travel, language, culture, and customs

life goes on in tehran

2009-02-25T20:10:00.004-05:00

life goes on in tehran is a fantastic photo blog by a former los angeles resident who moved to tehran. brilliant photos of the real tehran. i love it!!

the art of taarof

2008-10-30T10:50:00.014-04:00

i've noticed a lot of interest in taarof lately, so i'm going to try to break it down and explain all you ever wanted to know about the iranian way of taarof, all the scenarios you can find it in, and all the handy phrases you will need to really impress.

first of all, taarof is a kind of social behavior embedded in iranian culture. on a very basic level, it's a form of politeness or polite refusal. it's the going back and forth of meaningless banter in which the person never reveals his or her true feelings. sometimes it also shows social rank. but there are also subtle variations of taarof and taarofing.

certain words are always used in taarof. very simple, universal ones are befarmoin (please/here you are/i beg you), ghabel nadareh (it's nothing/don't worry about it), khahesh mikonam (you're welcome). a lot of this also has to do with the kind of relationship you have with people. for instance, i personally wouldn't taarof with my aunts, uncles, or cousins because i'm really close with them (but also partly because i was raised in the u.s.) but the best way to explain taarof is through examples:

1. say you go to a relative's house and they made your all time favorite- fesenjan. you eat and eat, but you still feel like you could have a little more. they offer you more, but you politely refuse saying that you can't eat anymore. you do this at least a couple of times before you give in and say, ok i'll have a bit more. and usually at the end of a meal, you say to the cook daste shoma dard nakoneh- a very polite form of thank you, literally meaning "i hope your hand doesn't hurt." to which the cook replies nooshe jan- which is kind of like "bon appetit", meaning that they are glad you enjoyed the meal. they can also say this at the beginning of the meal.

2. once, i was once at my aunt's friend's house. she went around offering everyone some fruit. she brought a big bowl of freshly cut watermelon to my aunt and offered her some, to which my aunt politely refused. befarmoin, the host said, and my aunt politely refused again. she did this 3 times before she finally took a piece. i remember watching this and being surprised when she actually did take a piece of watermelon. the way she was refusing, i never would have guessed it was just taarof. i find this kind of insincere taarofing over a piece of fruit annoying, but that's the way it is.

3. you take a taxi somewhere and when you arrive at the destination, you ask how much you owe. the driver says ghabel nadareh- it's nothing, you don't owe me anything. and you reply khahesh mikonam- please, i insist. and then they tell you the price. this same song and dance also occurs in stores, restaurants, etc. basically anytime you want to pay for something. this form of taarof is not to be taken seriously- you always pay.

4. now say you are walking with another person and you come to an entrance, an elevator- basically anything with a door. iranians will spend 15 minutes taarofing with each other about who should go through the door first. they will literally sit there are say befarmoin- please, you first- and the other person will say na, shoma befarmoin- no, you please go first- and person 1 says na shoma befarmoin, and person 2 says emkan nadareh- there is no way i will go first. so when one person finally does decide to enter first, (s)he apologizes- bebakhshid. and the other person says khahesh mikonam. now in this scenario, it's a bit of a feudal system. it's usually the elder person or the higher ranking person who enters first. for example, i would never enter a place before my grandmother. but say you are with a colleague of the same age. well, it comes down to rank or one person accepting to being the inferior of the two.

5. you are on the phone and at the end of the conversation when you are about to hang up, you say ghorbunet beram- literally, i'll sacrifice myself for you. in the u.s., we just say "take care." but in iran, we will sacrifice ourselves for you. ok, so we also say "take care"- movasebeh khodet bash, but in most cases, we iranians like to be more poetic and dramatic.

6. say someone compliments your kids and says they hope their kids turn out half as good as yours. you say na, behtar mishan- they will turn out even better. again, it's like playing the inferiority game.

7. when you get in the car, the person sitting in the passenger seat (because the driver can't help it) turns to the people sitting in the back and says bebakhshid poshtam be shomast- i'm sorry that my back is to you. the person in the back seat says gol posht o ruh nadareh- a flower has no front or back. and the person in the front seat replys bol bol poshteh gol mishineh- a nightingale sits behind the flower. you see how it's just this polite, superficial complimenting back and forth?

8. you can tell how humble a person is by just how far they go in taarof. they will say nokaretim- i am your servant. sometimes they drag their poor children into this and say that they are your nokars. or they say koochike shoma hastim- i am your inferior. or khake patim- i'm the dirt under your feet. you answer by saying noore cheshme ma hastin- you are the light of my eyes. or you can say aghain- you are a gentleman. on this same note, iranians have a word they use to mean being the most inferior of all: chaman. chaman literally means grass, but it's actually an acronym for- chaker (your obedient servant), mokhless (devoted friend), nokar (servant). but keep in mind that chaman isn't formal. usually friends say it between themselves when joking around.

9. sometimes when people are proud of you or want to express just how special you are for them (or also to show, again, their inferiority) they say taje sareh ma hastin- you are the crown on my head. to which you reply ekhtiar darin- you have the authority to do with me what you will. this, in turn, shows your inferiority towards them.

10. when you walk into a store or sit in a cab or when someone comes home, you say salaam- hello- followed by khasteh nabashid- literally, do not be tired. (although salaam can be substituted altogether by khasteh nabashid). it's hard to explain the meaning of this, as it makes no sense in english. but it's like saying a formal hello, and that you recognize their efforts of working. the reply to this is salamaat bashid- may you always be healthy. it's a very formal, polite thank you.

