The international nuclear deal with Iran–and the implications of sanctions-removal–are an inevitable part of our domestic political process. But not unlike rapprochement with Cuba, it has led to more than partisan controversy; it’s also prompted increased interest in travel to both places. As in get there while it still has forbidden cachet.
Around here, we’re familiar with the opening to Cuba, which will soon include commercial flights. Although it’s not open to normal “tourist” travel, the motivated are well aware of the work-arounds.
As to Iran, we’re now reading about tour operators organizing departures, even if the U.S. State Department officially discourages it. Americans still need visas, which can be a months-long process, and must be accompanied by a guide. Credit cards are problematic and dress codes require a decidedly conservative approach. But it’s certainly doable.
Having said that, here’s one traveler’s quick Iranian take from a few years back.
Iran is not a “stan.” There was no sense of sectarian paranoia or Third-World despair. With the exception of some dyspeptic clerics in Qom, the seat of religious training, the people were uniformly open, gracious and pleasantly taken aback by Americans in their midst. A friendly “salaam,” a courteous smile and an extended hand were reciprocated.
Ornate mosques, prayer calls and Islamic-garbed women are a given. And so are hotels, office buildings, billboards, restaurants, bazaars, gardens and historical sites–from Tehran and Isfahan to Shiraz and Persepolis–all familiar with accommodating visitors, mainly Europeans.
The Islamic Republic of Iran (Persia until1935) is obviously a Muslim country–but not an Arabic one. The people are Persian, and they speak Farsi. They are fiercely proud of those distinctions.
It’s a young, ancient country: Approximately two thirds of its nearly 80 million people are under age 25. Its literacy rate tops 90 percent. More than half of its 4.5 million university students are female–and they comprise 70 percent of the country’s science and engineering majors. And they like moderate reformist President Hassan Rouhani more than theocratic Supreme Leader Ayatollah Ali Khamenei. A helluva lot more.
Space limits preclude a lot of detail. Here are a few observations indicative of an experience not detectable through the usual lenses.
The Lufthansa flight from Frankfurt, Germany to Tehran was surreal in a way. Upon approach, there was an abrupt morphing of all the women passengers into a sea of cloaked, scarfed specters. Whether Westernized Iranians returning from overseas or non-Islamic Republic visitors, they were all gearing up to cover up. Since 1983, public “veiling” has been mandatory. And there are no summer-color loopholes. Goth rules.
Then there’s the Customs Declaration for Arriving Passengers. “In The Name of God” is emblazoned at the top of the form to remind all that the Deity is also the Ultimate Bureaucrat. You’re then asked to declare that not only are you not bringing guns, ammunition, drugs, alcoholic beverages and glossies of the late Shah (just kidding) into Iran, but you’re also not toting video devices, books, magazines and the like that are “in violation of public order and decency and national and religious values of the country.”
Party on.
Then it was on to our official tour guide. His briefing said unspoken volumes.
“You must remember that there is no alcohol available here,” he said. “It is forbidden. Not in the hotel. Not in restaurants. … But if you can find it somewhere… . What you do in your room is your business.”
There was a message there–and a well-worn Iranian joke is illustrative.
An archetypal, fundamentalist sort is asked how the Islamic Revolution has impacted his life. He answers, “Very little,” and then explains. “Before the Revolution, I got drunk in public and prayed in private. Now I pray in public and get drunk at home.”
The worst-kept secret in Iran is that–not unlike other societies, even those without a fairly recent revolution–there are double standards and privilege. Whether monarchs or mullahs, you’re told off the record, an epicenter of patronage certainly remains alive and well-heeled. Where there’s corruption, you’re also told, at least it’s homegrown–not imposed colonially from without.
The gated mansions of North Tehran still stand–like unapologetic paeans to Western excess. Foreign videos, stylish ensembles, chic coiffures and very open bars remain the cloistered rage behind certain closed doors.
Other contrasts include Iran’s well-wrapped women, otherwise renowned for their beauty. Although their femininity is shrouded in public, their shopping habits aren’t. These shapeless, danse macabre figures seem on a mission from glitz as they cruise-control it through the aisles of high-profile gold and diamond stores in downtowns.
We should be able to work with these people.