First Impressions: The Chador Dance
I know I'm supposed to tell you that my first impression was one of apprehension and culture shock, but no. And I'm glad to report that the AK-47s, fearful glances, and cold shoulders were missing from the scene - yes, I'm being sarcastic. Instead it went like this:
Standing next to me in a short line at Iranian immigration, a Muslim lady in a head-to-toe black chador is overwhelmed by the weight of her luggage in one arm while trying to keep her newborn baby content in the other. Next thing I know, I'm entertaining the little one with silly faces and helping the woman with her bags as she talks to me in an English accent about how glad she is to bring the baby home to Iran. I still can't decide if it was the beautiful baby or the mother's toothy smile that was more disarming. So much for apprehension in a strange new land.
Passing through the customs gate, which looks more like a door meant for kindergartners, I'm whisked away by the friendly Bahman, our Iranian tour guide arranged through Global Exchange. As Bahman explains that his name sounds like "Batman", I almost don't mind that my bags are lost (ok, I'm not always lucky). We pass through Terminal 2 full of happy faces greeting their loved ones and walk out into the hot 7AM sunshine to grab a taxi to Grand Ferdoosi Hotel in Central Tehran. In the words of a Californian, I was getting "good vibes".
Driving out of Mehrabad International, the thumbnail image in the windshield of the Azadi Monument becomes larger and larger until its presence towers over us, letting me know I have now arrived. It is the Freedom Monument with an open, airy, yet stable appeal, built in 1971 to commemorate the 2500 anniversary of the Persian Empire.
And so begins my first entertaining traffic experience in Tehran. It should have been unsettling, even a little scary, but from a simple American's perspective I couldn't help but think someone just shouted "lights, camera, action". Swishing and jerking the taxi through throngs of pedestrians - the very young, old and seemingly ancient faces at times - we'd dodge a body here, near-miss a motorcycle there. Driving deeper into the city, it seemed the long black chadors came out in droves dancing with the traffic. Flowing long black images suddenly darting across a car-length, then a pause, a set of eyes searching for an opening, and another wave of long black cloth darting again. No one was hurt. Everyone flowed. It was like music.
Man doost doram enja ra. Enja kheyli khoub ast.
Standing next to me in a short line at Iranian immigration, a Muslim lady in a head-to-toe black chador is overwhelmed by the weight of her luggage in one arm while trying to keep her newborn baby content in the other. Next thing I know, I'm entertaining the little one with silly faces and helping the woman with her bags as she talks to me in an English accent about how glad she is to bring the baby home to Iran. I still can't decide if it was the beautiful baby or the mother's toothy smile that was more disarming. So much for apprehension in a strange new land.
Passing through the customs gate, which looks more like a door meant for kindergartners, I'm whisked away by the friendly Bahman, our Iranian tour guide arranged through Global Exchange. As Bahman explains that his name sounds like "Batman", I almost don't mind that my bags are lost (ok, I'm not always lucky). We pass through Terminal 2 full of happy faces greeting their loved ones and walk out into the hot 7AM sunshine to grab a taxi to Grand Ferdoosi Hotel in Central Tehran. In the words of a Californian, I was getting "good vibes".
Driving out of Mehrabad International, the thumbnail image in the windshield of the Azadi Monument becomes larger and larger until its presence towers over us, letting me know I have now arrived. It is the Freedom Monument with an open, airy, yet stable appeal, built in 1971 to commemorate the 2500 anniversary of the Persian Empire.
And so begins my first entertaining traffic experience in Tehran. It should have been unsettling, even a little scary, but from a simple American's perspective I couldn't help but think someone just shouted "lights, camera, action". Swishing and jerking the taxi through throngs of pedestrians - the very young, old and seemingly ancient faces at times - we'd dodge a body here, near-miss a motorcycle there. Driving deeper into the city, it seemed the long black chadors came out in droves dancing with the traffic. Flowing long black images suddenly darting across a car-length, then a pause, a set of eyes searching for an opening, and another wave of long black cloth darting again. No one was hurt. Everyone flowed. It was like music.
Man doost doram enja ra. Enja kheyli khoub ast.
posted by Sian Taylor Gowan at 8:18 AM
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