After a night in Meghri I pass the border to Iran. I remember that I was told to always ask whether the driver wants money before entering a car when hitchiking in Iran. I neglect to do so with the first driver and after he takes me to a town near Jolfa he asks for money. I get mad and make a big scene out of it: his car is not advertise as a taxi and he did not say a word about having to pay when I entered the car. Some men flock around and follow the argument intently. A Russian speaking man translates. Finally I give the man 10,000 Armenian Dram and get 180,000 Iranian Rial. I have no clue how much I just had to pay, but leave with the bad feeling of having been ripped off.
Having learnt the lesson, I hitchike to Marand. In the minibus from Marand to Tabriz I talk to a man who explains the monetary system.
Rial is the official currency used in the country.
12,000 Rial = 1 US Dollar
The people count Rials in Tuman however. Almost all prices are advertised in Tuman.
1,200 Toman = 1 US Dollar
In Tabriz I am received most warmly by Rasoul and his neighbor Asgher. Rasoul starts to portrait life here in Iran. There are two parallel realities: officially there is to be no sex before marriage, adultery is a crime, alcohol is not to be drunk, modern dancing is forbidden, as are all types of modern music. In reality however the concept of girlfriends and boyfriends seems to be far more accepted than in the east of Turkey for instance, there are probably not many countries in the world in which having relationships aside of the marriage is social norm to such an extent as it is here, there are 'underground' parties at which people drink and dance regularly and American pop-music and TV shows are ubiquitous.
I found a sufficient number of people in Turkey to be truly religious although they might not have attached much value to religious form and codex. Here on the other hand form and codex are an external layer, an official necessity, under which simple atheism spreads far and wide. Government enforced repression of pre-marriage relationships stands in the most awkward contrast to media projections of sexuality, dance and party, which find their audience in most households of the country since satelite TV has become readily available some 10 years ago. Rasoul tells me of his own dissatisfaction with the official restrictions, while I catch a glimpse of an episode of 'Sex and the City' flashing on the TV screen in the corner of his room.
I go out to the city the next day with Georg, a fellow couchsurfer visiting Rasoul, who is, as I am, also on the way to India. On the streets and the bazaar I am confronted with the utmost respect as a foreigner from Europe and feel most warmly welcomed by total strangers. I find it hard to feel like a foreigner in fact. People seem cultured, intelligent; shops abound in all products we know from the west and the atmosphere on the streets is bright and clean. Here, total strangers hold together and help each other. There does not seem to be any of the mistrust between people, which seems to be so fundamental amongst foreign people in western cities, which is not even noticed in the west because it has become such a norm. If there is mistrust then it is most effectively concealed by the social norm of politeness and helpfulness.
People take total strangers with them in their car routinely. During rush-hour at larger junctions of the city you may see 20-40 people at any given moment waiting on the side of the street for somebody to take them to a different part of the city. Private cars stop constantly to give the crowds a lift. They stop and in a matter of seconds all the seats are taken. Sometimes not even a word is exchanged between passenger and driver; the destination seems to be irrelevant at first. People which have thus come together in a car might start chatting about their day, what is on their mind or what they are currently occupied with.
Crime, as we understand it, seems to be almost non-existant. Repeatedly I see people walking on the street with large batches of banknotes in their hands; at the gasstation the employees spend their whole day with stacks of money in their hand, while fueling the masses of incoming cars. Should the 'social police' however catch boyfriend and girlfriend kissing on the street, a day or two of imprisonment might follow, a substantial fine should be payed and a letter from the parents should confirm that such an act will not happen again.
Several times I spot particularly noble faces in the crowds on the street, faces of a royal, kingly character, handsome, beautiful, proud and aesthetic; they bring the association of Persian princes or heroes on the battlefield knowing exactly what they want; the long hair combed back, thick, well-kempt, the skin smooth and shining with a bronze tint, the radiation upright, awake and energetic. I am equally reminded of the Indian complexion and sometimes the hair resemble far-eastern types.
Indeed these are Aryans, today's living proof of the once mighty migration of a people, of art, of religion and of science from ancient India through the middle-east to Europe. I learn with the utmost clarity that comparing Arabians and Persians is like comparing Russians with people of the United State. On the surface, culturally speaking, they have little in common, save the same religion somewhere in the deep recesses of history. Persian is spoken here, not Arabic, women carry out the same jobs men carry out, women drive cars just as men do, antagonism against Arabians seems to be widespread, close to 3/4ths of the people are at least agnostics if not atheist and most people are decidedly against the government imposed religious law. Before the Arabian occupation of Persia some 1400 years ago, Persian was written in a pictographic alphabet, comparable to the contemporary Chinese and spiritual thought and practice was governed by Zoroastrian not Shamanic tradition. Within Zoroastrianism can be seen the inheritance of ancient India, Akkadia and Chaldea. In fact the three Magi's that visited Jesus allegedly came from Kashan in modern-day Iran, where Zoroastrianism prevailed.
