Fast times in Iran

Woke with the typical dry throat after sleeping in a hot climate.  Picked up my water bottle but realised I couldn’t drink a drop until 810pm – a very unpleasant realisation. This fast is a ridiculous idea - especially in the middle of an Iranian summer

I thought a refreshing shower might help out the situation but alas the Isfahan water shortage measures had kicked in which means rolling water outages around the city.  Iran, like much of the world, is short of water.  In New Zealand we lucky to have only the occassional sprinkler restriction in suburban Waikanae. 

After watching Dodd devour his breakfast we headed into town on the bus. One thing I have not talked about is the apartheid-like restrictions on woman in society.  This extends to the buses with woman sitting at the back – very awkward when a husband and wife travel together. 

An example of the divide is the separate praying rooms at all airports and bus stations. 

We obviously caught the wrong bus and ended up in an unfamiliar area of town.  We asked for directions and ended up meeting Ashkan – Iranian 3000m steeplechase champion! The conversation predictably turned to sport and he mentioned two interesting things.  Firstly that professional athletes do not have to fast for Ramadan which shows the Quaran can be interpreted to fit ones needs. Secondly that male athletes can wear shorts when competing despite having to wear pants day to day. Women on the other hand, compete in full robe with no skin showin apart from their face.  Very inconsistent.

Ashkanand I taking a stroll down Chahar Bagh street

On the way we passed florescent coloured ducklings.  The seller dyes the ducks to encourage kids to buys them but the colour washes off within two weeks...

As quickly as Hussain disappeared on his bike, another character turned up. Very memorable because his name is pronounced ‘woman’.   Hooman had some very interesting insights into Iranian life, especially the political situation. We first talked about the water-fight arrests in Tehran.  The arrests were because boys and girls were playing together rather than because it was a water fight. Children are separated at an early age and Hussain remarked that separating the sexes is the reason for low moral standards in Iran.

Next he talked about Ramadan.  Girls are considered ‘woman’ at just 9 years old.  Conversely boys become ‘men’ at 15. Another consistent facet of Iranian culture/law.  Thank goodness Helen Kelley (president of NZ Council of Trade Unions) does not live in Iran.  If she thinks a pay gap of 5% is something to worry about, she should check out this neck of the woods…

At one point in the conversation, Hooman’s face darkened and sadness gripped his face.  His brother was a protester during the 2008 election debacle. The government employed spies to march in the protests and gather details of those taking part.  Everyone who participated faced serious problems, not at the actual protest, but away from the cameras.  Hooman’s brother was sent packing back to Denmark (where he had joint-citizenship), his Iranian citizenship was revoked and Hooman has not seen his brother for 3 years.  It is near impossible for Iranian 's to travel so Hooman will likely never see his brother again…

 

Hooman and Dodd at a shoe mall:  A perfectly competitive market with 20 identical shops with identical product.

We left Hooman and proceeded into the shelter of the Bozorg Bazaar so Matt could look at some carpets.  It was about 2pm and I was feeling miiiiserable with no water.  I didn’t feel hungry the whole day but I constantly was aware that my mouth was drier than the Zayande River.

Si-O-Seh Bridge and Zayande River

Matt's lunch  - a gooey eggplant dish.  The consistency was that of playdough

Unfortunately we arrived at the bazaar in the middle of the 5 hour afternoon siesta . We saw a door ajar and heard some noise so poked our heads in. There were 6 men crowded around a carpet playing cards.  I sat down next ‘Ali’, whose daughter works in New Plymouth!  Little English was spoken but the political situation again took a forefront.  At one point ‘Ali’ rose off his seat, started dancing and chanting ‘no fun, no money, no dance, no sing, no drink, no sex OR’ – he did a NZ haka throat slitting action.   Hilarious but sobering.

Ali and the secret card players

Matt ended up buying a carpet from a nearby dealer after lets called it some ‘competitive’ bartering…

 

We were picked up by Mehdi, a friend of Eli.  We visited a spot with a great view of Isfahan.

For the remaining 3 hours of my fast, every second lasted an hour.  Muhhamad warned me that I would not know thirst until I have done a fast in 38C+ in Iran.  This particular fast is the worst possible timing being mid-summer.  Every year it moves 10 days earlier.  It is hard to describe but I realised I had a new worst possible way to die.  Thirst.

8.09 – waiting and ready

After downing about 3 litres of water and some dinner it was time to pass the evening smoking shesha with new danish couch surfers

Late in the evening we headed up the Isfahan gondola.  All around were families enjoying the park, kids playing in the quad and couples enjoying the serenity.  According to Muhhamad all the ‘social police’ go to sleep at night so the parks become festive.

A couple more sights