hello again to the faithful readers of the bahrani notes from iran.

i hope this finds everyone well. i am currently in shiraz, south of isfahan, my dad's city, where he promised us warmth and wonderous weather. instead, it is raining and cold! we cut this day short; now i can email prior to midnight for once!

i still haven't gotten over the bizarre driving techniques of iran. motorcyles are abundent. all over the place -- and people pile onto them. not 1, not 2 but 6! six people on one motorcycle going on the highway to the busy streets! a husband, wife and 3 or four kids with their little hoods and hats to stay warm. it's crazy -- and if not a family. three growm men, some in suites, one after the other!

catching up on Isfahan before getting to shiraz. . . we celebrated noruz, the new year at my cousin's home, on march 20th. we did sighting in Isfahan. it was a very relaxed few days. just a wonderful city.

we also went to this amazing place called maydoon-e naqsh-e jahan or the "reflection of the world" (excuse the rough spelling there). a huge place where the king would sit and overlook a rectangle containing a large grass area (played polo there 400 yrs ago when built), two mosques (one for the men -- bigger; and one for the women -- smaller but more beautiful. . . hmmm, what does that mean?) whose mosaic work was inspiring, and also the bazaars. really a great place i will show you all pictures, but you must really see in person to get the full effect.

on our last day in Isfahan we went to the minar jomboon. a mosque which i think it was built 600 yrs ago. you can climb up this narrow tight stairwell (so tight that even i almost got stuck!) to the top of the minarets and if you push them hard enough they will move! me and my cousin climbed up and shook one of them (which makes the other minaret move as well -- the other side is for women only! segregated minarets. . .). this is 600 yr old brick on top of brick towers way way up in the sky and when i say the shake i mean they really shake! it was quite amazing.

the next morning we woke up early to get on the road for shiraz, where my dad spent a majority of his youth - maybe from 5-17 yrs old. most people think we are wierd to drive places, but we like it. you can see the land and get a better feel for the people and shifting landscapes. the people here stop the cars on the side of the road, or pull them way into a field of grass, a family will empty out of the car, spread a blanket and have a picnic lunch by the highway. seems much better than burger king and taco hell! -- back to the driving for a moment. driving along a one lane highway with no divider for the oncoming cars at about 80 or 90 kilometers per hour. cars will pass each other by making a middle lane shoving cars on either side toward the shoulder! unbelievable!

we pull up to my uncle's wife's house and people are already waiting, and with them is a man holding down a live lamb near a large old wooden bowl with a knife to its throat. less than two seconds after we step out of the car the man cuts the lamb's throat and the blood dumps into the bucket, it kicks and shakes for an impossible freedom, more blood splatters in front of the door. then my uncle's wife approaches with burning incense. . . . what can i say? wow! of course the camera was running but... after the flowing blood slowed, the man dragged it to a type of car port where he blew air into it. he then strung it up onto the wooden frame of the car port and skinned it. and quick. then he cut the lamb open and dug his hands way inside. he reached and gathered and pulled out almost all the insides in one swoop. he set aside certain parts -- i think the liver maybe lungs and heart. i'm not sure, was so hectic.

of course by now he had also cut all the hoofs off and they were just lying in the driveway. he finished cutting off all the hair -- some was left on the head, and lite up a cigeratte while waiting for my aunt's wife to approve of his work and send him off. she approved, cut the lamb down, carried it in a large pan to the front door, did the same with the isolated inards such as the liver, then packed up the unwanted inards in the skin, folded it up and shoved them along with a huge knife into a sack, got a ride and left. . . wow! -- i asked later and they said they did this for me b/c i had never been there, but also for my dad and mom b/c they hadn't been in so long. something i won't forget.

that night, after many hellos to many people we ate and then my dad, cousin and my dad's old friend and i went to a mosque where my dad's mom is buried. . . this morning we went to a regular grave site where his older brother is buried, my uncle. . .

later we visited a place that in my dad's time was a prison -- was fascinating -- they imprisoned all sorts there including those who were against the king. we saw a few other places but the rain forced us in early.

along the way my dad has been showing me all the old places -- those that still remain or haven't changed so much to be unrecognizable: his high school, the streets he used to walk, his path from jr. high to home which was through a bazaar. . . meant a lot to me.

oh, then on our way home i discovered some horrible horrible news (G., this will hurt you the most as you told me you fell in love with them too). we stopped for me to get a shir moze (if you remember a milk banana shake that i fell in love with in Isfahan). the man said he didn't have it but he had other shakes. i said "are there any up the road?" he said "no, you won't find it." "why?" i said. he told me "they have banned it!" "what?" i said, shocked. "i just had it 2 days ago in isfahan." "in isfahan yes, but in shiraz it's been banned." i still cant believe it. shir moze has been banned in shiraz. i don't know what to do. . .

hungry and thirsty from shiraz,
ramin

- Part One
- Part Two
- Part Three
- Part Four

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