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Book "Unforgettable Iran". Chapter 2.1 Tehran

24 December 2012 • Travel time: with 01 July 2011 on 01 October 2011
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Salam, Tehran!

Our bus arrived early in the morning. Tehran was cool and foggy. The body, not getting enough sleep and swollen from a long sitting in the bus, did not obey. I said goodbye to my companions and headed to the terminal building to find out what to do next. To the right and to the left, drawn-out cries were heard: “Isfahaaan, Isfahaaaan! Mashhaaad, Mashhaaad! ”- drivers shouted out the cities where their buses were going, and so they found passengers. Many people, despite the cold morning, slept on the grass and benches near the station, waiting for their flight. I was surrounded by a crowd of taxi drivers. They addressed me in their own language and named the streets, everyone tried to drag me into their car, I had to quickly run away from them to the station. Bustle reigned in the building, people with bags quickly ran past, all the inscriptions were in Farsi. For a while, I stopped understanding anything.


First, following the signs, I found a toilet, this place, although considered unclean in Islam, pleased me with its cleanliness: there is hot water, liquid soap, the cabins are equipped with a special shower like a bidet, there is no toilet paper. Back in the waiting room, I went to the store to buy a SIM card. I showed the phone to the salesman and said "sim card", he nodded, took out a calculator and dialed "17.000" (the equivalent of $17) on it. The price seemed very high to me, so I decided to use my own connection for now. From a Moscow number, I sent an SMS to my friend Ramin and in response received the address of his house, which took almost four lines on my phone. It turns out that in Iran addresses are written this way, first they name the largest street, then those that are smaller, until they reach the desired street.

On the postcards of Tehran, I often saw a large arch, which is a local landmark. It is located on "Meidan e Azadi" (pl.

Svoboda), near the terminal. With a quick step, he ran away from annoying taxi drivers and stopped by the road, because he did not know how to cross to the other side. I saw a continuous stream of moving cars, the drivers of which did not use either direction indicators or mirrors (if they have mirrors at all) and drove on the principle that whoever started the maneuver first must finish it first. Although the general traffic algorithm was not difficult to understand: the driver, having driven a little, turned around sharply to change lanes, then stopped, signaled to another driver, whom he had just cut, and drove on. In such nanosecond pauses between "stopping" and "driving on", maneuvering between cars, motorcyclists flew by with a deafening roar, so that from the roar of their engines I even laid in my ears. Pedestrians complete the picture.

As soon as the driver slowed down slightly, about ten people instantly appeared in front of his car, who, squeezing between the bumpers, crossed to the other side of the road. I note that the most patient people still gathered at the intersection and waited for the right traffic light. Without ceasing to look around nervously, I crossed the road at the green light.

Reference. The Freedom Tower (Borj e Azadi) was built in 1971 to celebrate the 2500th anniversary of the Iranian monarchy. The tower is entirely built of Isfahan white marble and consists of 8.000 stone blocks. Before the Islamic Revolution, it was called the "Tower of Remembrance of the Kings. "

After a brief tour of Freedom Square, I approached a policeman to ask where the subway was. He didn't speak English so he just hailed a taxi for me. I showed the taxi driver the address I needed, but his facial expressions showed that he did not know this address.


Then I explained with gestures that I wanted to call and said “telephone and-r-a-n”. The taxi driver understood me and gave me his phone number, I called Ramin, and he explained the way to the taxi driver. A few minutes later we were on our way home.

Ramin met me at the house and introduced me to his family: my younger brother's name was Ahmad, and my mother's name was Asal, which means "honey" in Farsi.

“Hello, Alex, ” Asal told me.

- Sala m Aleykum, Asal, - I answered.

She laughed, shook my hand and asked:

- Khu b i? Khaste and?

- My mom asks, are you tired? Ramin translated.

- Khu bi, haste and, believe-veri, - I answered.

- Hamma m, shower, Alex? Asal asked me and handed me a snow-white robe.

- Bale (yes), - I answered, because the shower is just what was needed after a long move.

While I was washing, the table was already set for me.

- Befarmain, Alex! (sit down / help yourself) - Asal said and held out a chair for me.

