First of all, for all of you who miss the daily newsletter: We are experiencing so much right now, it's Nowruz (Persian New Year) and my body has decided not to let me do anything for a few days with stomach pains and listlessness. But now I'm feeling well again and I'm slowly starting to write down what I've experienced. And yes, we are certainly a week or two or three behind schedule. But it's all the nicer to start with a wonderful story.
It starts off pretty stupidly. We actually have to work, but we can't find a suitable place. We drive on for the time being. At some point I shout: "I've got reception here!" We park and set up our office. Only to be sent away by the military half an hour later. We're parked in a very unfavourable position, they ask us to drive on. Friendly but firm. Sure, of course we do that straight away.
We roll on, no real work mode wants to set in, it doesn't suit me here, we have no reception there. At some point, in a small village, we come to the rescue: a lunch break in a restaurant. It looks spotlessly clean and has tables. Two tables.
So we order something to eat and when we realise that we are pretty much the only guests, we ask if we can have a little chat on our laptops. Of course we can, our order is followed by more unordered snacks, drinks and another tea. And another one. Iranian hospitality par excellence. Suddenly the restaurant is full of family members, everyone wants a photo with us and we are invited to join them. To go home. Mum and sisters would be so happy to see us.
So we close our computers earlier than usual and drive after the motorcade. Only to step into a courtyard a few minutes later, where we are warmly welcomed with tea, fruit and snacks. Of course we sleep here, they won't let us go that easily. We only just manage to get them to agree that our Felix is the best place to sleep. And: we are not allowed to sleep on the street, no, we have to sleep in the courtyard. It's safer that way. Which is of course rubbish, we're in some village at the end of a cul-de-sac, what's the point? But our Felix is a few centimetres too high anyway, so we stay outside.
Mum asks if we want homemade bread. We don't know, but we say we'll try anything. So the whole family, a few sisters and brothers, mum and cousins gather around the fire on the carpet in the kitchen. We are right in the middle. The bread is baked on an inverted wok pan, flavoured with fish sauce (I think) and olive oil. One after the other, we nibble on freshly baked bread straight from mum's hand. We chat, joke and laugh. Every now and then we understand a word, some family members speak English. There is very little translation back and forth, which is pure chaos for our nerves, which have been trimmed to the orderly Swiss table rules. And the best thing about it: we like it!
Our thoughts wander: "Don't speak with your mouth full!" "Let the others finish first!" "May I please finish?" "Both hands on the table!" And we can think of even more phrases. And the associated stress and anger also come to mind. And here? A wild back and forth, everyone talking at the same time, laughing, cooking, eating, talking, crumbling, all at the same time. And we don't have the feeling for a moment that anyone feels uncomfortable. And we ask ourselves whether we sometimes live(d) too strictly, too stiffly, too uncool.
But these thoughts are short-lived, as variety seems to be the order of the day here. We are invited into the living room and there is tea, fruit, dates and other treats on the carpet. I take out my knitting, the eldest her embroidery. Sisters in spirit, so to speak. It suddenly gets loud outside, I hear an angle grinder being hammered. Gerd is called out. And is stunned. The family's men are actually grinding away the upper gate, after all they want us to drive into the courtyard. They have such a beautiful gate and they just saw away the top part! My goodness, that really isn't necessary. But it's too late, the gate is ready, Gerd has to drive in now.
Felix is now standing in the middle of the courtyard, we are allowed to take a shower and spend the evening in the living room with the family. At some point, the cook from the restaurant arrives, explains to the family that people go to bed early in Europe and asks us not to stay up so late if we're not used to it. We should go to bed quietly, they wouldn't be sad. After all, tomorrow is another day! And the day after tomorrow too. The family obviously assume that we'll be staying longer. And they will be right.
Regarding the photos: As always: I didn't take many photos and we don't have an OK from everyone for publication.
Merci for "travelling with us
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