It crosses borders, language and cultural barriers. It opens the door to a new world, a place of laughter and harmony where everything is funny. It transcends that over-used desire for politeness in new company. It breaks the ice, the tension, that unsuredness pent up inside - both literally AND metaphorically. It gets a laugh at the most opportune moments, and opens doors to whole new worlds.
Shortly after I began my wend through Iran, I found myself cross-legged on a ubiquitous carpet that every Iranian owns to roll out and picnic upon. something i had broken fast upon earlier that day was obviously very agreeable to the little blighters living in my belly. i had been farting like a Trooper for the previous hour. not a problem when strolling the hills at sunset above the quirky cave-town of Kandovan, Iran's answer to Turkey's Kappadokya. however, whilst cross-legged on hardwood the chances of holding wind decrease exponentially. it's like trying to stop a child smearing sugary goodness over their face whilst eating ice-cream - a demonstration in futility.
and so it was that the hardwood and the ready positon of my sphincter combined their powers to let fly with a perilously audbile scream that tore the house down. my efforts at holding this inside were as useless as my attempt to pretend nothing happened. this lead to some giggling fits, which quickly became infectious and the whole rug was suddenly joining in raucous laughter. the kind of laughter children learn at an early age, but often seems lost somewhere between adolescence and "maturity". i scrambled for the phrasebook to utter a meek apology "ma'zerat mikham", which only resulted in more laughter. tears and cries of joy all started flooding the carpet. it appears this gaseous blunder was sufficient to make some adorable friends, who invited me back to the cave-home for a feast, to break the fast marking the end of Ramadan.
hugs and love from Iran
joe
