A friendly encounter while walking back from the bazaar in Kashan

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A friendly encounter

At the end of our first day in Kashan, we walked through the bazaar. It was not quite what I expected which was a enumerable little shops under a huge roof somewhat like some of the indoor flea markets you would find in the USA.

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Not many folks in this picture at the bazaar which gave me an opportunity to take a picture

Kashan’s bazaar was a series of small storefronts on either side of a single long street. Each shop seemed to specialize in one type of item: small electrical appliances, jeans for men, dresses for women, toys for children, spices for cooking, cloth for sewing. The shops overflowed with goods, lining the walls from floor to ceiling. When the day was over, the shopkeepers would pull their merchandise inside and close and lock their doors. Some doors were simple doors. Others were more elaborate roll-down doors which covered the entire store front.

And the people. People everywhere walking, shopping, talking, looking. Looking at merchandise and looking at us, obviously western.They stared quite openly. And SH observed later back at the hotel that the women were staring particularly at me.

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Fresh bread

When we had walked a long way inside the bizarre, we turned onto a side street that led away from the shops and onto another street, a two-lane road for cars, still lined with shops, but more open and less crowded. We walked by a shop with people standing in a long line waiting to buy freshly baked bread. The bread was sold in huge stacked circles of flat bread, somewhere between a cracker and puffy pita bread.

We walked by lots of families with young children outside playing on the sidewalk. One brave young boy (maybe 10 years old) came right up to me to say, “Hi. Where are you from?”

We had a short conversation.

He insisted that I take his picture with his father and two younger siblings. Then I opened the small bag of sweets I had brought for just an encounter like this because I had read that children accost visitors with questions. They each selected a peppermint or butterscotch and the boy solemnly declared he was taking two so he could give his mother one.

 

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Listen to a poem chanted in Farsi in a mosque with perfect acoustics

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Royal Mosque

We had two full days in Esfahan. We spent one day in Nawh-e Jahan Square, which was built by Shah Abbas, a Safavid king, when he made Esfahan his capital in 1602. This square is the second largest in the world after Tiananmen Square in Beijing.

Toward the end of the day, our guide took us to Masjed-e Shah or the Royal Mosque. The entrance to this mosque is one of the narrow ends of the large rectangle of the square (rather misleadingly named). However, as you can see from the picture to the right, the dome of the mosque is at a 45 degree angle to the entrance from the square as indicated by the two flanking minarets. Why? Because the mosque must be oriented in the direction of Mecca. However, Shah Abbas did not want the symmetry of his square spoiled hence the angled walkway to the Royal Mosque.

Our guide told us a story about Shah Abbas and his architect Ali Akbar Esfahani. Apparently, the Shah wanted his mosque finished quickly since when the work began he was 52 years old. But after the walls of the mosque were finished, the architect vanished. No one could find him. The Shah announced all kinds of rewards for anyone who found him. But to no avail.

Then several years later, the architect reappeared, bowing before Shah Abbas. The Shah asked if he had any last words before he was executed.

The architect asked, “How high were the walls built?”

“Twenty meters.*”

“Let us measure the walls now, O Mighty Shah.”

The walls had settled several centimeters and the architect explained that before the domes were built if they were not to crack, time had to pass to allow for this settling.

Shah Abbas let the architect live.

The inner walls of the mosque are ornamented with beautiful blue, white, green and yellow tile work. It is proportioned elegantly. The dome of the mosque is actually double. The peak of the outer dorm measures at 51 meters but the peak of the inner dome is 36.3 meters. This gives this mosque perfect acoustics.

In the center of the floor is a square stone. I watched an Iranian tourist stand on the stone and tear pieces of paper in half. The sound reverberated, bouncing off the interior dome.

Our guide told us to wait. He wanted the tourists tearing paper to leave. Then he took over. He did much more than just tear paper if you watch the video. Notice how the people in the video all have stopped and stand still. One woman has her eyes closed as she listens.

To hear this man chant this poem is to enter another sphere of musical color. Listen after he finishes each line for the echo.

  • Disclaimer: 20 meters is my guess.

 

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Finally Friday — why is the first week of school so hard?

Last week, we had teachers’ meetings. This week, we had our classes and all the accompanying rigmarole. It is just exhausting. Not in a bad way, please let me be clear. It is just the summer wasso peaceful and quiet and now the school year is so busy and noisy — happy noises of girls laughing and talking and emoting.

Face fatigue is a real thing. As teachers,  we have to learn the names of all our new students and we have to learn them fast. We also have to try not to mix girls up. And we have to get the pronunciation of their names right. So much pressure. And the girl whose name you learn last always feels like you don’t like them. Or maybe that is me projecting. Or the two girls who get called each other’s names sometimes take it poorly. But what is a teacher to do except keep trying and apologizing.

A schedule imposed from external exigencies also causes fatigue. All summer we do things on summer time. If it does not get done, it can be done tomorrow or not done at all. Not so much during the school year. We have to be in homeroom. Class must start and end on time. Extra informational meetings must be attended and you have to pay ATTENTION. Then there are all the extra conferences with parents. All these things are good and necessary but draining.

