Yours Truly on CNN & ABC
June 24, 2009 | Filed Under Uncategorized | Leave a Comment
CNN Links regarding my 6/20/2009 detainment in Tehran:
I blogged about Tehran for CNN
CNN news artticle about my abduction & detainment
CNN Live interview with me on June 24, 2009
ABC interview segment & link:
Good Morning America segment 6/21/2009
ABC news article that quotes me
Gonaives, Haiti
January 11, 2009 | Filed Under Uncategorized | 2 Comments
Happy New Year! I meant to write copious amounts the past few weeks- but surprisingly I never had enough energy to read or write. I was in Gonaives Haiti, working with a group called Hands on Disaster Response (www.hodr.org) doing hurricane relief work over the holidays. In a nutshell, the work involved shoveling mud out of homes that had literally filled with mud following the September 2008 hurricanes. Although I just returned stateside (temporarily let’s hope) I finally have the time & energy to write about Gonaives… hopefully I can offer a glimpse into what life was like there- for me at least. What life is like for most Hatians- I can only begin to imagine…..
So: Haiti- Why Haiti? As many of you know, I am drawn to places that many do not see as tourist destinations. Haiti fits the profile. When most people think of the Caribbean they think of anywhere but Haiti… yet there is this incredibly historic (1st Caribbean nation to gain it’s independance from colonizing powers, etc-) part of the Caribbean which although so close to us, is so unknown. Last year I rode in a bus along the southeastern coast of Cuba, stopping in towns, drinking mojitos, doing my best to learn the Rumba (yes, my version is rudimentary at best)… there was a distinct flavor there which felt very Haitian to me. We were so close you could actually taste it. It was powerful. At the time I had no idea what it even meant, but in my mind that was how it worked- my curiosity was peaked & I knew I had to go. I don’t expect you to follow my thinking there… Even before that I had looked at visiting Haiti but was put off by reports of riots, looting, food crises, and kidnappings. All of these true, but usually it is not as pervasive as the news says.
With the recent food crisis, riots, poverty, and history of sketchy politicians, you would think this country- the poorest country in the western hemisphere– would finally get a break. Sadly, not yet- In September (08) Haiti was hit by not one but three hurricanes: Gustav, Hanna, and Ike. The city of Gonaives- about 150 kilometers north of the capitol Port au Prince was particularly vulnerable. The region is surrounded by mountains on three sides, and the Caribbean ocean to the west. Because Haiti has been deforested, when heavy rains/storms/hurricanes occur the dirt on the hills and mountains turns to mud, sliding down into Gonaives- flooding it with both mud and water. That would be hard enough to handle in place like the US, hence it is incredibly paralyzing in a place like Haiti. Sadly, the inundation of mud and flood also happened in 2004- killing thousands (total population of Gonaives is around 300,000). When it happened again in September 2008, thousands again perished. Those who survived had to revert to living on their rooftops, since their homes were literally filled with mud. Can you imagine? 80% were left without food or clean water. Again, can you imagine?
Since September many in Gonaives have resiliently carried on living on their rooftops, most of their few possessions lost or ruined. Oxfam temporarily erected camps to house some- like refugee camps, except for “Internally displaced” people. Enter Hands on Disaster Response (HODR). Until November I did not know of HODR, which is a crying shame. Basically HODR goes into areas that have suffered great devastation at the hands of natural disasters, such as Katrina, the Tsunami, earthquake in Pisco, Peru, flooding in Iowa & Bangladesh, etc-& then let volunteers join them to do manual “hands on” labor… Anyone can do it & it is no fuss as far as you do not need training to know how to shovel mud or pick up rubble. There is no cost to volunteer with them (that is a rarity, actually!) but you need to get yourself there & provide your own work gear, blow up matress & sheets (easy). They do not have any religious or political motives either: more points in their favor! I had also heard good things on HODR online; they were on NPR’s All Things Considered, NBC Nightly News, and there was even a big buzz about them on my trusty travel forum Lonely Planet’s Thorn Tree. After visiting their website I felt drawn to HODR’s cause and helping in Haiti, inparticular.