From the number of unfamiliar words, I was a little confused and did not immediately find what to answer. Ramin's mother, on the contrary, spoke a lot, so I could only listen and remember.

“Nun” (bread), she said, and handed me the bread, “ab” (water), and gave me a glass of water. Then she took my plate, put chicken and potatoes in it and said: “morgh wa sib zamini” (chicken and potatoes), “Nu sh e jan, Alex! (bon appetit).

- Ramin, how can I say thank you? I asked.

- You can say it in different ways. Iranians are very polite people, so we have a lot of words that mean "thank you". In a taxi or at the market, usually everyone says “mersi”, this is a common word, short and clear. If everything happens in a formal setting, for example, you are talking to a teacher or want to express your respect to a stranger, then you need to say “motashakkeram (motshakeram)” or “tashakkor”, this is an Arabic word.

You can also say “khe ili motashakkeram” (thank you very much).

If you liked how they did something for you, you can say less formally “da stet darnakone”, and you will always be answered with a smile “haish mikonam”. And if you are in the company of friends, then do not be shy and say “mamnun” (thank you) or “khayli mamnun” (thank you very much).


I turned to his mother and said: “mo-ta-sha-ke-ram! He said awkwardly, but Asal understood me, smiled and answered: “haish mikonam! ".

- Why don't you say "sala m ale ykum" when greeting, but only "sala m"? I asked Ramin.

- I don't like to say "sala m ale kum", this greeting is too Arabic. In Iran, we try to say "salamu".

During my stay in Tehran, I lived with Ramin's family all the time. They, being the first Iranians I met, conquered me with their hospitality. And I really fell in love with them for the attention and care they showed.

For the first ten days I was in Tehran in a state of culture shock and a little afraid to leave the house, not because it was dangerous, but because everything was different. For example, I expected to speak English, so I didn't even bother with a phrasebook. But no one knows English there, and for me it was a real torment to communicate with the locals in sign language. It was also not easy to buy something on the market, first you had to figure out the Indo-Arabic numerals, then convert the price from tomans to rials, and then calculate how many dollars it would be. Therefore, Ramin's help was invaluable to me.

Commentary on Farsi. Interestingly, “dastet darnakone” literally translates as: “so that your hands do not hurt”, and the answer to “thank you” - “haish mikonam” means: “I do what you ask me to do. ”

“Befarmain” - they always say when they are invited to do something: sit down at the table to eat, get in a taxi, pick up the purchased goods, etc.

In order to correctly answer the question, in the verb you need to change its ending. For example, you are asked: “gorosne and? ”(Are you hungry? ), referring to you / you. The "and" at the end is a shortened form of the verb "hasti", (is-you).

Shoma/to gorosne i (tired - you/you are)

Shoma/to gorosne hasti - used in writing.

You need to answer: Gorosne am (hungry-I), "am" is an abbreviation for "hastam", (I am).

Man gorosne am (I'm hungry)

Man gorosne hastam - used in writing.

“Mosques are the houses of Allah on earth” (Imam Hakim), and everyone who comes to the mosque is a guest of the Great Allah.


On Friday, his only day off, Ramin promised to show me the city. I asked a lot about Islam, and so the first thing he did was take me to the oldest mosque in Tehran. At the entrance, I did not dare to enter for a long time.

“I am Orthodox, ” I explained to him, “are you sure that they will let me in? ”

- No one can forbid you, - Ramin answered, - after all, the mosque is the house of Allah, and everyone who comes to the mosque is a guest of the Great Allah, and Allah rejoices when guests come to him.

“So they won’t throw stones at me as an infidel? ”

- No. You can really go to any mosque, even if you are not a Muslim. Two years ago, while working for the Red Cross, we went with my friends, a Jew and a Catholic, to Saudi Arabia. No one hid their religion, and the Jew openly said that he was a Jew. We visited holy places, were in Medina and Mecca, and no one forbade them to visit mosques.

Reference. In fact, it is forbidden for non-Muslims to visit the grave of I. Reza in Mashhad (the territory of the courtyard) and enter the “Reserved Mosque” in Mecca, where the Kaaba is located.

