Tehran American Scool


Joey Andrews: Tehran American School, which had been the largest overseas American school of its time, was closed forever in December 1978. The students, families and teachers were scattered to the winds. This song reminds me of all that was lost and left behind.


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iraj khan

I just had to

by iraj khan on

write a few lines after watching this video.

Reminiscing about those days when I was a kid living only a couple blocks from the Americans' neighborhood which of course was a mixed one.

We lived a couple blocks from 'Pole Roomie' a few miles from Tajrish, Shemiran.

I remember Americans rented large houses with huge steel doors and I remember they had dogs, big dogs.

Sometimes we would get chased by one of those dogs but never bitten or hurt.

There was not any interaction between them and us kids but no problems either. I once had the opportunity to go and watch the American basketball team against University of Tehran's team, a great match it was. 

Wonderful collage thanks for posting it here.

Esfand Aashena

Yes the cave has changed a lot.

by Esfand Aashena on

I've only seen it once and in recent years and when we were going through the tour they said a little bit about the history and only in recent years tours had been added along with lights and stuff.

Prior to that it was pretty much you were on your own and truely an adventure!  You should know since you were one of the early visitors! 

Everything is sacred


Ali Sadr Cave

by MerkMan on

I think it must have been. It seemed so much bigger in my memory, and there were no tours aor paddle boats or any touris infrstructure when we visited. Thanks Esfand, nice to be able to put a name to a place.

Esfand Aashena

Ali Sadr cave?

by Esfand Aashena on

MerkMan was it Alisadr cave?  Below are some links and a video clip, don't know if it still works.  You can also search for Ghar Alisadr or Alisadr cave and find more.

Also to our TAS friends consider writing your stories or pictures in your own blogs in the blog section (or as we call it here the belog section ;-) using "Create Content" under your profile.




Everything is sacred


Another story of an American Teenager in Iran, circa 1975? 76?

by MerkMan on

I spent a good deal of time last night looking for the name of an underground lake I visited in Iran a long, long time ago without success. It lives in my memory as one of the most impressive experiences of my young life.

I was an Explorer scout, one step above Boy Scout, and our post took a several day camping trip to a huge underground lake south and west of Tehran, I think. There were about 10 of us and we rode in several motor pool vehicles out into the arid, dusty expanse of a high plateau for a few hours until we came upon your standard Iranian village. A few mud brick buildings and a line of solitary telephone poles supporting a single wire were the only signs of civilization.

We parked our vans and a gentleman dressed in a hoodless robe met us and, after warmly greeting us with his hand on his heart, escorted us to a deep, deep depression. To an opening in the ground secured with an old, old iron gate and lock. He opened the gate for us and we left the surface and sunlight behind. Toting all our gear further down we descended far into the darkness to a boat landing and ancient wooden pier jutting out into a watery pool. Illuminated by the glow of our Colemans and flashlights we assembled our rafts and stripped down to our swim suits, securing our overclothes in plastic for protection. Being a co-ed group and all teenagers this was a bit titillating, disrobing with the girls in this dark mysterious space, but we were here on a mission, exploration.

As I recall the story, this place was known to the locals for millennia but the lake had only recently come to the attention of the world through photographs taken from space by Skylab. The pictures revealed an immense body of water miles and miles across and completely underground. National Geographic had mounted an expedition to it a few years before and I believe another private group had also been there. We were the third modern expedition.

After inflating our raft and negotiating our canoe onto the completely still and glassine surface of what little of the lake we could see, we began to paddle into the darkness. Fascinated by the immense space and eerie geography of the place we paddled into the darkness slowly. The further we went the fewer and fewer words we spoke, our teenage chatter losing out to the impressiveness of what we were seeing. We had traveled for hours and hundreds meters into the cavern, through narrows and crevasses, occasionally carrying our crafts as the walls closed tight in places, so tight our canoe could not fit through on the surface. We did this for hours and then, propelled by or oars and enthusiasm we entered a space so vast and so immense I hesitate to describe it

The roof of this place was a hundred meters or more above our heads, so high in fact our puny flashlights barely illuminated the ceiling. Descending from that lofty height were hundreds of stalagtites, monstrously wide at their base and no bigger around than the tip of your little finger where they met the surface of the lake. We were so impressed with the sight it took a great while before we peered down into the abyss below. We were floating on a pane of glass, on water so perfectly crystal clear that when we pointed our flashlights into the depths you could see its beam pierce the surface and expand in an ever widening cone through the crystal clear liquid. Like a barely perceptible spotlight it shone a path through the water down a hundred meters or more, so far down we could not make out the bottom, only the trail of the light piercing that darkness was visible. A tenuous and ephemeral cone of dim illumination penetrating as far as my green Boy Scout flashlight could go, vanishing into the blackness beyond.

