I'm up early for the flight to Kerman today. I did not sleep well. It is jet lag, but also something else. I normally enjoy solitude, and I have adapted to being alone. But there is alone and then there is lonely. This morning at 3 a.m., fatigued by jet lag and unable to sleep through the night, I am lonely. My defenses are down because I'm incredibly exhausted.
I'm fighting off the dull headache and zombified feeling of the traveler. Eleven and a half hours (Iran adds an additional half hour to the mix, just to complicated things) is nothing to joke about. I estimate that I've got at least one more day of this feeling before I fully adjust. Hopefully the third night's a charm.
At the airport, I breeze through the women's side of security clearance. The shoes and headscarf stay on. The bus from the terminal to the plane is packed. Men, women and children all push on, there is no segregation now. It seems that sometimes necessity wins over religious or societal policies.
The plane is a modern, nicely maintained Air Bus. This is my second internal flight in Iran and I've yet to be nervous about the safety. The flight is full of Iranians, but the safety procedures are gone over in both English and Farsi. One of my companions asks for coffee, and the flight attendant says only business class has coffee, but if she would like, she will go get her some. This is a country full of politeness and respect. Even if it is for guests, or is superficial, it's a habit I could get used to.
On the way from the airport, the guide says we are going to the "most famous bathroom in Kerman. This bathroom is just wonderful, nobody uses it anymore, but it was the most best bathroom."
And the Ganjalikhan complex of the old Public Bath is quite nice. It is an underground warren of rooms and tunnels and pools. The best part are the slightly creepy wax figures that dot the baths. It was pretty crowded, and there was more starring.
James and I walked thorough the bazaar. I almost never buy anything, but I do get nice pictures. I was asked if I was Italian. Usually the guess is British. Americans are still quite the novelty here. The surprise on people's faces is always fun, and we've only been met with smiles and a desire to chat.
We are staying at the Pars Hotel in Kerman. We arrive for lunch, and after a brief discussion, one of my fellow travelers and I decide that the head waiter looks like a movie star. He has a very classic face and blue eyes. George Clooney - the Persian version.
We are headed back out and our guide Ariya has brought along three twenty something girls as assistant tour guides. I suspect that they are here to help two members of our group walk and make it up and down stairs. The girls are lovely and vivacious, two sisters and a friend. They are fashionably dressed and very chatty and affectionate. They will join us in our little minibus, which has a goose horn that the driver uses with relish. Later, one of the girls will ask him if she can honk it, and I will catch them flirting while she blares the goose horn and giggles.
We have two members who should not be here, one has already been told that by the company, but in true clueless American assholeness, he complained and provided a doctor's note saying he could walk. He can, at a snail's pace and complaining loudly the entire time. He complains about walking, the stairs, the food, the guide, and then expects others to help him. He warned me that he would need my elbow for help at the start of the trip, and I told him no. He was on another trip I went on, and so I'm not exactly feeling generous with my elbows.
Tonight when we are at a stone museum and one of the girls is busy helping the other man who can't walk, he projects loudly, "Hey you!" (He hasn't bothered to remember her name - and later he will refer to the two sisters as "babes.") "Hey you, I need help, too," and then he clapped his hands at her, kind of like what you would do to a dog. I told him, "you do not clap at her like that!" and then I helped him down the stairs. When we say goodbye to the girls the next day, he doesn't tip them or thank them after all the personalized help they have given him. I find him disgusting and rude.
The Ugliest of Americans.
We stop at a traditional ice house, and some boys approach us to chat. Hamid, Reza and Ali are all in their early twenties and Hamid is embarrassed about his teeth. While I'm talking with him, he keeps smiling and then covering his mouth. Until, that is, he tells me his favorite TV show is Vampire Diaries. I tell him I know of it, and he says, "do you know season 6, episode 5? That was my favorite one where..." He continued to very enthusiastically detail the plot for me. I finally had to admit that no, I didn't remember that particular episode. I hated to disappoint him.
We stop for tea and a hookah and some dinner at an outdoor restaurant. It is a lighted outside space with the big bed-like wooden structures and hold up to six people or so. Carpets are laid out and pillows brought out, it is quite cozy. A guy with a keyboard came out and provided some live singing. It was a warm spring evening and we sat around drinking tea and smoking hookah. I had the lemon "beer" which is more like lemon seltzer water.
The sisters are on Instagram, so many selfies are being taken. He girls take one with me in it, look at the results and one exclaims, "You are so white!" and we all burst out laughing.
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