Promise I will be writing more often now that I am settled. Although I'm sure the idea of me no longer reporting current events but rather just telling past stories makes this blog a lot less interesting to many of you who at one point or another actually followed me, I will write here just to have it for my own records. Furthermore because now I am telling stories of past rather than reporting on current events, I will no longer keep the entries in present tense like I did in my previous entries. I hope you find my writings an interesting read.
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I woke up on this day in Rasht. It was our first day there, at this very hot and humid place, and even though I eventually ended up enjoying Rasht more than any other place we visited throughout our three weeks in Iran, on this morning I had yet to fall in love with Rasht.
It was only about 8 in the morning, and we had just came in town late the night before, but we had to wake up to go site-seeing. I was seriously considering skipping the day portion of the activities. I have mentioned I did this a few times in the past. Instead of go out to see something “really important,” I would just sit around, take a nap, or read a book. Usually after my mom and sister would come back with my aunt and I would ask them how this “important” thing was it would turn out I had not missed much. It would just be another set of paintings you barely understood, or a forested area, or a rubble. I mean at some point you just have sensory overload and instead of seeing the sites for what they are and learning something you just make neat little catalog of objects (urn, big pots, broken rocks, lady paintings, animal paintings, cool buildings, ect.). In order to keep myself sane, I would just sometimes skip the activity.
However, the few hours I had with this family the night before really made me want to give whatever it was we were doing on this day a shot. Looking back I can say it was the best decision I made during my entire trip throughout Iran. The 8 of us (Me, my mom, sister, aunt, uncle, uncle's friend, wife, and 20 year old daughter) went to Anzali, about 45 minutes outside of Rasht, in two cars, one theirs and one a taxi.
Anzali is one of the most beautiful places I saw on my trip. Having one of the world's largest lagoons, Anzali is surrounded by forests bursting with wild-life that is supported by the lagoon’s fish and amphibians that live within the beautiful water-Lillie topped lagoon. Once there, for $50, we were able to take a 45minute boat ride that took us around the lagoons. If I were not so lazy to not have uploaded my Iran pictures on facebook I would tell you to go see the pictures.
The boat was small, old, and rackety which made the boat feel like it was flying through the water even though it was probably only going 20mph.The guy was a blast and despite the terror-filled pleas from my mom and sister to slow down, he would turn wildly, tipping the boat wildly to one side and the other. It was to the point where me shoulder was nearly parallel to the water. Yet I felt completely safe for one reason: the middle aged man driving the boat, he stood in flip-flops and no life jacket on a slippery deck while all of us sitting down kept clutching at our seat in total fear that we were about to end up personally testing the at BEST questionable set of life-jackets we were strapped into.
Anywho, we went around the lake and saw the water-lilies and some frogs and couple random houses built in the middle of the lagoon. I will eventually post the pics so look for them on facebook. I really suck at describing the beauty and details of this lagoon I feel.
After the boat ride we walked around and while the daughter went to see an old place where she went to school, having used to live in this area instead of Rasht, us remaining 7 went to get Persian ice-cream. After talking, eating ice-cream, and taking some pictures, we walked a few feet and for a few pennies a shot, shot an air-gun. It was actually, weirdly, the first thing I had ever shot in my life. At 21, shooting an air-gun in Rasht, aiming at this random poster advertising for a play with the make-shift bulls-eye being a small, usually white, space inside one of the letters in the writing that has now been colored in yellow. Yeah. I will not forget that one.
After all the shenanigans of the morning session were over we took a taxi ride back home. Now in normal countries taxi rides would not be huge things to write about. However, from my stories so far (if you have been reading my blog) you should know Iran is not a normal country. This taxi ride quickly turned into a tale of corruption that extends from the top of government down to local individuals. These taxi drivers have to buy a GPS to control their speed. You see, in Iran people drive like maniacs. I mean it is by far crazier than ANYTHING you can imagine and I have explained it in a bit of detail before. It is so bad the taxis keep a GPS with a flash-drive connected to it and the GPS knows the speed-limit of the streets and notes when the driver goes over. Then to get his driving privileges for the month, the driver must show his USB drive to the local authorities, who after viewing the times the driver goes over posted speed limit charge him some fines.