Then, we turned off all our lights.

When you enter a fine car and shut the door there’s a feeling of snugness, a satisfying “Whoomf” of being sealed in, of the air pressure increasing ever so slightly. Likewise when the door is pulled shut on an airliner, the very air around you seems to take on a denser, more tangible quality, a subtle closeness. The feeling that occurred when that total, indescribable darkness enveloped us was akin to that but magnified. Multiplied many times by what our eyes had seen, the enrapture that took place when the lamps went out and that total and utter darkness engulfed us had a substance, a feeling I simply can’t describe. The scale of the space and the feeling of insignificance it instilled in me bordered on the religious.

In that moment a line from genesis rose from my subconscious, “And the earth was without form, and void; and darkness was upon the face of the deep. And the Spirit of God moved upon the face of the waters.” In that darkness I felt alone. We had all quieted ourselves and we let the darkness press close against us. I knew there was a person within inches of me, but there was no sign of them. I knew there were people seeing what I was seeing, sitting less than an arm’s length of me, but we were separated by a distance in that darkness I have never known before or since.

I was filled with a sense of total, utter and complete isolation. Time itself seemed to evaporate into the void that surrounded me and the clammy arms of the chill, inky, tangible blackness embraced me. After a few moments of silence my ears began to open up and I could hear sounds penetrating the void. Drip, drip drip, drip. After uncountable millennia the stalagtites were still alive, growing with the seepage of water through the vast layer of rock above our heads. Their presence announced by the pure water falling off their tips to the surface of the lake below. Some dripped from a great height and others from rounded tips just barely above the surface of the lake, their points eroded smooth by eons of water lapping at their tips, water stirred perhaps by the many earthquakes the region is cursed with. After some time it I was able the discern that dripping of the stalagtites from the lapping of the ripples our boats were making against the rocky edge of the lake now many hundreds of meters away.

There’s no telling how long our lamps were off but after a seeming eternity we again began speaking and all flicked on their flashlights welcoming the feeble illumination they provided. In the quiet commotion that followed the return of our sight one of our crew accidently dropped a Coleman silver flashlight with the red top into the water, we watched if sink. It seemed to descend in slow motion. I fell slow enough that we had time to realize an opportunity and we all again, turned out our lamps.

We watched that little flashlight fall away from us for what seemed like forever. Battery end first it plunged into the depths with its bulb and beam pointed skyward. In the darkness its beam could be seen penetrating the water from below, shining through the lake. It finally stopped falling, burying its bottom into the sediment on the cavern floor but it continued to shine. It continued, broadcasting its light up in a widening cone through the utterly transparent, ancient water and breaking the surface in a vast dim circle, perhaps fifty or one hundred meters across. A spread of light originating from a single sharp point far below, transparent as it made its way up through the water and directly visible only as it penetrated the surface. We were again hushed by what we were seeing. We floated there in silence, drifting slowly away from the spot where the light had fallen, our eyes becoming more accustomed to the available light when someone looked up. From afar, away from the source of illumination, we could see the invisible beam break the surface of the water only to show itself again on the roof of this geologic cathedral. One hundred meters or more, up on the craggy ceiling of this immense space was a circle of light so dim as to be almost imperceptible and so broad that it seemed impossible to have been created by the tiny bulb in that campers flashlight. Again we hovered there stunned and amazed. Earth, Water and Sky all represented so many many meters below ground, truly spectacular.

There is much more to this little adventure, and several other the Explorers and I undertook while we lived in Iran, perhaps I’ll tell them later. For now, I have a life to live here, and work to do but the person I am, and the outlook I hold was shaped in more than a small way in that vast cavern of water below that arid dusty plateau in Iran.

Mersi Iran azizam, kheli ma’am noon.


Pirates .... arg!

by Joey_Andrews on

I loved going to the pirate tape stores in Tehran when I was a kid. Always run by young hip guys who got the latest records from the west then duped them onto cassette. The LPs often didn't fill the tape so they'd add more music. I'd buy a Rolling Stones tape and there would be half of a Pink Floyd album tagged on as filler. I always thought that was cool and looked forward to what I would find on the next tape. A little extra hospitality, as if it wasn't good enough to just give you what you paid for. That little extra was important to keep you coming back. It was interesting reading "Persepolis" and seeing the same guys selling tapes on the street after the revolution. From the stores to the underground.