Though not a princess of any sort, in contrast to most on this planet I lead an extravagently charmed life. Though I knew it would be hard work, and very different from my current lifestyle, I knew it would remind me of what is truly important in life. There is much to learn by giving yourself to others wanting nothing in return. In the US we are rarely encouraged to do that, except for in yoga classes (how ironic). So while there it was my yoga- to break the engrained habit of looking out for myself first- even if that means sacrificing rest, doing work that makes me uncomfortable, not getting enough food (am vegetarian), and not having a bathroom at my disposal. All of these things most others on the globe do not have- yet sometimes back home people treat these things like birthrights. I am lucky that I am in the position to even notice or miss such things. Add to that the only reason I am where I am in life & the people of Gonaives are where they are is because of where we were both born. Chance. I can certainly afford to give more of myself. I am fortunate to be in the right circumstance to do so.
So, what does a day look like working with HODR in Gonaives? Each morning we wake to have something simple for b-fast like cold oatmeal & instant milk (which I skipped). Then at 7.30 AM sharp you are with your team on a tap tap (open bed truck/taxi) with wheel barrows, shovels, pick ax, buckets (when watery) on your way to your work site. There is a team leader but in reality it is a collaborative effort. Different mud sites (homes) had different sorts of mud. Some mud was 6 feet high, while others was 2 feet high but a very dense 2 feet. Some mud was filled with all sorts of random treats like firehoses and bicycles, which when buried and filled with mud become extremely heavy & hard to deal with. At sites volunteers are divided into “shovelers” and “wheel barrowers” …who are most impressive as they wheel pounds of mud with not very good wheel barrows through a sort of deranged adventure course ending in whichever spot we were actually permited to dump the mud (usually up some sort of ungodly steep hill of already existant mud). I was not a good wheel barrower. I think I accpeted my role as shoveler (& “dive & puller” of hidden treasures– like auto carburetors & music stands) after my first day. I grew up in the Northeast- so the best way i can describe the mud up the hills outside, was that it was stacked up high like the snow banks are during blizzards. Unbelievable mountians and hills of mud- everywhere. Most of it has dried giving way to a dust which is everywhere in the town (and in my nose, computer, food, etc-.). Once in while i saw a bulldozer taking some of the mud away- to where, I do not know. Most homes took a few days to clear out. Some of the trickier ones took over a week. So far HODR has cleared out well over 50 homes, and a school- letting over 50 families move from their roofs back into their homes & kids get back to school : ) I cannot recall exactly but I think so far HODR-folk have moved 1.6 million pounds of mud so far. That is impressive. Believe me.
Of course, you do not need to be a body builder to work with HODR. Look at me- not a very sturdy build. I was one of the weaker “mudders” there, however other duties also needed to be managed, which let me shine a bit more ; ). One day I cooked both lunch and dinner for approximately 25 people… I scrubbed many a toilet, and mopped many a floor… I also worked on a project collecting well water samples for Oxfam. A fellow HODR-er & I walked various neighborhoods with a beer cooler; collecting water samples from Oxfam built water wells to be sure the water coming from them was good. Another fun “job” was going to the Oxfam camp for internally displaced people and playing games with the kids. I know that sounds light, but believe you me, it was actually very hard word. I work with many emotionally impoverished kids at home, so I am at one with emotional and physical clinginess but this was at a whole other level. I thought I was doing the right thing in starting a Conga line there after the kids started chanting for it—little did I know I would come close to death from a giggling enthusiastic swarm of adorable kids. A stampede of love broke out, but it was a stampede nonetheless. My fellow volunteers helplessly watched as I struggled in slow-motion to stay upright. Each day volunteers return home at 4.30 to wash up (can take a while, many times baked in mud), eat at 5.30 (oft a plate of rice with bean juice with maybe 3 beans ; ) & then attend a meeting with the group to discuss what went on that day. Most days I was knackered but some days I went out to the auto parts store/pharmacy which turned into a bar at night. My favorite memory there was when a few of us took part in a dance off with a local 19 year old volunteer- we quickly attracted a crowd of 40 but were promptly crucified by the competition. In other words, my robot dance needs a few more bells & whistles to keep up in Haiti.
