40 Halloweens

There are 2 sides to Halloween: the adorable babies as pumpkins side, and the disgusting bloody zombies side. I despise the horrific side, but dressing up as cute characters is always fun. In Iran, I don't have to worry about terrifying commercials for haunted houses or horror films to suddenly appear on the TV. But, my kids were bummed that there’d be no Halloween in Iran. 

Back in America, they were not big on trick or treating, but they enjoyed getting costumes from the store. It was difficult enough to find costumes back then, so I knew it’d be impossible here. Plus, even if we did, we don’t have money to buy costumes or enough idea of where to even look. I told them to make their own from things they have around our apartment. At first they balked at this suggestion, but then they came up with some really creative costumes in the exact characters they wanted to be (well, my younger 2 did). My daughter was “Shy Guy,” from Super Mario, and my son was “Ash” from Pokémon. 

We got them some Iranian candy as well. 

These Jelly Bon Bon’s were good. Sort of melted in your mouth!

These strawberry flavored center-filled candy was exactly the same as the kind in the U.S.

This chocolate did not have that depth of yummy taste like the milk chocolate in the States, but was good enough! 

So I doubt Iranians care about Halloween, but the Sherlock Holmes episode that night on the Tamasha TV channel was The Last Vampyre. Coincidence? I think not. 

A few days after Halloween, it was my 40^th birthday! Now I’ve mentioned in a previous post, that they say life begins at 40, so that means my true self was born in Iran, how fascinating! Okay, so I know it’s not a literal thing, but somehow seems poignant. I’ve never felt truly at home in Pakistan or America, and Iran is not exactly a perfect fit for me, but it is the only place I can feel completely comfortable abut the best part of being myself, a Shia Muslim.

So anyway, that day, my husband brought me these GORGEOUS roses...

...and this DELECTABLE selection of sweets. 

Then we went into Qom. We found another BAMA restaurant there. This one was much easier to get to in that we did not have to cross the street to get in! We parked right in front by the curb. Once inside, we saw that it was 2 stories. There was this cool fish tank!

Then when we got upstairs, there was this huge window with a lovely view of Qom!

We enjoyed a tasty meal and then went back to Pardisan, where we went to a very nice park!

Since my children are too big for the playground now, we spent most of the time on these fun work-out machines, which are often found in the parks of Iran.

My husband and I at the park. 

My kids and I at the park with the sun in our eyes!

The day after my birthday, I went to visit a bunch of gals who had also moved from America to Iran that became friends with online before I arrived in Iran. And a couple of which I had already met years ago in Texas. It was so nice for me and my children to see and converse with friendly faces! Finding my friend's house was a bit confusing. When she sent me her address I could not make heads or tails of it (btw, Iranian coins don't have heads or tails)! She had assumed I was arriving by taxi cab so the cab driver would have known what the address meant. Little did my friend know, I am in no way ready to take an Iranian taxi by myself. My husband made an educated guess about how to get there and we got close and then saw one of my friends and followed her inside. The gals were kind enough to make sweet desserts, and one of my friends even brought a birthday cake for me. 

Well, thank you for reading and keeping in touch with me! Stay tuned for my next post titled, "The Terrible Story of Tahdig," in which I describe how I made the classic Iranian crispy rice dish. 

InshaaAllah (God willing).

Alhamdulillah (Thank God).

p.s. Have I had 39 or 40 Halloweens? I don't do math much. 

What to Expect When You're Expecting...

Expectations.

When moving to another country, one may have an overly romanticized notion of what the experience will entail. This imaginary utopia of richly colored culture may develop as a result of watching far too many episodes of House Hunters with couples expecting a truly authentic home and garden on their exotic new island.  HOWEVER, the reality can be far from the expectation. Here are some examples...

The view from your windows:

Interior fixtures with character:

The dolphin is a nice touch though.

Detailed interior architecture:

Lovely outdoor space:

The authentic Iranian food you'll cook up:

I'll write a post about this disaster later.

The Iranian mirror:

You may imagine yourself fitting in with the beautiful, fair and slender Iranian women, only to realize you're still the same short brown (but adorable) gal you've always been. Ha. Just saying.

Of course all those beautiful views and things ARE part of the mosaic of Iran, but if you’re not rolling in the dough, you’ll settle for the charm of small things, plain and all.

