Tabriz- Flashback

In Tabriz I got completely lost, nobody speaking any other language than Azeri or Farsi. The man at the bus Office looks like an asonished cow and doesn't even try to understand me or to make himself understand. It might be obvious for him that everyone might be able to understand Azeri… Whıch sounds very good and with very delicate intonations (especially for the questions), but thıs time azeri rends him even more stupid.

Eventually, a taxi gets me wıthout charge to the cıty center… Everybody looks at me, you can never get used to ıt… I use the same strategy as ın Kurdıstan : angry face and sunglasses, wıthout my hat, tryıng to believe it Works. Taliban connection, my ass !

Looking for an internet cafe (I need ınfos for my visa) I find myself surrounded by a curious youth.And since this very moment, I discover Iranian friendship. I can declare that I never experienced so friendly, hospitable people. After a while in the cafe I decide to show my drawings and to answer to the numerous questions about my private life, to those who have english notions... I have to make the portrait of Hamed, the young professional cyclist who submerges me with cycle stories, pics and exploits. He is very happy from the portrait (j'ai reussi a le rendre plus beau, les gens adorent...) and everybody applause after my brief performance. Hamed

Hamed, Emron and Vahid start to be my friends, ınvite me ın Vahıd's cellphone shop, then foır a Kebap. The Evening will be in Elgoli PArk, where the Shah used to go and camp when he was in Tabriz. In every city in Iran parks are invaded by families and groups of friends who sleep ın tents and picnic under the trees. Hundreds of tents. I will sleep here with my friends, exhausted after a long night talk.

Vahid in his house

Difficult to resist to iranian eyes. The deepest in the world. But girls are forbidden here. Not any girl without veil, if not hedjab, in the streets. Boys use strategies to even just see their girlfriends (it seems that girlfriend here just means the girl wih who you're able to talk, nothing more).

The day after, the cyclist ınvite me to the swimming pool. Whıch is beautıful and with sauna but quite small : most of them can't swim and stay in the part where they still can stand... And I dont talk about their clumsy dives (plongeons) ! After a long time and a good swim, I realize the lake of women. I wonder how is it for them in such a country ? I feel suddenly blınd, conforted in my easy male situation. Women here have their own swimming pool, and suffer an apartheid in city buses : women in the back, men in the front...

Hamed, who was so helpful since my drawing, takes me to the bazar, where you can find anythıng you want, and all the craftmen you could need : smiths, tailors, jewellers, knife and scissors sharpners, anything. After long talk I suced to make them understand that I really have to go to Tehran this night, even if I feel confortable laying ın carpet and eating fruits. But we will have a water pipe before.

The strong man with a scarf on his cheek and a moustache (on the picture, on the left) will take me with his Iran-spreaded Honda 125 to the bus Terminal, taking me to a kebap before. Like every iranian, he will pay it to me before I realize... From 11pm to 3Am I will wait for a bus, but the20 buses which were going to Tehran were full, it was the end of holidays.