I cannot finish this up without talking about the wonderful of people I worked with there- fellow foreigners & Haitian volunteers alike. As you can imagine after working with people in this way, and sharing close living space and toilet (no door), you really do get close very fast. I never imagined that I would have so much fun there & meet so many amazing new friends- but I truly did. I was not in Haiti that long… there are many who were there since the project started on October 10, 2008… what I contributed was nothing in contrast. I am so impressed by the HODR peeps- extremely self-less people (not to mention bad-ass, uber strong, buff, incredible-hulk-like, etc-).
The only thing more impressive than my fellow volunteers were the citizens of Gonaives. Considering all of the horrific things they have had to endure (violence, child slavery, rape, intense poverty, starvation– the flooding & mud seems like the least of the worries) they were amazingly welcoming, cheerful and gracious to a random foreigner who could not speak a stitch of Creole. Their resiliency in the face of unbelievable obstacles deeply moved me. There are no words to describe how strong and inspiring these people are. I wish there was more I- or someone- could do to make life their situation less harsh.
If you are interested in doing volunteer work, i highly highly highly recommend working with HODR. They will be in Haiti until the end of February- then they are moving on to wherever the next disaster is/was. Not sure where that will be as of now. Check their website (www.hodr.org) as they will make an announcement. Also, if you are looking for a charity to donate to- i can atest that they make noble and wise use of every penny. Feel free to contact me with any questions about them. If your interests are purely in helping with Haiti I can put you in contact with people who do work there- a dear Hatian friend who now lives in Florida is launching a environmental education and tree planting project there in March. His name is Jude Papaloko & can be reached at (www.JakmelArtGallery.com) Peace…
Hear ye Hear ye:
December 11, 2008 | Filed Under Uncategorized | Leave a Comment
Notes from a under a Parisian bridge (warning: Jet-lagged)
November 24, 2008 | Filed Under Uncategorized | Leave a Comment
I’m going to go out on a limb here & make a generalized statement that your average French person would not be caught dead shoving food down their throat as they walk down the street, such as many of us in America cities like New York and San Francisco do. Today after walking a glorious 8 miles from Notre Damm to the Eifel tower at dusk/nighttime I found my self invigorated and fully appreciative of being alive & able to travel. On top of that I found my self with a big appetite but no wants whatsoever to go sit in a café by myself & eat. Tamara, my dear friend I am visiting- bless her sweet heart- is preggers- & therefore not willing to eat street food as I have been wanting to. Never mind the pregnancy, I think she is anti-street food cart blanche– something about the boiled hotdogs from the NYC vendors that she grew up with- the most I could gather from her story was that someone told her that people wash their hands in the water that Tamara’s boiled dogs came from.. Who wants a soapy dog? Can you blame her? No matter, I do not have any sort of qualms with eating street food- I do so in Africa, the Middle East, Asia… Europe’s version of “street food: seem so sanitized. I digress- after my walk I was delighted to stumble on a street creperie.
The possibilities were endless: Nutella and banana, fromage & tomato- too much to choose from- I opt for the fromage avec tomato given that this is my main meal of the day. The crepe maker insisted on speaking perfect English offering lines straight outta Top Gun like “Okay dude!” while giving the thumbs up. Thank God he did not try to high five me. About 5 other American girls wait on their crepes. One speaks in French to the man, as he speaks English back to her- clearly she is annoyed that she cannot show off for her visiting college pals. Moving on, the crepe meister pours the batter on the grill, makes a perfectly round thin pancake- just so– he then puts on an all too chewy fromage and adds freshly diced tomatoes. “Salt & pepper?” he asks… but of course monsieur! He folds this unbelievable precious yet substantial being in half- places it in a paper holder, and gives me a paper towel. I dive right in, taking a bite just as he says “come again soon” …I make an about face on my right heal. I know that in order to make love to this crepe like I want to that I need a bit of privacy. If I was home, I would not use such discretion. But here, in the refined and elegant city of lights, I try to put my best foot forward. Under the bridge I see a bench. I go sit on it. Out of the corner of my eye notice a perfectly ripened yellow banana on the bench but am too busy tearing back the paper wrapper so that I can proceed in devouring the second half of the crepe.
