to pick up. He has
second thoughts about visiting America after witnessing the level of
portrayed violence and corruption.

The next day his neice is watching “Coneheads”. I ask her if she
likes it. She scrunches up her nose.

“Not really.”

Its harder to veer away from the gauntlet brought down by George
C. Scott’s opening monologue in “Patton”, in the presence of H2’s
father, who spent part of the 70s in the US -

“Now I want you to remember that no bastard ever won a war by
dying for his country. He won it by making the other poor dumb
bastard die for his country.”

“A lot of people didn’t know how to take this movie when it came
out. Did you see this movie?” (“Take”?)

“Americans traditionally love to fight. All real Americans love the
sting of battle.”

Swallow hard. “It was sort of a precursor to the 1970s anti-hero
many Americans identified with.” (“Is that even true? Anti-hero?”)

“Americans have never lost and never will lose a war.”

“It came out during Vietnam. Its an old movie.”

*

Red cards in the first five minutes, fisticuffs at halftime, general
disappointment among the partisans, Persepolis FC continued to
founder. Then a new coach from Europe arrived and they won. Still,
its a season H2 would rather forget.

We're hanging out in a Tehrani park chaikuneh, watching the
Iran-Taiwan Asian Cup match, a game well-handled by the Iranians,
4-0, who are without their stars playing in Europe. Iran's national
team is ranked 22nd worldwide and open up the World Cup against
the 6th-ranked Mexican squad. Iran's nationals are having a difficult
time scheduling friendlies against other countries in preparation for
the June event in Germany. H2 blames Bush, saying the US has told
its allies not to play Iran. The Iranian team has a history of rallying
together when odds are against them, as it has previously in the
World Cup, and when Saddam invaded the newly formed nation in
the early 80s.

The parrot inside the chaikuneh talks, but instead of saying "Hello",
"Good day" or "How are you?", it cracks "salam", "ruz bexheir" and
"cha-touri".

A random guy walking in front of us toward the bazaar is wearing a
"Fayatteville Jaycees" windbreaker. He would be no less ironic in
Minneapolis. Along the way I've occassionally seen sports adorned
in FUBU. I ask H2 if “those consumers know that its a popular,
successful black-owned fashion line in America whose slogan is ‘for
us, by us’?”

"Yeah, they know," H2 answers, "that's why they buy it."

*

We while away a couple hours at the well-maintained ground of
Sa’d Abad, the Shah’s former residence. It was here that the young
Pahlavi met with the CIA as it planned the first coup in the
organization’s existence, bringing down the 1953 government of
democratically-elected, oil-nationalizing Mohammad Mossadegh,
Time Magazine’s Man of the Year during the previous calendar.

*

People remember Googoosh with fondness. Satellite TV beams into
Iran from the Arab States, Tehran-geles, Tehran-to, Europe. Videos
from pre-revolution stars (“she died of drug overdose”) are mixed in
with the steadfast Persian pop scene, replete with production values
purchased in Southern California. Tehran tried to crack down a
couple years ago on unauthorized satellite reception. Resilient
citizens removed the mechanics from the husk of their
window-frame air conditioner, using it instead to hide their satellite
dish.

Its a few hours before departing for the airport and arrangements
through a mutual friend have serendipitously allowed for tea with an
American woman working as a journalist in Tehran. She says she
doesn’t exactly feel oppressed, but clearly there are different laws
for women. Despite having a press card which should give her
carte blanche, she still has problems getting a hotel room as a single
woman. She admits a sizable number of women like the feeling of
protection under which they are cloaked. The government doesn’t
censor what she writes as long as she’s balanced. Womens’ issues
and obesity among young people are fair pegs for feature stories.

African American men raised in nearside US neighborhoods play
professional basketball in Iran.

*

I ask H2’s sister if her family has any travel plans. Perfectly
befuddled she redirects, “Where can we go? We’re Iranian.”

Iranians are free to leave the country. No nation will have them.

Across the Gulf, Dubai is a popular destination to get your drink on
once a man has completed his compulsory 20-month military service.
Following their stint, men are considered active for 5 years; H2 can
still be called up over the next two.

He says he’ll tell people he’s Spanish if he travels so they won’t hate
him for being Iranian.

*

“If we could export mullahs, we’d be rich!”, a taxi drivers says. He
says I’ve come to Iran to improve the relationship between our
countries.

Roughly two-thirds of the Iranian population was born after the
Revolution. They listen to Metallica, access the internet and play
games over a LAN. Some blame the country’s economic woes - oil
rich, well educated, wha? - on the ‘old culture’.

*

SPOILER: potentially offensive material ahead:

There’s a joke in Iran about a conservative, religious executive for a
nation we’ve all heard of that speaks simply and firmly to his
supporters who follow him because they feel he has conviction -
quick, who am I talking about? Ahmadinejad? Bush? The Pope?

