Monday, July 30, 2007: Zanjan and Ostaad Heydari

Inside the train to Zanjan.


I took the train at six this morning. Mom came with me to the train station to see me off. The train was so clean. I paid $6.60 for a round trip ticket to Zanjan. They gave us passengers earphones, breakfast, and newspapers. We watched a movie on the flat screen and could listen to a choice of songs! It took us four and a half hours to get to Zanjan.

I walked to the Museum where Ostaad Heydari works. The guard at the door, whom I remembered from last year, greeted me and told me that Ostaad Heydari's workshop has been moved to the Zanjan Office of Traditional Handcraft. A shame since the museum exposed him and his craft to tourists. The guard gave me the directions to the office and by the time I got off the taxi, Ostaad Heydari was waiting for me in the street! The guard had called him and told him of my coming.

Ostaad Heydari and two students.


Once in the building, Ostaad Heydari took me around and introduced me to the other Ostaads and to his new students. A few traditional workshops were set up with both students and masters at work: woodworking, silversmith, carpet weaving, charough, etc. I interviewed Ostaad Heydari and a few of his students at length and interestingly, his students praised Ostaad Heydari for his patience and easy manner, a thing I noticed immediately last year when I visited him for the first time. I gave Ostaad Heydari the book on shoes throughout the times that I had purchased for him in the USA and after he looked at it, everyone wanted to have a look. Ostaad Heydari liked the book very much and was coming up with ideas for shoes. He told me the shellac I had sent him was very good and he wouldn't stop thanking me. I'm glad I was able to help him. Later on, Ostaad insisted on taking me to his house for lunch where I met his wife, daughter, and son in law. He wanted me to stay the night, but I felt better staying at a hotel.


Zanjan from my hotel window.


Before heading off the the Craft Expo, I stopped at the Internet cafe where worked from last year. I didn't have any problems opening up blogger, but I've been having much difficulty at home lately. I posted a few entries and then took a cab to the Expo.

Zanjan Craft Expo.

Ostaad Heydari and his giant Charough.


At the Craft Expo, Ostaad Heydari had two booths; one manned by him, and the other by his daughter in law, Shabnam. Lovely works of art! Ostaad had his giant charough on display and people were stopping by to admire it. There were all sorts of booths: local and national handicrafts plus an abundance of carpet dealers.

View of Zanjan from the Craft Fair.


Later on, I went over to Zari's aunt, Mahmonir joon, and had a lovely dinner at her place. Her daughters and grandchildren, plus two friends of the family were there. What a lovely lady. She had cooked such a wonderful meal for me. One of her nephews gave me a ride back to my hotel. Mahmonir joon has a traditional house which dates back over half a century and the government has declared it a historical building.

Mahmonir Joon in the garden of her house in Zanjan.

Sunday, July 29, 2007: Ostaad Finastian and a Home For A Kind Dog

Tehran at dusk from my Mother's building.


Yes, I found a home for the puppy. It was not too difficult because most people are willing to help. I found three homes for him. All in the Caspian Sea region where people are kind to dogs and have many of them in their properties. It was a lot of work to finally get him to the adopted home since Ostaad Elahi's glassblowing workshop is in the southern most tip of Tehran and the adopted owners are visiting Aghdas's cousin who lives in the northern most point of Tehran.

Two women working on their pieces at Ostaad Finastian's workshop.


This morning, I went to observ Ostaad Finastian and interview him. I was also able to interview two of his students, a woman and a man. It was funny, because Ostaad Finastian wanted to hear what he had said at the interview and what his students had said, so I gave him my digital recorder and he held it to his ear and listened as he instructed the students! It was pretty loud with the hammering in the room but he was able to listen to most of the interview. I don't get the sense that he was worried about what they had said, he was interested in hearing an interview. He was also teasing the two students that he was listening to what they said about him.

I went home, called Ebrahim and arranged to pick him up with Mom's car at the same spot I picked him up last time. Mom went to her bridge (card game) party. At three in the afternoon, I took Mom's car, got Ebrahim who took over the driving, went to pick up my train ticket for my trip to Zanjan tomorrow, and then went to Ostaad Elahi's workshop. We arranged old newspapers on the back seat and I had to pick up the puppy and put him in the car. He is a very shy, timid dog. He is always apprehensive about what might happen.

My Puppy at his new home.


It was a long drive and I sat in the back with my Puppy. He was so well behaved. Did not bark or wimmper. We arrived at the house and brought him in. Very nice gentleman, Aghdas's cousin. He has three dogs of his own. Puppy drooled a bit in the car and made me very wet, but what a nice dog.

I dropped off Ebrahim at the spot where he catches the bus back home and drove the remaining of the way back, parked Mom's car and joined her at her friend's house where they were playing bridge (in one of the towers in Mom's compound).