With Rasoul I meet yet another man who tells me of his out of body experiences. In contrast to Veysel's experiences in Oltu, Turkey, Rasoul did not work on achieving this experience with his will. Since his childhood Rasoul finds himself out of his physical body every two or three nights with no breaks inbetween, looking down on it in as it is asleep. As a child he told his family about it, but they sceptically and sarcastically assured the silly child that he had a powerful imagination. These states continue routinely to this day. Rasoul went to doctors, where he was told that he has a very strong predisposition for such experiences, that his constintution is very prone to such experiences and that they can do nothing to help him. Rasoul went to fortune-tellers, which can be found in great numbers in Iran and are often perceived as absolute problem-solvers, and was told there that he seems to be a master of this practice and that they can give him no advice from their own minor or non-existant experience.
Rasoul himself is quite helpless in this. When exiting the body he perceives exactly the same overwhelming acoustic phenomena, which Veysel and Jay in London have described: extremely loud and frightening white noise, footsteps, whispers and knockings. Once he has exited he finds himself above his physical body in the room and any movement he does with his 'astral' body, takes an incredible amount of energy and willpower, so much so in fact that he usually recedes to merely observing and not doing anything. The further he tries to get away from the physical body, the greater the force seems to be he that he is working against and so he has never yet reached as far as the street outside of his apartment. Lately however he had managed something on which he was working for a long time and which took incredible amounts of energy: he managed to open the eyes of his physical body, seeing how they open from the outside.
While this experience is incredibly tiresome and demanding in itself, Rasoul feels an absolute calmness, freshness and invigoration when coming back to his physical body, so much so that he usually does not feel the need to continue sleeping for the rest of the night. Rasoul of course studied much literature on this subject and equally has the wish to travel to India to find a Master that could teach him how to control that, which he has been experiencing every two to three nights since his childhood.
One evening Georg, Rasoul, Asgher and I visit his home village, where we meet his brother-in-law. We continue to another nearby village where we visit the cabinet of a fortune-teller. The man in his mid-sixties perhaps shows that he has nothing to tell us, but Rasoul remains inside for a couple of minutes. I ask why he has visited these fortune-tellers several times and come to understand that he is simply curious to learn what they are doing and how it comes that so many people are captivated by them. We continue to the ancient village of Kandowan that evening where people live a relatively traditional way of life making handicrafts, selling them to tourists and bringing out their live-stock to the pastures. We have a look around and peak in to some of the rooms which were chiseled out of the rock thousands of years ago and are still inhabited up to this day.
I am grateful for Rasoul hosting me so warmly in Tabriz. I have to add that Rasoul drives like an absolute street-pirate. Hail Ibrahim Tatlises.
Having learnt the lesson, I hitchike to Marand. In the minibus from Marand to Tabriz I talk to a man who explains the monetary system.
Rial is the official currency used in the country.
12,000 Rial = 1 US Dollar
The people count Rials in Tuman however. Almost all prices are advertised in Tuman.
1,200 Toman = 1 US Dollar
In Tabriz I am received most warmly by Rasoul and his neighbor Asgher. Rasoul starts to portrait life here in Iran. There are two parallel realities: officially there is to be no sex before marriage, adultery is a crime, alcohol is not to be drunk, modern dancing is forbidden, as are all types of modern music. In reality however the concept of girlfriends and boyfriends seems to be far more accepted than in the east of Turkey for instance, there are probably not many countries in the world in which having relationships aside of the marriage is social norm to such an extent as it is here, there are 'underground' parties at which people drink and dance regularly and American pop-music and TV shows are ubiquitous.
I found a sufficient number of people in Turkey to be truly religious although they might not have attached much value to religious form and codex. Here on the other hand form and codex are an external layer, an official necessity, under which simple atheism spreads far and wide. Government enforced repression of pre-marriage relationships stands in the most awkward contrast to media projections of sexuality, dance and party, which find their audience in most households of the country since satelite TV has become readily available some 10 years ago. Rasoul tells me of his own dissatisfaction with the official restrictions, while I catch a glimpse of an episode of 'Sex and the City' flashing on the TV screen in the corner of his room.
I go out to the city the next day with Georg, a fellow couchsurfer visiting Rasoul, who is, as I am, also on the way to India. On the streets and the bazaar I am confronted with the utmost respect as a foreigner from Europe and feel most warmly welcomed by total strangers. I find it hard to feel like a foreigner in fact. People seem cultured, intelligent; shops abound in all products we know from the west and the atmosphere on the streets is bright and clean. Here, total strangers hold together and help each other. There does not seem to be any of the mistrust between people, which seems to be so fundamental amongst foreign people in western cities, which is not even noticed in the west because it has become such a norm. If there is mistrust then it is most effectively concealed by the social norm of politeness and helpfulness.
