Monday, June 9th, 2003 3:30 P.M, Waiting for the plane to Amsterdam

I am sitting on a comfortable seat among perhaps 20 people. I am surprisingly very calm and I have a feeling that everything will be okay. I am now an independent girl and I’m very proud of myself.

As I walked up the stairs I thought of the last time I had been in our house. It was a long time ago, about four years ago. I had been 11 years-old. I had such great memories in our house and in every part of Tehran that I had been to.
For a long while I thought that I’m dreaming. I thought that I’m just in a beautiful dream. Even though I constantly thought it is a dream, I knew it was real.

My eyes are open
To see what they missed
In four years.

They missed the traffic
The mountains
And the familiar faces

My ears listen
To hear what they missed
In four years.

They missed the birds
The cars
And the voices of many

My lips had forgotten
The delicious taste of
Ice-cream

My hands missed the handles
Of taxies and the key
To my unforgotten house

I missed a lot of things
While I was away
But I didn’t forget a thing.

The city is crowded. It is full of people going many different ways. Each individual looks different. The women have to cover their hair. Some cover it fully, others cover it half way. Some have no make up at all, others have a lot on. Some wear bright colors and tight clothes, others wear black and loose clothes. These women have not accomplished what they were after. These women did not have their dreams come true. These women are after something more, something better. Their identity is hidden by their covered faces and bodies. Their emotions are beneath the make-up. Their eyes are used to the everyday show, they can't look any further for a change. These women have to deal with stares and remarks by some men everyday. These women have no rights. They have no freedom. These women are smart and talented, but unfortunately no one can see it. No one gives them an opportunity to show-off their talents. They have to keep it to themselves. These women are hard working. They don,t give up. They walk through the crowded city, go through the heat while wearing too many clothes, go through remarks and stares, go through traffic, and every other obstacle, yet they still walk and hold their heads high to show that they are not afraid.

Today was another visit to the most beautiful place I have ever seen in Iran. This place is the location of palaces of the previous kings of Iran. These palaces are gorgeous with a magnificent view. As you walk down the hill you are surrounded by trees. Some of these palaces have pools. Then there is river running down below. There are also a couple of museums.
I was walking down there and I was in awe. I never imagined such a beautiful place in Iran. This is because back when I was little we were mostly in the streets of Tehran and there wasn't much beauty. As I looked around I noticed how much I really wanted to stay there. How much I wanted to spend every minute walking down that beautiful hill surrounded by beauty and knowing my family is there including all my cousins. Yet again I can not live there. I just can't. It is too sad to even say it to myself, but it is the truth. Unfortunately I can?t have everything I want. I don't think anyone does.
I'm not displeased. I'm not sad. I'm actually very happy because I got to live two very beautiful lives, each one nice in its own ways, each missing something big. I accept it because that is what my life is. It is still enjoyable. I have so many things to be thankful for. And I have to say that I love my life.

Driving in Tehran is a bit tricky. The rules are pretty much broken. It is not really safe. You just have to be very careful and calm. If you are not calm or a patient person, then driving wouldn't really be a great idea. There's a lot of traffic. Cars can suddenly come out of nowhere and they will come too close to you. Motorcycles are a different story. They go really fast and you have to let them go through. No matter whose fault it is, if you hit them, it is your fault. Oh and seatbelts aren't required, only in highways! And kids under the age of 13 can sit on the passenger seat.

Today I went to the park that I used to go with my brother when I was little. We sat on a bench and ate ice-cream. I watched the kids play in the play ground. Some were on the swings and some were on the slide. I looked at their small faces and noticed that they were happy.