I vaguely start to notice that I am in a bit of an unsightly place- rubbish is everywhere, lighting is nowhere to be found, and no one is trafficking the area I am sitting in. What a perfect hiding spot to continue my affair with this crepe I think. Then two short men walk up. Very short men. Midgets. Even though there is another bench, they come to sit on my bench. Not wanting to let them see any sort of rise out of me, I simply scoot to the one side of the bench, still pulling excessive amounts of gooey cheese from the crepe into my mouth. They notice the banana and ask in French if is mine. I tell then “no merci.” I glance down while I bite into succulent warm piece of tomato. What do these men have with them? A granny cart with a few old leather boxes, held together with duct tape. There are all sorts of duct taped gages and knobs on these boxes- and some sides look like they have screens on them. I am so intrigued that I actually stop eating and turn my head to look closer. My brain tries to figure out what on earth these boxes are- surely they are crazy people I think. They must think these boxes are some sort of transition radio to communicate with aliens. I am sure of it! Then I see that one of the men has a violin in a plastic bag, and the other has an accordion strapped to his back, like backpack.
Oh- my bad: they are just speakers- not UFO transistor radios (who’s the crazy one again??). I should have thought of that. I notice a plastic cup taped to the side of one of their speakers. I feel bad for thinking ill of them- my blood sugar has also adjusted to “normal” so my guilt kicks in and I wish I could have tipped them- even though they did not sing- or play. They were polite. I ask them to take the banana & they do. The relatively taller fellow starts to bite into the banana- shockingly, peel and all- as they walk away to their next gig.
typical young urban male Iranian hair-doo
August 29, 2008 | Filed Under Uncategorized | Leave a Comment
Bringin’ Bloggin’ Back…
August 26, 2008 | Filed Under Uncategorized | Leave a Comment
Above is a link to an interview International Press Service (IPS) journalist Omid Memarian did with me in NY after I returned from Iran this August. The piece is Q & A style and may answer some important questions which i was too busy to cover here before. http://www.hrw.org/english/docs/2005/10/26/iran11923.htm
Persian vs. American hospitality
August 11, 2008 | Filed Under Uncategorized | 4 Comments
above: although deceptively written in Farsi, the above manual is actually used to train staff at JFK immigration & customs in NY, USA.
I am back in the US. Not without a bit of a to-do at both Iranian and US customs on exit & arrival, but i think that my stories of both will illustrate some of the differences in our customs of hospitality. Leaving Imam Khomeini airport, the female immigration officer noticed that my place of birth was in the US so she sent me over to a separate department for further approval. Due to insane lines at the airport, there was only about 20 minutes left till my plane was scheduled to leave so i had to hussle. Like several countries in that part of the world, many times, even when people do not know what you are looking for they will try to be helpful, and send you somewhere. So i was directed from one end of the airport to the next looking for the 2nd immigration office while the clock was ticking, Unable to find it i had to return back, a bit bothered & annoyed that this woman was making me do this at 4AM, and for what really? It has been a long time since i worried about Iranian immigration not letting me in or out of Iran so i felt confident making a bit of a stink to expediate the process. Which it was easily. The immigration department wrote down my visa number on an old receipt and i was off.
