IRAN Part 6 ...

Akhtar's family ...

Now as I tap this out do not know whether diplomacy dicates that I should change names. If after taking advice will do so happily. But do feel quite strongly that our stay was made not just simply comfortable, but was at times an absolute joy, due to the family of my Kurdish friend Houri who now lives in the UK. NB. After asking, was given the go-ahead to use everyone's name

This is the story of our stay with Akhtar's family ...

One of the shots from a family portrait session. Sadly Tabasson wasn't in it, as she was sulking behind the settee!

The morning following the mildly traumatic end to our first night in Tehran, it was decided to try and get in touch with my friend Houri's family who lived in the western part of the city. I'd been primed that we'd likely be expected to stay with them for the duration of our time there. After trying to get directions from a brief telephone call, the suggestion was that it might be better if we simply stayed put where we were. And so it was deemed easier, for us to let them know the name of our hotel and wait for them to come and get us. I must have misunderstood the timing, as it was thought we had the better part of half an hour before they got there. Giving us more than enough time to get all of our kit together and onto the bike in readiness. I was keen not to keep them waiting, but did so anyway. Taking my second load down to the bike, looked across the road and could see a small group of people, and more specifically two ladies, both dressed in black shawls and head-scarfs looking intently across at us. This it turned out was the sister and neice of my friend who lived in Bristol, Akhtar and Suzzana. The intention to be prepared in good time was blown, and we had to scrabble to get ourselves ready, so that we could follow them to their home. Five minutes later with sweat pouring inside my bike kit, we were headed off for our second 'follow-that-taxi' ride inside of a week.

Akhtar's house is an oasis of quiet and comfort, not-so far from madding crowds of Tehran. Riding in through the double-gates the small garden and courtyard exuded coolness and relative tranquility against the vibrancy of the city outside. Instantly we were welcomed into the home and were introduced to everyone there. It was a houseful of people, but again were surprised to be given a room to ourselves. After the bijou and impassionate nature of the hotel room in cental Tehran, this was bliss.

Sussan

That first evening the introductions continued along with near endless snacks, cold drinks and exquisitely fresh fruit. We were entertained by Suzzana's youngest, Tabason. Who pirrouhetted her way through a variety of dances, projecting her gay personality to a spellbound family audience. Tabason was a high-spirited 7/8 year old, who seems destined for life in the fast-lane. She really is a very good dancer, who we were amazed to find had no tuition. We were watching a spontaneous performance worthy of any dance-school, and I for one wouldn't be at all surprised to find in years to come she was making her way in life working in one of the performing arts. She was one of those people who you encounter once in a blue-moon ... a Natural! She also lived up to her name-sake, as Tabason apparantly translates from Kurdish to English, as 'Smiley'. Tabason

Taranom

The night became more lively, especially after both Bjorn and I had our palms read by Mojgah. Mojgah spoke really good french with a smattering of passable english too, so was an interesting melange of Franglais during our conversations. Interestingly the lines in my palm, said that I was very 'strong' and that I 'knew my own mind'. The remainder was vague but interesting, which told me Mojgah was either a genuine medium, or good at deciphering personality. Character assessment aside, Bjorn's reading was factual that included a prediction of marriage within the year, followed by two kids in short order! Scarily specific, if it comes true ...

Mojgah

And now I come to Omid, my friends nephew. I'd met him very briefly in England when him and his wife Shollee had visited Bristol. I do remember his calm demeanour, it impressed me then. The coming week Omid was to go much further with the result of prompting a change of mind for me, about people and how they can be.

Me n' Omid sharing a joke ...

Omid is one of the truly 'nice' people of this world who demonstrated kindness and patience to a degree I've rarely encountered. Maybe I can give you some idea, from the following account of our attempt to get our Chinese visa. Let the madness begin ...