Esfand Aashena

Joey probably same thing that happened to my albums in America!

by Esfand Aashena on

I kid you not in early 80s during hostage crisis my apartment was vandalized/burglarized and they stole and broke bunch of my stuff.  I didn't have much but they stole few things I had.

Funny thing they took my box of LPs and I guess it was heavy for them or they couldn't run with it so they left it on lawn in front of the apartment's entrance!  When I got back it was raining and the albums had gotten soaked!

I still have a lot of cassettes but they're in basement and I don't know what to do with them!  Every once in a while (don't remember the last time ;-) I listen to something in an old cassette but LPs are long gone!

How many Technics players did we buy?!  Remember those combo radio/cassette/vinyl players with covers and two speakers?!  No one bothers with stereo systems like we used to!  It's now all iPods and stuff! 

Everything is sacred

Esfand Aashena

Portraits of happy American tourists in Iran!

by Esfand Aashena on


Rock'n'roll Tehran

by Joey_Andrews on

When I left Tehran in September '78 I went with a suitcase. I was 17 and left behind boxes of rock music cassette tapes, my stereo, books, and posters of Pink Floyd, Queen, Kiss, and Aerosmith on my wall. I've wondered what happened to all my stuff after I left. Was it just torn down, thrown away or burned...or did some of it linger on. When I see young Persian cats rocking away to Pink Floyd, it brings a smile to my face.

Esfand Aashena

Yes of course!

by Esfand Aashena on

Marianne yes of course you can use the links, here's another one by an American tourist from Sanford, FL.  Notice my comment in that thread as well! hahaha!


Joey I think there will be a day when Iranian American relations will be similar to that of Vietnamese, I just don't know if we'll live long enough to see it, I think so, I hope so.

The American and Western culture never left Iran.  During Norooz and new year festivities they show American movies in TV with Farsi dubbing!  Such a contradiction with all the propaganda but it is what it is! Julia Roberts and Tom Cruise are everywhere! 

Everything is sacred


Thank you Esfand! The links

by bgraphic on

Thank you Esfand! The links to the photos are wonderful! Some of the pictures brough tears to my eyes. I did travel to Tabriz when I lived in Iran in the 70's but would love to go back as a more educated adult. May I share the links to these two sites on my page?




I hear you, Esfand. :-)

by Joey_Andrews on

All very true, Esfand. We think with our hearts sometimes more than our heads. I believe my classmate was thinking along the lines of some of the documentaries that have shown American soldgiers returning to Vietnam - a connection of peoples - not governments. But you are right, now is not the time under the current regime. I've had several Iranian friends tell me that it's not safe for me to return to Iran. My wife forbids it too, and she has the final word. :-) We'll hope for better days. Aloha from Hawaii!

Esfand Aashena

Well! Joey I never said make a documentary or something!

by Esfand Aashena on

Thank you for the compliment but I just meant going as a basic visitor and laying low, with a tour!  I definitely do not recommend you or anyone else go there to make a documentary!  Especially as "happy Americans returning to Iran'!  No sirrrri bob!  What were you thinking?!

Who are we kidding, we all know what the heck goes on there and as you mentioned we do NOT support the current regime but the land and people for the most part are there.

Don't even mention ever going to TAS, just sorry no English or in your case no Farsi and me no politics! 

Everything is sacred


A Sort of Homecoming

by Joey_Andrews on

Thank you for the travel examples, Esfand. One of our fellow classmates was planning a possible Tehran American School alumni trip to Tehran and making a documentary of that trip, but ran into roadblocks from the US State Department. This was several years ago and they were very dismissive of the whole idea. They voiced safety concerns but I personally think the idea of 'Happy Americans returning to Iran' didn't play well either. As we all know, the USA is in a cold war with the IRI and on the brink of a hot one. I hope that cooler heads prevail and that war is avoided, and that one day soon we can take that trip. Thank you for all your comments and your hospitailty. It feels like a touch of our old home. :-)  Here's a little peace page some of us put together. https://www.facebook.com/AmericanExpatsReachOutToIran

Esfand Aashena

Marianne you can still go.

by Esfand Aashena on

I for one am hoping that the new negotiations will bear fruit and ease tensions and talk of war so people can breath a little easier and visit each other.