Normally i do not write about things like this, but I was able to ride in Air Emirates new Airbus Superjumbo jet A380 between Dubai and JFK. I was told it is the largest plane in the world, and it was only it’s 6th flight to NY since it began running on August 4, 2008. It is a double decker plane seating up to 600. Downstairs is for the coach folk, while upstairs is business andfirst class fit out with individual 26 inch plasma screen TVs, a shopping ceter, lie-flat beds, showers, spas, a wet bar, and lounges. I was not allowed to go up stairs to check it our but the entrance alone looked like an entrance to a fancy spa. Really nice warm hardwood floors, flowers, aromatherapy burning, & an reception area full of smiling gracious Air Emirate personnel, who also graciously serve us downstairs in coach. I am not sure if any airport is really set up to handle such a large plane- at JFK we had to wait a while while they figured out how to connect the “airgates” double decker style. Once getting off the plans there was a major people traffic jam in the air gate- we were only inching along- there were simply too many people. Luggage had to be dispensed from 2 luggage carousels; one for 1st class & business the other for us in coach. It took a while- there were just too many bags.
I was happy to finally get out of the airport after such a long journey from Dubai, however my usual good luck quick pass through customs did not happen this time. Although i have been through US customs over 100 times, never ever being stopped or searched, this time they made quite a not so nice fuss about me and the fact that i had written down that i was in Iran. This fact (which i did not even need to tell them really, since i travelled to Iran on my Irish passport) seemed to change the customs folks’ demeanor from aloofly efficient to angry and seemingly personaly insulted. It was strange. The first man i spoke with irritably asked me if the US had given me “permission” to go to Iran. Silly man, I know enough to know that that is not necessary, and that he was trying to intimidate me, which did not work. He then sent me over to a 2nd area where every inch of my bags were searched, including searching the luggage for holes, and whatever was inside such holes (smuggled 10 cent gasoline?). A woman officer asked me all about my career, who i met with in Iran, again why I was there (they do not seem to get that there is tourism in Iran), how i could possibly travel alone in such a country, what sort of money was spent, etc-. She then found a bunch of books i was bringing over for a friend- written in Farsi. She questioned what these books said and did not seem fully convinced when i said that i cannot read Farsi. AFter having such a great time in Iran being treated like a member of the family by everyone i met i had to ask them: Why is it so wrong that i went to Iran? What are you looking for? and, why don’t you like Iran? I guess b/c i know my friends back in Iran cannot speak so freely i was really pumping my free speech muscles by asking her so many questions in gest. I know this irritated these people, but i just could not help myself. THey had no answers for me except a quick “Hey, were the ones who attacked us.” I cringed with embrassment for this lady- for myself, as an American that there truly are people here (& this is NY!) who are still so ignorant and misled about the 9/11 terrorist attacks & who pertpetrated them. I quirped back correcting her that most hijackers were from Saudi- who the US does much business with– but she did not seem at all interested. By the end they acted as if i was invisible, ignoring my questions, not making eye contact- and leaving my bags a mess, so that i had to repack everything.
I guess you really cannot change people. They have to experience things first hand. Still, it is really disheartening- that people here can be so rude and suspicious while a supposed “den of terrorists” is so welcoming, friendly and sweet. You really cannot believe anything you see on the propaganda machine. Believe you me, Iranians see their fair share of propagana yet the people there still appear to be more independant-minded and further along the path of enlightenment than America is.
the real deal
August 9, 2008 | Filed Under Uncategorized | Leave a Comment
After 8 weeks I just left Iran- sadly.. i miss it so already! especially the great friends i have made there… my travel bug has hardly been tamed or satiated by this trip- i can hardly believe it. Now all i think about is what is next? back to Iran? Sumatra? Afghanistan? Borneo? Mongolia? Pakistan? Senegal? when when can i go!!!? Tomorrow?!!! I hope so!!
ANyways, i want to say a few things that i did not feel comfortable writing or speaking about from Iran. THough i do ****love**** Iran…. As anyone there will tell you there are serious issues surrounding free speech. The governmment (who i respect enough for letting me be there, and welcoming me so..) does not tolerate people speaking their mind or saying what they want- so in several of my stories I have changed names, not included photos of some people, and have been purposely vague about stories. If the government wants it can make trouble for people & i certainly do not want that for any of the people I met who opened up to me and shared their stories.