11. when you go somewhere and there are some people that are not there that you wish were there, you say jayeh (insert name(s) here) khali- literally meaning, their place is empty. it also shows that you were thinking of the person. for example you are on the phone with your mom talking about how you went to dinner with your sister last night and you tell her jahey shoma khali (shoma is the formal "you", like the spanish "usted"). but sometimes you say this just for the sake of not wanting to sound rude. for example, you go out with friends and you later talk about it with, say, your aunt, who doesn't know your friends. you say jayeh shoma khali- in a sort of superficial taarof sense. in this case your aunt would reply doostan be jayeh ma- your friends were there in my place.

i hope this lesson in taarof and all its variations has been helpful. if there is anything else that i think of i will be sure to write another entry on it. in the meantime, if anything is not clear or if there are any questions, please feel free to comment and ask me, or contribute your own taarof examples. remeber that iranians love and are thorougly impressed by a foreigner who can taarof. even if you use it incorrectly, they will love you for trying!

inkognito berlin

2008-10-10T09:32:00.017-04:00

stadthase and mann im ohr

vogelgrippe and der taz zum geburtstag

katze/armbinde, spielende ferkel, and grosse flutwelle

krankes krokodil, herbert, and last minute errand

i'm a huge fan of michael sowa. his paintings take you to another world, a bizarre one that is mostly ruled by animals. i have his posters all over my apartment, and i'm always on the lookout for more of his work. so when i noticed that written at the bottom of my posters was a little place called inkognito in berlin, i just had to visit this place during my trip. i took down the address, erkelenzdamm 11-13, and took the u-bahn to kottbusser tor. i arrived at the address only to see that it was an apartment building. i buzzed in anyway and went upstairs. a nice lady was waiting for me at the door, and i was wondering why she wouldn't let me in. she asked who i needed to speak to, and i told her i just wanted to buy some gifts. she explained to me that this address was actually the office of inkognito, and not where you can buy things. she was nice enough to write down the address for me where i needed to go to purchase items, and i was back on my way there, only to realize that it was another apartment-type building. i was so determined to get some sowa things that i didn't care. instead of walking away, like i would normally do, i buzzed up again, and was completely out of breath by the time i climbed up to the 4th floor. i rang the doorbell only to find myself in some sort of a warehouse. people were packing things in bubble wrap and boxing them. they all looked at me when i walked in, and one after the other, they said "hallo... hallo... hallo... hallo... hallo.....". hallo, i replied back to all of them. then a really nice, very german-from-berlin-looking guy (in my opinion) helped me find the michael sowa products i was searching for. there were books, binder covers, the amelie pig lamp, memory games, and hundreds of postcards. after showing me the other products, he pulled up a chair for me, and let me look through the catalog and decide which postcards i wanted. i wrote down the numbers and he went and picked them out for me. after paying for my things, he accompanied me out of the building because he was going on his lunch break. we talked about sowa, his work and exhibits, and about the u.s. and berlin, and how we both love berlin and how easy it is to painfully miss it.

i had quite an adventure trying to find this place. it truly lives up to its name- inkognito. i don't know how normal it is for people to actually go there and buy things, as you can find some of their stuff in other stores throughout berlin (mostly their postcards though). but i guess i figured why not go directly to the head store? so, if you decide to go to inkognito to buy stuff, this is where you actually need to go:

oranienstrasse 185
2 hinterhof (courtyard)
aufgang 5 (entry door)

if you choose not to go directly to inkognito, like i said, you can find a lot their merchandise in other stores in berlin. a good place to go is ararat on bergmannstrasse (either u-bahn stop mehringdamm or gneisenaustrasse). one of them has cute gifts and postcards, and there is another ararat across the street that sells paintings, posters, and frames. both are really worth visiting.

bär-lin

2008-10-10T08:34:00.005-04:00

meine liebe berlin (my darling berlin)

2008-09-30T11:38:00.005-04:00

i finally went out today into my beloved city of berlin. as strange as it is to be back, oddly enough, i feel like i never left. i got on bus m19 to go down ku'damm and start reliving my life as a berlinerin. *boom* u-bahnhof adenauerplatz says the voice on the bus announcing the next stop. and that's probably when it finally hits me that i'm back here. i hit 3 of my top 10 favorite spots today. not much has changed. there are a few new stores and some construction around wittenbergplatz, but other than that, it's just how i remembered it. same doubledecker buses (some with the same advertisements), same bright red-haired women, same graffitied up walls, same law-abiding citizens that won't jaywalk even when it's raining and there are no cars in sight (like today). and my language school, there just as it always was, with the same 2 coffee bars just waiting for the school's pause to be flooded by students drinking coffee, smoking, and practicing their german with each other.

tomorrow will be a day in the former east side, by far the best side. that's the side where i can't help but sing like marlene dietrich when i walk down the street:

das ist berlin, berlin, die ewig junge stadt
das ist berlin, berlin, die meine liebe hat
genau inmitten von der welt
hat sie der herrgott hingestellt
du mein berlin, berlin, du perle an der spree
wer dich erst kennt, berlin
der sagt dir nie adieu
denn deinem zauber kann man niemals mehr entfliehn
du mein berlin, berlin, berlin!

archaeology rocks

2008-09-25T16:06:00.027-04:00

ever since i was little, archaeology always fascinated me to the point that i used to go digging in my backyard hoping to find fossils. i always imagined finding native american spearheads like my best friend claimed to have discovered. unfortunately the closest experience i ever had to unearthing a long lost treasure was finding a chicken bone that the neighbor's dog, lady, probably buried. so i gave up on that dream and decided to live vicariously through the lives of real archaeologists by reading about their discoveries and going to a museum every so often.

it's always been my dream to visit egypt, but when i was 10 i settled for the field museum in chicago where i was blown away by the egyptian exhibit. with plenty of mummies, it was an experience the further solidified my desire to explore egypt. today, i was fascinated to read that archaeologists near cairo unearthed a granite head of what they believe to be ramses II dating back about 3,000 years. it's incredible to me that these sorts of discoveries are still being made. not only in egypt, but in greece as well. when i visited the national archaeological museum in athens, maybe slightly more interesting than the artifact itself, was where and when it was discovered. many of them, thousands of years old, were discovered pretty recently just down the street or at the bottom of the river or at the port of piraeus. 2 of the metro stations (syntagma and acropolis) and the airport even have mini-museums inside of them where the excavations found during construction are housed. it's quite incredible really. i can't imagine what it must be like for the person who excavates such a treasure. what goes through this person's mind?

i would imagine that iran still has a great deal of unexcavated areas as well. just a few years ago, in my mom's hometown of neyshabour, they found the site of an earthquake that occurred hundreds of years ago, and with it, a skeleton in a position that looked as though it was shielding itself. there are even broken pieces of pottery and carafes, as well as some pieces that are completely intact, to be found scattered across the fields near khayyam and attar. it should not be forgotten that neyshabour was the site of a brutal slaughtering of the entire population by the mongols in the 13th century. i bet it's overflowing with artifacts just waiting to be discovered. perhaps i gave up on my archaeological dreams too soon....

addendum to berlin top 10 (now, 11)

