Couch surfing in Kashan! My host, Javad, met me at the bus stop, hurried me through lunch to take me to the Bagh-e-Fin gardens with a group of his English students. A very scary exercise as he used his mobile phone all the way, to film me, to look for music, to text! This by the way is extremely common, but terrifyingly scary. The traffic being mad as it is without the added complexity of mobile phone!
Bagh-e-Fin Gardens were beautiful. It is the place where the martyr Mirza Taqi Khan, better known as Amir Kabir was killed or killed himself. History is a bit vague on the how and what exactly happened. Either way he ended up dead. The water at the gardens comes from a seven thousand year old spring, it is luke – warm. I wished it was boiling hot so I could sit in it for hours.
Just before I left home, I had a fall off my bike, same as I did three years ago. (My father would say it is stupidity, to make the same mistake twice! )But due to this stupidity I am in a lot of pain. A hot soothing bubble bath is just what my inner doctor would order! Not so. I ate my very first pistachio ice cream. Have I told you about the Iranian ice cream?? I could do a whole blog about it! Last night I had saffron ice cream and tomorrow I hope to eat SPAGHETTI ice cream! REALLY,! In’shallah!
The worst things in Iran are, the traffic, I might have mentioned that before, the money, it has so many zeros, but people say fifteen when they mean a hundred and fifty thousand!! The official money is rial but people tell you the price in toman! Just to make sure it is even more confusing! Luckily people are really honest.the taxi driver whom I gave five hundred thousand to, gave back my money, went through my wallet to find the fifty thousand note. Personally I would suggest to drop at least five zeros, and call the money by just ONE name. Now there is rial, but people call it toman all very confusing!
The thing I hate the most is the request for selfies, hundreds, no thousands in a day! I have spoken to other people in the hotel who don’t have this problem, but with my blue eyes I resemble Angelina Joli, ah, the weight of fame! All young women want selfies with me and put them on Instagram!
Now I have been introduced to Insta- gram by my daughter, who sat me down for a serious talk about the facts of life! She has been running my Instagram account for the last year, but I am now considered old enough to do it myself. Another bloody thing to do on top of e -mail, Facebook and TripAdvisor!! And of course my famous blob! It all feels terribly like homework to me!!My next trip is certainly going to be without any gadgets! Although to be fair, here EVERYONE has Insta, as they call it. It is rather hard to get onto Facebook as it is blocked by the government. It is worth for American apple products. I need an app called VPN on my i pad to get to Facebook!!
Okay, after I was relieved from the papparazie, I was taken to an English school. For just ” half an hour” which turned into over two hours. I was exhausted! At least I could understand this English teacher, but he had some ” strange” expressions. He asked me if I was knackered! I nearly fell of my chair! I WAS knackered ,but that is NOT how to ask an elderly woman how she feels! I wish he had left the room, there were seven woman there and we would have had a lovely chat about womanly things. Instead the women had to ” intuit” what kind of a person I was! Very judgemental!! The next class was beginners and was lovely.
By now I am completely ” knackered” to stay in the local language. I was then taken to a friend’s house where I was told to draw a picture for their eight year old child, as there was a city wide competition and if I drew it, she would win! Duh?? I offered to help the little girl, which impressed no one! Then music was put on and I was ordered to dance! Since I have never , ever, done anything in my life, that others have ordered me to do, I said NO, this went down like the proverbial. I am NOT performing monkey! It was now nine thirty, no dinner, up since five am. Totally ready to go home to bed.
My host drove me out of town!! What the……..? Nine kilometres later of horrific driving and texting, I arrived at my small independent apartment. It was eleven o’ clock!! Still NO food!! Thank god for some small mandarins and biscuits left from the bus trip. I washed some clothes and at twelve thirty I was ready to drop.
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