Book "Unforgettable Iran". Chapter 13.1 Kerman

25 December 2012 Travel time: with 01 July 2011 on 01 October 2011
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Back to Kerman

The exit from Bam was not far from the university where my friend studied, and all his acquaintances came out to see me, and more so to see how I would hitchhike. To my joy, they were not going to interfere with me and watched from afar. Having moved a sufficient distance, I showed an open palm to the first passing car and left on it, waving goodbye. I heard joyful cries in response, the Iranian students perceived the journey in such a strange way as a real feat and admired me immensely.

A few kilometers from Bam there was a checkpoint, approaching which the driver asked me several times, pointing to the backpack: “Taryak? "(opium). I did not have anything forbidden, and as proof I showed an open backpack. By this time, we had already entered the checkpoint, where we were stopped by a policeman with a machine gun and a dog.


As far as I could understand the conversation, the driver said that he put me in the car in Bam, and now he was driving for free, so I said that I had no money. All this time I was in the car and smiled good-naturedly, only once correcting the driver with the phrase: “Man pule ka fi nodoram m ta bari y savari bedam” (I don’t have enough money to pay the fare). The policeman took my passport and looked at the visa, it seems, for the first time in two months in Iran, they checked my documents, and then wished me a safe trip.

In that car, I drove to the turnoff in Giroft, after this intersection, any car passing by was now on my way, and in a minute I was driving to Kerman. The driver needed much further - he and his family moved to Yazd, where he found a job at the university.

All the way I was fed with cookies and soda, and they also persistently offered dates from Bam, which, to be honest, I could no longer look at, in addition, I was invited to visit.

On the way from Bam to Kerman, you will pass a fork in the direction of the city of Rayen, where you can see another adobe fortress “Arg e Rayen”, which was almost not damaged by the earthquake. Rayen Fortress is more than a thousand years old, the citadel, walls and towers are well preserved.

A few hours later I arrived in the city to the terminal itself. Agents of transport companies jostled among the hurrying people with bags, shouting out the cities where their buses were headed. The man next to me sang out: “Mashhaaad, Mashhaaaad! Yayazd, Yayazd! ". At the entrance, Shakhnaz and her girlfriends were already waiting for me.

- Salam aleykom! I happily greeted.

- Salaaa m! Khu bi!

- Shakhnaz answered and immediately switched to English, - You know, in Iran we say “Salam”, not “Salam Aleykum”, otherwise it turns out too Arabic. And in response, we also say “Salam”, although I heard that you need to say “Vaaleyku m Assalom”, but no one here speaks like that.

- Isn't the greeting "Salam" from the Arabic language?

- Yes, “Salam” and “hoda fez” are also Arabic, although we use them. But we have the Persian greeting "Dorud" and farewell "Bedrud".

- Something I have never heard anyone in Iran say to me “Dorud! "and" Bedru d ​ ​ ", - I noticed.

"That's because those words are 'too Persian', " Shahnaz laughed.


We arrived at a national restaurant and ordered a kebab with rice, as before, everyone was very surprised that I refused to drink soda (nushabe) with my food and preferred water. The girls looked at me with interest, and I was very pleased to be in the center of their attention.

Bandari music. Listen to the song arranged by Alireza Roozegar Ft Hesamodin - Nari Nari

http://sanyok-belarus. people. en/Iran_Music/Alireza_Roozegar_Ft_Hesamodin_-_Nari_Nari. mp3

Conversation on the couch

In the evening we went home to Shakhnaz, where I was treated to local national cookies stuffed with dates - light cookies are called “kolo mpe” and are made from ordinary flour, and dark cookies - “komach” are made from flour obtained from germinated wheat grains. Eggs, honey, saffron are also added to the dough, and for the filling - dates, pitted.

As is often the case with Iranians, communication began with questions about the family: what are the names of the parents, how many brothers and sisters, when do you plan to get married. I tried to sincerely answer questions, and when it was my turn to ask, Shahnaz admitted that she was divorced.

- Why did it happen that you got divorced? I know that this is not an easy step for a girl in Iran, not everyone dares to do it.

- I didn’t want to get married at all, but my parents insisted on it, since my younger sister had already found a husband by that time. But they thought that they should betray me first, since I was older, they said that they knew the parents of one young man well, and that they had a good family. So we got married.