A young man approached us and invited us to treat ourselves to dates: “Befarmain! ”(help yourself). We took dates and thanked him.

- Why did he offer us dates? I asked.

- When a person dies, his relatives come to the mosque with sweets and offer them to passers-by. It is believed that when someone accepts a treat, then Allah accepts the soul of the deceased.

- Ramin, why do you have metro stations named after martyrs: "Shahi d Beheshti, Shahi d Mofateh"? As far as I know, martyrs are suicide bombers who tie bombs around themselves and blow up other people along with them? We even have such a word - a martyr's belt, this is a bomb on the belt.

- No, Alex, shahids call those who fought and died for their country on their territory. For example, when Iraq attacked us, many Iranian soldiers gave their lives in battle protecting us and our freedom. For this they were honored to be called martyrs.

And those who take a weapon, as you say a bomb, and go to another country to blow themselves up along with other people, these are terrorists.


Then I heard a drawn-out “Alaaaaa-hu Agbar! ”, bursting out of the columns on the minaret, so the muezzin called the faithful to prayer. Before performing namaz, as the obligatory daily prayer five times is called in Islam, you must first achieve ritual cleanliness, that is, wash yourself thoroughly. This is the secret of Iranian cleanliness: they bathe five times a day in order to pray. I went down the stairs to the toilet and found myself in some kind of dressing room. The person next to me was washing his face, then his arms up to the elbows and legs up to the ankles, and the Iranian opposite, as it seemed to me, was washing behind his ears (it turned out that this is also a prerequisite for praying). The toilet was clean and tidy, I washed my hands and face, now I could go to the mosque.

In the Koran, 5:6, it is said: “When you stand up for prayer, then wash your faces and hands up to the elbows, wipe your head and feet up to the ankles. ”

We left our shoes at the entrance and went inside. The first thing that caught my eye was a lot of light and everything shines. I came closer and took a closer look: the walls and the dome were lined with a mosaic of small diamond-shaped mirrors, since each mirror is very small, it does not allow you to see the reflection, but due to the fact that light is reflected in them, there is an effect of space and solemnity. This contrasted so much with medieval churches and churches, the builders of which sought twilight and mystery in the room. I did not see anything special in the hall of the mosque - there were carpets on the floor, the walls were decorated with bizarre ornaments and decorated with majolica mosaics, there were no paintings and icons, as well as an altar. The believers were turned towards the mihrab, a niche with a recess at the base of the floor.

In turn, the mihrab always indicates the direction where the Kaaba is located in Mecca.

I sincerely did not understand Muslims: I knew that they pray to their god, whom they call Allah, while pronouncing words in Arabic, I knew that they were forbidden to depict people and animals, so there are no icons in mosques, but it was most difficult for me to understand their strange fasting in the month of Ramadan. I heard from a Muslim friend that he specifically sets the alarm clock at five in the morning in order to wake up and eat as much as possible before sunrise, then he doesn’t eat all day, and after sunset he gorges again. At the same time, he believes that he observes the fast correctly. For Christians, everything is different; in fasting, for example, you can’t eat meat. If a person is a believer, then he strictly observes fasting during the prescribed period, both day and night, regardless of sunrises and sunsets.


I once again looked at the believers: "Here you have Allah Agbar in action" - I thought and went out so as not to interfere.

When I went down the Tehran metro in the morning, a surprisingly creative poster caught my attention. Do you know the recycling symbol that they put on packaging, for example? It depicts a little man throwing this package into an urn. On the poster, a little man was throwing the "Star of David" into the urn. At the next station, I saw an even more interesting poster: the flag of Israel was emblazoned on a roll of toilet paper, others had photographs of dead Palestinians killed by Israeli soldiers, among others I remember a poster with a gun and the inscription: "No Israel - no War. "

It was Friday (jo me) - the day when every Muslim considers it his duty to come to the mosque to perform a collective prayer (juma prayer). Out of curiosity, I went to the mosque.

