Of all our travels, Iran has the greatest disparity between the government and its population. What is presented in news around the world speaks little of how people live their lives in Iran. Just like a schizophrenic, there are two personalities: a public façade and life in private quarters. Women obediently wear their hijab or headscarves in public but took them off at home; while alcohol is illegal by law, Iranians consumed them better than anyone we know; and not to mention the prohibition of dancing and playing music, especially western ones, yet people relish in them like everyone else in the world. Suppression of social liberties and inequality for women are also impressions formed from news cuttings over the years, yet I saw a sight that I had been deprived of for months in Pakistan and India: young women out and about. Even if they were in a black khimar or niqab (veil that leaves only shows the eyes) their presence made a positive difference. I am by no means disregarding the inequalities that women face in Iran, this is a mere comparison of what is apparent in the eyes of a traveller.
It was in Zahedan where we got our first dose of Iran’s taarof craziness. This complex ritual of politeness takes hospitality to a whole other level. Taarof between friends or a host and guest is meant to demonstrate friendship is above anything else. One of the rules of this special kind of hospitality suggests, that a host is supposed to offer anything the guest fancies from his/her house, and the guest is equally obliged to reject it. It goes back and forth a few times, say three, before the guest gets the hint that the host’s offer is genuine. In reality, it gets quite confusing. For example, when we tried to buy bread or a sim-card, staff refused our money many times. It was both odd and counterintuitive to insist on paying when the alternative was so much more enriching.