Saturday, July 28, 2007: Holy Holliday

Tajrish bazaar, the vegetable market




Rose petals and dried berries at the grocers



Today is the birth of Imam Hassan so offices are closed and shops are open. Not that it matters, Mom and I were invited to a close friend of the family for lunch who happens to be the mother in law of my cousin. We picked up another one of Mom's friends and Aunt Fakhri and went to Aghdas's house. Her husband was away so it was a ladies lunch. Aghdas Farboud is a lovely, knowledged woman who always extends her help as much as she can. She has found a home for the dog I have been trying to save.

A pomegranate stand where you get the best fresh squeezed pomegranate juice


After a lovely lunch, I left the ladies and walked over to Ali Bolobli's house. Ali is the son of the late Iranian artist, Mokarrameh, whose paintings I will be exhibiting at Teachers College this Autumn. We discussed possibilities for the exhibition and then talked about holding a day of painting at his mother's house this Friday. I will be traveling with him to his mother's village and we will set up all the art supplies at her house. I'll spend the night at his sister's and then we will run the art classes all day on Friday. Mom is coming also. She wants to see Mokarrameh's house and she would like to paint also. The event will be announced in the local papers. Should be interesting.

Nanaz in front of the herbalist's store


Later on, my cousin Nanaz picked me up and we went to the bazaar in Tajrish and did some shopping, mainly dried herbs, henna, fruits, and holistic medicines. Later on, I went to her house and had dinner.

Nanaz buying her fruits and vegetables


I am going to see Ostaad Finastian tomorrow and will be going to Zanjan on Monday to meet Ostaad Heydari.

Friday, July 27, 2007: Visitors

Oh, it has been impossible to sign onto Blogger. I don't know what was causing the problem, but I was able to access it today so I'm putting all the missed days in.

Farhad, my cousin Nanaz's husband.



Nanaz and her son, Jamshid.


On Friday, I went to Nanaz's house. I just hung out with her and we talked. We talked forever. In the evening, Yeganeh, the lovely woman whom we met through Tus last year, came over for tea. Yeganeh's husband is Tus's friend and he has a lot of land by the Caspian Sea in a gated compound so we walked around without our hejab. They have a pool and houses that they rent.... Hmmmmm....

My Mother and Maryam.



Mr. & Mrs. Zaim in our living room.



Maryam, me, and Vida. It's a shame my sister, Neda, isn't here. The four of us used to hang out together when we were young.

Maryam, Vida, Mr. & Mrs. Zaim, Khosrow Samii (Vida's husband) and their baby came for dinner. Other than that, I worked on my writing. I was trying to locate a home for the grown puppy at Ostaad Elahi's glass workshop. The poor dog is always tied up and the night guard, who happens to be a stupid man who hates dogs, hit the previous puppy on the head with a stick and it died. I felt so bad for this dog that I told Ali, Ostaad Elahi's son, that I would look for a home for it. I am working the network here.

Thursday, July 26, 2007: Flower Wholesalers and the Cemetery

Baby's Breath



Gladiolas



An old man with his purchased flowers



Roses for sale



Young florist


This morning, Mom and I went to the east end of Tehran, literally into the desert, where the flower wholesalers come to sell their flowers. Tents were set up and wholesalers had their flowers on display. It was amazing to see the variety of flowers: Day Lilies, Roses, Gladiolas, Marigolds, and so on. I enjoyed walking around and taking photographs.

Marigolds




Mom checking out the flowers



Potted plants for sale


Fields of flowers


After Mom purchased a few bunches of flowers and two pots for Jasmine, we headed off to the southern part of the city where the cemetery for Tehran is. Here again, we were in the desert. More so this time as the cemetery was built as far away from Tehran as possible to provide the needed space for an ever growing population. Built in the late seventies, it has beautiful large evergreens, cypress trees, and pussy willows in the older sections and younger trees in the more recent burial areas. As people bury their loved ones, the cemetery plants trees. We visited my Father's tomb, and Uncle Ahmad's, Uncle Ghasem's, Aunt Derakhi's, and cousing Kavoos' tombs. We also visited the tomb of my Father's dear friend, Mr. Kalhor. Ebrahim (our family driver), Mom, and I washed the tombs, poured rosewater, and then placed flowers on them.

My Mother and Ebrahim cleaning and pouring rosewater on my Father's tomb



My Aunt Derakhi and Cousin Kavoos are buried here




Public drinking water at the cemetery


We stopped to visit Ostaad Elahi on our way home. I spoke with him for a while and then picked up some glassware for friends of Mom's. At home, one of the owners of a freighting company came to discuss the procedure for sending personal belongings such as furniture to the USA. I'm bringing my old, wooden rocking chair and a large, framed painting. I'm also bringing Neda's carpet and all the glass that I purchased from Ostaad Elahi. This is a very good way of sending large personal belongings.