However insane the whole process sounds, it is really the corruption within it that caught my attention. We talked about the way the type of GPS is controlled by the government, leading to a monopoly that causes the price of the GPS to be monstrously high. Then there is a lack of replacement parts that causes people to have to buy new units instead of wait weeks for parts and be without the ability to drive people around and make money live. Even after it is put in place, the thing becomes utterly uselessness as a way to control the crazy taxi driver’s speed because the “fines” that are marked, well at the end of the month when the taxi-driver takes his flash-drive to be inspected by the officers he slips the officer about $5 to blindly reset the thing and just not charge him the fines.
After coming back we had lunch. MAN I love Persian food that is made in Iran. I mean that ENTIRE part. I don’t just love Persian food. I love Persian food that is made in Iran. It tastes SOOO MUCH different than any Persian food you can have in America. Like even what my mom makes in Iran tastes better than in America. The food there tastes sooo natural it is awesome. Anywho, after feasting on dinner and taking a two hour nap, we were about to go out again. Something that morning had told me to get myself to go to Anzali, which was an absolute blast. Now only a few hours later, I was about to start a 1.5 hour shuttle ride to a new place called Mosooleh. The only reason I was able to get myself to go was because I had a little crush on Rasht all the sudden after the fun I had at Anzali and wanted to know more. After-all, sometimes on vacations you just push yourself past what you “want” to do in hopes of discovering something. Well, if Anzali was able to get me to have a crush on the trip to Rasht (a trip I might add we almost canceled because of the packed schedule), Mosooleh made me fall head-over-hills in love.
Firstly it was the ride. I mean we put on music and the women sang songs and then the music was off and suddenly this book was out that had some songs I had NEVER heard of, except one, yet everyone in the car knew and sang together. It was just all surreal.
If that little experience was not enough to make satisfied of the night, the 1.5 ride got us to the crème de le crème of the day, Mossoleh. About 1.5 hours away from Rasht, Mosooleh is a little town set within a mountain-side that is known for its beautiful unique architectural quality where the roof-tops of one set of houses serve as front-yard of the other houses, Mosooleh now is mainly an ironic tourist destination. You see, the town was often a stop of iron-traders hundreds of years ago who were traveling along the nearby trade-rout. They would stop at Mosooleh and rest before continuing on. Because of this, the town is filled with restaurants and shops to used to cater to these traders. Now hundreds of years later, although the traders are long gone, tourists have more than kept this little town’s traditions alive. However, the town is much more modernized and connected to the world now. The stores have turned from selling items made in Mosooleh to selling items made in China. And although sad, I think it is beautiful that these families have lived in these areas and adapted and made themselves thrive. We spent about three hours in Mosooleh walking through the shops, eating food, and smoking Hookah. It was a beautiful, beautiful night and it was finished off fittingly with a nice little 15minute walk to our shuttle in the cool star-filled night air.
We sang a bit more on the way back and came home around 11. Now you would think the night is over. I mean I said Mosooleh was the crème de la crème of the day and I was not lying. However, the next 4 hours were a PERFECT cherry on top.
We had a nice little light dinner where we ate, talked, and drank. Yes there is alcohol there. In fact I sometimes think people drink more there than here. And with a couple of drinks, and talking and just having a blast we put on music and people started dancing a bit. It was all so odd that only after meeting these people for a day, we were able to have so much fun with them. It is definitely a testament to their easy-going character. Anywho. After our sing and dancing was done, we watched a little photo slide-show of a trip these people took with the other family friends of ours who a few weeks earlier we had gone to northern Iran with to our cabin. It was at that moment that I realized why I liked this family so much and felt so comfortable with them. They were so similar, in all the good ways. A fun, caring, educated family that likes to explore and have a good time. Everyone went to bed. I stayed up and played Spades a little while with the daughter but we were just exhausted so we called it quits a short time after.
NOT a bad little day.