Then when we get home around 6 pm, there are dogs to walk and feed, dinner to be made, and our own families who would like some attention and love. No wonder that first week is so exhausting!

Today is Friday! The weekend starts tomorrow. There will be time for rejuvenation: working out, sitting still, knitting, baking something yummy that makes everyone happy.

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Sometimes it only takes a cupcake

The first day of school is always exciting and, by the end, a little draining. But today it began with cupcakes for my senior advisees. This is their last first day in a new school year. They will have lots of these and smiles and some tears…it is senior year with college acceptances or rejections. 

So I thought they needed a little pampering. It is always a danger that they will expect this all the time so you have to be careful to disappoint now and then.

I taught three 75 minutes classes in a row. They went pretty well and I did not have to repeat myself. Reread a previous blog post that is all about the frustration of repeating so I am going to train them to listen carefully.

We even got a bit of mindfulness in without it seeming too awkward as they were asked to finish the sentence: “I wish my teacher knew…” This was inspired directly by a New York Times article which appeared August 31 by Donna de la Cruz about a teacher named Kyle Schwartz. Click here for the article. The responses I have gotten so far have been eye-opening. This is an exercise to repeat.

On the whole, today seemed like a good way to start the year.

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A Hike up Sofeh Mountain in Iran

During our time in Iran, we were shepherded by an expert tour guide, whom we would recommend to anyone planning a trip to Iran. On our second day in Iran, he asked us if we wanted to hike Sofeh Mountain outside of Isfahan with his hiking club. The name “sofeh” might derive from the Farsi word “safa” meaning purity, pleasantness, or enjoyment (this is what our guide told us and here is a confirming Wikipedia entry).

With that name, why not join the group? We like to hike. So we said yes. Little did  we know.

But first some geography.

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Here is Isfahan which is a large city of 1.7 million people. It is about 450 km south of Tehran, which is a 5 hour drive.

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Sofeh Mountain Nature Area is to the southwest of Isfahan. Sofeh Mountian is part of the Zagros range of mountains in Iran.

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sofeh mtn hike

Here is a rough idea of our hike. The green trail was to the summit and done in the daylight. The black trail was done in the DARK! The entire hike lasted about 5 hours.

Our guide picked us up from our hotel and then picked up his wife. After parking, we four met a large group of of 45 men and women at the base of the nature area. Women were wearing manteaux and head scarves. Everyone wore long pants and long-sleeved shirts despite the heat which was above 90 F!

Most folks carried packpacks which we later learned were chock full of water bottles and snacks. SH carried a 2 liter water bottle which we shared and refilled and I had some snacks. But we really had no idea what was coming.

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My young interlocutor and Isfahan in the valley.

After some warm up exercises which were a cross between yoga poses and calisthenics, we were off. The women hiked in front of the men so SH and I were separated. A few of the younger women talked to me, asking questions: where are you from? what is your job? how old are you? what do you think of Iran? I was particularly surprised by the age question since in the USA that is never asked — especially of a woman.

Another person who peppered me with questions was the 11-year-old son of one of the men. He really wanted to show off his English and I went into teacher mode, asking him about his school and favorite subjects. It turns out that his father taught Persian literature: Hafiz, Sumi, etc. When the son or anyone else asked what I taught, I soon realized that the best answer was Shakespeare. Surprise! But they study Shakespeare and everyone seemed to know both Hamlet and Othello. They seemed to prefer Othello which is a bit of a puzzle for me: why that one?

We both enjoyed the hike to the summit immensely, even though the last part involved a scramble with hands and feet. The path was steep with some scree but not at all bad.

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Scree but not as bad as some mountains such as Croagh Patrick in Ireland

At the summit, everyone stopped to have a quick meal. Folks shared what they brought. Everyone made a point of offering theirs to SH and me and we always had to take at least one piece!

One enterprising pair brought up charcoal and an espresso pot and made coffee. SH joined them for a cup and he finished that off with a piece of dark chocolate.

Then we all started the hike down. SH and I looked at each other. The light was gloaming and we knew at least part of the hike would be in the dark. Our guide assured us that the way down was easier than the way up. Not so much.

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Beginning the descent — the sun is setting!

Before it got full dark, we did see a scorpion. Some of the younger men wanted to kill it with a stick but a couple of the older men prevented them. We later learned that the older men said not to harm it because it was not harming us. And they quoted some line from the Quran about not hurting an insect if it is not stinging you.

Anyway, it got darker and darker. No flashlights. And the way got quite steep. We could see that the line in front of us had come to a hard spot because we stopped walking and waited for folks to make it down a narrow, twisted, steep area with loose rocks. By the time it was our turn, it was pitch black. The most experienced guides and our tour guide (who was always optimistic) realized that they might have gotten the neophyte Americans into a situation, and they all came back to coach us down with words (sometimes unhelpfully in Farsi) and gestures about where to put our feet with each step.

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Sculpture at bottom of Sofeh Mountain to memorialize the Isfahan soldiers who died in Iran-Iraq war.

We made it, and when we caught up to everyone else, I impulsively gave SH a kiss which is never done in Iran. Everyone laughed. They understood.

