The theory goes that if the dollar is to remain the world’s favored reserve currency then it is crucial that oil is solely traded in it. That way, the euro would be unlikely to become a major reserve currency, as there’s not much point in central banks stockpiling euros if they have to change them into dollars every time they purchase oil. By offering the euro as an alternative, as did Saddam Hussein just before he was ousted, Iran could potentially lead the world’s central banks to drop the dollar as their reserve currency and switch instead to the stronger euro. The resulting sale of dollars would send the U.S. currency into freefall and cause complete havoc.
Whether or not Iran’s proposed non-dollar oil exchange can lead to the above scenario is disputed. However, what is far less disputed is that the U.S. economy would go through a period of vast upheaval were the dollar to ever lose its de facto reserve status. Some analysts claim it would be catastrophic and eventually force the U.S. to dramatically change its tax, debt, trade, energy, and ultimately, military policies-no longer, they say, would the U.S. be able to spend 42 cents in every tax dollar on the military.
After my visit to the money changers, I walked over to pick up my camping gear from Shahram. I arrived and found to my dismay that the company he worked for was closed and all locked up. Whoops.
The only telephone number I had for him was his work phone, so this was serious. My train left tomorrow morning, and my visa ran out the day after that. If I couldn’t get hold of him today then it looked like I’d be saying bye-bye to all my precious camping equipment. Not only was it all of enormous sentimental value but was worth well over a thousand dollars.
The office on the floor above was open, so I stuck my head in and inquired after Shahram by saying his name and pointing downstairs. One of the staff pointed out to me what I already knew, namely that the door was locked and that he wasn’t in. I gestured that I needed to call him. Luckily, he looked like he knew what I was after and went back to discuss this with a colleague. His colleague picked up the phone and called Shahram’s cell for me. Ten minutes later, Shahram and Kimya were outside with all my camping gear.
We went for a wonderful
I told him I’d think about it.
Outside the restaurant, we bade each other farewell and promised to stay in touch. Before I left, Kimya said to me, “I hope you can come back and visit again someday with either your wife or sister.” I told her I’d like to.
The rest of the day I spent packing, getting some of my diary notes written up, and generally taking it easy.
I had an early start on my final morning in Iran as my train left just before dawn. I’d asked the hotel’s reception staff the night before to order a cab for me. I waited and waited in the lobby, watching the clock. The car was very late. After twenty minutes of nervously biting my fingernails, I gave up and went out into the chilly near- deserted predawn streets in search of another one. It was still dark and there was next to no life about. After ten minutes of panicked searching, I spotted one and flagged it down, waving my arms about like a madman. I didn’t know the Farsi for “train station,” so I did silly little choo-choo train impressions with the appropriate hand moves and noises. The driver turned around and looked at me like I was a fool.
“Do you want to go to the train station?” he asked in perfect English. I told him yes and that I was seriously late. He put his foot down and burned off at racecar speed. And thank goodness he did, because I arrived only a couple of minutes before my train left. If I’d missed it, I would have been in serious trouble; my visa lapsed the following day, and I definitely didn’t want to be in Iran illegally.
I shared a spacious cabin with just one other guy who spoke no English whatsoever but was a warm and friendly chap who shared his bag of candy with me. I spent the next few hours gazing out of the window at wonderful mountain gorges and the huge sprawling surface of Lake Orumiyeh, which the train skirted past. Northwest Iran has some mind-blowing scenery.
Before long, we crossed the Iranian border and were into Turkey. It was party time. The girls suddenly took their hijabs off and changed into revealing Western outfits. The guy from my cabin who’d shared his candy with me rolled up and smoked a spliff. He puffed away while I checked for guards in the corridor. Afterward, he crashed out listening to his Walkman. Even through the headphones, I could tell it was none other than our Irish friend. Could I ever get away from the guy?
I was both sad and excited to be at the end of my Iran adventure and the end of my journey. Everywhere I traveled, I encountered the friendliest people I’d ever come across and constantly had to remind myself that I was in Iran—part of the so-called Axis of Evil. Although I obviously make no apology for the abysmal Iranian government and its terrible human rights abuses, the Iranian people were just incredible.
On the long journey back to Istanbul, I met a group of Iranian girls in their late twenties in the train’s restaurant car who belonged to the minority Baha’i religion. Being part of this religion would have meant death or imprisonment in Iran until recently, and its followers are still prevented from employment opportunities or attending university. The girls had managed to obtain visas through the UN and were leaving Iran for Istanbul, then heading to Canada for a better life. This would be their last time in Iran for many years, and possibly their last time ever. I said how happy they must be to be off to Canada, but the eldest one shook her head.
“No. There is no place like home.”
I could well understand. It wasn’t my home, but I was certainly made to feel welcome. It was, however, time for me to take my leave as well. After all, you can only take so much Chris de Burgh.
Copyright
Copyright © 2009 by Jamie Maslin
All Rights Reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any manner without the express written consent of the publisher, except in the case of brief excerpts in critical reviews or articles.
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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Maslin, Jamie.
Iranian rappers and Persian porn : a hitchhiker’s adventures in the new Iran / Jamie Maslin. p. cm.
9781602397910
1. Iran—Description and travel. 2. Iran—Social life and customs—21st century. 3. Maslin, Jamie—Travel— Iran. I. Title.
DS259.2.M38 2009
955.06’1092—dc22
2009023710
Printed in the United States of America