2008-09-25T15:34:00.004-04:00

11. buying fresh strawberries from the strawberry-shaped kiosks in the u-bahn (subway) in the spring

berlin top 10

2008-09-24T13:07:00.007-04:00

10 things in berlin that i miss the most (in no order):

1. petrocelli (the one on ku'damm)- with pasta dishes, rucola carpaccio, and panna cotta to die for. not to mention the best cappuccini- even better than italy
2. tchibo- jede woche eine neue welt (every week, a new world)- a coffee bar with new and affordable clothes, underwear, electronics, jewelery, shoes, kitchen supplies, and small furniture every week. yes, it's one of those places where you never knew you absolutely needed that candy dispenser until you just saw it. and it's so cheap!! by far the most random shop ever, but it's like disneyland.
3. eiffel restaurant- a trendy corner cafe, just like in paris. one of the best places for breakfast in berlin!
4. berlin skillz- the bad ass breakdancers who perform either by the gedaechtnis church on ku'damm or by brandenburg gate. they really do have skillz
5. faster pussycat!- one of my favorite stores in kreuzberg with 2 of my favorite brands- gsus and skunkfunk
6. cafe berio- another great place for breakfast, and just an overall great place to sit on the terrace and people watch
7. hasir (the one on nürnbergerstrasse)- delicious turkish food. order a mix of warm and cold appetizers with warm bread and butter, and you are set!
8. for kings and queens- another favorite store in kreuzberg with unique, eccentric clothing
9. hamlet- a great restaurant for some authentic german schnitzel and asparagus
10. gay parades- whether it's the gay pride parade or the christopher street day parade, it's great people watching, and it's all about the love!

you say "il weekend", i say "fine settimana"

2008-09-11T15:08:00.020-04:00

there was an article yesterday on the bbc about italians wanting to use less english words in their language- words like: il weekend, lo shopping, ok, and il computer, in addition to a number of other words that i had never before heard used like: briefing, welfare, and know-how. as an italian language student, i always used "fine settimana" but always heard "il weekend" from italians. i always said "va bene", but always heard "ok" from italians. why? why would you taint such a beautiful, lyrical language with foreign words? according to a travel agent quoted in the bbc article, "people think its chic to use english words." i actually understand what she is talking about. iranians also think it's chic to mix in english words. upper-class children in iran often call their parents, papa and mommy. that's grounds to get an atomic wedgie and your lunch money stolen here in the u.s. women in iran get their hair "highlighted" and their nails "manicured". i've even heard the most conservative, religious women in iran using, "period" refering to menstruation. so you hate the west for their decadent lifestyles, but you will still use their words, simply because it's shorter and chic. something ironic about that. i even noticed this trend during my year in germany. germans saying "hi", "mein dad", "meine mom", and "cool". but ok, those are minor compared to the words germans have lent us: poltergeist, angst, riesling, uber, schlepp, wanderlust, doppelganger, kindergarten, the list goes on and on.

so italians are now trying to "purify" their language and cut out the "anglitaliano", as the article so eloquently names it. of course it should be called "fine settimana" and not "weekend". aren't you speaking italian? iran is trying to do the same, especially when it comes to i.t. words. this is a little tougher, as i.t. terminology is a language it its own right. a while ago i saw a story on irib, iran's cnn, about the persianized words that iran came up with. some examples: computer is "rayaneh", email is "poste electroniki", attachment is "payvast", mouse is "mooshvareh", save is "dakhireh". sure the english version is shorter and perhaps easier to say, but in the end, it's about keeping and respecting your culture and identity. after all, ferdowsi went through painstaking efforts to write the epic poem shahnameh in nothing but pure persian words. not one lick of any word rooted in arabic in there. iranians always mention this proudly when talking about their culture and literature, and in order to distinguish themselves from arabs. we should learn from ferdowsi. so forza italia! weed out those anglitalian words. you will make dante proud!!

italian lesson 1:

2008-09-10T13:02:00.015-04:00

if you ever open an italian's kitchen pantry, you will find at least 8 boxes of barilla pasta, all open, each one containing a different shape of pasta, because as we all know, certain shapes go with certain sauces. italians love pasta. but i especially appreciate their everyday phrases with references to pasta:

fare la scarpetta- to soak up the remaining pasta sauce with a piece of bread (a faux pas at a formal meal, but perfectly acceptable among friends)
marinare la scuola- to play hooky (literally: to marinate the school [with pasta sauce])

ho marinato la scuola e sono andata da orazio per mangiare la pasta e fare la scarpetta.

more random language lessons to come....

nikos, my juan antonio

2008-09-08T09:52:00.080-04:00

i love movies in foreign lands. i love movies in foreign languages. and i love movies with narrators. 'vicky cristina barcelona' has all three of these, not to mention the location of gaudi's midsummer nights dream. and just like vicky and cristina, i was bewitched by juan antonio, the oh so smooth-talking, spanish encantador. why couldn't i meet someone so free-spirited and romantic? oh wait, i already have.

i came across my own little juan antonio in athens. he was incarnated in the body of a 60 year old greek man, but i knew it was him, because he had the spirit of a man half his age. he was an eccentric artist in athens with white hair and a white beard, wearing what looked to be like a bastardized version of a shalwar kameez, and whose insight could be mistaken for utter insanity. but after talking with him for a few minutes, i came to envy him for his care-free attitude toward life.

juan antonio, whose greek name was nikos, initially pulled me into conversation by telling me that he knew i was persian. "how can you tell?" i asked him. "your nose." great. as if persian girls aren't already self-conscious enough about their noses, little did we know it's a dead give away to our ethnicity. "but you are not 100% persian," nikos went on to tell me. "you have greek blood in you as well." i was intrigued. "you stem from the time when alexander the great came to persia and ordered his soldiers to sleep with persian women. you know about that time, don't you? you haven't forgotten history?" yet another greek talking about history. no, i hadn't forgotten about that time, but "how can you tell all of this?" "you have greek eyes," nikos explained. i asked him to reconsider that statement because every greek i had come across up until then told me that i have very persian eyes. but, no, nikos was sure- greek eyes, persian nose.

as i was looking through his paintings deciding which one to get, nikos explained the way he sizes up his buyers. brunettes give him the most business (like me). skinny girls, girls with glasses, and redheads never buy anything. where does he come up with this? is he completely insane? i love this guy!

