Ah, the price of fame. Yep, I've finally realized that you can have too much of a good thing. Well, maybe not too much of a good thing. How about too much of a thing? Am I even making sense? 36? Sorry I've been sitting on this bus for too long and I'm suffering from cabin fever and a numb left butt cheek.
So we headed out of Tehran to the southern city of Esfahan. We also changed tour guides as Hussein was replaced by a man named Valli who also eerily looked like Sean Connery. Were they brothers? Did James Bond make a secret trip to Iran in the 1950's to breed new spies/travel guides? Unlike Hussein, Valli was more diplomatic and cautious to criticize the government. He was more interested in pointing out ancient sights than pleading the goodwill of the Iranian people.
Valli.Valli was extremely passionate about Iran and knowledgeable about it's history but unfortunately his English was poor and delivered in a comical Borat style (I like!). At first the bus was attentive to his microphone announcements ("Hello, I is Valli, I is very pleased to meeting you. Look left see Mosque from 6th Dynasty), but we soon realized that he loved the microphone and was willing to point out anything ("Look left and you see pigeon tower where their shitting is collect for fertilizer), finally people just tuned out ("Look right and see bridge that used for walking across river).
But we did appreciate Valli's enthusiasm. He revealed that in a previous life he was an aeronautical engineer trained in Chicago and after 35 years in that profession he discovered his true passion of showing off the bridges and bird poo of Iran. Seriously, though he truly loved his country, regardless of it's government and I appreciated that. If Australia was taken over by a fundamentalist Islamic government I'm sure I would still have a sense of nationalism... well as long as they didn't ban meat pies. Valli also had a daughter who ran an Iranian restaurant in LA. He hadn't seen her in 15 years as the government wouldn't give him a visa. He missed her terribly but still respected his government. True patriot. Actually, if my government wouldn't let me visit my family I think I would hate my government... Even if they gave me meat pies, including those nice mushroom filled ones.
So we arrived in Esfahan and I was gobsmacked by its beauty. It's the main tourist destination of Iranians (as they can't leave the country) and it's easy to see why. It is a town built over the river (Valli: "This river has the water, so boats can ride on it. Thank you" ) and had brilliant gardens, mosques and bazaars.Valli offered a seven hour walking tour ("Is good yes?") but I chose to wander the streets taking in the green scenery and smiling at Iranian women.
Esfahan.
At lunch two Iranian children were sitting at another table gawking at my western appearance. They appeared to be sisters and not to disappoint I started my usual let's-impress-Iranian-children routine. I did my magic fingers trick... they were stunned. I followed it with a detachable thumb trick... they squealed with delight. For my grand finale I grabbed my used straw and appeared to shove it up my nose. At that moment their mother came over and caught me mid act. She gave me a death stare, and I sat there dejected and embarrassed with a green straw dangling out of my left nostril. She grabbed her daughters hands and whisked them away as they were furiously waving at me with their free hands.
Surprised Iranian children. Wow, he stuck a straw up his nose!
As I continued walking the streets my celebrity status started to get tiring. Suddenly from behind a dumpster appeared a middle aged man named Alzbah. He was the professor of Geography at Esfahan university, spoke four languages, and wrote the Lonely Planet entry for Esfahan. Amazed at a Westerner in his beloved city he gave me a impromptu tour of its sights. He enthusiastically showed me the bazaar, a camel pen, and his grandfather Shoriz's tablecloth shop. Shoriz was 87 and had been stamping table clothes since he was nine. To prove this he showed me a newspaper clipping from 1931 showing a young Shoriz clenching a stamp above a tablecloth, in the same exact posit on as he was holding now.
Alzbah finally released me after a four hours and en route back to my hotel I was surrounded by 12 enthusiastic teenage boys. They couldn't have been more than 13, and they started asking me if I liked rap music and if I knew the rapper 50 Cent. Not understanding the words "No I don't know 50 cent" I just smiled and agreed in the hopes they would leave me alone. They knew what hotel I was staying at and through their broken English I determined that they wanted to join me in my room, drink (forbidden whisky) and hopefully seduce some women. I walked uncomfortably, trying to think of an excuse to ditch them when I saw another tour member named Lauren. As she walked past me I clenched onto her like a baby gorilla and declared to my toddler admirers that she was my girlfriend and that I had to take her back to my hotel to NOT drink whiskey and seduce other western women. Lauren played along and effectively saved me from my entourage. My hero.
As I said you can have too much of a good thing.
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