Stephen Orth - Couchsurfing in Iran - Revealing a Hidden World

As a leaving present, Ehsan fills a water bottle with the forbidden grape juice. “For the road,” he says.

To: Mona Hamedan

Merci! Now its your turn to send me a picture

From: Mona Hamedan

I don’t have piC on my phone you can go to cs & see my profile piC

To Mona: Hamedan

That pic is beautiful see you soon!

From: Mona Hamedan

Thanks dear, but i have some acne on my skin, & i don’t remove my eyebrow now because my cousin passed away & i should stay til the 40th day of her dead after that i go to beauty salon & remove my eyebrow;)

I like the detailed description of her eyebrow problem. It no longer sounds like a ploy but rather very human insecurity. Human insecurity is much more preferable, if I have the choice, than the feared mafia-like prostitution ring luring innocent foreigners via an online travel portal. So I decide to go to Hamedan the next day—it’s on the route to Isfahan, anyway.

From: Unknown Number

Hey.how r u.i m shahin.hamedan c.s. And Mona cousin. whan u arrive to hamedan?Mona coudent host u.i will host how many day?

To: Shahin

I will arrive tomorrow. Would be great if you could host me for 1 or 2 nights! Thanks and see you soon!

WOULD BE GREAT if you could host me , I write back to Shahin. A very diplomatic answer. The prospect of staying with someone who I know nothing about doesn’t appeal to me. My suspiciousness has returned. After a two-hour ride in a Savari cab I’m standing in the middle of Hamedan at a roundabout with a huge stone relief of soldiers and Ayatollah Khomeini. I’m having doubts about whether this stopover was a good idea. Shahin doesn’t initially succeed in improving my mood. At first he tells me on the phone to wait for him at Khomeini Square. Then he calls again: “Take a cab, call me back, and give the driver the phone.” And two minutes later: “Stay where you are. I’ll come and get you.”

He doesn’t seem to trust me to get into a cab alone. This is typical Persian concern and is well-meaning. You feel like an honored guest but one who is four years old and incapable of performing the simplest of tasks alone. There is a fine line between being helped and being mollycoddled. Every expat Iranian on returning to visit the family for a couple weeks can tell you a thing or two about it.

A casual young man in stonewashed jeans and leather sandals gets out of a cab and greets me with three kisses on the cheek. “Welcome to Hamedan,” says Shahin and takes my backpack.

We travel north, changing shared cabs three times. He studies engineering sciences in Isfahan and Kashan. Just the day before, he returned from a fortnight in Iraq, where he worked as a welder. His most recent guests came from Düsseldorf, Bern, and Turkey. We get out of the cab at Juraqan, a suburb near the airport.

Shahin has parked his small decrepit Honda CG125 here. The headlamp seems to have been ripped off, and the speedometer has been attached to the handlebar with a makeshift piece of white cable. “It’s already had quite a number of accidents,” he explains and indicates that I should get on. We rattle off along a dusty road with dusty stores, stopping at a door to a courtyard. “We used to keep sheep here, but now it’s only chickens,” he says. I notice that he belongs to the small group of people who spend more time smiling than not. The house consists of a central living room, with doors leading to a kitchen and two other rooms. His room is simply furnished with a desk, a cupboard, and a carpet, with pants hanging on various hooks on the walls. “My mother and brother also live here, but they are away at the moment.”

“Is Mona your cousin?” I try to delicately introduce a more interesting subject.

“Yes, she speaks the best English of all our family,” he says, adding: “Are you religious?”

Change of subject unsuccessful. “Not particularly. And you?”

“I don’t like the Sunnis because they kill people, and the Shiites only believe in dead martyrs. I am Zoroastrian, but it’s my secret. If the government finds out about it…” he makes the international sign for beheading. Death sentences for apostates, though, are rarely carried out. People who are charged simply have to acknowledge their Shiite belief in front of the court and can continue to live. Zoroastrians, as representatives of Iran’s ancient religion, can expect a greater degree of leniency than followers of other religious persuasions. More than three thousand years ago they were the first to incorporate concepts like good and evil, God and the Devil, Heaven and Earth in their beliefs, thus inspiring Christianity, Islam, and Judaism.

Shahin suggests an outing. “Dumb idea,” I think and say: “Great idea!”

Directly behind the house is a dirt track leading to a hilly field. We ride on the motorbike to a sports hall, where Shahin’s friend Parvis works as an equipment manager, another radiant sunshine boy. We drive a little more to go flower picking. Three men on one motorbike, with me in the middle—that is more bodily contact than I had expected for the day, still not exactly what I was hoping for. Flower picking. That’s right, you’ve read it correctly. Shahin and Parvis are passionate flower pickers. I, however, once had a fun-free vacation job in a garden center. Even if there weren’t a fair maiden gazing at me longingly from the battlements, like long ago the beautiful Gordafarid entranced the warrior Sohrab, I still could not get any pleasure from picking flowers.

Shahin points to a field full of lilac-colored blossoms. “Saffron. For two pounds I can get forty dollars.” So we start picking saffron. A lot of saffron. And a flower that sounds something like “Kalam Kashi.” “Good for the heart and good against Alzheimer’s disease.” Kangar also grows here, a plant with mean spikes in its leaves, and Shahin wears gloves when picking it. In its stem there are milk-colored fibers that you can eat. They taste of nothing.

“Mona doesn’t understand why we love Juraqan so much,” says Shahin, who hasn’t understood that I like Mona very much. Every hour a little more so. Psychologists call this the Romeo and Juliet effect: the greater the barriers to a relationship, the stronger the affection.

To: Mona Hamedan

Hey, how are you? I arrived at shahins place. what is your plan for today?

From: Mona Hamedan

Hi stephan, you and shahin after dinner come to our house & then we going out:)

• Wandering around a bazaar.

• Getting to know a friendly stationer who wants to invite me home.

• Attending the opening of a carpet business.

• Squashing myself between two singing flower-power fans on a motorbike.

• Getting to know a friendly car mechanic who wants to invite me home.

• Photographing Shahin in front of a nondescript stone gate (“for Facebook!”).

• Getting involved in a fight (almost) because an obviously drunk teenager wants to relieve his aggression.

• Getting to know a friendly confectioner who wants to invite me home.

• Watching the TV news (Rouhani promises better working conditions, Rouhani wants more exports, Rouhani stresses the peaceful usage of nuclear power).

• Picking saffron.

“A FRIEND HASjust called me. Do you feel like playing soccer tonight with a couple people?” asks Shahin. My thoughts extend the list to include playing soccer.