before long, nikos had taken a liking to me (as i to him, but for different reasons), telling me that i looked like maria callas (yet another reason for me to question his sanity), but that i needed to gain a few more pounds before i'd be his ideal type. nikos liked big women- much like the women in the fernando botero paintings that he re-creates. "i like fat women. but not just any fat, they have to be proportionate fat," nikos explained. "you are a little too thin for me, but i like you. and i would very much like to paint you." someone wants to paint me? me?! what an incredible compliment! at least when i grow old, i can say that once upon a time, someone found me interesting enough to want to paint me, and i could have had my own little "rose-and-jack-titanic" moment. he then asked me to meet him later, which i would have liked to have done, had i been completely naive. but realistic and wise chickadee that i am, i soaked in as much nikos as i could in that short time to influence me for a lifetime. even though he may have been a little graphic at times and given me more info that i really ever wanted to know, he wasn't crazy, clueless, or even a bit off. he was just being nikos: eccentric, free-spirited, living in the moment, loving life. and why shouldn't he be? i bought one of his paintings (as incidentally i am also a botero fan) to remind me of him and his joie de vivre anytime i may need a reminder. i don't know what else to say but efcharisto poli, nikos.

there's got to be a better way

2008-09-03T10:21:00.016-04:00

i've already mentioned that getting on and off the ferry in greece is like survival of the fittest. you push, you shove, and you drag your luggage with you hoping to find a decent spot for it. there are no lines, the same boarding spot for several ferries, often times no ticket office by the port, and once you get to your destination, transportation can be impossible to come across. during my first ferry ride, i learned that people just leave their huge suitcases in the aisles. my second ferry ride taught me that mykonos has no taxis by the port. and my third ferry ride taught me that mykonos (again) has no ticket office by the port; it has about 4 different ones in town, each of which can only perform a specific task and enjoy a cruel game of hot potato (you being the potato) as they send you back and forth between all 4 offices. all this prompts me to say, there has got to be a better way!

here are some suggestions:

1. form a line. (even though my trips to new york have taught me that europeans have a difficult time with this concept)
2. ferries should use a conveyor belt to get luggage on and off the boat. i saw it once and know it exists, so please make it a habit
3. all towns should be required to have a ticket office right by the port-- ahem, mykonos.
4. no more pushing and shoving. growing up, i spent my summers in iran, so i learned this from an early age. but there is really no need for it. everyone is going to get on the boat, so just chill out.
5. if you are an office with the words "hellenic seaways" on it, you should be required to print a person's tickets. otherwise, take off your "hellenic seaways" sign- you are completely useless
6. make sure you have arranged for transportation at each of your destinations. mykonos and santorini each have about 35 taxis on the entire island. so if you don't pre-arrange, good luck.

all that said, the ferries are an easy way to get from place to place. but unless there is a huge price difference, you might just consider flying. it's faster, and takes a lot of the stress out of your trip.

what do iran and greece have in common?

2008-08-27T11:28:00.024-04:00

i'm glad you asked. besides similar climates and having a penchant for all things marble, several things. we both like talking about history. we like reminiscing about how we were archenemies and how we were once superpowers. and then we ask "what happened?" and blame others for forgetting history. we both like claiming that we invented *fill in the blank*, and make a clear distinction how it's american politics-- not the people-- that we dislike. and on that note, we both agree that it's iran's right to pursue nuclear power.
another thing we both do: raise our eyebrows and suck our teeth to say "no." i don't know why we do this, but it's really irritating. can you take us to the hotel? (teeth suck, eyebrow raise). do you know where this restaurant is? (teeth suck, eyebrow raise).
the metro in athens reminds me of the metro in tehran, with its smooth, clean, shiny, polished, marble. just one drop of water and you could be so unlucky as to fall and break your hip. the national archeaological museum in athens also reminds me of the national museum of iran- simple, white, block marble. nothing fancy, just a whole lot of marble.
now we arrive at obesity. we are both cultures of eating. we just eat, eat, eat. have more, that's not enough. for being on the mediterranean diet, i saw a lot of overweight people in greece- especially kids. it's the same in iran nowadays. a lot of fast and packaged food, and an increasing number of overweight kids. my guess for greece is portion size. they serve freakishly huge portions that i could never finish- to the point where the waiter always thought there was something wrong with the food.
greece and iran generally have a lot in common. similar cultures, similar mannerisms, similar ways of thinking. maybe that why i felt so at home there.

efcharisto poli ellada! (thank you very much greece!)

2008-08-25T09:56:00.030-04:00

in honor of my recent trip to greece, my next few blog entries will be all about the lovely country of ellada, now one of my favorite destinations. i'm going to start with some random observations about greece/greeks and lessons i learned during my travels (in no particular order) :

1. greeks raise their eyebrows and do the "nooch" to say no, just like iranians
2. greeks like asking "where are you from?"
3. there are a lot (really, a lot) of stray cats and dogs
4. not everywhere has a ticket office by the port (i.e. mykonos)-- be warned! get your ferry tickets in town!!
5. if you are going straight to the islands upon arrival, consider flying (not taking the ferry)
6. a greek salad is also called a "greek salad" in greece (as opposed to just "salad")
7. mykonos is big on art and has some of the most unique jewelery
8. there may be more italians in greece than greeks
9. for having the highest smoking rate in the world, i really didn't see that many smokers
10. the evil eye is even bigger in greece than it is in turkey
11. cab drivers in athens will refuse to take you where you want to go simply because they are lazy
12. greeks are very generous- almost every restaurant gives you something "on the house"
13.... or else they completely forget about you once you've ordered
14. black beach in santorini has sand hotter than fire- do not take off your flip-flops
15. trying to get on and off the ferries is like survival of the fittest
16. you can't throw toilet paper in the toilet (at least on the islands and piraeus)
17. astra apartments and suites in santorini is the best place to stay in all of greece
18. galini cafe is the best cafe in santorini
19. american tv shows are all in english with greek subtitles
20. parakalo seems to be a universal word meaning please and your welcome; you answer the phone "parakalo"; and it's also used to mean "yes/please" in the sense of what can i do for you/may i help you- much like the farsi "befarmoin"