- So fast? You have to like each other first! Also, did you date before marriage?

- He came to us twice for tea, and we were left together for a while. I knew absolutely nothing about men, nor how to talk to them, about anything to talk about. I liked my future husband then. But a month after we got married, we realized that we did not want to live together - we were completely different people. Then we made a deal - I do not climb into his personal life, and he - into mine.

- And how did your parents react to this?

- They said that we are young and inexperienced, and love will come with time.


A year later, I again came to them and said that I wanted a divorce. There was a big scandal, and they almost stopped communicating with me. I had to postpone the divorce in order to first try to convince them and build a relationship. In my second year, my daughter was born. My parents were very happy about this and finally stopped understanding why I want to get a divorce. And three years after marriage, I independently filed for divorce, thus simply putting them before the fact. The application was considered for another six months, then we were divorced.

Shahnaz talked about her personal life so lightly, as if divorce was common in Iran, but I have already been told how difficult it is for a divorced woman in Iran. The day before, in Kerman, I met a young guy on the street who spoke good English, and we started talking about girls. And, of course, he said that his future wife must be a virgin.

Then I asked him if he would marry a girl who was married and divorced. "No no! "- he protested, - "It is absolutely out of the question! Let someone else marry her. Maybe his circumstances will develop in such a way that there will be no other way out, but I won’t take it.

“Listen, if you don’t take it, and the other doesn’t take it, what is this girl to do? Is she going to be alone for the rest of her life? I asked a compromising question.

The guy was silent for a while, it was clear that he was thinking hard. In the end, he could not answer anything and decided to joke, saying this phrase: "Let her kill herself. " As they say, in every joke there is only a fraction of a joke.

“By the way, I still have falude in the fridge, ” my interlocutor suggested.

“I don’t like falude, ” I replied, remembering the taste of the dessert I had in Shiraz.

White spaghetti made from rice dough is placed in a deep plate, “goal ab” (“water from roses” or “rose water”) and sweet lemon syrup are poured over it.

- You tried "Falude ye Shirazi", and this is "Falude ye Kermani", you did not try it.

- I will definitely write in my book that I don't like falude, - I said confidently, - I don't understand why this dessert is so popular among Iranians?

Shakhnaz put a cup in front of me with round balls floating in “rose water”.

- Falude ye Kermani has a completely different taste and looks different - falude from Kerman is made with balls, and what is cooked in Shiraz looks like spaghetti, try it. And when you write about falude in your book, be sure to write what kind of falude you do not like.


I tried the dessert and said: “You know, of all the falude that I don’t like, it seems that the one I don’t like the most is Falude ye Kermani. ”

Falyudeh - a traditional Iranian dessert, is considered one of the first cold desserts, which was prepared as early as 400 BC. e. Then ice was used for its production, which was stored in special clay domes - refrigerators (yakhchal).

- And yesterday I had a fight with my boss, - continued Shahnaz, - He said that he would not raise my salary, as we agreed. Why, you ask? He told me: “You are a married woman and your salary is not so important to you, but I have a lot of men working here whose wives do not work, so I need to raise their salary first, not you. ”

"So you didn't tell him you were divorced? "

- No, but I told him that my husband earns very little, and that in fact I myself am the only one who feeds the family, but he did not listen. I didn't tell anyone that I was divorced. Iranian men go wild when they find out that the woman is left alone.

They say: “No one will marry you anyway, and therefore you should not be against sex. ” And they treat you accordingly, but I don’t want this, so I wear a ring and tell everyone that I have a husband.

- But after all, when you wear a ring, men think that you are married and will not even dare to speak to you once again. How do you plan to improve your personal life?

- I don’t know, I’m looking for a good man, kind and sincere, but I haven’t found it yet. I earn normally, and I hope that this will also help me, now many men have problems with money, ”said my interlocutor and laughed.

- Is your ex-husband a religious person?

- Yes, I would even say too much. You know, on the one hand, this is good - you know that he will not drink, use drugs, will not go for a walk. But on the other hand, religiosity implies many restrictions. For example, every time I left the house, I had to ask him for permission.