The building was overflowing with believers, but to my surprise they were not praying, but were listening attentively to a man in army uniform who was speaking from the podium. Next to him, without taking any part and without any interest, stood a few more soldiers - his support group. And although I did not understand a single word from the officer's conversation, I heard: "Palestine" and something like a victim-victim. People began to sigh in disappointment and nod their heads. More precisely, their gesture looked like if we want to say "no", but only do it slowly and slightly cluck. So the Iranian expresses the extreme degree of indescribable grief. After a pause, the officer continued: "Israel", and read out some numbers, apparently the number of dead. The people visibly cheered up, and some began to chant something. It was the strangest Friday prayer I have ever heard.

A motorcade of cars rushed past us on the road at high speed. “This is Mr. Ahmadinejad, ” Ramin explained. “He usually finishes work at eight in the evening and returns home at that time. ” I asked to tell about the president.


“My president works very hard, ” Ramin replied, “you see how late he leaves. And so every day: from the very morning you can see how he goes to work, and late in the evening he returns home. Our relative worked in security and told us that the president does not live like in a palace, but only occupies a small room, and rather modestly furnished, because he does not like luxury, in his room there is only the most necessary for work.

We went to a traditional hookah restaurant. Usually girls are not allowed to enter hookahs, and since our companion was let in, it seemed to me that this place was still more of a restaurant than a simple hookah.

Ramin ordered three teapots, several portions of watermelon and a mint hookah, all of which cost about ten dollars. Over tea, in a leisurely conversation, we learned a lot about each other, and in the end we almost quarreled over different political views. The resolution of the conflict was facilitated by a hookah and the diplomacy of an oriental girl.

- Did you read yesterday's news? I asked. The UN Security Council passed a resolution yesterday to impose additional sanctions on Iran. You said that your president works hard for the good of the country, but anyone will tell you that during business trips to other countries, he only does what he teases everyone with his speeches and constant jokes. It got to the point that Europe and the United States are already thinking about a preventive strike against Iran. In addition, they are frightened by your nuclear program and Ahmadinejad's constant promises to destroy Israel.

Our president said, if something happens to Iran, we will first of all bomb Israel, no other country, namely it, because he already got everyone. Do you know what is going on in Palestine right now, how many civilians are dying every day as a result of Israeli air raids?

I didn’t like the answer, I don’t know what came over me, because it wasn’t even about the truth. On the Internet, I communicate with an acquaintance who lives in Israel, and in response to my questions about the Palestinian conflict, he often sent me links to video reports. One report showed that rocket attacks from the Palestinian side were targeted specifically at Israeli hospitals and schools, another discussed the sudden shelling of Israeli civilians with grenade launchers, each time the comments emphasized that among the dead were mostly civilians, so I continued dialog:


- I see on the news that Palestine, in particular Hamas and Hezbollah, are terrorizing Israel. Moreover, in Europe they say that these terrorist organizations are sponsored by Iran. Moreover, I know that under the Pahlavi Shah, Iran was very friendly with Israel and the States, and everyone seemed to be happy. In my opinion, this is the most important thing - to live in peace. And it ended with the fact that US diplomats in Tehran were taken hostage and held for more than a year.

Reference. The diplomatic crisis in Iran (November 4.1979 - January 20.1981) began with the capture of 63 diplomats and three ordinary US citizens on the territory of the American embassy in Tehran, which was taken by storm. Most of the hostages were in captivity for 444 days and were released through the mediation of the Algerian government.

Ramin visibly annoyed my questions:

“It’s just that you are a guest, and I can’t tell you how wrong you are, ” he said, “first of all, England and the States were pleased with the shah, because they pumped our oil for free. Once again, please read the story. All the Arab states are against Israel, it does not even have its own territory, because it consists of areas that soldiers with weapons in their hands have taken from Palestine. I do not recognize it as a state. If they want to live there, let them live - Jews, Palestinians - but they live in Palestine, not in Israel.

It's good that we had a girl with us who was able to settle the brewing conflict. She asked Ramin not to forget that I was a guest, and me to try not to discuss political issues anymore.

The posters on the sides read: “Marg bar Israil! (death to Israel), Marg bar Amrika! (US death)"

Taxi "dar-bast".