You can still go and visit Iran which is not far from Turley as you mentioned.  Below are two such examples of foreign visitors visiting Iran.  There are more but I just did a quick search for these two:



Everything is sacred


Esfand, I know it will

by bgraphic on


I know it will never be the same as what it once was, nothing ever is, however I'm pretty sure just the sights, the smells and walking the streets will bring back the best of memories for me. I hope someday we can all go back, experience of past memories and come back with new ones just as meaningful. I was lucky to get to go to Turkey last summer and as I traveled from city to city, I found myself glancing southwest towards Iran more times than I can count. So close and yet so far.... One day soon I can only hope.

Please help us spread our message of peace and visit our page link, "like" us and share us with your friends.



It was a Privilege

by Lilly on

I attended TAS High School in the 70s and I loved living in Iran and miss it very much.

It was truly an honor and a privilege to live side by side with Iranian people whom I now consider my family and countrymen.

Iran is a mystical land filled with warmhearted, lively, kind and friendly souls. I do hope to return and enjoy that again!

In the interim I wish my Iranian Brothers and Sisters well and for an Iran that they deem best for themselves.

Thank you for allowing me to experience the beauty of your country and to grow up in such an amazing place.


A Very Small World

by Faramarz on

Thanks Steven.

The very first time that I was pulled over by CHP, it was late at night, I was speeding and ran a red light too, like the way we drive in Iran late at nights where you stop at green, but run the red light! Out of fear, I didn’t even stop for a few blocks. I thought for sure that I was in for a night at the county jail.

After he checked my driver’s license and registration, he asked where I was from. I told him that I was an Iranian student. The guy smiled and told me that he was a Peace Corp volunteer in Iran in the late 60’s and his wife taught English at the Iran-American Society where I also attended and learned English.

He said that he had a great time in Iran and really liked the people that he met over there. He then let me go without giving me a ticket or anything but told me that if he catches me again driving like this, I might as well rip my own driver’s license and throw it out of the window!



Merci Faramarz!

by MerkMan on

On behalf of my classmates I thank you for your kind words. A great many of us long to see our old home town, tehran, and all the other places we remember from childhood. We know that the people of both our countries can be, no, will be good friends again. Peace doostam!

Esfand Aashena

Fond memories of Dizin minus the alchohol!

by Esfand Aashena on

Mark, Dizin was a great place, it still is and I hope one winter I can go back and ski there again.  I loved that place as well and enjoyed going up and down the hill and meeting foreigners on the way up in the gondala.

We got up early so we can hit the slopes as early as they opened or close to it so we didn't get to dance in the car (or mini bus ;-) and I was with my father so I couldn't drink vodka and was too young anyway!  I think I had a cigarette or two once or twice atop the mountain just so I could look cool and feel grown up!

Dancing in mini buses or buses is an Iranian tradition and it still goes on.  Few years ago we went on a bus tour and the bus driver played songs and many clapped and danced in the bus.  Imagine showing such emotions on a bus ride to NYC!  Oh I just remembered once in 1980 during hostage crisis they put us Iranian students in a bus and took us to an immigration office by the Canadian border for finger printing, pictures, affidavits, etc.

An hour or two into our trip and we started clapping dancing and singing!  The poor bus driver seemed very afraid and confused but we carried on! 

Everything is sacred


Short story about my time in Tehran, '72-'77

by MerkMan on


The tricked out mini bus had tassels hanging from the windows
and a cassette player boom box for a stereo. We used to catch it at the end of
my kuche' for the treacherous ride to Dizin. After piling our skis into the bus
we would climb on and begin the party! As our driver weaved through the noisy,
smoggy chaotic traffic of the city we would break out the bota bags filled with
wine or vodka and orange juice and the tunes would start blasting, the
cigarettes would get fired up and we would have a great time on the 2 or 3 hour
ride to the mountains. Parking in the lot above the halfway house we’d exit the
bus, cheeks rosy from the chill and alcohol, strap on our ski’s and glide down
to catch the lift for the first run of the day. Americans, Germans, Iranians,
French and Italians, half the world’s countries seemed to be represented on
those slopes. You never knew what language the people that got into the gondola
with you would speak.

After learning to ski on the baby hills at Ab-Ali the place
to go to really enjoy yourself was Dizin, the more serious skiers often went to
Shemshak for a greater challenge.