The Koran says that if a girl leaves home without permission, even to visit her mother, then this may be a reason for divorce.


- Is it true that when an Iranian girl marries for the first time, her husband must pay her money. Moreover, to pay it to her, and not to her relatives or family, and, they say, this money is the property of the bride, and she can use it at her discretion. I even heard that it is customary to pay money in gold coins.

Yes, it's an old tradition. When concluding a marriage, the mullah asks her husband how many gold coins he gives for his wife. It is believed that the husband is obliged to pay this money at the first request of the wife. In my case, my husband promised to pay me 1200 gold coins. Although most often we give the number corresponding to the year of birth of the wife, for example, 1360. Sometimes the bride may ask for a house or a car, or something else.

When my sister was getting married, her husband said he would pay 2.226 gold coins, even though she didn't get any, and neither did I.

- But you can demand this amount from him? I couldn't resist.

- In principle, I can, but he does not have that kind of money. Theoretically, I can only put him in jail, which I don't want. When a large number of coins are named, everyone understands perfectly well that this is just a tradition and nothing more. In addition, now the laws are changing in such a way that before I receive at least part of this money, I need to sue, where they will first force me to pay a certain percentage of this money that I did not receive, and only then they will sort it out my statement. I am sure that in 90% of cases, men pay none of this amount or pay only a small part of it.

Note. The gold coins I saw in Tehran's jewelry markets weighed 1/20 of an ounce, which is about 7.74 grams. So 1200 coins in weight is equivalent to 9.

288 kg of pure gold, while 1 kg of gold costs about $5.000.

- And can marriages break up because of infidelity or because the husband wants to marry another woman? I asked.

- A husband can take another wife for himself only with the permission of the eldest wife or if such an opportunity was agreed in advance at the time of marriage. But my friend Elkha m wants to get a divorce, because it seemed to her that her husband likes other women, she gave him a tantrum and does not want to live with him anymore.

- Why is it so strict, do you seem to allow polygamy?


- And what do you think girls like it? Of course not! Every woman wants her man to be with her only. In order not to commit adultery, this is “haram” (forbidden) according to the Koran, Iranian men came up with what is now called “zan e sigh” (short-term wife).

You come to a certain hotel, they show you pictures of young girls, you choose which one you like best, you go to a special mullah, he reads a prayer, and you are husband and wife. And the next day after reading the prayer, the same mullah divorces you. And there seems to be no betrayal in this, so men have found a way not to sin.

- It is still unusual for me that you are a guy, and I am a girl, and we are sitting together on the same sofa and talking about such topics! Shahnaz said and smiled.

- Therefore, I really wanted to meet an Iranian girl and talk with her, find out what she feels and thinks.

- Then I wish you to meet such a girl in the future, and your dates will be successful.

She pronounced the word "successful" in English. as "sex with full".

- Thank you, I also wish them to be successful, - I confirmed, while deliberately changing the pronunciation of the word "successful" to the consonant "seks full", which has a completely different meaning, and this amused the Iranian girl.

Overnight stay in the Kaluts desert or the story of how I got to the "Iranian Red Cross"

Not far from Kerman is the hottest place on earth - the Lut Desert (Dasht e Lut), with a maximum recorded temperature of 70.7°C. In this desert there is a place called Kalut (in the English manner Kaluts), it has a unique landscape - high stone skeletons stand among the sands. Taxis often bring tourists here to show them the sunset. The LP guidebook describes Kaluts as a “million star hotel” (that is, open-air), giving recommendations for buying tours, followed by a drop-in and an overnight stay in this wonderful place.

Inspired by the idea of ​ ​ spending the night in such a hotel, I began to pack things for the road, with the only difference being that I was going to get there by hitchhiking if possible and set up a camp on my own in the amount of one person.

Shakhnaz, having learned about my plans to spend the night in Kaluts, as expected, began to dissuade me from such a strange pastime.


- I can give you my sleeping bag. But did you really decide to spend the night there? It's a desert, and it might not be safe.

“If my friend spent the night in the desert, if Lonely Planet writes about it, then it’s safe, ” I answered, packing her sleeping bag into my backpack, “in the morning my friends and I are going to Mahan, and from there it will be just on my way.

