Kerman and Mahan – 2 Pleasant Surprises

Sufi Temple

Kerman Mosque

I couldn’t sleep.  I was feeling bad about the ride, and angry at myself not just for misjudging the distance to Kerman but for spending an ungodly amount of money on this trip and taking 2 weeks off from my work for this journey of supposed self-discovery, which was nothing more than a pathetic midlife crisis.  And I needed Internet, not just to post photos on Facebook but because I had some pressing office issues.  So, I wandered around the hotel holding my laptop like a divining rod in front of me searching for the elusive strong wifi signal. What was up with the Internet in this place?  I had gone to the TripAdvisor and Lonely Planet forums but nowhere was it mentioned that you can’t get Internet anywhere.  How in the fuck did these Tripadvisor people post photos and videos of Iran when it takes me 10 minutes and 10 attempts to send one fucking email?  I blamed the Imans who ran the country for keeping the people at 1995 internet speed.  I certainly don’t believe in American exceptionalism, but at this point I began to really appreciate the things we take for granted as Americans – the Internet, women dressing like sluts, free speech, no mandatory religious observance, alcohol, pork, Ru Paul’s Drag Race, etc.

On the next day, the plan was to tour around Kerman.  But first was breakfast.  I’m one of those people who needs coffee in order to get my body going in the morning. At home, I don’t just drink regular coffee but Panther Coffee which is famous in Miami for being awesome – small batch, roasted daily and all that crap. I have an amazing burr grinder and an equally amazing espresso machine, which produces great cappuccinos and espressos and once i a while I can even make latte art in the cup.  The point is that I can’t start my morning without coffee.  Now, Iran is a tea country and coffee is but a mere afterthought, which means that in any hotel breakfast room there sits a giant ornate tea samovar which is constantly being replenished, and next to it, almost as an afterthought, sits a measly little jar of Nescafe.  I am a coffee snob but I can deal with Nescafe in a pinch, as long as its heavily sugared and milked, but this hotel didn’t even have that jar of Nescafe, so I was forced to start my morning with tea, which I wasn’t happy about.

After the drive on the previous day and the crappy hotel with no wifi and not even a jar of Nescafe, I didn’t hold out much hope for the city of Kerman.  However, Kerman turned out to be one of my favorite Iranian experiences and worth the long drive. Its bazaar was huge and full of interesting stalls and characters.  There were lots of men from Baluchistan dressed in billowing blue and white oufits and women with all different types of clothing and many were curious about me, asking where I’m from and how I like Iran. There were many people who looked Pakistani or Afghani here. One thing I noticed about the women is that many of the ones wearing chadors (the black sheets which covered everything but the face) was that they held the corner of the chador in their teeth.  I asked Lina what was up with that, and she explained that by holding the chador in your teeth, you freed up both hands, otherwise you’d have to use one hand to hold the chador. I asked her how these poor women could talk with a sheet in their mouths, and she just laughed. Everywhere I went in this bazaar I was offered candy, or dried fruit or nuts or tea.  People practically forced gifts on me just for the “privilege” of having me, some random American, in their store. And I know for a fact that these shopkeepers were not just trying to sell me stuff – they were just genuinely hospitable and friendly.

We went with a local guy named Mahmoud who at first pretended that he didn’t speak English, but it turned out that his English was almost perfect. I asked him how he learned to speak so well and he said by watching “Friends” and that he’d watched each episode about 10 times.  He also watched How I Met Your Mother, and Breaking Bad. Then he said to me “I have a question – what is the meaning of ‘paisan’?”  I said that it must have been something Joey said and he said, “no Chandler called Joey a paisan,” and I explained that it was an Italian equivalent to a bro or a dude but don’t go calling people that because it sounds stupid. We then spent a good hour walking around he bazaar talking about various Friends episodes. Who knew that I’d be dissecting the lives of Rachel, Ross, Monica, Chandler, Phoebe and Joey in Kerman, Iran?  He then asked what new shows I’d recommend and I went out on a limb and said Modern Family and Lina chimed in and told him what an excellent show it is. Is Lina trying to tell me something? Mahmoud also asked me about Obama and he couldn’t believe that there were many Americans who hated him. He thought everyone in America was pro-Obama.   If only.

In the center of the Kerman Baazar, and in pretty much all bazaars in Iran, was the former Caravanserai which had been converted into a tea shop.  This part used to serve as a motel for the people from the hinterlands who came and bought and/or sold merchandise in the bazaar but now its mainly for locals who want to stop and have a glass of tea and something to eat – kinda like a food court.  We had some tea and Kerman sweets there and then went to the Kerman mosque, which was a gigantic place and very old and dramatic.

Mahmoud then took us to the Zoroastrian neighborhood in town where the was a Zoroastrian fire temple. Just the term “fire temple” sounded really cool and made me think of natives on Gilligans Island tricking the cast into visiting their “fire temple” where they would roast them and eat them.  It turns out that the fire temple is the term for the Zoroastrian house of worship.  The reason these houses of worship are called this is because they all contain an everlasting fire that is not supposed to go out, kind of like the “ner tamid” in a synagogue.  The fire is actually a real fire burning in an urn of hot coals that the Zoroastrian temple-keepers manage to keep going all the time and rests behind a glass wall.  The one I visited supposedly had been burning unabated for several centuries.  It looks pretty cool but the temple itself was a 60s-ish structure that reminded me of some American synagogues built in the same era. There are only about  25,000 Zoroastrians left in Iran because most of them have emigrated to the USA or India but the populations in those countries aren’t very high either and the total world population is only about 200,000.

We then went to the Kerman Contemporary Art Museum, which I really liked.  I was stunned that a provincial city like Kerman would have such a large art museum devoted to Iranian modern art.  After  that, we hopped in Mahmoud’s car and drove to a town called Mahan which was about 30 miles southeast of Kerman.  On the way, Mahmoud pointed out a building on a hill surrounded by barbed wire and said to me “guess what that is?” I guessed military.  And he said  “Revolutionary Guard.”  I asked them what do they think of the Revolutionary Guard and practically before I could finish the question Lina blurted out, “I hate them,” and Mahmoud laughed.

Just outside Mahan was one of the most famous Persian Gardens in Iran.  This one is one of the best examples of Persian landscape architecture because it is designed on a hill and has water running down in the middle and on both sides and is a UNESCO world heritage site.  On the top is a traditional restaurant where we ate lunch on traditional Iranian mats.  This was one of my favorite meals in Iran because the food was really good and we were overlooking this spectacular garden. After the garden we went to a huge Sufi temple in Mahan and roamed around there for a while.  Even thought I’m not a very spiritual person, the Sufi temple in Mahan was very inspiring and peaceful. At this point, I’m able to differentiate between the various branches of Islam – Suni, Shiite, and Sufis.

So, it was around 5 p.m. when I was dropped off at my hotel and I decided to wander around Kerman a bit.  More than any other city in Iran, the Kerman people approached me and asked me where I was from.  After I told them I was from America at least 3 groups of people asked if they could take their pictures with me. I thought of how ironic it is that the vast majority of Americans have this notion that Iranians hate us, when here I am being treated like a minor celebrity just for being American. So, Kerman turned out to be a really nice city, with lots to see and extremely friendly people.  By the end of the day, I didn’t even mind the hotel and was forgetting about the drive the previous day.