Now one thing about Iran not only will meet your expectation, the reality will far exceed it! The shrine of Lady Masumeh (p) in Qom:

Alhamdulillah.

All reality photos (except for Lilo) are mine.
All expectation photos found on internet, mainly here. 

I Hear You Knocking...

...but you can't come in. 

Knock, knock

Who's there?

Farsi

Farsi, who?

Farsi, you can't speak Farsi.

Awhile back one morning, while my husband was away at his school, there was a knock on the door. I did what I’ve always done in America, which is tell my kids to be quiet so we can pretend not to be home in hopes that the person(s) will go away. But the knocking kept on, so we got a bit tense. The knocking became louder, and we heard voices as well. 

That’s when we got nervous. I knew I was not going to open that door, but if it had been in America, I would at least been able to say “Hello, who is it? What do you want?” But of course, I didn’t know how to say that in Farsi. So I tiptoed towards it to look out the peephole. I saw two men casually standing and talking to each other. There were a few more knocks while I called my husband to ask him what to do. He told me to ignore it and not say anything, that maybe it was the manager’s son who had told him he’d stop by later that evening. There were another few knocks, but then the men had left. 

I began to look up Farsi words and write them down on paper so I’d have something to say (even though pronouncing it wrong) if and when another knock came.

I knew how to say Hello (Salam)

I knew how to say I don’t speak Farsi (Nah Farsi)

I looked up the words, husband (Hamsar) and home (Khane) so I could say No husband home in Farsi.

And my husband had told me how to say American (America-ee).

I also looked up What’s Your Name (Esm e Shoma Chist)?

And Where are You From? (Shoma Ahleh Koja Hastid)

Sure enough, a few hours later, there was another set of loud knocks. 

I looked out the peep hole and it was a man, though I couldn't tell if it was one of the same men as before. So through the door, I began to say something:

"Salam," I said.

"Salam," he said.

"Na Farsi"

"Something something something Farsi"?

"Uh, uh…Khane uh…Jonathan Ali, Jonathan Ali (my husband’s name)"

"Something something something"

"Uh, uh, Americanee Americanee (I incorrectly added the N sound there)"

"Nahh something something"….

He left.

Success.

I told my husband on text about it. He said that his teacher said that it was most likely census takers. After that, my husband came home and spoke with the manager who said it was probably just people at the wrong door. Nevertheless, we taped a sign on the front door that has my husband’s name and phone number on it in case someone else arrives knocking on our door again.

So far, it’s been fine with no more persistent knocks.

I realized that some folks just press the wrong bell button at the gate trying to get into the complex. I also realized we have this nifty video monitor that turns on when someone rings our bell so we can see who it is.

The other day another bell rang while my husband was out. Looking at the video monitor, it seemed to be an official man such as a police officer. I waited to see if he would somehow get in through the gate and then come up to knock on our door. After a couple of bells, he left the visual on the video and we waited. Minutes passed and there was no knock, so either he was here for someone else or saw the sign on our door and left.

Then I got to thinking about what we would do if that actually was a  police officer who needed to contact us with GOD FORBID, bad news about my husband being in accident or what not. So I told my husband to give my cell phone number to a couple of his friends who speak both Farsi and English and keep the name of those friends in his wallet as Emergency contacts.

Not knowing the language is a vulnerable position to be in. I know I need to try to learn at least some important phrases.

So I tried to memorize the Farsi alphabet. I kid you not when I say (and already said here), remembering things like this, letters, numbers, new words is harder for me than it is for others. I’m not sure why though! Not only that but I have a huge anxiety about taking a class to learn it, having to perform in front of teachers or classmates.  My husband is in his umpteenth week of intense 5 hour a day Farsi classes. When he tells me about his tests both written and oral, I get so uncomfortable thinking about it. But it does not bother him one teeny bit (other than hoping he gets 100% correct, which he mostly does, mashaaAllah).

Let’s hope I can learn eventually because then living here will be a lot easier and pleasant. Right now, my youngest daughter is afraid to go out for a walk with me for fear that I just don’t know what to say to others. This makes me sad of course, so let’s see if I can increase her confidence in me. I hope, I pray.

Until then, I'll stick to my favorite phrase Na, Farsi. Oh, and by the way, my kids have learned a Farsi sentence: Een Cheez Ajeebe, which means, "This thing is strange." So, of course, they can say that about a lot of things here. Also, this sentence is very similar to the same words used in Urdu, which is the language of my Pakistani parents. I can speak and understand several words and sentences in Urdu, so that's something, ain't it?