When we finished visiting Mahan, we had to return to Kerman by car. And here I had to convince my friends for a long time that hitchhiking to Kalyuts was quite realistic.

During the conversation, I myself managed to believe it, despite the fact that I didn’t really know where this place was. As it turned out later, the route to Kaluts can be easily laid out on Google maps. From Kerman or Mahan, take the A02 alternate road (the one on the right) to Sirch, and from there to Shahdad.

My journey began with a motorcycle stop. Driving along the highway, we caught up with a motorcyclist riding nearby and found out that he was going in the right direction. Motorcyclists are the salvation of travelers, they always give free rides and do not charge for it. So I safely reached the fork in Sirch. The view of the desert to the left and to the right made me doubt for a few seconds that cars often drive along this road. But before I reached the intersection, I saw a huge pickup truck that had just turned off the bridge. I had to run towards him and wave my arms to stop him.

Of course, a running foreigner attracts drivers much better, so the pickup immediately braked and I quickly jumped into it.

The good news was that the driver was driving to Shahda d, and from there it was only 20 km to the desert. And even better news was that Kalyuts, where tourists are taken to see the giant stone skeletons, is located next to the main road.


Keeping up the conversation, I asked the driver about my native places and found out that the most delicious oranges in Iran grow in Shahdad, it’s a pity that it was September then, and the fruits ripen at the end of October. To my questions about other fruits, the driver pointed in the direction of Sirch and explained: “anur, anjir, ziyad” (pomegranates, figs, a lot). There I decided to go out, firstly, to replenish my backpack with edible supplies, and secondly, because it was necessary to go to the desert in the late afternoon, when the sun would stop burning.

At the turnoff to Sirch, the driver asked a passing motorcyclist with a long handle in his hand to give me a lift to the village. Having changed seats on a motorcycle, I took a handle, apparently, they were going to use it instead of a flagpole, and with the other hand I firmly grabbed the driver. My mother would have seen me - proudly putting the handle forward like in a jousting tournament, I overcame steep descents and ascents. Combining the simplest words, I put together a simple sentence and turned to the driver: “Bagh e anjir, anur koja st? (where is the fig garden, pomegranate garden)? The motorcyclist replied that the gardens were not far from the mosque, where he dropped me off.

I still remember this amazing place. Trees grew along the road behind the fences, on which the pomegranate was visible-invisible, like we have apples. The trees were tall, spreading, and the fruits hung over the street so that one had only to reach out to taste them.

I remembered how in childhood we ate apples from a tree that, although formally grew in a neighbor's garden, bore fruit in neutral territory, which is why the apples were eaten very quickly.

One of the gardens was open, where I found the owner, who treated me to grenades and allowed me to fill my backpack with them. How many pomegranates can you eat at one time? Fifteen? Twenty? And if you still eat grapes? I remember well the grapevine that is firmly intertwined with the pomegranate tree, the photograph of grapes and pomegranates is the most favorite in my collection. Fruit eating continued until the water in my backpack ran out (I thoroughly washed the pomegranates and grapes). This reminded me to buy as much water as possible before spending the night in the desert, just in case.

- Anzhi r dari? (do you have figs) - I asked the owner of the garden.


The Iranian went to ask his neighbors - father and son, who had been standing on the street for a long time and were watching us. I showed the camera and said: “Anzhir, Aks” (photo). Indeed, I wanted to photograph how figs grow, because I had never seen them on trees before.

Father nodded, and we went into the courtyard, which turned out to be a huge fig garden.

I was taken to one of the trees and offered to taste figs. I found the largest fruit on the branch, picked it off and ate it. He seemed to me not very sweet, but juicy. My father chose for me the smallest fruit, almost dried up, a little larger than a raspberry, it tasted sweet and dry. According to my interlocutors, such figs are much tastier than raw, and therefore are much more valued. They collected a full package of fruits for me and invited me to tea, while spreading a tablecloth on the floor in the yard, and putting figs, pomegranates and grapes on it.

Unfortunately, I didn't talk much because I didn't understand what they were saying because of the heavy accent, and we took some photos as a keepsake. From so many impressions, I completely forgot that I was going to Kaluts, recollecting myself only when the sun began to approach sunset.