Before my first independent exit into the city, Ramin gave me detailed instructions on how to use a taxi: first, I had to stop at an intersection where cars were passing, if the driver blinked his headlights or honked, this would mean that he was picking up passengers. The standard fare is "punsa d toman" (500 tomans), which is a red bill that says 5.000 rials, which equals $0.5. Once at the crossroads, I stopped a beautiful yellow taxi, the driver of which was flashing its headlights.

“Metro, ” I announced loudly.

The driver nodded and I got into the car. Contrary to Ramin's explanation that the taxi driver would continue to pick up other passengers, my driver did not stop for anyone else.


- That metro, what gkhadr mishe? (to the metro how much does it cost) - I asked him.

- Se khezar (three thousand).

“Something is not enough, ” I thought, “three thousand rials is much less than Ramin recommended to pay. ”

- Se heza r rial?

- On the! Se heza r toman (no, three thousand tomans), - the taxi driver answered and explained, - dar-bast!

His answer meant that the dar-bast road to the subway would cost me $3 instead of $0.5. I decided to get out and change to a cheaper car, so I said the phrase that I had previously carefully noted down in a prominent place in my notebook: “inja piade mi sham” (I'm getting out here). The taxi driver stopped the car and took 500 tomans from me.

Another car that was passing by honked and stopped.

- Metro, punsa d toman! I said and off we went.

At the exit, the taxi driver gave me change of 100 tomans, because, having passed the “dar bast”, I shortened the distance to the metro a little. When I took a taxi in the city, taxi drivers never deceived me, for which they were “khe ili motshaker rram”.

Reference. "Dar bast" (lit.

a closed door) means that you rent the entire car and do not want other passengers to be put into the car besides you, so the fare will be more expensive.

As a passenger in the front seat, this time I clearly saw what chaos was happening on the road: the drivers, constantly signaling to each other, cutting off and making the most unexpected turns right in the middle of the street, sometimes terrified me with their driving style, the passengers themselves looked at this Brownian movement of machines quite cold-bloodedly.

When our driver passed the right turn during rush hour, he simply turned right in the middle of the one-way road, and we drove towards the cars for the last few tens of meters. Since we arrived safely, this confirmed my idea that one should always think only of good things.

To get there, you need to call the taxi driver a big street or better a square, for example: “Meidan e Azadi” (Freedom Square) or “Beheshti” (street name).


I got off the subway and walked to the intersection, where several people were already waiting for a taxi. A passing car honked its horn and, rebuilding after two lanes, stopped nearby.

- Ohar e Moallem (end of Moallem street), - I distinctly said. The driver, it seemed to me, nodded his head, and I was about to open the door to get into the car, but then he drove away. I didn't even get to understand why. The situation repeated itself with the next car. But now I caught a special nod from the driver: he throws his head up - or it is correct to say "nods up" and at the same time relish clatter. I guessed that this gesture means "no. "

The next car drives up to me, at my request to give a ride to the end of Moallem Street, the driver “nods up” and answers: “Garden e Moallem”, but when he points to an empty seat, they say, sit down.

- Shoma a le koja i? (where are you from) - he asks me, seeing that I continue to stand still.

- Ah, Urop! (Europe), - the taxi driver was delighted, - befarmain! (take a seat).

One of the passengers tried to speak to me in English and somehow explained that he would go out with me. As I guessed, they brought me to the intersection where the street began. Moallem, and then turned in the other direction. I handed the taxi driver five hundred tomans and said "merci", but the taxi driver clicked, did not take the money and pointed to the passenger who got out with me. I thought he didn't have change and paid for both of us, so I wanted to give him my share of the money. But the Iranian also refused them and explained that I was his guest.

“Na” - means “no”, show with a nod of the head up

"Man" - I, "ma" - we

“Shoma”, “that” - you, you

Possessive adjectives are formed either by linking "e" with a noun and adding I, we, you, you, or by adding a specific ending. On the example of the words house "khune" (house) and "dust" (friend):

My home: "khune e man" or "khun m"

My friend: "dust e man" or "dustam"

Your home: “khune e shoma” or “khune t”

Your friend: "dust e shoma" or "dust stat"

His home: "khune e u" or "khune sh"

His friend: “dust e y” or “dustash”


Tehran - "a city at the foot of a mountain slope" (one of the versions of the origin of the city's name)

Every morning, Ramin proudly gave me a bottle of cold water from the refrigerator, more precisely with a block of ice, which melted only in the evening.