As you can see from the picture to the right, we really did end the hike in dark of night. The stars and moon were dim. But at least near the bottom, there were lights for the path. As we walked to the car, we saw lots of folks outside enjoying the cool night air: having picnics, playing soccer and volleyball, singing songs in circles, and strolling along.

 

sh comment sofeh mtn

SH’s comment about the descent — and his assertion that this blog understated a few things. 

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Iran: A Land of Extreme Contrasts

I returned on Saturday after a week in Iran. Dear SH stayed behind for an extra week since he had his talks to give at the Royan Institute in Tehran.

During our time there, we could not access any social media and to be honest, I am not sure I could have found the energy after many hours touring mosques, squares, historical sites, and city streets to write a blog entry. However, now that I am back over the next few days and weeks, I will write about some of what we saw and experienced in Iran.

First of all, Iran is a place of contrasts, stark contrasts, which are perhaps best captured by the landscape. You can drive and walk through barren, dry, brown land, seeing no trace of green. Just shades of brown and grey and maroon. And then you come upon a spot where water is present. Maybe you cannot see the water because it is underground, but you know

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On the way to Abyaneh

it is there because suddenly you see green. For example, when we drove to Abyaneh on our last day, when we turned from the main highway to the small 2-lane road that leads back into the mountains to the village, we finally saw green: trees, bushes, grass. It all grew along the sides of a stream that  flowed down from the mountains. At the source of that stream was the village of Abyaneh. None of the many conquerors who swept in waves over Iran ever bothered to attack this village. It was too far back into the mountains and had nothing of value: no gold, no silver. But it did have water. Enough water that a village could exist with fields and gardens to sustain maybe a few thousand people.

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Abyaneh

Another stark contrast is how people live their day. In the USA, at least in the north east and midwest, people are outside all day in the summer. But not in Iran. On our first day in Kashan, the heat was close to 98 F (or 37 C). We were walking around all through the morning and afternoon but we saw very few people. The city felt empty and a little eerie. But then, later, around 4 o’clock, people began to come outside and when the call to prayer was made an hour later, I saw more people emerge. By the time full darkness came, the streets were full of people walking, shopping, children playing, women hurrying on errands, men talking to friends. The city had come alive, but in the cool of the evening.

Another contrast was that of religion. And contrast is not quite the right word. A better word might be the commingling of religion. In two days, we visited a modern-day Zoroastrian fire temple, saw the closed doors of two Jewish synagogues, marveled at the murals in the Armenian Vank Cathedral, and admired the mosaic and tile work of many mosques.

It will take me some time to fully assimilate what I saw and learned while in Iran. The experience was almost overwhelming in its strangeness: the language, the heat, the daily tempo, the food (all delicious), the religion, the dress. But the people made that strangeness vanish with their greetings and smiles and willingness to engage with strangers, foreigners, Auslanders.

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Zoroastrian Fire Temple

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Vank Cathedral

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Mosque

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Jewish Synagogue

 

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Social Media in Iran — NOT

The Iranian government blocks lots of social media — including Pokemon Go (see this BBC report).

Of the very few social media apps which I use, the following are blocked:

  • wordpress (so you will have to wait until we return to hear about our adventures)
  • twitter
  • facebook (not that I am ever on that)

But they do not block Instagram since it is used for advertising.

So I will try posting to instagram whenever we have wifi. My instagram is: sforsteg. Join me!

You can also see how few followers I have! sad emoticoninstagram

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Sometimes a lens does more than you think

In preparation for our trip to Iran, we invested in a new camera lens. We bought at Sony DT 18-250 mm (F 3.5-6.3) for the Sony SLT-A33 camera.

Here are a couple examples of the range of this new lens. It does make a difference.

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Iran: the preparations

Sometimes it is extremely nice to have a famous SH who gets invited to give speeches about his research. This is definitely one of those times. He got me to Paris in July and now it will be Iran!!!!!

We are leaving next Friday, and we will have a week to tour a small part of this fascinating country. I sadly must return for opening meetings at school while he remains behind to give his lectures at the University of Tehran.

The preparations have been unusual — at least for me: a first-time trip to travel medicine for shots and advice; shopping for appropriately modest garb to cover all feminine curvature; applying for visas with multiple steps of which the last one involves the Pakistani embassy in Washington, imageDC.

We have purchased several travel books to read including one on Iranian customs. Interesting to note that the thumbs up is discouraged since it means “up yours.”

But the very idea that we are going to this country is simply beyond belief.

imageOur itinerary is to fly into Tehran, be met by a guide, spend 2 days in Kashan, then spend 4 days in Isfahan before driving back to Tehran so I can return home. SH must remain behind and I hope he does something other than email.

The temperatures are going to be high. But actually over the next two days it might be cooler in Isfahan than Philly. They say the heat is dry unlike the humidity in Philly that makes each motion feel like you are trying to move through heavy water.

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Current book

Now I am half way through Geoffrey Moorhouse’s book Sun Dancing about medieval monks on Skellig Michael. The first half is a novelistic account of life on the island from the foundation of the monastery in 588 CE to 1222 CE. The second half is the historical information from chronicles and hagiography. 

So far it is pretty interesting.

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