April 16, 2023 | Farvardin 27, 1402
Tehran.
Image: Four books about the seasons, by Afsaneh Shaban-nejhad.
Buying Bus Tickets Online
I woke up at 6:30 and listened to the traffic gradually grow louder on the street under my window.
It is my 6th day in Iran. Last night, I purchased my bus ticket to Hamedan for the 20th of April. A friend of mine out there sent me a link to Safar 724, an Iranian travel and ticketing website, and despite my Persian reading skills being elementary, I was able to figure it out quickly. That was my first time I was able to use my Iranian bank card online. All I needed to do was head to an ATM, and register a 5-digit PIN for my card, to enable use for online transactions (the PIN you use for in-person transaction is 4 digits). I spent 1,530,000 rials ($3) on my one-way ticket from Tehran to Hamedan, and received an SMS with the receipt.
Getting Lost in the Metro
I didn’t want to have an elaborate plan for today. All I wanted was fresh air and a chance to write and plan the layout of the rest of my Iran trip. Intending to go to Ab-va Otash Park, I rode the train from Ferdowsi station and got off at the wrong metro stop (Mosalla Imam Khomeini), and returned to the metro to continue one more stop at Hemmat. Wrong again. I should have gone to Haghighi. I took my time walking for a little over an hour to the Tehran Book Garden and browsed the early readers’ section. I finally found 4 children books about each of the seasons, written in very simple poetic prose, by Afsaneh Shabannejhad.
They even have the vowel markings, and are small, thin, and lightweight. This is everything I needed. A cat was inside the lounge, where people sit and read for hours on comfortable seats, and I kind of followed the little tabby. He stood up on two legs when he arrived at a trash bin, stuck his arm inside to grab something, but when he couldn’t grab it, he jumped inside and the bin collapsed. He scurried away for 5 seconds, then returned and proceeded to eat.
Ab-va Otash Park
I walked over to Ab-va Otash Park, so I could start reading Bahar (Spring). I got sidetracked by three cats on a stone wall, sitting right behind one another, and all three were in loaf position. I stopped to admire them for a bit. A young lady came up to me to join in the cat admiration. “Shoma ham oshegh gorbeh?” “Are you also a cat lover?” I asked her in poor Persian (see footnote).
She said something that I completely didn’t understand. I pulled out Google Translate, and confessed in writing that my Persian is still weak. We exchanged words for about 10 minutes, then hung out with the cats. Her name was Elnaz and had short, jet-black hair and pretty curls. I told her this was my first time since arriving to see an Iranian getting friendly with stray cats. She was a great listener and gave me time to construct a sentence, whenever I tried to express myself without the translation app.
Later that evening: I tried halim for the first time. I’m not sure what is inside: it’s a porridge that tastes like hot oatmeal with cinnamon and honey. Midway through, I learned that it has meat in it, and is typically served for breakfast. It was so cold tonight, so I was just happy for hot food. I sat on a chair in the little soup kitchen, which was centimeters away from a long staircase leading to the basement. Ahh it’s too early in my trip to take such risks.
Why do I do this? I ask someone a question in basic Persian, as if I expect to understand their answer. So what’s the point? In written form, I can reread, and I can see the word and remember reading it in the past. My reading is much stronger than my speaking and listening skills. I listen and they repeat their sentence, but the pronounciation is not what my brain can recognise, even if I learned the word before. I know it’s part of language learning, and this is true for all languages, but it’s so embarrassing and it sucks.
Iran, Az Cheshmanam 