A Plan for Rainy Days in Tehran

On rainy days, Tehran streets turn into water canals akin to those of the Lagoon of Venice. On such days, cars and motorcycles paddle through water bespattering swimmers (formerly known as pedestrians). I can't help but wonder why the city transit authority doesn't buy a few row boats to help people commute better.

Such a plan has several advantages. First, passengers wouldn't get marooned when buses choke to a stop. Second, the country will save energy and people of Tehran would breathe a bit easier. Third, offering such service would justify higher fares. Finally, with such a plan, rowers (formerly passengers) wouldn't have time to nag about traffic because they would be saving their energy for rowing faster and more efficiently.

Too bad Tehran has so few rainy days that my plan is doomed to be ignored.

Inversion

This is it. There is no other solution imaginable. The problem of traffic with its infinite ramifications can only be solved in this way. Just think; any one who is discontent, who wants to remain healthy; anyone who still has some gray cell in his brain, anyone who has the means to live outside of Tehran, would do so. The population of Tehran would drop and the problem of traffic would get solved along with thousands of other things.

It is enough for this pollution to continue for a few weeks, perhaps months, and for the authorities to hype the number of deaths and those of sick due to air pollution for it to work. This is the only way, really.

Keep It Running

We have changed religion but we are at heart Zoroastrians. During the summer, when it is scorching hot outside, in various parks you can see people going out on picnic and lighting fires, barbecuing kebab or just enjoying the sight of the red flame. They don't seem to mind the heat nor disappearing trees nor the city smog. In the heavy pollution of the past several days, in the oppressive air of millions of non-tuneful exhausts, our engines are left running. The other day, the man parked his car and went to buy his daily paper. He couldn't see that he could no longer see. In the afternoon, the woman sat in her car waiting, her stereo blasting. She couldn't hear that she could no longer hear. Yesterday, in the fruit shop, the young man came in to shop. He couldn't taste that he could no longer taste. This early morning, several government functionaries were napping in their cars, waiting for the office to open its doors. They couldn't dream that they could no longer dream in colors.

We love fire and kebab. The country is oil rich, so our fires will keep on blazing. And, if we don't find meat for kebab we will start barbecuing ourselves.

Foodcourt for Gays

You may recall the Jam-e Jam food court. Perhaps you were regular customers. If not, you have no doubt heard of the posh. But the food court for the past several weeks has been only offering cake and coffee. All their restaurants have been ordered closed. Apparently, the office of public spaces of the city of Tehran has told the management that the food court needs to change its clientele as it has become the meeting place of homosexuals in the city. Of course, every group need their meeting place and the food court at Jam-e Jam is not bad at all, but it seems that the city has a problem with hang-outs in general.

By the way, soon several other big restaurants like Jam-e Jam will join the growing market for fast food – you just have to eat and leave. We mustn't forget to thank the city for not shutting down the food court completely. Or should we?

The Blue Sky

I paint the wall of my balcony blue. With the first rays of sunlight, I can see the blue from my window. It has been a while since blue has left the cityscape. Too bad that the blue of my balcony extend to include the sky. Too bad the majestic mountains to the north, which in this time of the year usually flaunt their white caps, appear today like humped ghosts about to croak; or perhaps they are our prison guards, refusing to let wind come through, towering over the city as it suffocates in its gray nightmare. Every time I look at the blue of the wall, I realize how much I miss the blue of the sky of this city.