We’d spend the day going up and down, often taking a break at
the halfway house for some tea and bad food but I remember crystal clean snow,
brilliant blue skies and total friendship with any and everyone on the hill.
Some of my fondest memories of Iran were of the times I spent skiing with
friends, meeting so many different people and the insane ride up and down the
mountain. Overhangs that seemed to low to go under, crazy drivers passing us on
blind turns, overloaded truck, cars and motorcycles carrying all manner of
goods and all the while having ‘70’s Rock and Roll playing on the stereo.
Sometimes, when our driver felt particularly festive he would stick one of his
favorite Farsi tunes in the player and we would dance in the aisles of the bus
in a Persian fashion, arms out, hips swaying, fingers snapping. We may not have
understood the words but we felt the music.

So loved that time of my life and still love the Iranians I
meet here in the States and those that still live in my old home town, Tehran.

So happy to have someplace to share this with you,

Merci my dears,

Steven B


Esfand Aashena

Well it's very very crowded now!

by Esfand Aashena on

Joey I believe you are right, you can still go to Darband (not necessarily Tajrish as that median is now busy with traffic) or Darakeh and have a tea or food and reminisce.

Tehran is a little like NYC when the population changes by day (work) and night (home) and during the day you can have as many as 14M - 15M and during the evening about 12M - 13M.  Compare that to the 3.5M that used to be in the 70s.

The traffic noise level is the first thing you notice when you walk in the streets.  The second thing is the armada of motorcycles busting through lanes and ziping here and there.  Recently there have cracking down on motorcycles and giving them tickets but they're just too many.

All and all I think for someone like you a trip for a one time visit would be good/enough.  You can go to places and be a tourist and satisfy your urge and have fun.  Although I don't know you and you may like to visit more!  I know of few Americans who were married to Iranians and went to Iran for visits.  I also know of tours so it can be done, tour probably easier.  Good luck! 

Everything is sacred


Time moves on

by Joey_Andrews on

Yes, Esfand, I've spent lots of time on Google Earth and am bewildered when I look at modern Tehran. So different from when I lived there. There are areas of Tajirsh and Darband that look familiaer to me but the rest is so different. Strangely, the American High School and the Lavizan campus look almost exactly the same. The high school is now some sort of Institute and the Elementary School at Lavizan is a community college. I still want to go back if just to sit in a teahouse at Darband and soak up the sounds of the city again.

Esfand Aashena

Joey and Marianne the streets of Tehran r nothing like it were.

by Esfand Aashena on

I too am a class of 79 but oddly enough from a HS in America!  I had the same feelings as you two with so much good memories from childhood.

When I went back after 20 some odd years I was so looking forward to retracing my steps in the streets of Tehran.  Unfortunaley all those places are either gone or in dire need of maintenance.  Pictures of Khomeini and Khamenei are on the entrance of many schools including the one I used to go to.

I think the TAS ended up being a training ground for Revolutionary Guards or something during the war and it's probably a property of Guards as we speak.

I still go to Iran for visits but the feeling of my first trip is never matched.  As an Iranian I look beyond good old memories now and share life with my family as they've grown through this period as well.

You should go and visit with a tour one of these days before Israel attacks Iran. NOT! NOT of course for an attack but YES for you visiting again. 

Everything is sacred


Capitulation Blues

by Joey_Andrews on

I was one of those TAS kids. I didn't know anything about the "Capitulation" law and almost nothing of the '53 overthrow or CIA involvement in Iran. I was just a naive teenager enjoying the big city. When we arrived in Tehran the American Embassy gave us a little pamphlet about drug use which mentioned indefinte detentions and possible firing squads. It also spelled out that the Embassy would do nothing for us if we were caught with drugs... but it was the 1970s and with no liquor laws and hashish everywhere, some of my memories are blurry to say the least.

One of my favorite memories of Tehran is a simple one. We lived about 6-8 blocks from the Jolfa High School campus. Close enough that I used to walk to school every morning. At home it was stale cereal and powered milk, so I skipped that breakfast and stopped at the neighboorhood kuchi store on the way to school. Next to the store was a bakery where I'd get my barbari. I'd sit behind the store drinking my Fanta Orange and eating my barbari with butter. The day workers would be chatting away and having their breakfast too. Business men would be sipping tea and reading the newspaper, and there I'd be - a goofy American kid going unnoticed and chomping away on the bread I still dream about. Good times.  


Welcome Joey and Marianne

by Faramarz on

Every American that I have met that was in Iran in the 70's has great memories of their stay there. Iranians as hospitable people feel ashamed of what happened to you guys who were our invited guests back in the 70's. But hopefully soon, you will be able to go back and re-trace your steps!