Buying melons on our way home from Ostaad Elahi's workhop



Melons in the pickup truck

Later on, Amir Ali, my cousin Guity's son, came over to say goodbye. He is going to London tomorrow and will be studying at the university there. Amir Ali is a few months younger than Bijhan and when we traveled to Isfehan and Shiraz together seven years ago, he got along well with Bijhan and Ariane.

Amir Ali, my cousin's son

Wednesday, July 25, 2007: Week One

My Aunt Ghashangi, my father's sister, is very educated



I can't believe one week has gone by. It's been a full week, yet it has gone by very quickly. I did some work today and then my Aunt Ghashangi, my father's sister, came for a visit. She stayed for most of the day, so I was not able to do as much work as I wanted to. However, it was nice to see her. I had to help her down to the cab we had called for her, and she walks with the support of a walker. It took a long time to get her ready, into the elevator, and down the walk to the waiting cab. I helped her in and then paid the driver extra to drive carefully and ring the doorbell of her house so that her help can come and assist her.

Mom and two of her friends who live in the same compound


Meanwhile, two of my mother's friends came for a visit. We sat in the balcony and the unusually cool night breeze allowed us to enjoy kuku kadu (zucchini kuku) with yougurt and sangak bread. The night view from my mother's balcony is breathtaking, especially at night. We had serious conversations and humorous ones. We discussed politics and told jokes. Iranians will always enjoy each other's company and know how to laugh albeit difficult times.

Tehran at night from our balcony

Tuesday, July 24, 2007: Hanging Out

Back Standing L-R: Cousins Shahriar and Tus; Front Seated L-R: Mom, my Cousin Nanaz, me, my mother's sister and Shahriar's mother Aunt Fakhri. How are we related? Well, the two ladies in white shirts are sisters. The rest of us are children of those two and children of a brother and a sister who have passed away. Nanaz's father and Tus's mother are deceased, Shahriar is Aunt Fakhri's son, and if you are reading my blog, you better know who my mother is!

I love this side of my family very much. There are now sixteen cousins and some of us have chosen to live our adult years in Europe and North America. No matter how much time goes by before there is an opportunity for us to get together, we still just pick up from where we left off each and every time. Growing up, my sisters and I felt left out from our family in Iran. This was due to my father's job. We would live in a country for two to four years, and then move back to Iran for a year or two. During this time, we would usually live at my grandmother's house where Aunt Fakhri lived with Shahriar and his younger brother, Shahrokh. These two cousins were like brothers to my sisters and me and they still are like brothers to us. Regardless of how long we stayed away, and still stay away, when we are together it is as if we never lost any time. That's why I always feel very close to Mom's side of the family. Uncle Mohsen and his family lived in Iran for four, maybe five years in the 1960's. Our cousins Eugene, Ashley, and Rachelle live in the USA. When they get together with the rest of the family, it is the same way.





My Mother and her sister, Fakhri.




Today would have been an easy day if I hadn't stayed up all night reading Khaled Hosseini's new novel: "A Thousand Splendid Suns". It's another good book, full of angst and set in Afghanistan. I finished the book, but ended up sleeping for three hours in the morning. I was a bit sleepy when Mom and I went to lunch at Mr. & Mrs. Kia's house which is only two buildings down from ours. Mr. & Mrs. Kia are parents of my friends from high school. Mr. Kia was my father's colleague also, so they entertained with my parents in those days gone by. By the time my cousin Nanzanin (AKA Nanaz) came to pick me up in the afternoon, I was feeling better. Nanaz and I went to two goldsmiths and looked at some very nice Iranian style jewelry. Then we headed to Aunt Fakhri's for dinner. Our cousins, Tus and Shahriar, and my Mom were already there when we arrived.

My cousin Shahriar whose mother is Aunt Fakhri, my Mother's sister.



My cousin Tus, whose mother was Aunt Derakhi, my Mother's sister.


Nice, easy day. I have much work to do tomorrow. I have to start translating the interviews so that I can add fresh information from my memory before I loose it. I also have to plan a trip to Zanjan and a trip to Sanandaj. Most of my work in Tehran, however, is done.

Monday, July 23, 2007: Ostaad Elahi

The vases I purchased but don't know how to take home



Molten glass ovens with molten glass drippings on the floor



The treasures inside the cooling oven



A drop of molten glass ready to be formed


I drove Mom's car for the first time! It was a short drive, but a drive in Tehran, nonetheless. Aunt Fakhri was over for lunch and I had to pick up Ebrahim, our family driver, from the main street where he gets off the bus, so I took the car and picked him up. He then drove me to the glassblowing workshop. Mom and Aunt Fakhri stayed home.

