 Love it, hate it, love it
Visiting Iran
Mohsen
December 20, 2004
iranian.com unedited
It was last summer that I had to rush to Iran to visit my mom for her recent
bypass heart surgery. She was doing great after the operation, thanks to Iranian
physicians' geniuses.
I remember that I had to obtain a plane ticket for twice of its
original price because every thing happened so fast. But heck knows,
I was willing to pay ten times more just to smell my mom's
scent for one more time.
You know what? Prior to my departure I had been crying for two
days after getting the news by phone from my Dad. I was constantly
asking myself what if she had died from it. Then my wife got tired
of my tears and made me to cancel all my plans and look for plane
ticket.
Four days later I was on one of Emirates' airplane heading
home sweet home. I was strangely having the same feelings that
I used to have while in military service going home and departure
from my base in Kurdistan.
It is still a vivid picture in my mind along warmth feelings
in my heart. Back then, all I wanted was to have enough time to
get to the first light post in Tehran, hug it and kiss it and get
right back to Kurdistan.
Now after 15 years those feelings are back again but this time
instead of sitting on a uncomfortable, hot and noisy last row seat
of a bus, I was sitting on a Airbus model 7something jet and looking
at a flat screen 60-something inches HDTV and watching how slowly
the airplane is passing the ever-blue Persian Gulf and getting
closer every second to my homeland.
At the beginning I was somehow not interested in the distance
that was chipping off from between the points of where I was and
where I wished to be. But as the space shuttle launch sequence
starts, my heart started beating harder. Now I couldn't turn
my head away from the screen and I was not paying any attention
to the conversation that I have had with this English guy next
to me.
 The plane was not quiet there yet but my heart was pounding harder
than ever. I thought it is about to jump out of my chest. As we
were getting close to the Iranian soil my eyes started to burn
and then here you go again tears. Now we just passed the border
and we were officially inside of Iranian air space.
God, every
thing suddenly changed, the air smelled differently and it even
got warmer. I tried very hard not to cry out loud. I was pushing
my forehead on the cold plane's window and hopelessly trying
to see the Iranian land from 30000 feet height in the middle
of night.
I couldn't see the land but Heaven knows I could feel it
with all of my senses.
To make the story short six days later I was gladly heading back
to the U.S. to return to my kids and wife.
During these six days I had enough of headache from Tehran's
traffic, pollution, and lawlessness that I was already sick of
it. I couldn't wait to get back home.
As I was waiting in Mehrabad's super crowded transit area
to get my boarding pass, I was having a nightmare. I was thinking
what if they tell me I can't get out. So then what should
I do? What if they lose my green card? What if ... Until I found
myself in front of the airport's agent that was trying to
help a nice lady to smuggle an endangered hunting bird as a Parrot.
I carelessly ignored it and I didn't even try to remember
that I used to have a Falcon and I could tell that that noisy bird
under that covered cage is a very expensive young Falcon ready
to serve one of Emirates' richest Sheikhs.
I was focused to my fullest degree. My mission was to get the
hell out of here!
 When I got to Switzerland, I was still in the cultural shock,
thinking if it is possible a nation changes that much in that little
time. Oh well, none of my business now.
When I got home I was homesick for two weeks, missing Tehran
already. Remembering my family, friends and kind and polite ordinary
people that I dealt with while there.
Damn! Why can't I get over it once and for all?
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