Qalyan in the park. an unexpected bunch. a burly wrestler, a Persian philosopher, an IT student. Welcome to Kurdish Iran.
The Boys Light Up at the Qalyan cafe and drown me in a conversational cascade of open-mindedness and blazing curiosity. I have pried open the lid and released a relentless cavalcade of hospitality; Pandora's Box never tasted so sweet. The topics come thick and fast, like hot fudge on an ice-cold palate; politics, film, sex, marriage, food, freedom, escape, wine, culture, poetry and the meaning of it all. what do you REALLY think about Iran?
The days drift on as newfound friends accrue amongst newfound friendships. The setting changes as we move to Marivan, a lakeside smuggling town a few kilometres from Kurdish Iraq. The laughter, joviality and blinding hospitality are nothing but taken to another level; yet amidst all this I gain a taste of sombre reality as the Kurdish speak their minds on the lack of freedom and direct, indirect and covert oppression of Kurds.
As hunger grows, the fish sets sail on a delicate voyage across coals and arrives in a swirl of fragrance and laughter. BBQ fish by the frenzied lakeside serenity of Iranians at play. A poignant way to end a week of profound exposition in time spent with Kurdish friends, opening up a whole new world unseen from lands far far away.
hugs and love from Kurdistan
joe