People take total strangers with them in their car routinely. During rush-hour at larger junctions of the city you may see 20-40 people at any given moment waiting on the side of the street for somebody to take them to a different part of the city. Private cars stop constantly to give the crowds a lift. They stop and in a matter of seconds all the seats are taken. Sometimes not even a word is exchanged between passenger and driver; the destination seems to be irrelevant at first. People which have thus come together in a car might start chatting about their day, what is on their mind or what they are currently occupied with.
Crime, as we understand it, seems to be almost non-existant. Repeatedly I see people walking on the street with large batches of banknotes in their hands; at the gasstation the employees spend their whole day with stacks of money in their hand, while fueling the masses of incoming cars. Should the 'social police' however catch boyfriend and girlfriend kissing on the street, a day or two of imprisonment might follow, a substantial fine should be payed and a letter from the parents should confirm that such an act will not happen again.
Several times I spot particularly noble faces in the crowds on the street, faces of a royal, kingly character, handsome, beautiful, proud and aesthetic; they bring the association of Persian princes or heroes on the battlefield knowing exactly what they want; the long hair combed back, thick, well-kempt, the skin smooth and shining with a bronze tint, the radiation upright, awake and energetic. I am equally reminded of the Indian complexion and sometimes the hair resemble far-eastern types.
Indeed these are Aryans, today's living proof of the once mighty migration of a people, of art, of religion and of science from ancient India through the middle-east to Europe. I learn with the utmost clarity that comparing Arabians and Persians is like comparing Russians with people of the United State. On the surface, culturally speaking, they have little in common, save the same religion somewhere in the deep recesses of history. Persian is spoken here, not Arabic, women carry out the same jobs men carry out, women drive cars just as men do, antagonism against Arabians seems to be widespread, close to 3/4ths of the people are at least agnostics if not atheist and most people are decidedly against the government imposed religious law. Before the Arabian occupation of Persia some 1400 years ago, Persian was written in a pictographic alphabet, comparable to the contemporary Chinese and spiritual thought and practice was governed by Zoroastrian not Shamanic tradition. Within Zoroastrianism can be seen the inheritance of ancient India, Akkadia and Chaldea. In fact the three Magi's that visited Jesus allegedly came from Kashan in modern-day Iran, where Zoroastrianism prevailed.
With Rasoul I meet yet another man who tells me of his out of body experiences. In contrast to Veysel's experiences in Oltu, Turkey, Rasoul did not work on achieving this experience with his will. Since his childhood Rasoul finds himself out of his physical body every two or three nights with no breaks inbetween, looking down on it in as it is asleep. As a child he told his family about it, but they sceptically and sarcastically assured the silly child that he had a powerful imagination. These states continue routinely to this day. Rasoul went to doctors, where he was told that he has a very strong predisposition for such experiences, that his constintution is very prone to such experiences and that they can do nothing to help him. Rasoul went to fortune-tellers, which can be found in great numbers in Iran and are often perceived as absolute problem-solvers, and was told there that he seems to be a master of this practice and that they can give him no advice from their own minor or non-existant experience.
Rasoul himself is quite helpless in this. When exiting the body he perceives exactly the same overwhelming acoustic phenomena, which Veysel and Jay in London have described: extremely loud and frightening white noise, footsteps, whispers and knockings. Once he has exited he finds himself above his physical body in the room and any movement he does with his 'astral' body, takes an incredible amount of energy and willpower, so much so in fact that he usually recedes to merely observing and not doing anything. The further he tries to get away from the physical body, the greater the force seems to be he that he is working against and so he has never yet reached as far as the street outside of his apartment. Lately however he had managed something on which he was working for a long time and which took incredible amounts of energy: he managed to open the eyes of his physical body, seeing how they open from the outside.
While this experience is incredibly tiresome and demanding in itself, Rasoul feels an absolute calmness, freshness and invigoration when coming back to his physical body, so much so that he usually does not feel the need to continue sleeping for the rest of the night. Rasoul of course studied much literature on this subject and equally has the wish to travel to India to find a Master that could teach him how to control that, which he has been experiencing every two to three nights since his childhood.
One evening Georg, Rasoul, Asgher and I visit his home village, where we meet his brother-in-law. We continue to another nearby village where we visit the cabinet of a fortune-teller. The man in his mid-sixties perhaps shows that he has nothing to tell us, but Rasoul remains inside for a couple of minutes. I ask why he has visited these fortune-tellers several times and come to understand that he is simply curious to learn what they are doing and how it comes that so many people are captivated by them. We continue to the ancient village of Kandowan that evening where people live a relatively traditional way of life making handicrafts, selling them to tourists and bringing out their live-stock to the pastures. We have a look around and peak in to some of the rooms which were chiseled out of the rock thousands of years ago and are still inhabited up to this day.
I am grateful for Rasoul hosting me so warmly in Tabriz. I have to add that Rasoul drives like an absolute street-pirate. Hail Ibrahim Tatlises.
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