new york, new york

2008-08-08T09:41:00.010-04:00

green street elite... and then some

2008-08-05T10:26:00.015-04:00

europeans are serious about soccer, or football. i've been to my fair share of soccer games in europe and have always been aware of the hooliganism that comes with it. some countries are particularly known for their hooligans: england, greece, turkey. and when it comes to rival teams, forget about it. but i was not aware just how proper and organized they were until i watched green street hooligans, a movie that explores the soccer hooligan sub-culture in london. when i used to go to brescia games to watch roberto baggio play, i would sit with the brescia ultras- perhaps the equivalent of the green street elite in the movie. for me it was just fun to sit there cause these guys were the most vocal, constantly cheering and chanting and lighting flares that would get so smokey, i could no longer see the field. it's like they say in the movie: some teams are crap, but they have great firms. some teams are the best, but they have crap firms. i've seen fights break out at games, heard about stabbings, but little did i know just how hardcore these groups were off the field. they actually plan times to meet and fight, or they wait for one another before a game to beat the crap out of each other. they are men with normal jobs and lives, but when it comes to soccer, they live for and by their team. i remember reading an article a few years ago about an italian man that called off his wedding because he thought his fiancee brought bad luck to his team. it seemed that every time she walked into the room during the game, the opposing team would score. i even remember reading about 2 leeds fans that were stabbed to death by turkish fans during a champions league game. i don't think there is anything quite the same in the u.s.

the movie definitely opened my eyes to a whole other realm of the soccer culture. i guess i can understand the rush of it all, but i was mostly amazed how easy it is to lose perspective of things... and, really, for what?

when in iran, taarof as the iranians

2008-07-30T12:56:00.020-04:00

EVERYONE needs to read the august 2008 issue of national geographic magazine, as it is about iran. after all the bad press iran has been getting lately (ok, more like for about 30 years), i could not have been more pleased with marguerite del giudice's incredibly insightful article that delved deep into the heart of the persian soul. simply put: she gets it.

one of the topics she talks about is "taarof",which i briefly mentioned in a previous blog entry. there is no direct translation for taarof, as it is more of a concept, and this makes it tricky to explain. it's like offering something to another person or offering to do something for another person, whether you mean it or not. the important part is to not accept right away, as this is considered rude. a taarofee will never know the true thoughts of a taarofer who has perfected his skill. it's ingrained in us, but perhaps many non-iranians will find it difficult to grasp this concept completely, as it is truly an art.

iranians will taarof for anything from a piece of fruit to the 24k gold ring on their finger. you like it? it's yours. but just because they offered it, albeit sincerely, do you really want to take that gold ring off of their finger? even with a piece of fruit, you are supposed to refuse at least twice before finally accepting. at this point, taarof becomes irritating to me. it's a piece of fruit guys, come on. however, the most insincere form of taarof, in my opinion, is the taxi driver who says ghabel nadereh- it's ok; it's nothing- when you ask how much you owe. every (quite literally every) taxi driver in iran will say this. just to give you an idea how important this taarof is in our culture, iranian cab drivers in the u.s. even say this to fellow iranians. as insincere as this taarof may seem in the first place, it's sort of rude when the cabbie doesn't say it. and, yes, i admit i've been tempted to say thank you and walk out just to see their reaction. we often call this taarof bazi- the taarof game. like when we say someone does too much taarof bazi, we mean it's enough already, it's annoying.

even though i get annoyed with too much taarof, oddly enough, i'm slightly offended when my american friends don't. take for instance if we go to the movies, and i offer to pay. they quickly say ok, thanks. and i think to myself, damn man, they didn't even taarof me!!! if it were an iranian comrade, we would be holding up the line behind us fighting over who pays, insisting that the cashier take my credit card and not my friends'.

but here is a case when taarof is sincere to the core:
on a recent trip to iran, my parents and i came across two brothers who were about 10 and 12 years old. they were selling drinks by the side of the road, and we stopped for a break from the scorching midday sun. after talking to them for a bit, we paid for our drinks and were about to leave when they invited us back to their house for lunch. they were very insistent, saying that their mom was preparing lunch and would be very pleased to have our company. the persian in me knows for a fact this kid was talking from the bottom of his heart. the funny thing is that in reality, these kids probably didn't have enough to eat themselves, and yet they were inviting us to their house. and persian culture dictates that you give the very best to your guest. so rest assured had we gone, we would have been treated to a feast from a family who can just get by for themselves. i have to say though, that after living in a western world centered around greed and egotism, it's very gratifying that my persian culture still holds this concept of treating the guest in the utmost regard.

if there are any other cultures that have this similar concept of taarof, i would love to hear about it.

and thank you, ms. del guidice for such a fantastic piece of journalism and for explaining our ancient culture so elegantly.

are you a tourist or traveler?

2008-07-29T21:11:00.001-04:00

"tourists don't know where they've been, travelers don't know where they're going."

--paul theroux

traveling with friends

2008-07-23T13:23:00.003-04:00

I have found out that there ain't no surer way to find out whether you like people or hate them than to travel with them.

--Mark Twain

vive la france!

2008-07-10T18:59:00.005-04:00

nice, france: could this picture be any more stereotypical?

travel summed up

2008-06-24T17:44:00.012-04:00

He remembers those vanished years. As though looking through a dusty windowpane, the past is something he could see, but not touch. And everything he sees is blurred and indistinct.

--from Wong Kar Wai's In the Mood for Love

to market, to market

2008-06-24T17:42:00.021-04:00

one of my favorite things about visiting new cities is going to the outdoor markets. you meet interesting artists and hippies, see and buy unique products, and then there is that unforgettable scent of sandalwood incese burning throughout the narrow pathways. you meet people from all walks of life in these areas and i think that's why i'm so attracted to them.

there is the massive rastro in madrid which sells everything from clothes to cds, bazaars in shiraz and esfahan whose vendors, let's face it, are eager to rip off tourists, and the lively market in kreuzberg in berlin filled with live music, german food, and fruity brazilian drinks.

my three favorite markets, however, are the mercato di mezzo and the jewelery market in bologna, and the recoleta artisans in buenos aires. i passed through the mercato di mezzo everyday on my way to my language school in bologna, and i could never get enough of walking through il quadrilatero, passing the variety of colors of the fresh produce, gawking at the cured meats and cheeses at tamburini, the strong smell of fish (sometimes still flapping around), and in keeping with italian tradition, vendors yelling and gesturing back and forth to each other.

then there were the jewelery vendors in bologna on a side street of via indipendenza, where i think half of my jewelery has come from: silver, glass, clay, leather. i love that place.