Having quickly said goodbye to the hospitable hosts, I still managed to drop by on the way to the store to buy four bottles of one and a half liters of water, and ten minutes later I was standing on the highway waiting for passing cars to Shahdad. In one hand - a package with two kilograms of figs, which I was treated to as a keepsake, in the other - a sleeping bag that did not fit in a backpack because of six liters of water and several kilograms of pomegranates. But there were no cars. The sun was setting, and I sadly realized that I would not be able to see it in the desert. Moreover, the head was visited by strange thoughts that there was nowhere to spend the night.

- Na-na (no-no), - the driver protested, - tari k, khaili khatarna k e (dark, very dangerous).

- Khatarna k nist (not dangerous), - I objected, - ab, anji r, anor daram (I have water, figs, pomegranates).


However, the driver continued to repeat “khatarna k e” (dangerous), and then said: “pomp e gasoline, a mn e” (gas station, safe). That is, for security reasons, he was going to drop me off at the gas station. By this time, it was completely dark, and I resigned myself to the fact that I would spend the night where I was brought, and with the first rays of the sun I would return to Kalyuts to enjoy not the sunset, but the sunrise in the desert.

The driver dropped me off at a well-lit parking lot, where several trucks were already parked. There was no gas station here, instead, huge barrels of water stood next to the road, and a sign “Iranian Red Cross” flaunted at the entrance to the building.

The door was opened to me by a young guy, in Farsi I asked him for permission to spend the night, so that tomorrow morning I would go to Kaluts. While he left to consult with the boss, another older guy, several people immediately surrounded me, invited me into a room, treated me to sweets and tea, and I, in turn, shared figs and pomegranates. I was allowed to stay, and now we sat together on the floor, ate freshly cooked rice with chickpeas and tortilla, talked, discussing mostly girls. For a more exciting pastime, I taught them to play "The Fool", this card game turned out to be completely unfamiliar to them, but they liked it.

My new acquaintances hardly believed me that I was going to spend the night in the desert, and when I began to tell that in the morning I was going to go there before sunrise to meet the dawn, they were completely upset.

- Khatarna to e. Alexander, anim ls it u. (Dangerous, eng.

animals will eat you), - a young Iranian explained to me, depicting some kind of barking-biting animals and poisonous-stinging reptiles.

To his provocations, urging me to forget about meeting the dawn in the desert, I did not succumb and declared:

- Khatarna to Nist. Ai it ol animals. (It's not dangerous, English I'll eat all the animals myself) - which caused a storm of laughter, mixed with great admiration.

Then the guy who acted as the boss admitted that they could not take me in a car parked in the garage, since it can only be used for official purposes, but he would ask truckers sleeping in the parking lot to take me to Kaluts early in the morning.


I was left to spend the night in the first aid room, there were empty and half-empty jars of medicines in the cabinets on the shelves, in general, I got the impression that this headquarters had only alcohol, iodine, bandages and cans of drinking water.

The question of why it was necessary to keep a staff of five people at a time remained unclear to me. I was given a free bed to rest on, so the owner had to sleep on the floor despite my best efforts to spread out a sleeping bag.

Waking up at five in the morning, I looked out the window and saw that the truckers were still sleeping, and there was impenetrable darkness on the street. The prospect of walking alone along an unlit road five kilometers to Kaluts did not please me, so I fell asleep again with a calm conscience. But half an hour later the driver came for me and woke me up. I quickly dressed and ate some rice and flatbread and ran to the truck stop. Coming closer, I was very surprised, because I saw that the drivers had set the table, that is, they had spread a tablecloth on the pavement next to their cars, and they were waiting for me to treat me to breakfast: bread, cheese and strong tea with sugar.

We drove towards Kerman, and our path again ran through Kalyuts. Along the way, I photographed stone mountains and hills in the desert from the window, which became higher and higher with every kilometer.

Finally, we arrived at the main attraction - a series of huge stone skeletons in the middle of the desert. Here I asked the driver to wait, and he ran to the place to take pictures. The sun has risen quite recently, but the burning air is already hanging over the desert. Having found several traces of cars - these are taxis that bring tourists here for $ 70 for contemplating the sunset, I went to the main attraction - the highest stone skeleton. At half past five in the morning it was unbearably hot, and after taking a few pictures, I quickly returned to the air-conditioned truck waiting for me.

