It has always amazed me that even some well educated Iranian women accept without comment the statements made by shop owners and salesmen. Don’t they know that these guys will tell you anything just so you’ll buy? But I must admit, when you try to correct them, you’ll end up with a fight, so perhaps the ladies would rather ignore them?
Some years ago, my good friend Barbara got me started on quilting. She makes very beautiful quilts in large quantities, and I did my best to talk her into giving one to me. No such luck, but she did teach me the basic principles of quilting and presented me with enough material for several quilts. I have enjoyed quilting ever since, even though I do not produce master pieces. Most of the quilting necessities I must bring from abroad, as cotton thread and materials, quilting needles, magazines, etc., etc., are not available in Iran.
One day I had run out of cotton thread and even though I knew better, I went to the Tajrish bazar in Northern Tehran to see if I could find any. Of course not. In the last shop I tried, I explained to the shop owner what I needed and hallelujah, he had cotton thread. But when I picked up the spool he had put in front of me, I saw that the label mentioned “100% polyester”. So that’s what I told him. His firm answer was “No, there’s cotton in it also”.
This time I decided not to argue but I couldn’t help laughing. That was the wrong thing to do as his verbal abuse was worse than it would have been if we had argued.
Therefore ladies, when shopping in Iran, remember that the shop owner is king.
Just like myself, my friend Christina is not a very enthusiastic cook. We are firm believers in cooking Dutch style: bread with cheese or jam for breakfast, sandwiches for lunch and a simple hot meal for dinner.
Not bread, pancakes!
Christina loved her Iranian in-laws dearly and was happy when they came to visit her in Holland for a month, but cooking for them drove her crazy. At that time, the older generation in Iran used to eat two hot meals a day, which meant that elderly housewives spent most of their time in the kitchen. This was one aspect of grandpa and grandma’s visit that Christina was not too happy about. Moreover, she was quickly running out of ideas as to what to cook for them. One bright morning, she decided to make pancakes for lunch. She was sure grandpa and grandma would like them. Grandma was curious to see how they were made and sat in the kitchen to observe the whole procedure. As the baking got along, grandma started to look more and more concerned and finally could not stop herself from blurting out: “The next time you want to bake bread, I’ll do it because you just don’t know how.”
After 20 years, Christina still gets upset when we laugh about this episode.
I knew it was going to be bad, but in reality it’s so much worse than I thought it would be. I could live with the painters, who only broke a glass table, scratched up a solid wooden cabinet, dropped and broke some porcelain statues and made a mess when they sanded the walls and ceilings. I survived all of that. But then arrived a very nice gentleman who would repair and fix my parquet floor. At the same time some carpenters would fix the stairway and several doors to the bathrooms. They took the doors with them so they could fix them in their own workshop. So there I was: radiators taken outside as the floors beneath them needed fixing (and it was freezing at night), not a toilet or bathroom in the house with a door, and my whole house, including everything stored inside the closets, covered with a thick layer of dust because of the abrasing of the parquet floors. That’s when I started to cry. And what a coincidence! It was Tasua when all of Iran cries for the death of Imam Hossein. This was the first time ever that I cried with them.
Even before the Revolution, one had to put a lot of effort into celebrating Christmas in Iran. However, because of the large number of foreigners living here at that time, it was possible to make the day enjoyable. Christmas trees and ornaments were available everywhere, American turkeys could be bought in the supermarkets, Christmas carols were played on radio and TV and Iranians in the street wished us a “Happy New Year”. They always mixed up Christmas and New Year’s Eve and then applied the rules for the Iranian New Year (March 21) to it. As a result, just when I wanted to sit down with my family to enjoy Christmas dinner, Iranian friends started to drop in one after the other to wish me a “Happy New Year”. The children all knew about Christmas presents and kept on looking at the tree to see if anything was there for them. Luckily I had expected this and had purchased and wrapped a lot of extra little presents, so there always was something for everyone, even the grown-ups. Also a blessing that the American turkeys were so big and fat so that there was enough to eat for all.
But nowadays, Christmas in Iran is the saddest day of the year for me. Nothing on radio or TV, only some sick-looking turkeys are available in a few of the market places, hardly any trees can be found, and most Iranians have no idea it’s Christmas. It’s a normal working day, no lights, no decorations and most of all, no Christmas atmosphere. Just the usual air pollution, traffic jams, and stressed people.
I’m glad it’s finished for another year.