but then between these three, i love the recoleta market the best. that's where i met che, one of the local artisans. he pulled me into a conversation and then began making me my own unique necklace which he told me symbolized "eternity". from che, i met roberto and emma. roberto taught me how to use one of his instruments, and emma invited us for dinner along with che. it was truly a night i will never forget with good food, good company, and good converstion. i love the simplicity of their lives.

che and i actually still keep in touch, and he's starting to sell his merchandise to distributors in the u.s. but hopefully my necklace will remain my one-of-a-kind reminder of him.

artistas callejeros

2008-06-23T13:39:00.014-04:00

Starbucks vs. Starbox vs. Shid Coffee

2008-06-15T18:59:00.022-04:00

A couple of years ago, I came across a blog entry about a "Starbucks" in Tehran, known as Starbox Coffee. It's translated literally in Farsi as "Box of Stars" and instead of the mermaid logo, it uses what looks to be like a snowflake. Since I was going to be traveling to Iran in the next couple of months, I wrote down the address, determined to stop by. Unfortunately, I did not have time, as my family and friends would be offended if I did not spend every meal, with at least 3 main courses, at each and every one of their houses. Instead, I came across my own discovery near our apartment in Sa'adat Abad, Tehran- Shid Coffee. Now I'm not sure what "shid" (pronounced sheed) means, but nonetheless, I was happy to come across my finding, especially as its logo was much closer to the real Starbucks. Only, perhaps in keeping with the tradition of a male-dominated Islamic society, the mermaid was conveniently transformed into a man- her long locks became a dervish's beard, her crown, his hat. I'm not exactly sure why Iranians don't just come up with their own logo, but according to this article dated from 2006, they are not the only ones imitating the Starbucks logo. Apparently many Asian countries are doing the same. I suppose the logic behind this is that a similar logo will make people think the place is like a Starbucks. If it were me, though, I'd embrace being an independent coffee shop and come up with something of my own.

joga bonito

2008-06-06T11:08:00.005-04:00

soccer, football, futbol, futebol, fussball, calcio... call it what you want, it's still the beautiful game. watching euro 2008 this morning (czech republic v. switzerland) i can't help but wish that i were there right now. even if it's not at the game. just being there in the atmosphere of a soccer game or tournament- the feeling of unity, the trash talking, the chants- there is nothing like it. i was there for the rematch of iran-usa, the champions league games of real madrid-lazio, r. madrid-leeds, arsenal-valencia, the friendly between barcelona and ac milan, and the numerous brescia games as i followed roby baggio across italy in his final season chanting "roby gioca fino a 40 e noi ti faremo rei!" i've even met steve mcmanaman and iker casillas (before he was a household name), and seen zidane, ronaldo, and figo from just an arms length away. yes, i'm a hardcore soccer fan and can battle it out (verbally, anyway) with the best of them.

the great thing about soccer is that it's so unpredictable: baggio missing the penalty in world cup '94, france winning world cup '98 after not even qualifying twice in a row, greece going from odds of 150-1 to 2004 european champions. and let's not forget that it's all done without the use of hands. some of the footwork is an absolute work of art: watching figo or zidane dribble the ball down the field, christiano ronaldo or denilson's kick fake, headers, roberto carlos' zurda, rivaldo's bicycle kick goal against man. united, ronaldinho's samba and cafu's back-flip after scoring. two words: joga bonito

goodbye navy, down coat

2008-06-03T18:15:00.006-04:00

now that it's officially summer weather out, i finally put away my winter coats and came across the first great coat that i bought 8 years ago. i bought it right before my first trip to spain and since then, it's been with me all over the world: italy, france, holland, germany, japan, turkey... i always enjoyed having my trusty buddy with me when traveling during the cold months and i'm sure my buddy enjoyed seeing the world. it wasn't until last year that i finally bought a new winter coat. after eight years of keeping me warm, i retired my old friend to the back of my closet and started wearing the new one. i felt like such a traitor. just one more week and my old friend could have seen iran for the first time. i even visited spain and italy again last year, which i'm sure my old buddy would have loved to have seen again! but alas, it was time for a new coat to take its place. so as i saw it in the back of my closet collecting dust from not having been on a trip in over a year, instead of feeling guilty, i tried to think of all the good times we had together. my old coat had a good run seeing 7 countries and dozens of cities in 8 years. now it's time to give my new coat a chance at traveling. so far it's got 4 countries down, and time will tell how many more it has to go.

alles in ordnung in deutschland

2008-05-23T16:44:00.008-04:00

i had known this before, having spent a portion of every summer as a child in germany, but it got beaten into my head even more during my year there as an adult: germans like order. it's no wonder that they ask "alles in ordnung?" when they want to ask if "everything is ok?" it's not just they are asking if everything is ok, it's all about order. is everything in order? by that same token, when asked if you understand, you hear "alles klar?" and even just to say "ok", it's "alles klar." everything is clear. there is no room for misunderstandings, no unordnung. this is by no means a bad quality of germans, although a little flexibility never hurt anyone.

take the cinema for instance. i've been to theaters with assigned seating, but never one where seats in the back are more expensive than the seats closer to the screen, as in germany. so fine, buy the cheaper tickets and then move to better seats that aren't taken. not in deutschland. i tried that once when i went to see movie with a friend. not only had the movie been out for a while, but it was also a matinee, so we were the only ones there. 3 germans entered bringing our grand total in the theater to 5 people. little did we know that we were sitting in their seats, contributing to the unordnung of the theater seat assignment arrangement. before we knew it, they made us move. they actually made us move. it would have been perfectly understandable had it been a crowded theater. but there were plenty of other seats that were just as good, if not better, than the ones we had chosen. but those seats were the ones printed on their tickets, and those seats were the ones they were going to sit in. at times like this, focusing on the big picture and being a little flexible is, well, in ordnung. alles klar?

dreaming of gianni

2008-05-19T13:30:00.022-04:00

when it comes to gelato in bologna, either you are a disciple of gelateria gianni or il gelatauro. anything other than these two is simply unacceptable and brands you as being green to the city. the more sophisticated palates go to il gelatauro to bask in a chill ambiance with the amelie soundtrack playing in the background and eat homemade gelato made from organic ingredients. honey-pistachio-jasmine gelato anyone? how about squash-cinnamon or pear-ricotta? you can even get your favorite scoop in a brioche.