Such a bottle was only good to put on my head in case of sunstroke, so in the end I completely stopped taking water with me, never fearing to die of dehydration, because in every park and on many streets of the city there are refrigerators from which you can Drink unlimited cold water.

I got to the subway on my own. To buy a ticket, I learned “beli te do sare” (return ticket), but I forgot this phrase at the ticket office, said in English “tu wei ticket” and got my ticket. The cost of two trips in the Tehran subway cost $0.20. Having passed through the turnstile, I did not know where to go next, and immediately turned to a man in uniform for help - I simply said the name of the station I needed.

- Ima m Homeyini? I asked and pointed in the direction of the approaching train.

- Bale (yes), Imam Khomeini, - said the metro worker, - Ale kojai? (where are you from)

- Ale Belarus am. (from Belarus)

“Belarus-u-us, ” he said drawlingly and paternally patted me on the shoulder, while he smiled so much that my mood even improved. I shook his hand and got on the train. It was a brand new car, air-conditioned, spotlessly clean, quiet and very comfortable. It is possible to move from one car to another, but the passage to the first car was separated by a partition, on which it was written in large letters in Farsi and English "only for women. "

I immediately decided to go in the direction of the Museum of Jewels, which is located in the building of the National Bank of Iran (Bank e Melli Iran). Armed with two phrases: “Bank e Melli Iran kojast? ” (where the National Bank is located) and “man mikham m be Bank e Melli Iran beram” (I want to go to the National Bank), I began to ask passers-by for directions.

The first Iranian passing by indicated to go straight and to the right.


I walked forward to the crossroads and stopped another young man. From his gestures, I realized that I was going in the wrong direction - he said to go back, and then turn left. A third passerby advised me to take a taxi. “Apparently, only a taxi driver knows the way to this National Bank, ” I annoyed. It was hot and stuffy, the sun was hot on the back of my head, and the buses passing by were smoky and left the smell of invisible, but very pungent smoke. And I thought that Tehran buses are brand new Scania and Volvo, as on long-distance flights, but it turned out that they are analogues of old Mercedes.

I was angry because I didn’t understand a word of Farsi and still didn’t buy a map or a phrasebook. Yesterday's visit to Tehran's biggest book bazaar showed that the best guide to Iran, Lounley Planit (hereinafter referred to as "LP"), was tacitly banned. Mr. President did not like the Western book for its free statements.

Things were also bad with the phrasebook. The only dictionary I found was for Iranian students of English. All the words in it were written in Farsi without transcription in Latin letters (such a record is called "finglish", from the combination of two words "Farsi" and "English"), for me it was useless.

In the central park (“Park e Shahr”), I got lost and sat down on the grass to watch people play sports. The simulators, installed right on the alleys of the park, looked simple and did not require blocks and weights. For example, to do a pulldown on the chest, you need to sit on the simulator, and then the body weight will work as a counterweight for this exercise. An Iranian noticed me and approached me to get acquainted.

- E sme tong chi ye? (what is your name, lit. what is your name)

- Esma m Alexander e. (my name is Alexander, lit. my name is Alexander)

- Hmm ...Alexander, - he thought, as if remembering something, - Alexander Graham Bel?

Although I did not see any resemblance between myself and the venerable inventor of the telephone, I agreed to be Graham Bel. My new friend turned out to be an English teacher. He offered to show me some museum and also assured me that in Tehran I would easily buy an LP for no more than ten dollars. Ten minutes later we arrived at the Golestan Palace, the most beautiful complex in Tehran.


I immediately went to the souvenir shop, where I met two charming girls who worked there. They did not leave their phone, pointing to a strict cashier, apparently their boss, but they wrote their emails. On the shelves, among souvenirs and postcards, I found the LP for $12 (although the recommended price was $25.99 on the back of the book). So I immediately had a map, and a guide, and a phrasebook.

