When Ayatollah Khomeini looks at you, you feel like you are doing something wrong. You don't really know why, if it is that deep black look, covered by thick eyebrows like beavers, the turban on the clear forehead , or that Sean Connery-style white beard that enhances his grim expression. Maybe it's Hollywood and Ben Affleck's fault, of nuclear energy or history books. He may still be angry with President Carter or maybe that's just the way he is., A bit difficult, with that grumpy old man face, about to puncture your ball if you ruin the geraniums.
But if the Ayatollah looks at you from a graffiti of 10 meters, perched like Spiderman on the wall of one of the buildings in the center of Tehran, You are certain that you are doing something very wrong.. You do not know it, but he does. Your passport may have expired for months, that you wear underwear with the American flag or that you don't even wear underwear, in any case, whatever it is, knows. He knows that you don't fulfill your prayers, that you gorge yourself every Friday at McDonald's or that you have arrived in the country with the intention of taking towels from the hotels. The thing is he's filed away all your sins, of this life and the next, even those that you have not yet committed and cannot be sure how. But when he watches you in ambush from his posters, you feel with complete certainty that Ayatollah Khomeini knows the kind of riffraff you are better than you yourself.
Day 1
Tehran, a cloud of pollution slides between buildings with a Soviet air, a million satellite dishes and traffic jams in the streets. At the airport I changed money, just a few euros. In exchange they gave me a wheelbarrow of bills with which to wallpaper the entire city.. I have the wad rolled up and every time I have to pay something, I look like a euphoric drug dealer at a striptease. I distribute money to the taxi driver, to the newsstand where I buy tobacco and to the ticket seller on the subway.
The price of all those things is quite low, but it entails an exhaustive count of piles of bills, roses, green and blue. From time to time I feel my pocket about to burst and I see how my wad is thinning with a disturbing rapidity.. It worries me, In Iran you cannot withdraw money from the ATM or pay with a card without having an account in the country.
The wad is what guarantees my survival in a city where the names of all the streets are written in Persian. It only takes a few steps outside the guesthouse where I'm staying for me to find myself completely lost.. Of course I ask all the time and check the kindness and disposition of the Iranians., that after the initial surprise they get together in groups, families and entire neighborhoods to try to understand what the hell I want.
They are crazy and they are going to start World War III.
None of them speak English, Most of my friends maintain that neither do I.. So the matter gets complicated, although there is plenty of mimicry and well-meaning smiles as I mutter the name of the street where I'm supposed to stay. The thing threatens to drag on forever until Behnam appears, who calms me down in perfect English and offers to accompany me. Behnam has it 28 years, He is an economist and in the absence of work he makes numbers with the grievances he accumulates against the religious authorities of the country, “They are crazy and are going to start World War III.”, announces. “They” are to blame for the fact that I earn so little., that he still has to live with his parents, that in order to get drunk he is forced to make homemade wine with his friends or buy a bottle of vodka for an exorbitant price on the black market, They are to blame for unemployment and corruption, that accessing Facebook becomes an odyssey in which you have to overcome more controls than to enter the country. Above all, they are to blame for the fact that at their age, casual sex is an almost impossible mission..
This accelerated and dark x-ray of Iranian youth is released by Behnam in the fifteen minutes it took us to find the hotel.. And if you young people are so fed up, why don't you rebel?? “There have been attempts, but as long as they control the army, there's nothing to do. "Besides," he says, lowering his voice.- “You have to be careful about meaning yourself too much.”. "This country is full of spies.".
Day 2
THE Tehran Museum of Contemporary Art houses one of the most important collections in the Middle East. It's hard to find him, just a small, nondescript building hidden behind Laleh Park. Today there are few people; apart from the lady in Hijab at the ticket office, a group of schoolchildren, some lost tourist and an old man who ostensibly enjoys the air conditioning. The truth is that there isn't much to see either.. A couple of retrospectives of local artists, bronze sculptures representing cars and appliances and a series of abstract paintings. The most interesting part of the museum is in its basement. There picasos pile up, miros, will know, pollocks, kandinskys y magrittes. Hundreds of works collected thanks to Farah Diba's love of art, the wife of the shah.
The most interesting part of the museum is in its basement. There picasos pile up, miros, will know
After the Islamic revolution the museum was closed, Khomeini found almost all of his works obscene and when it was reopened years later, most remained hidden. Iranians who travel can see them in museums in Berlin, Paris or London, in the brief periods in which they lend them for provisional samples. And 2013 thanks to the opening president Alí Jannatí, many of them came out of their confinement for a short period of time. Iranians flooded the museum to enjoy “Suicide” and Warhol's Marilyn, “or The Painter and His Model”, by Picasso. Asked if they could be displayed permanently in the future, the director of the center declared to the press: “The museum space is limited and everything does not fit”.
Day 4
Iran has been immersed in its second revolution for a couple of years., and has been received with the same displays of street ecstasy and fervor as the first. Hundreds of people shoot at anything that moves; plazas, mosques, fountains and rugs. Disparan unos contra otros, mothers, uncles, sobrinos… incluso a sus propios hijos. Disparan abuelitos con bastón, y mujeres ataviadas con hiyab, negrísimas como cuervos. Desenfundan sus móviles y pasean entusiasmados con sus palos selfies al hombro. If you're not careful the Iranians shoot at you, while they hug you smiling and ask you to look at the little bird. The selfie revolution has come to the country to stay and among the ruins of Persepolis a shooting blaze rages.
Persepolis are impressive ruins corresponding to the Persian Empire located just a few kilometers from the city of Shiraz.. The complex is quite well preserved and on holidays like today, packed with tourism from other parts of the country. The guide explains in detail some friezes full of lions and gentlemen with the air of hipsters, made up and with beards full of flourishes. Since the day I set foot in Iran, a phrase has been repeated repeatedly like a mantra., just in case we have to undo any mistakes; “We are not Arabs, “We are Persians.”.
Underline your Shiite status and mark the difference with Iraqi or Saudi neighbors
They all take special care to highlight their Shiite status and mark the difference with Iraqi or Saudi neighbors that we Westerners identify with terrorism.. The Iranian people are proud of their past despite the fact that the authorities view their Persian heritage with suspicion and prefer to highlight the historical period that begins after the arrival of Islam to the country.. The guide repeats it again at this moment: “We are not Arabs.”, We are Persians” and the crowd approves with satisfaction as they pose and shoot in front of the entourage of King Darius who is on his way to beat up the Greeks..
In Shiraz I plan to travel at night and I go to the bus station where I deposit three kilos of money to pay the fare.. The ticket clerk studies my passport carefully., while filling out the ticket. When it's time for the box with my name, try to pronounce it funny. Enruiqueeee Vakuerizooo. We spent a good time discussing Spanish phonetics and spelling, while singing songs by another famous Enrique, the Iglesias, as a tribute. After a long time of scribbling something with difficulty, He gives me my passport back and gives me a hug.. I wait for the departure time surrounded by women dressed in a color as black as the night and check my ticket. In the place where my name should appear, the box office clerk has written; Mister Tourist.