Meanwhile, please write about your experience there, your house, your friends and anything that you wish.

We all shared the same experience back in the 70's!


Tehran was my home...

by bgraphic on

I too was a student at The American School in Tehran from 1974-1979. My memories of Iran are some of the greatest and sweetest of my life. I lived on a regular residential street where the iranian boys, teenagers and college students played "football", My family and I made friends with our Iranian neighbors, we ate dinner with them, we took vacations to the Caspian Sea with them, we celebrated their marriages, the birth of their children and granchildren, I let the landlord's sisters brush and style my long blond hair. My sister watched their children and volunteered at a local orphanage. I roamed the streets with my friends, shopped at the koochie stores and the Grand baazar, we ate at the local restaurants and Ray's Pizza. danced at the local clubs. I miss my Irainan friends and wonder often what became of them after I had to leave.

My school was a an old hospital at one time (so I was told) but it had character. Our teachers were some of the best. I was chosen to dance on the roof top at the Museum of Contemporary Art with my Modern Dance Class for a special event with the Shaw and top Military leaders. It was a fun and very exciting night.

My family traveled constantly. I was born in Luxembourg and became a nauralized citizen of the US in 1966. I have lived and traveled all over the world but my favorite was and always will be the time I spent in Tehran. While it's been 34 years since I have been there, it will always remain a sweet and tender place in my heart.

It breaks my heart that so many people do not understand the people of Iran, they are good and gracious people. They also want peace just as we do. Please don't judge a country or it's people without understanding and educationg yourself of just what it is you are judging. Please visit a page that has been created by myself and other Tehran American School alumni for Iranians, Israelis and Americans who wish for a proud peace between our great nations. 



سلام !



Aloha from Hawai'i!

by Joey_Andrews on

Imagine my surprise when I saw my little 'trip down memory lane' on Iranian.com! I created this slideshow from photographs posted by Tehran American School alumni. I'm part of that would-be Class of '79. As with many of my classmates, our rememberances of life in Iran are good ones. It was home to us and dearly missed when we departed. When people ask me about 'culture shock', I tell them the only time I felt that was when I arrived in Kansas after leaving Iran. Going from the big city of Tehran to a small Kansas farm town was a huge shock.

Gone with the Wind... yes. Scattered to the Winds, yes to that too. 30 to 50,000 Americans departed Iran in a matter of months. We all lost contact with each another in the exodus though many have reconnected now, 30 years later, through social media. As a teenager, I didn't understand what was going on, only that I was ripped from my home, school and friends and that I could never return. That song, "Wish You Were Here" speaks to those feelings and that place in time. It's my dream to go back one day and walk the streets of Tehran. I feel like I left a piece of my heart there and need to go back and find it. I hope a day will come when I can.

If you are interested, I've written a historical fiction novel based on teen years in Iran. It's called "Sons of the Great Satan" http://amzn.to/w2vpJx It's on Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Apple Ibook - everywhere you can download e-books. It was writtern to share all of my emotions and thoughts of that time, a time that was only three years in length but looms large in my memory. Here's a little trailer I did for the book. http://vimeo.com/24391130

Myself and other TAS alumnis started a Peace Page on facebook. https://www.facebook.com/AmericanExpatsReachOutToI... We do NOT support the current regime, but we also don't support going to war with Iran.

Aloha nui loa, Anthony 

G. Rahmanian

And I say!

by G. Rahmanian on

Death to criminal Islamists who brought death and destruction to Iran.


I used to study at Hadaf #3

by PArviz on

Thanks for the trip down memory lane. The slide show brought back so many nice memories and with Pink Floyd playing in the background, just perfect.

I used to study at Hadaf #3 high school which was a stone's throw from the American school.

In 1976 or 1977, they asked our school to send a football team to play against theirs. I was 15-16 years old and was chosen to play in our school's team. The American school, as far as I remember, had a very nice yard with lots of trees, it looked more like a park than a school.

Anyway, there were tens (maybe even hundreds) of spectators all around the pitch. I had never played in front of so many spectators and they all supported the opposing team. We were not sure what was going to happen and did not know how good or bad their team was.

Soon after the game started, it was clear that someone was going to get their asses kicked and it wasn't us. We dealt them a humiliating defeat and after the first 10  minutes we concentrated more on the blonde girls amongst the spectators than the game. We won something like 13-1.

The Americans should have realized that change was coming :D.

Down with the ENTIRE Islamic Republic!