Most everyone i met is *not* happy with the current regime in Iran- very religious people included. I know a major misconception in the west is that we are waging a war with Islam and that Islam in itself oppresses women & calls for things like martyrdom. However i want to say clearly that it is NOT the religion– the issue is how various different governments (& fundamental groups) interpret Islam & the Koran. Islam is actually a religion of love & peace in it’s true form (in my humble opinion). This very same thing goes on in America with the Bible. What do you think? I can speak mainly about Christianity since that is what i have had the most background in. Growing up (some of you probably do not know this, or will be able to believe it) i had a very religious fundamental Christian mom. Even when i was young- not for 1 second did i buy any of it. I remember resisting going to church and questioning who wrote this book & if Jesus was a man of love then why would he make up rules that are are so strict, scary, and judgemental- moreless so hateful of abortion doctors and gays… and why on earth would just “born again” Christains be the “chosen ones” who reach heaven??! So we have been blessed by geography if nothing else?? it is really absurd if you think about it like a rational human being. I thank God (a universally powerful positive loving force) that I had that much sense even as such a young child. Having survived a mom who thinks this way (God bless her) even as an adult, i still run into fundamental Christians who would spew the same scary stories and the same canned responses to my questions-. Like many, i think that most world religions who have been touched by and interpretted by man are instead used by governments or people in power to CONTROL People. Of course this goes on today & it also went on back in the day- Bible & Koran writing time included. People are people. we are not perfect there always was & there always will be good and bad people in this world. So to me, it seems absurb to read everything said in the Bible or Koran and interpret it so literally & factually.
In Iran, I had identical conversations to what i used to have with my mom with a few Muslims who were trying to convert me to Islam. It is the same exact thing i grew up around- canned responses, insistance that THEIR way is the ONLY way to god, blind faith in a written book written by men, with no serious critique of WHO wrote this book and what their motivation at the time was. I do believe that Mohammed was a a fantastic man and phrophet- i just do not believe ALL of what is written in the Koran & how it is intepretted or stressed by some fundamentalists (same with the Bible). Like Jesus I am sure Mohammed is rolling over in his grave when some of his followers are brain-washed into believeing in Jihad, and other such things such as killing others, martyrdom & all these silly virgins holding wine goblets up in heaven.
It was wonderful questioning people in Iran about their beliefs (respectfully, of course), and getting the hard-core ones to think a bit more about what they may have been told by their leaders in their Mosque- not that i met many a jihadist (really only 1). One thing is for certain though, as much as i love Iran, there is no freedom or encouragement to question what you are told in mosque or by your government- it simply is not tolerated & does not go on with happen with strangers or in public. It is the thing that I savor most about the culture i live in- that i can question things. But that would never make me go as far to say that a place like America is the “greatest place on earth” as some right-wingers claim (how ridiculous is that!? i am sure they have never left the country- if only to Cancun), nor would i say that our leaders are really trying to spread “democracy” or fight for “freedom” in places like Iraq. That is bull shit- as you know already- it ain’t about democracy or freedom. I am happy that i can freely say that or whatever i want at home– for that i am very very thankful- my friends in Iran clearly do not have this luxury.
not much time, but….
August 7, 2008 | Filed Under Uncategorized | Leave a Comment
above: the wonders of photo shop in Mashhad
above: Fabulous Sunni Muslim fashion
above: Phallic burial stone near Turkmenistan border
hey there… all has been hectic- have been covering way too much ground way too quickly since i wrote last but just wanted to let you know all is great here but i have just been too busy to write or share much lately- i promise to make up for that in the coming days when i have suspiciously fast net speed, not to mention net access.