Strangeness and Charm

We arrived in Iran with 30 day visas. Part of the process to extend our stay required us to get our blood tested thereby ensuring we weren’t bringing in any infectious diseases into the country. My husband had already taken his a few months before, so it was me and my kids’ turn.

We went to a hospital in Qom. It was a professional and efficient environment and run entirely in Farsi. My husband handled everything so I had no worries.

The waiting room was mixed with both men and women. We easily found 5 seats for our entire family! Then there was a separate men and women’s lab sections. I went in with my girls and my husband took in my son. It didn’t matter that I don’t speak Farsi because all the information they needed was on the forms we had. The wait wasn’t too long, and the ladies who drew our blood were obviously professionals. It hurt, but it was quick. My kids handled it so bravely. Then we were ready to get out of there fast!

We went to a fast food place called BAMA restaurant. Well, we were 20 minutes early for its opening, so we walked a little bit and went into this little store that reminded me of DOLLAR GENERAL in the states.

Then we went into the restaurant. Check it out on Instagram here! It was large and clean and colorful. There was a small play section for little kids (glad my kids are too old for that now though!). The service was fast and the food was really delicious! It felt so liberating to be able to order anything off the menu since it's all halal.

How much in U.S. Dollars? **

Walking down the streets, there are many shops. I was surprised to see several charming window displays of fancy Iranian household objects. My photos don’t capture all the shiny things, but it was so nicely set up that I’d be intimidated with my humble budget just to go inside and browse.

So some of the elegance was lost with these tacky signs, but really captured the strangeness and charm of life in Qom.

The fancy stores are separated by strangely modest alleyways.

Oh, and we had to cross the street. So. It was frightening. The cars were not traveling too fast, but when vehicles are moving towards you at a steady pace and seem to stop only a few inches from your body, it is a STRANGE thing. Here’s a video of the street after we’d safely crossed. Scroll further down to see a snap I took of a couple on a motorcycle, the woman holding onto her baby. It is of course a culture shock to see so many people packed onto motorcycles (the first night here, I saw 3 men speeding down the highway on a motorbike, one was holding a large hookah pipe even). I don't judge the Iranian authorities or the Iranian people for this. I can still recall being a child in America and never having to bother with seat belts. The safety campaign took a while and a lot of money to successfully lobby for better seatbelt laws in the states, so it's just a matter of time and money here too.

Praise God.

Here are some other interesting street scenes from that day:

*Title of post taken from Florence Welch
**Around $12

The View

Here's the view from our apartment's balcony. Although it's not much to look at, I'm glad we have it. The sky is wide and the air is fresh! Though the buildings and landscaping are drab, the light of the sky always changes, obviously, which is nice to see. I haven't seen many clouds yet, nor any birds--but I have heard some twittering when I go out to hang the wet washed clothes to dry (we have a washing machine but no dryer). It can get rather dusty when the wind blows, so we may need to put up a curtain. 

Looking down we can see a pretty little garden. I don't know who maintains it, but it's a sweet lil thing.

Here is the view of our front door, from the outside of the department. Ours is in the corner there, next to the elevator. We're above the parking garage, and there's 5 floors to the apartment building. I can hear kids and adults outside talking during the day (which I like), but other than that it is quiet except for the occasional random sounds that come with living in apartments. There's a white retractable gate in front of each apartment door that can be locked and unlocked only from the outside, for extra security if you're out for a long time (I guess?).

Here we take the stairwell down to get to our car.

Don't worry, Mom. I tell the kids to hold either our hand or the rail and to watch out for water on the steps. Here you can see at the bottom of the steps is the elevator door.

Here is inside the parking garage for those who have an indoor space (not us). 

Here's our Iranian car. It's a stick shift, which I don't know how to drive. But I doubt I'd want to drive in Iran anyway (more on that later). This car is a lot smaller than the Honda Odyssey mini-van that we owned for so long in the states (and which we sadly had to sell before we moved here), but 

this car is great to have so we do not have to take the bus or a taxi like so many others who live here need to do. My kids in the back tried to let the windows down and didn't know how to do that with a manual window handle, haha. Now they're experts at it. 

That's all for now. 

Alhamdulillah (All Praise be to God).