I visited my uncle and aunt two days ago. They live two floors below us. My uncle said, So, you'll be gone soon. I will stay in Iran for a month but of course it will end soon. He told me of the times we were all together and how we suddenly left and disappeared. He told me his house no longer has a smell or a color. It is just a house with a few faces left that show up once in a while. To him our house is only a colorless, odorless house with a heart that still beats.
Whoever I see thinks of the time I'll be gone rather than the fact that I'm still there. Only a week has gone by but I'm already leaving in their mind. I don't blame them. That's life. Is all I can say. I can't stay forever and I can't be gone forever. Only my heart will stay with them. Always

Everyday I dress in my sister's clothes, her monto, a sort of dress to cover the shirt under, and her scarf. I even put some light lipstick of hers, something I never do in America. Then I take my small purse, put on my jeans and Nikes, and walk out the door with her. I become another girl. This girl goes to the streets and looks at everything. EVERY thing. As many things that fit her eyes. She looks at people with different eyes than about four years ago when she would hardly look at them. She smiles because the moments are too precious. She feels sorry for her people because they're trapped. She wishes to alter things but can?t. After all she is only a teenager. Can a teenager change a society? I doubt it. So she keeps on walking and looks for familiar places. Places she had been during her childhood. Why does everything look different? She wonders. Was it that long ago? It seemed only yesterday that she had been there with her family, going to school as always and hating it. She had wondered what America would be like? What could be better than what she had? Then she knew. She found her answer later.

My grandmother, my dad's mom, died when I was 3. Today I visited her grave. It was an odd feeling, walking among the many graves. I sat by her grave and put a flower. My brother poured water to clear the dust. I watched the grave stones and felt tears behind my sun glasses. It was sunny out but not too hot. It was early morning. It was a peaceful place to be in. No sound, no worry, no problems. A place where the soul is above and life is no longer down on earth.

My journey home is coming to an end. I have to pack very soon. It is what I was most afraid to do. The minute I stepped to my home town I knew that I would have to leave once again. It was a thought I could never escape. I endeavored to think only of my stay and not my leaving.

Even though the sky is not clear blue
Even though there is smoke and pollution
I still love it

Even though the roads seem endless
Even though the view is not crystal
I still love it

Even though the choices are little
Even though freedom is not a word
I still love it

Even though women are not given enough
Even though humanity is forgotten
I still love it

Even though there is no way beyond the mountains
Even though people are just characters without destiny
I still love it

With all it?s problems
With all it?s endless fallacies
I love it ?cause it?s part of me

I can?t change a thing
I can?t always be disappointed
So I have to love it

In America when people vote for their president they accept him even if he does something not too great. The government respects people's privacy. It might not do exactly what the people want, but at least they give them the freedom of speech, petition?
In Iran not only do they not respect people?s privacy, they don't give them any sort of freedom. They easily enter one?s private life and question them rudely.
When I was little my parents complained about the regime, but I didn't know why. I thought why? What have they done? Now everything is clear and right in front of my eyes. It is clear why Iran is getting worst everyday, it is clear why there is no hope left for people.

Yesterday I went to another park. This time I was with my sister and her friend. Once we were in the park, everyone seemed to be staring at us. I looked at the trees and the people sitting under them. Some were chatting, some were walking like us, and others were looking at us. I saw a girl on a bike and two others skating. I thought that was interesting since not many girls bike or skate. I was happy to see that they're not afraid and do what they like.
I went to the bookstore twice. I saw many teen girls looking at books. They were with their friends or alone. Even though there are not many ways for them to have fun they do what they can to enjoy life They read they bike skate and spend time with friends Another problem for them is that if they walk alone or with other girls boys would often bother them Some men slow their car and start talking to them others just look and make remarks> life for women is very difficult.

I have said this word many times. Each time I said it I felt sad. I felt like nothing could make me happy. It has been the hardest word to say and pronounce, yet I have said it.
I will leave Iran next Thursday. I'm trying to prepare myself to say good-bye. I'm trying hard not to feel disappointed or sorry.
I will miss every single person. I will miss our house once again. I will miss the people with their troubled faces, and their torn lives. I do, however, believe that they can survive. I wish them the best of luck. I wish that Iran would be that "Great Persia" again.
When I was in the plane to Tehran, I thought wow, I'm finally home! Now it is time to go back.
Everything ends at some point. Some things stay in our hearts forever, some walk out of our memories. This trip will never leave my memory nor will it leave my heart. I hope people remember their nationality and their home land because that?s where their life started. To me Iran is the greatest country. I don't care who ruled and who made it a mess. I care about where I stepped when I was a child and didn't now what life was. I care about what it meant to me when I walked in the streets holding my mother's hand. I care about what it felt like to be home, the safest place for a kid. I care about how hard it was to leave Iran, almost knowing it will be permanent.