The mosaic is comprised of many tiles

The past few weeks have been really busy, but very interesting. The beauty of being out of your comfort zone in a completely new environment is that you spontaneously observe all that is around you with the keen sense of a child. Every experience, observation taste and smell sometimes feels oddly familiar, but mostly it’s as if life is happening for the very first time.
Scientists have long rated the cockroach as the most resilient and adaptable insect around. The last few weeks in Iran however have led me to the conclusion that they are completely misguided and incorrect.
The most resilient and adaptable insect has got to be the mosquito.
I have come across a breed of super fast, super skelm mozzies that have evolved to such an extent that they somehow figured out that when biting a female in Iran you’re likely to only find dinner on exposed hands and somewhere on your face ; everything else the mosquito reasons, is probably covered by the hijab. The problem with this behaviour pattern is that this is the mode of attack at night when you’re trying to sleep as well. Result you wake up in the morning in an alarmingly chicken pox looking state with bumps all over your hands and face. The smartest bit however lies in the mozzy’s exit strategy – they do a nose dive and hide under the bed.
So after a week of mosquito induced insomnia I resorted to tonic water, which a friend helpfully suggested as it supposedly decreases the yumminess factor in your blood.
Luckily, I’ve been able to identify a few other things that are really yummy – like saffron ice cream and dinner at Monsoon. I think I may have found the home of the best sushi, Asian and fusion cuisine right here in the middle of Tehran. A feat which I think adds to the growing wonderment I have for this country. Monsoon transports you straight to the heart of Soho London with its classy minimalist décor, trendy lighting and subtle music, but similarly leaves you amazed that you’re not eating in Tokyo.
There are a few things though that reminds me of home. Like the dozens of mini-earthquake tremors that I feel every day. That reminds me of the days when the mines were active and they would blast dynamite causing our house to shake a little. The eyebrow-lady also makes me feel as though I’m right back in Fordsburg having my brows threaded and wondering just how bad it would be to get a Russian special with extra cheese from Akhalwayas.
It has started snowing on the mountains and I can feel the chill in the mornings and evenings which means that pretty soon I’ll be back in winter. Somehow the mountains look a lot like the Toblerone mountain and that makes it worth it.
With the snow on the mountain comes the rain in the city. The effects of rain are universal – the city’s dust settles and the air clears. Steam rises from the tarmac as though the earth too breathes a sigh of relief. The colours are brighter and the wind fresh and even the crows with their rain-spiked feather heads (which are strangely reminiscent of a teenage boy with serious gel) seem less ominous.
Murphy of course could not let the opportunity pass for a little trickery – the next morning I woke extra early to the coldest morning since I’ve been here. I turned on the shower and of course the water was even colder! I rushed over to the geyser turned a series of knobs and pressed a few buttons to no avail. So after a very tentative shower I rushed to work leaving a note for the building supervisor to fix my geyser. Of course when I got home the supervisor comes up and presses the same buttons I did and the geyser springs back into action.
With the snow comes the season for snow-boarding! But before I even think of acquiring a snow board, it seems I need to find a chair for the office. I have always taken the humble chair for granted – assuming that it is a general commodity found in offices everywhere. What I have discovered here though is that the chair is a precious item of which people are highly protective over. Despite the fact that there seems to be more chairs than people on our floor, each chair seems to either have someone’s name on it (literally) in tippex or on a printed sheet of paper stuck on the back.
That is not the end of the chair ownership signs though, no chair is unmarked and each morning begins with people scurrying to identify their chair (or claim the one you’re sitting on is theirs) based on a random scratch or mark located in a ridiculously obscure area.
In the meanwhile I’ve employed the Msanzi -inspired hijack tactic and hijacked a chair from the corner of the room and added my own sheet of paper and identified a few markings on it – which now miraculously become my unique chair-identifying, title deed bestowing characteristics. Still – I have the feeling I better find a camper chair and haul it to work every day as there’s no telling when the chair-pirates will claim my seat as their booty.
The funny thing about exploring though is that even though the adventure broadens your view and adds to your experience log, it also makes all things about home so much sweeter. This was made very evident at the South African ladies lunch at the South African Ambassador’s home. The experience was incredible and I doubt it would’ve had the same impact had the same scene been replicated on home soil.
The minute we passed through the gates and entered the world behind the 10m high wall I felt as Alice must have when she emerged from the rabbit hole. It was now easy to understand how magnificent ancient Persia must have been. The entire home and gardens were awash with colour – which is often lacking in central Tehran. It was interesting to meet people from diverse South African cultures, all embarking on their own unique adventure and all interpreting the experience in their own way. I saw old friends, made new ones and couldn’t help but think that TV is missing one component of the wives series. We’ve seen Desperate Housewives, Footballers Wives and Army Wives – what we really need is a series called Expat Housewives. The expat housewife is a complex fun being. One who invariable was a professional in her own right back home and has packed up to move to a foreign land with her husband and children and now needs to navigate this new terrain. I also knew that ironically while there is much to learn and see in Iran, the greatest lesson and exploration in this foreign land might to some extent be a South African one.

The many faces of Tehran's skyline

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