We arrived at the workshops at 1:30 PM. I took notes, interviewed a few apprentices, intermediate masters, and masters, took more pictures, and videotaped. I was asked to give copies of the pictures, which I promised to do. The workday ended at 3 PM for everyone, and just as quickly as they had started in the morning, they finished. Blow pipes were put away, molds moved to the side, and all kilns, except the cooling ovens, turned off. One of the workers whose job is to empty the cooling oven and rinse the glassware started cleaning the floor with a shovel. I then interviewed Ostaad Elahi for an hour. His son, Ali, was interested in responding to my questions also, so naturally, I interviewed him too. I used my digital voice recorder and have quite a bit of transcripts to translate and analyze now.

Sunday, July 22, 2007: Ostaad Finastian, Engraver

Ostaad Finastian torching the copper ware


I was at "Behzad House" by 9:00 AM this morning to meet with Ostaad Finastian. This is the house of artist Behzad (deceased) and the Department of Cultural Heritage has turned it into a school for crafts. Ostaad was in the classroom on the third floor last year and I knew better than to stop and ask for him. I just walked by the guard at the door, said "excuse me", and just went upstairs without a second look. Ostaad Finastian was with one female student and one male student. We exchanged greetings and asked after each other's health. Ostaad Finastian is older than he looks and it is easy to expect more of him physically. After a few minutes of talk, he told me that he was going to do a tar demonstration for two of the beginner students in the tar room. This is a room right next to the classroom and there is a big pot on a heater on the floor which boils the tar when turned on. There is also a sink and torch, plus some sawdust for drying the pieces after they have been washed. We moved next door to the tar room.

Tar boiling in the pot


Ostaad Finastian started by turning up the tar pot and turning on the torch. He warned the two students, a male and a female both in their mid twenties, about the hot tar and torch, and then started to show them how to burn the tar off their finished pieces. These pieces were tarred prior to start of work so that they could hold on to the wooden stands. Pieces that were in the shape of a vase rather than a flat dish required tar poured into them so that the hammering would not put dents in them.

Beginner student stirring the boiling tar


Meanwhile, students started coming in and working on their own piece in the classroom. One of the advanced students from last year, a young man in his early thirties, walked into the tar room and we exchanged greetings. He then returned to the classroom and started working on his piece. I saw students ask for his help while Ostaad Finastian was in the tar room demonstrating. Ostaad Finastian warned the students many times of the dangers of the torch and the hot tar which was boiling by now. He showed the students two burnt fingers which he acquired last week as a result of carelessness when handling the tar pit. He started by hammering the thick layer of dried tar at the back of a finished plate. He tried hammering a few times over the pit and when he was not very successful as a result of his age, he called the advanced student who proceeded to crack the tar and drop the pieces into the boiling pot for recycling. The young woman whose plate Ostaad Finastian was using as demonstration stirred the pot a few times.

Two women at work


Ostaad Finastian torched the plate so that the remaining bits of tar would dissolve and burn away. He handed the plate to the young woman and told her to clean it at the sink with water, detergent, and a metal brush. He then showed the male student how to tar his new plate by heating it with a torch and then putting it on the floor. He then told the student to take over as he told him what to do (he had done a demonstration for the student the first time). The student took the plate and Ostaad Finastian told him the steps: "Put it on the floor; pour the hot tar on it; pour more hot tar; pour some cold water on it; step on it with your body weight to flaten the tar section a bit; take a bucket of cold water; put your hands in it; use your hands to fold up the edge of the tarp off the floor and onto the sides of the dish; watch your hands, watch your hands....." At this time, the advanced student who had walked in a few moments ago to ask Ostaad Finastian a question, raised his voice and said: "Watch your hands now! Do a better job of dipping them in the cold water before you work on the tar!"

Pouring the hot tar on the copper plate


Once the male student had completed his tarring, he took it to the classroom and placed it on the table. He returned and completed the cleaning process of his finished piece by washing it and then drying it in the bag of saw dust. The female student took her brand new copper vase, torched it, and poured hot tarp into it. Once the work was done in the tar room, Ostaad Finastian left and the two beginner students cleaned up. I went back to the classroom to find Ostaad Finastian working with the students. It is great to see how the students stop and listen to him when he is helping someone who is sitting near them.

Ostaad Finastian working with students


I walked around, took notes, and spoke to the students, all of whom seemed very comfortable with me (I was expecting this; last year was the same as the Tehran students never shy of the camera). I was given tea, brought a comfortable chair to sit on, and even had the advanced student explain my presence to the other students... Such a great feeling.

Ostaad Finastian helping a student



Students at work


I gave Ostaad Finastian a CD of his photographs from last year. It seemed the one I burnt did not display the images in large format. I also gave him a book on wood carvings on gun barrels. The advanced student liked it very much and would like me to buy him a few books. I'm going back next week to visit during the next class. I need to interview Ostaad Finastian and he has promised me half an hour of his class time.