On the way to Kerman we also passed one of the longest tunnels cut in the mountains, and then the driver drew my attention to a white dot high up.

- Khavapeyma (airplane), - he said, depicting a diving plane with his hand, - IranAir Khubnist (IranAir - bad).


Before reaching the city, I got off at the brick octagonal building, the Museum of Tombstones (Gonba d e Jabaliye), and was one of its first visitors.

Date in Kerman

Romance. Listen to the song Shahyad - Delbar (My sweetheart / beloved). From Farsi, "del bar" literally translates as "stealing the heart. "

http://sanyok-belarus. people. en/Iran_Music/Shahyad_-_Delbar. mp3

After arriving from Kalyuts, I stayed at Shokufe's house. With my husband Mohsen, they prepared a delicious dinner for me with saffron rice and chicken, and for dessert they served my favorite dessert, Cho le Zard. This is the name of rice porridge soaked in saffron with sugar and boiled in rose water.

The whole evening I spoke with Marzieh in Farsi, and it seems that she really liked it. So she invited us to spend the night at her house, giving Shokufa and Mohsen the next room, and me - her own. Before going to bed, she once again went into the room, and, without turning on the light, came up to me and sat next to me on the bed.

- Sala m, khu bi? (Hi, are you okay? ) I asked.

“Khu bam, Alex, azizam (Okay, Alex, my dear), ” she answered, and I felt her take my hand.

We were in absolute darkness, so it was impossible to see anything, I could only hear the scent of her perfume and breathing. She sat next to me and gently ran her fingers along my arm, affectionately asked something, and I answered. Her touch suddenly made my heart beat wildly and burst out of my chest, and reminded me of something that I had long forgotten during my journey: I am a man, and she is a woman.

And we are by no means asexual beings, as tradition and religion insistently instilled in us. It is not for nothing that unmarried women in Iran are forbidden to hold a guy by the hand and be alone with him.

- Shab bekhe ir (good night), - I said and hugged her goodbye.

- Azizam (dear), - she sighed and was about to leave, as at the same second, as if deciding something for herself, she sharply leaned over and kissed me on the lips, and then quickly left the room.


The next morning we were awakened to be called for breakfast. On the tablecloth lay cakes, dates, a lot of greens and a whole mountain of green, but very sweet oranges. Marzie immediately took out a hookah, and her mother began to help refuel the coals. In this family, like many others, hookah was treated as a small weakness of children, even noticing that it is prepared not only from the very early morning, but for lunch, dinner and the intervals between them.

We spent the whole day together, walking in the parks, seeing the sights, having dinner at home and in cafes, ordering a hookah in place and out of place. In the evening we climbed a mountain near Kerman, from there there was a beautiful view of the city. Marzieh took my hand, hugged me tight and kissed me.

“Iran is here, you can’t do this here, ” I objected.

She looked around, but there was no one on the site except us.

“There is no Iran here, only we are here, ” she whispered and clung to me.

Such moments can melt the coldest heart and drown out the voice of reason, hunted down by regulations, orders, law and religion.

- Bemund, Alex (stay), - asked Marzie, - "ghalun, ghaza, restura n, bemund! (hookah, food, restaurant, stay).

But I had to leave to continue my journey. We left the city for the highway. Marzieh got out of the car. Here we had to say goodbye, most likely forever.

There are well-defined rules on how to say goodbye, prescribed by the etiquette and laws of the country. But each of us wanted to do everything not as it was necessary, but as we felt it. I gently hugged Marzie and kissed her. It was a special moment when, it seems, all passers-by stopped, and the world stopped for us, just for the two of us.

“Az didane shoma khoshkhal shodam (I’m glad I saw you), ” I whispered.

- Azizam (dear), - she answered and sighed, it seemed to me that tears appeared in her eyes.

May my reader forgive me for being too sentimental. Have you ever said goodbye forever, knowing that you would never see each other again? So you understand me.

When I arrived in Yazd, I received a text message from Marzieh. It was written: “Eshgkha m, dela m wasat tang shode”, that is, “my love, I miss you. ” The last phrase, "jat khe ili khalie", I could not translate, so I had to turn to my friend Hamed.