I had a wonderful time in the city of Mashhad- the holiest city in Iran so there was much religious fanfare and zeal but nothing i cannot handle. I was hosted there by my friend Omid and his family- really great people & a nice relaxing place to take refuge from the heat & crowds of pilgrims. His family is very modern and his friends and he all long for a bit more than Iran has to offer. We had many an interesting conversation about life in the US dictated on TV versus reality, how hard is to get a US visa (not to mention green card), and how they feel about the droves of pilgrims who are constantly “trashing” their city. In Mashhad I also spent some very enlightening time with my new friend Hamed who i met on the excruciatingly long bus-trip from Zahedan to Mashhad– we were stopped nearly 15 times to be checked by the police- just b/c it is still in the major drug smuggling area along the Afghan border. Still, i find something rivetting about that part of the country- quite possibly b/c it fills my admitted “danger element” which always means travel is more interesting & fun in my book (so long as it does not involve tonnes of metal crashing, and/or bloodshed).
Anyhoo, Hamed is a 25 year old die-hard Sunni Muslim & the ONLY person i have met in this country who finds the current regime in Iran to be absolutely fantastic (i am paraphrasing!). No matter, he is an absolute love and dear and despite his die hard religious ways, his family is not so religious and his mom is even a yoga teacher. i got to visit her studio and he translated for us as we had some fantastic talks about yoga & ashram life. It was great to see such different lifestyles co-existing under one roof, really.
After Mashhad i went to the TUrkemen area near the Turkmenistan border. A completely different culture yet again. 1st off the people look Asian- Mongolian like; 2nd off they keep to themselves and live off the land in a brown desolate almost monotoned landscape. I hired an interpreter there- she & I had some good times in Turkemen villages with the people (many ladies around, which is sort of rare- usually i am used to just seeing men in more traditional areas). We hung out with a few camels, dogs, and Caspian horses- quite a delight as you know how i love my 4 legged friends!!! We also went to a very random site where a Christian is buried. Somehow it has now turned into yet another pilgrimage site, but this time for Muslims (hey , they do love JC- Jesus Christ). Odder still there is an ancient pagan burial ground there with tones of phallic symbols- penises coming out of the ground- it means that a man is burried there. While a more butterfly looking shape means that women are buried below. Another interesting part of it was that the longer the phallus, the more important the person buried below- where have i heard that one before???!!! STill, this is Iran so it is a bit shocking….
More soon, people. I promise.
Police Escort 24/7 (feels like it at least)
July 31, 2008 | Filed Under Uncategorized | 1 Comment
Since in Baluchestan i have had to have mandatory police escort at all times, due to several tourists being kidnapped in this border area. Not many touists come here at all & most Iranians avoid the area like the plague but I am very very happy that I came here. It is a beautiful region. Still, i must be with a cop or 2 or 3 at all times: When i go across the street (rite now, yes!), when i go to bazaar, and when i go to bus station. THey are even with me when i drive from one city to the next in the region– a police car has to go behind or in front of my car. I have never experienced such a thing & it certiainly makes travel a bit complicated yet intersting- so much for fitting in with the locals! It is far from subtle. I have met a variety of policemen & soldiers of course. As well as criminals (even more since my bus ride!!!). I’ve spoken to reckless drivers, crack heads, bag-snatchers, and people who are in general losing it & need to be hospitalized. Those are the criminals- as far as my policement most have been most sweet, curious even. However one soldier in Zahedan pushes the curious crowds of kids away from me as i walk around & this really bothers me. Also, at least in the city of Zahedan photography pf any kind is prohibited at all times. While in smaller towns around here the police bend those rules for me & them: they are the ones taking my photo- and they insist i take posed pix of them with their guns. In general they have been most hospitable- buying me food, acting as my make-shift guides even though i have no idea what they are saying & vice versa. SOmetimes it is frustrating b/c i feel like i am being babysat, and i always have to wait for the police before i can leave my hotel or do anything. I am in a rush rite now but will tell you more later. To tide you over here are some pix of and with the cops!!! XOXO Love, Meshel