Passing by the embassies

I planned to go to India via Iran and Pakistan and get visas on the way. However, getting a visa in Tehran was not easy. First of all, I went to the Indian Embassy near the station. m. Shahid Beheshti, where he saw a huge line, the end of which went out into the street. Nearby hung an announcement in which it was written that a special office had been opened for issuing tourist visas. Ten minutes later I was there. The employee gave me a form, but warned me that he would accept it only after I brought a letter of recommendation from my embassy, ​ ​ and also showed the tickets booked for the return trip. Indian visa fee $50 (August 2011).

In the Embassy of Afghanistan, I observed a crush and an unimaginable crowd of people. I had a hard time finding the right window. But they even refused to issue a form and demanded that they first show a letter of recommendation. Visa fee €40 (August 2011).

Looking ahead, I will say that consulates in other cities of Iran will send you back to Tehran for a visa. So, the Indian consulate in Bandar Abbas and the Afghan consulate in Mashhad refused to consider my documents, since they do not issue visas to tourists.

I called the Belarusian embassy in Iran and arranged a meeting with the consul. The embassy is located near the Saad Abad complex.

“Sefara t e Rusi e Sefid koja st? ”(where is the embassy of Belarus, literally “White Russia”), I asked the policeman, and he pointed me to a small white building. Igor Mikhailovich met me, and we went into a room where Belarusian calendars and postcards with views of Minsk hung, and a large poster with an advertisement for BelAvia adorned the wall.


The consul warned me that it would take at least a week to issue a letter of recommendation, since it was necessary to make a request to Belarus, and also had an explanatory conversation with me about how dangerous it is to travel to Pakistan and India by land. He advised to fly to India by plane or, in extreme cases, use a regular bus, since it is not safe to cross the border with Pakistan. Then they gave me a blank sheet of paper where I had to describe in detail my route, down to each city and hotel where I planned to stay.

A week later, after visiting Qom and Kashan, I returned to Tehran again and went to my embassy to pick up a letter of recommendation.

- So where did you decide to go? the consul asked.

“I need a letter of recommendation for the Indian and Pakistani embassies, ” I replied.

Igor Mikhailovich sighed and went to get the papers - he didn’t want me to go there at all, so he warned me again that after Zahedan (a large city on the border with Pakistan) it was better to take a regular bus and in no case get out of it. According to him, it was not safe to enter Pakistan at that time, because the “harvest” was being harvested and sent to Europe (note refers to opium). I was categorically not advised to go to Afghanistan, because there was a war going on there, and besides, there was no our representation. In parting, he provided me with the hotline numbers of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs in Belarus. We shook hands and parted.

Igor Mikhailovich left a very good impression of himself - I was pleased that such people represent our country. I want to express my gratitude to him for the letter of recommendation and for the fact that I didn’t have to pay for it - he said that the cost of such a service was not indicated in the price list.

I went outside and immediately rushed to the Pakistani embassy. In Ramadan, all representative offices closed very early - around one o'clock in the afternoon, and it was necessary to hurry. However, traffic jams took their toll, and by the time I arrived, the embassy doors were already closed. Then I went to the Carpet Museum, which was nearby.

"Park e la le"

Not far from the Carpet Museum is the "Museum of Modern Art". I had no desire to look at modern Iranian painting, so I did not go there. Later, when I learned that this museum is the largest collection of works by Monet, Picasso, Mathis, Dali, Van Gogh and other famous artists in Asia, I regretted my decision a little.

Ramin and Neda joined my walk, and we went to the Park e Lale.


In the tent at the entrance, they baked the traditional round biscuits “koluche” with a sweet filling, and next to it they cooked “khoshka r” - the dough was poured through a sieve onto a baking sheet, where it was instantly baked, then the filling from ground nuts with syrup was added to it and the dough was twisted in the manner stuffed pancake.

“Let’s not go further into the park and sit on a bench closer to the people, ” Neda asked, “I don’t want to be again

Translated automatically from Russian. View original
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