most people, however, head to gelateria gianni, where on most days gianni himself can be seen working the cash register, his wife and children distributing scoops of gelato in cestini. gianni is famous for his original creations packing all sorts of chunks of nuts, wafers, and cakes into flavors called inferno, purgatorio, and le due torri, among others. depending of what movies are in the cinema at that time, gianni will even name his gelati after them. like harry potter or troy. i prefer the simpler gelati, though, always to be found at the end of the case. my usuals? pompelmo rosa (pink grapefruit), banana, agrumi di sicilia (citrus fruits of sicily), and ace. in one word- heaven.

my first time to gianni, there was an american who asked what was in one particular gelato. the italian girl (who would later have a different hair color every time i went to gianni) answered in broken english, "eets ah seeg-ret. " the american was absolutely disgusted, and the italian girl looked at me and asked why she seemed so repulsed. i was confused too because i understood it as being a "secret." so i took the liberty of explaining to the american in native english what the girl had said. she all of the sudden looked relieved explaining that she had understood "cigarette" not "secret". i'm pretty sure there is no cigarette-flavored gelato anywhere in italy.

after my first experience with gianni's God-given talent, i started going there so often that my roommate and i decided to save our little pastel-colored plastic spoons to see just how many times we go in a month. i mean i love this place so much that for my birthday h. and i bought 1 kilo of gelato for my party, only to end up splitting it between the two of us after the guests had left.

i still dream of gianni. in my dreams, it's always the same: i get off the train late at night, backpack on back, and walk through the porticoed streets of this gothic city toward my favorite gelateria. everywhere is closed, except gianni. i walk in eager to see what kind of flavors, new and old, he has waiting for me.

when my dream finally came true last year, it wasn't quite the same. i was expecting to be there at least twice a day, devouring enough gelato to hold me through until my next visit. instead i only went once. something about being there alone, without my friends didn't, well, as the iranians would say, it didn't "stick". don't get me wrong, it was as delicious as ever. but for me personally, so much of gianni is associated with my friends and my life as a "bolognese" that going back there alone made me insanely nostalgic. and thanks to the lump in my throat, i could barely swallow the gelato that i had dreamt of and continue to dream of so much.

for anyone going to italy in the near future, it's worth a stop in bologna if for nothing else than the gelato- gianni or il gelatauro. it's a fairly short walk from the train station, you get to see enough of the city which is bound to make you rethink your plans and stay longer, and most importantly, you won't be disappointed. it's not like seeing the mona lisa behind the swarm of tourists all trying to get rid of the glare caused by the glass cage she is in and capture her mysterious smile on film. it's more like entering the accademia in florence and having david take your breath away as you see his colossal stature down the hall, perched high on his pedestal.

gli emigranti vs. il berluska

2008-05-16T17:39:00.019-04:00

i read an article today from ap stating that the police in italy arrested almost 400 people, mostly foreigners from romania and north africa "in a weeklong crackdown on street crime and illegal immigration." apparently this is berlusconi and crew trying to improve street safety. funny the story caught my eye especially since i wrote just a couple of days ago about my encounter with the romanians on the train in italy. the one with whom i spoke may have been crude and incredibly inappropriate, but he wasn't mean. if anything, he exchanged a pleasant good-bye with me when he was kicked off the train. i've also had many encounters with illegal african immigrants in italy that were never, not once, bad. my heart always went out to these people, wondering what their previous living conditions were like that they were (perhaps) forced to move. then i'd see the plastic bird being released, what i later learned was a sign that the carabinieri were close and that the men selling the fake purses and sunglasses needed to gather their merchandise and walk- better yet run- away immediately. was this life better than the one they left behind? so as i read this article today, i thought about these guys, the romanian, and the 400 arrested immigrants, and hope that at the very least they are being treated humanely. you never know what people have gone through in the past or their real reason for having immigrated. but illegal or not, we are all human beings, and no matter what situation we find ourselves in, we always deserve to be treated as such.

a tale of two countries

2008-05-15T17:11:00.035-04:00

we are more alike that we realize. there is always something, no matter how small, that links us in some way. when people travel, they learn about new cultures and new ways of life, and hopefully they embrace these ideas instead of rejecting them as being wrong or odd. what's most amazing, though, is when one finds similarities between two seemingly opposite cultures. i learned this after visiting japan and realizing that it had 3 remarkable similarities to, of all places, iran. japan is known for the bullet train and their advances in car manufacturing, not to mention the fact that they have had access to the internet on their cell phones for years now. iran, on the other hand, only recently stopped manufacturing the paykan (a not so eco-friendly car with no real improvements made to it since it first rolled off the belt in 1967), still relies on dial-up internet connection in 2008, and you can be sure that the trains will get you to your destination at no faster than 65 mph. what could these two countries possibly have in common?

what the japanese call a kotatsu, iranians call a korsi. its a low wooden table with an electric heater attached to the underside of it and a thick blanket thrown over it. people sit on the floor and put legs under the blanket. it's a remarkable way to stay warm in the winter, and many times people even nap there. i'd heard stories about the korsi, but always having visited iran in the summer, i had never actually seen one. it wasn't until i stayed with my host family in japan that i got my first glimpse of the kotatsu/korsi.

another similarity is the futon, known as a doshak to iranians. a futon in the u.s. is not the same in japan. in japan, it's simply a mattress on a tatami. no mattress frame, no couch-to-bed conversion. even though i was in a foreign country, i felt right at home in my tatami room, sleeping on my doshak.

the last similarity i saw came in the form of religion. everyone is familiar with the 3 monkeys representing: see no evil, hear no evil, speak no evil, depicted on the toshogu temple in nikko and thought to have come from buddhism. the basis of zoroastrianism, the original religion of iran, has a similar saying: good thoughts, good words, and good deeds. two completely different religions spreading a message of striking similarity.

it's for reasons like these that i think traveling is so important. the more you see the world and interact with people and learn about their cultures, the more you realize that we are more similar than we are different.

3 tales of "why do things like this always seem to happen to me?"

2008-05-14T14:23:00.022-04:00

1. 2002, my first time to italy, backpacking for a month. as i'm sitting on the train pleasantly conversing with v and k, waiting to arrive at stazione principe in genoa, a guy gets on the train and clearly, he is out of it. the last time i had seen someone so wasted and on who knows what was at carnaval in cadiz. of course he decided to sit with the three of us and as soon as he did, our conversation came to a halt. he kept nodding off, but during his spurts of semi-consciousness, he asked us what our names were, which station we were getting off at (genoa has 2) and if we had a cigarette. when we told him that we didn't smoke, he said that we were smart not to. "now repeat after me," he slurred. "non fumare e' molto bene." we just nodded our heads and tried to ignore him. but that wasn't enough. he demanded that we actually repeat his words. so there we were, v, k, and i mumbling "non fumare e' molto bene". luckily he seemed satisfied with our enthusiasm and drifted off to sleep again as we bolted off the train at our station. that became one of our inside jokes for the rest of our trip and still cracks me up today. "non fumare e' molto bene."

