my iran guidebook

I bought a guidebook for Iran and have been poring over it ceaselessly. I am getting very excited about the trip, and the book is kind of hilarious. I love how in the "Where to have a drink" all they say is "Are you kidding?"; in the "Where to go out dancing" part, they simply write, "In your dreams." When discussing alcohol, the guidebook (it's a Lonely Planet book) encourages travelers to "detox their bodies" in Iran, as the illegal booze is sketchy and the rest not so great. They say that there may be Armenians that sell beer and wine, though and that there's an Armenian restaurant in Teheran that's a recognized Christian establishment - which means women don't need to wear veils (!!!), and Muslims aren't legally allowed in. This looks like a good place to go when I feel as though I am being oppressed by the patriarchy.

Speaking of the patriarchy, I took a class last semester that was all about women and gender politics in the Muslim world. It was a typical liberal arts anthro course, starting off with "basic" facts and information about Islam and women and descending into a vicious cycle of defensive apologies and cultural relativism. No, it really wasn't that bad - just a bit frustrating - but the most important that the course highlighted was the way in which Western feminists often feel the need to "save" their Muslim sisters from oppression (i.e. veiling). The truth (or should I say, "truth") is that the veiling part of it is often voluntary and women want to cover themselves out of piety, etc. I agree that presuming they are oppressed and using the veil as a symbol of oppression is a terrible thing, even if I feel oppressed wearing a veil. Also, veils are the last thing one should worry about, considering how hard it is for women to get a divorce, for example. I am curious to see whether my views will change when I'm there. 2 more days - so excited!

the iranian embassy

On Monday, I had to go to the Iranian embassy in Bern to take care of some very important business. I had to change my place of residence on my Iranian passport to Switzerland (it was in my best interest not to "be" from America, even though I'm not really a Swiss resident anymore!) and most importantly, to get an exit stamp in order to actually leave Iran after my trip. It was a rather interesting experience...

I arrived by car half an hour after the Iranian Consulate closed. Obviously, this was unintentional - the Internet told me I could go to the Embassy that closed at 5, but after talking to a security guard, it turned out that only the Consulate could help me and that I should come back the next day before noon. I did not want to go to Bern again, because Bern sucks, driving is boring and even Mohammed would have a hard time getting up that early with jetlag, so I used my high school theater skills to get my way. With lots of apologetic eyelash batting, I managed to convince them that I was leaving on Wednesday, and that it was absolutely imperative for them to give me the stamp because I was visiting an ageing relative and it may be the last time I could see her. I was also starting a new job in Geneva right after my trip, and had to get back in time. It worked, and they led me into a room full of Korans and portraits of Ayatollahs. I was really scared, but decided to take photos anyway, even though it's probably illegal.





I had my veil handy, and asked whether they would prefer me to wear it - I'd hate to offend them - but they just shrugged and did not appear to care. Shame - they were really missing out on some serious sexiness (not really.)



When the guy (presumably the ambassador) returned, the inquisition started.
"Do you speak Farsi?"
"No, I grew up in Switzerland, so I speak French."
"Hmm. You can't read the documents."
"I'm sorry."
"Hmm. Where are you living?"
"I was a student in the States, but I have finished and now live in Geneva."
"Have you ever lived anywhere else?"
"No, I have always lived in Geneva."
"Are you married or engaged to an American?"
"No."
"Do you have American nationality?"
"No."
"When are you going to Iran?"
"Next... Uh, on Wednesday."
"Why?"
"I have family there, and I'd like to know my country better. I'm really looking forward to it."
"Have you ever been to Iran?"
"When I was very small - two or three..."
"Hmm. So you need?"
"An exit stamp, and a change of residence to Switzerland, please."
"That will be 22... no, 24 francs."
"Alright."

And I waited in the room for about 15 minutes until he came back with everything. He made me sign a document in Farsi ("Just sign here." "But what does it say?") and fill in my address and phone number. I gave my old details, because I'm not actually a Swiss resident anymore - I was really scared he'd phone my ex-house and am still rather paranoid that the Iranian secret police will find out and blacklist me as an American spy or something equally awful.

Finally, I was free to enter and leave Iran without any problems, though I did have a hard time manipulating the triple-locked door on the way out.

political statements

I have a pink "No War on Iran" pin on my bag. Or rather, I did until it fell off. I got it at a panel I went to about the political situation there and how uncannily similar it is to the mess America made in Iraq. My uncle talked, he's a smart guy.

Lots of people asked me about the pin, and why I thought that; I just answered that bombing a country isn't a very nice thing to do, no matter what the reason is. You can't really argue with that, right?

I realized I'd be in Iran during the World Cup Football Final. This sort of upsets me; I kind of wanted to drink a lot during that match.

looking the part

They say looking the part is very important; in this case, it may stop me from getting arrested. So this afternoon, in a quest for garments that even an Ayatollah would have no qualms with, I walked down to Atlantic Avenue to buy appropriate clothing. I got a dead sexy Palestinian scarf to wear around my head. Well, the shopkeeper thought it was "very pretty" - good enough for me. I figured that I might as well take advantage of my location not to get shit for my political beliefs! I failed to find anything long enough for the rest of my body that was made of a breathable material, though. Most of the shops on that part of Atlantic are Indian or Pakistani, where people are less strict about covering up; they also mainly sell bright colours, which apparently won't do in Iran. I ended up finding clothes in this pseudo-hippie boutique on 5th Avenue called Omkarma (I found the name quite amusing, for some reason.) I bought a long tunic type thing and a long skirt, neither of which are too hideous. The truth is that I look more like a Grateful Dead fan than a nice Muslim girl; I'm not sure which is worse.

People have lots of misconceptions about dress in Iran. They either don't realize that ALL women have to veil, regardless of their religious beliefs, or they think that women have to go all the way and wear a burqua. Neither of these are the case. Women have to cover their whole bodies (arms, shoulders, legs, etc.), and the hair on their heads (not sure how they feel about mustaches) but not their faces. None of that eye-hole nonsense, but anything tight or form-fitting is forbidden.

My take on veiling is quite simple: if women believe in it and veil out of their personal or religious values, it's not oppressive. This is fairly self-evident. Similarly, if a woman wants to dress like Pamela Anderson because it her comfortable and not because she feel forced to make someone else happy, it's fine too. I do find it a little problematic for a government to impose veiling or any other religious regularions - in fact, I am against having a religious government in any country - so I'm less than thrilled about having to veil myself in Iran. However, since most people there are Muslims, I would probably veil out of respect even if it wasn't a stict rule. That being said, I'd be a little more reluctant to give up miniskirts.

It's funny - when we're around people from the Middle East, my mother instinctively drops her articles - so when asked what she was looking for, she says "We are looking for scarf or tunic." She's also taken to putting on a phony clipped accent, as though to affirm her foreignness. In the shop where I bought the scarf, the shopkeeper asked my mother where she was from, and she answered "Iran" - again, this varies according to who we are talking to. For Armenians, she's Armenian; for Russians, her mother gets blown out of proportion; for Francophones, she's Swiss to the bone. But back to the point. After she answered his question, he whipsered to her very discreetly, "your president is a very strong man." The same thing has happened in taxi cabs - the Arabs LOVE the guy. I'm sure it helps that he wants to wipe Israel off the map.

I've got the clothing covered; my plane ticket is booked. All I have to do now is to get a stamp on my passport in Bern in order to actually be able to LEAVE Iran. Certainly in my best interest. I leave for Geneva on Wednesday, and while it pains me terribly not to be in New York for three weeks, I am looking forward to the trip.