The joke goes that this guy was born with his brains in his stomach
and the first time he took a shit he flushed them down the toilet.

The joke is not about the Pope.

In one of my Uglier American moments earlier in the trip, I began
talking back to the TV in H2’s presence. The BBC reported that 12
people had died as a result of ‘cartoon violence’.

Knowing the answer would certainly be 12, I asked “How many of
the victims were Moslem?”

Protesters burn US and Israeli flags, though neither country had a
publication on the front burner of the issue, to my knowledge.

“Do the protesters know that in America, Moslems can worship as
they see fit as long as they’re not inciting violence?”

Moslem counter protesters have taken the streets of London, calling
for a stop to the violence.

“That’s what we need, the moderates to condemn the extremists, in
all religions.”

Ritually polite, H2 said nothing.

*

A few years ago I was in a London nightclub, one of the few
authentically music-forward clubs in Picadilly. Within the half hour
of my arrival I had spoken to no one but the bartender. I was in the
restroom and a local asks me where I’m from.

> “The States.”

“Oh. No one likes you.”

Americans knock themselves out to visit such places; where the
dollar is weak, tourists are targets and you might be insulted to your
face. When they arrive, many indulge in exactly the same behavior
they exhibit in the US - going to bars and nightclubs and getting
wasted.

These same people might jump out of their skin when holiday in Iran
is suggested. With smarmy indignation they’ll knowingly proffer,
“Don’t you watch the news? Don’t you know what’s going on over
there?”

> “No, I don’t know what’s going on over there. Please tell me.”

Visit a country where the dollar is strong, goods and services
inexpensive, tourism safe and full of cultural antiquity at an
everlasting crossroads; perhaps, ironically, the one place that’s left
where Americans are welcomed with open arms - heaven forbid
anyone would want to go there!

Think of the dominant images you have of Iran. What are they?
Where did they come from? Let’s say Tehran has 14,000,000
people. The next time you see 10,000 of them protesting in the
street, remember that 13,990,000 are *not* protesting in the street.

I saw a poll this week reporting something like 70% of Americans
rank Iran as the United States’ ‘worst enemy’. Before you go and
vote for anyone who will drop a bomb on Iran, please know in your
heart that the exact inverse - if not greater - is true in Iran. Most of
them have no problem with us. Most of them love us and don’t want
us to kill them.

*

Making a hurried final pass through the “Male Entrance” to my
concourse, H2 and I both later regretted we couldn’t properly
express our sadness after - step by step, mile by mile - spending a
month of continuous time in each other’s company. We hope its
because we’ll see each other again, insh’allah. We’ve covered over
4000 km, ate every meal together, watched football in each other’s
hotel rooms. I met his college buddies and he asked for advice
concerning his girlfriend. He’d patiently wait for me when I was at
an internet cafe. He negotiated all our accomodation and
transportation, saving me roughly the equivalent of what I was
paying him. He and his family repeatedly invited me into their home,
serving an endless array of fruit and tea. His mother cooked dizi for
my final dinner.

“I’m ready when you are ready”, he’d say.

*

The flight out of Tehran is half an hour late, then an hour, then
finally five minutes.

Mehrabad Airport, onboard Turkish Airlines, 4:30 am. The veils
come off.

Twenty-six hours pass on four consecutive flights with layovers in
three cities. HAHAHAHAHAHA. Air France offers an episode of
“The Love Boat”, guest starring Don Knotts - peace be upon him -
as an unlikely amorous interest.

“Shock” is a strong word; I’m culturally confused. I know where I
am, but indulge an urge to go to the chaikuneh. At the 331 Club, a
woman shows off her authentic Girls Gone Wild beads - typically
reserved for exhibitionists who show their breasts - claiming, “I
didn’t even have to do anything for them!” One man scolds
another for not knowing how to properly negotiate their cheap thrill.

Talisker on the rocks. Bells Ale - (along with Derek Jeter) the pride
of Kalamazoo, Michigan - on tap. The club’s biweekly
nouveau-old-tyme burlesque event featuring half naked Eastern
European women is over, but the drummer from the show returns to
add live percussion to a song coming over the speakers. “I Am
The Walrus” makes perfect sense. All the kids wear ink.

Sunday Night Service For Saturday Night Sinners, the regulars greet
a prodigal with enthusiasm. The congregation sings “Beautiful
Savior” and takes communion. Many tell me of their prayers for safe
passage. mash’allah.

*

Now I lay me down to sleep. I pray the Lord a quiet, desperate
Tehrani hotel clerk - measuring his affliction day by day, numbering
over 870 in duration - experiences without religious or familial
restriction true love. Amen.

*

When I returned from Ghana I had the overwhelming sensation, “I
can’t wait to get to Africa”, like it would be the first time despite the
fact I had just been there. The same thing is happening now.

I have a new appreciation for crosswalks. Women’s hair is radiant. I
look for H2, but he’s not here.

khoda hafez.