2. fast forward 2 years to when i returned to italy to study in bologna. i decided to take a day trip by myself to venice. sitting on the train listening to my mp3 player, a nice older lady came and sat across from me. before i knew it, she was frantically trying to get my attention so i took off my earphones to hear what she was saying. apparently she sat in gum and was panicking about getting it off because she was on her way to an interview. i told her that it was really visible, and she disappeared to the bathroom. i figured she would use the mirror and get the gum off herself, but instead she reappeared with toilet paper in hand asking me if i would get it off for her. yes of course i would. i could only hope that someone would be kind enough to do the same for me. so there i was with a stranger's ass in my face trying to get the gum off her pants. i couldn't help but laugh at this bizarre situation, especially because other passengers kept looking over at us and smiling, trying not to laugh too hard. she kept telling me not to worry about hurting her and to really use my nail to dig in and scrape it off. so i did. in the end, i got enough off so that it wasn't visible anymore. before she got out at her stop, she sincerely thanked me and told me i was very kind for helping her out, and i wished her luck on her interview. when i got back to bologna, i told my roommate what happened. she just laughed saying that something like that would only happen to me. truer words have not been spoken.

3. 3 years later, i went back to italy to visit friends, only this time i was on the train from venice to bologna. it was crowded and i ended up finding an empty seat with 3 german tourists. unfortunately they got off too soon in the 2 hour ride and their seats were replaced by 2 absolutely foul-smelling, foul-mouthed romanian hobos who were missing most of their teeth. one of them decided to strike up a conversation with me and being the sensitive soul that i am, i answered his question. damn, i did not think this through. he proceeded to tell me (in graphic detail) about his disgusting escapades with prostitutes, his thoughts on italians, and how he was, in fact, a legal immigrant. i personally couldn't care less, but he showed me his papers just in case i didn't believe him. anyone else would have changed seats. i didn't do that for 2 reasons. 1-there wasn't anywhere else to sit, but more importantly 2- i didn't think this was a guy you wanted to piss off. so i remained calm and kept nodding my head followed by some mhmm's. i was at last saved by the train conductor who came around asking for tickets. now this guy may have been a legal immigrant, but he was clearly riding the train "senza biglietto". either he got off at the next stop, or they called the police. a lot of arguing and hand gesturing later, the romanians got off the train, and i could once again breathe through my nose. luckily, the next group of people who sat with me were students, roommates talking about what they were going to have for dinner and who got to take a shower first. it took me back to my days as a student in bologna, living with roommates from across the globe. i jumped off the train at bologna centrale, unable to believe that i took me 3 long years to return to my favorite italian city.

sonrie, estas en buenos aires

2008-05-13T17:14:00.024-04:00

as i sat here today sifting through my travel adventures trying to figure out with which one i should begin, i came across samantha brown on the travel channel. (unfortunately for me, she managed to land my dream gig-- passport to europe and now passport to latin america). today i happened to catch the episode of her in buenos aires, argentina. watching her stroll through the recoleta neighborhood and standing in the middle of the massive avenida 9 de julio, it hit me just how much i miss buenos aires ("bs as" to the locals). it's not that i just miss buenos aires though. perhaps it could be best expressed using the word "saudade", a concept familiar to brazilians. it's like a longing, nostalgia, and melancholy all condensed into one 7-letter word. what exactly do i have this saudade for the paris of south america about? simply put, it's a city full of life and passion that's reflected in the warm people.

portenos, as the locals are called, are among the friendliest people i have come across in my travels. yes, even more than italians. after the first day of utter disappointment that people seemed put off by the fact that valeria and i were american, we knew we needed to make a change. so the next day, when people asked me where i was from, i told them iran (where, in fact, my parents are from). the response was incredible. the portenos managed to completely restore my faith in the outside opinion of iranians. "what made you fly across the world to come to our country?" they would ask enthusiastically, and "how come you speak spanish so well?" mission accomplished. from the taxi driver reciting pablo neruda's poetry, to the waiter of our habitual morning cafe, to the very chic old lady telling us to find an argentinian man, to the vivacious italian brothers running their restaurant in la boca, to the local artisans who invited us to an evening of good food and good conversation, to the most creative street performers, to the guy from the park who gave us the entire history of argentina (even though we didn't really ask), to all the tango dancing in the streets, to the people from the milonga, to the older man who chased after us to make sure we knew that the recoleta cemetary was closed at that time after we asked him directions, to the sheer number of dog walkers walking an insane number of dogs, to the stray cats fed by the ladies of the neighborhoods, i can say with no hesitation that i have never seen a city with as much life as buenos aires. and anyone who has been there knows this.

i've always been asked where my favorite destination has been, but being a mosaic of all the places that i've traveled to, i could never answer that question. but now that i think about it, buenos aires just may be ahead of the rest. there's a reason that sign outside the airport said: sonrie, estas en buenos aires.

...and that's how this started.

2008-05-12T19:29:00.004-04:00

i never ever thought about creating a blog basically because i always thought, who reads these things? but apparently i am way behind the crowd. so here i am on a monday evening at 6:27 creating my very own thanks to the words of encouragement from my travel partner in crime, valeria. as i spend these days searching for jobs, trying to come to terms with the fact that i eventually have to grow up and find one (and, well, put my degree to use), i've come to the conclusion that perhaps i'm really not cut out for the business world of "sustainable destination management" (although i still fully intend on pursuing that) and that perhaps i'm just a simpler person who should be doing something simpler. like sharing my travel stories with the world. basta. after all, i don't know many people who don't enjoy reading or hearing about travel experiences, good or bad. so, eccomi qua! the multi-lingual girl from small town, southern state (sans the small town, southern state accent) who uses language schools as a way to travel the globe and live in the places that many go to for a mere vacation.

in the words of the little kid valeria and i saw in the milan metro while waiting for the torrential rains to stop-- andiamo! proviamo l'impossibile!