- This is a special expression, - he answered, - if a girl wrote it to you, it means that she really liked you. Literally, “jat kheili khalie” means “this place is empty” or “it’s empty here without you” (perhaps an analogue of our phrase: “I can’t find a place for myself without you”). Apparently, for this girl you are very special.

After asking Hamed to help with the translation, I wrote:

- Shaya d bara ye dida ne shoma bar garda m! (maybe I'll come back to see you)

- Merci, Azizam. Khatma n bia. (Thank you, dear. You will certainly return), she replied.

And, indeed, I returned a week later, but that's a completely different story.

Why Iranian girls are afraid to meet Iranian men

I left Kerman very late, and by the time it got dark I had covered less than a third of the distance. The last car brought me to Rafsanjan city center and I went to the bus stop to get to the terminal.

A nearby bus was picking up students to take them to Valiasr University outside the city. They took me for a student and gave me a free place, but the students immediately began to ask where I was going and why, and when they were finally convinced that I was a foreigner, they invited me to spend the night in their hostel not far from the university. I really wanted to get acquainted with student life, and I gladly accepted their offer.

At the entrance to the university, of course, they did not let me through. Someone ran after the dean to ask permission to let me spend the night. Half an hour later the messenger returned, to my great disappointment, I was refused. But by this time it was too late to go anywhere, only the highway and the university were nearby. Then the students stood up for me, and the guard allowed me to stay in the room at the checkpoint.

The room was intended as an office, but so far there was no furniture, only carpets on the floor. My acquaintances went to the mosque to do the evening prayer and returned only an hour later, taking with them cakes, cheese and tea, as well as a mattress and a pillow for me.

- Do you have photos of your family and home? one of the students asked me.


I had them on my mobile phone, and while scrolling through them, I accidentally showed them a photo of an Iranian girl I met in Kerman. The guys immediately showed an unhealthy interest in the girl, and, passing my phone from hand to hand, carefully examined her photo and talked about something. I was asked what the name of the girl was, but I accidentally mixed up the names and said the name of Shokufe, who hosted me with her husband Mohsen.

I should immediately pay attention to the fact that as soon as I showed a photo of a girl and said that we had met several times, requests and pleas fell upon me like a hailstorm to share her phone number, but since I was not going to do this, I simply refused trying to laugh it off.

In exchange for Shokufe's phone, the guys offered to introduce me to an Iranian girl with whom I could have sex for free. In confirmation of this, they even showed her half-naked photographs. But the girl had one condition - she is ready to provide her services only to those who send her a photo of their "dignity", and in an erect state. And if she likes it, she will gladly come to visit. I was persistently offered to take a picture and send a photo, while a photograph of the face and figure was completely unnecessary!

There was no deceit here, only that this girl was potentially not even interested in my appearance, for me such an offer seemed something perverted and obscene.

To be honest, it seemed to me that young Iranian guys go crazy as soon as they find out that their friend met a girl and got her phone number. Later, my Iranian friend will complain and say: “girls shy away from us like monsters”, and it turns out that the girl has very good reasons to “shy away”. If she leaves the phone with a random guy, then hundreds of his friends and friends of his friends will then call her, offer to meet and pester with other obscene proposals.

The next day, leaving the university, I immediately found myself on the highway and quickly drove to Yazd. And in the afternoon, Mohsen, Shokufe's husband, called me, he was extremely angry and asked why I gave his wife's phone number to a guy from the university.

- He now calls her and offers to meet. Tell him to stop calling! Mohsen demanded.


I had to make excuses to him and Shokufa that I had not left the phone to anyone, and then apologize many more times. After analyzing the situation, I came to the conclusion that when my new acquaintances were playing with the phone, they found the name “Shokufe” in the history of calls or among SMS, which was written in Latin. Since I called it by mistake, they rewrote their phone, of course, without asking my permission. The conclusion was simple: it is better to look after things and not give anyone a phone. and don't give anyone the phone.

Author: Kozlovsky Alexander.

Book: "Unforgettable Iran". 159 days hitchhiking.

Source: http://sanyok-belarus. people. en/

Translated automatically from Russian. View original
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