Debate and Discussion: An English translation class in Esfahan

In class at Najaf Abad University (Esfahan)

I sat down on the stage, legs akimbo, before a class of English translation students at Najaf Abad University in Esfahan. The class was split dramatically, like foreign language classes tend to be, in favor of females; in this case, about 20 women to three men. The men sat on one side, the girls on the other, and the dynamic was split into two separate spheres.

Earlier, the class had been debating when and how often to meet. This was their first time back, and I sat in the corner, observing them debate how to run their class. There were no set times, nor teacher: the entire group was self-governing. The previously established leader of the class, one of the guys, was arguing with the female students over whether lectures should be given, and how topics should be chosen.

With a host in Kashan (who I met off the street)

"But in my experience, last summer, none of the students chose to give a lecture," he lectured, rather dismissively.

One of the male students explained to me that this isn't the case in the elite universities, where attendance is compulsory. But here, most upper level students did not attend their classes, instead studying independently before showing up to take the final exam.

I gave them a little spiel about myself and why I'm in Iran, before we began to exchange questions about each other.

Emboldened after a while, the questions, asked mostly by the girls, became increasingly personal and controversial. They ranged from the commonplace and obvious: “Are Iranians like what you thought they would be before you arrived?”, to the religious: “What do you think of Hossein Ali?”, to dating preferences: “What do you look for in a woman?”

Faloodeh - vermicelli served with cardamom icecream: an absolutely delicious traditional Iranian dessert

When I asked them in return: “What do you look for in a man?”, nobody answered. I had crossed an invisible line, into the private sphere in which they weren’t willing or able to discuss, particularly in front of their male peers.

But we spoke plainly about inflation, of the difficulty involved in finding a job for college graduates, and I made references to “increasing global understanding” and “breaking down borders.”

A few days later, Ahmad, who had invited me to speak when we’d met at Fin Gardens in the city of Kashan, asked me to return.

“They want to have another class, just for you,” he gushed. “They felt, how do you say, ‘blown off’, by you!”

“Blown off?” I thought, now feeling somehow guilty.

“I mean ‘blown away!’” he laughed, before adding: “I like to use idioms! Can you teach me more American idioms?”

Retirees chat inside the calm walls of a mosque in Esfahan

Soheila and Sepideh, on being 21 and beautiful in Tehran

With Soheila and Sepideh (and Ohmee!) at Park-e-Laleh, Tehran

Amir and I were walking towards the National Jewels Museum, home to the world's largest diamond, when two beautiful young women asked us for directions. For perhaps the first time in my life, as every guy might wish to happen, it turned out that they were going to the same place, and they accompanied us in.

The first thing I asked Amir, who quickly slid into the smooth, local translator role, was "Do they have any European blood?"

Soheila in particular is very pale, with green eyes and auburn hair, pulled straight back a la Gwen Stefani a few years back, a grey cotton scarf barely clinging to her remarkably high 'do. Sepideh, with her classical Persian features and olive skin, could easily pass as Spanish or Italian.

It turned out that I was totally off. They were Iranian to the core, hailing from two historic political towns, Tabriz and Hamadan originally but now in university in Tehran, studying accounting and anthropology. I've since realized that many Iranians look indistinguishable from Europeans, often hailing from different regions of the country.

They took forever at the museum, as girls surrounded by priceless Qajar-era royal jewels are apt to do, before we finally convinced them to come hang out at a park where we could talk more easily. We went to Park-e-Laleh in the centre of town, apparently a spot for discrete young couples to flirt. Unabashed performer that I am, I decided to give a little kung fu demonstration on the grass.

Wearing my thin cotton Indian trousers, I attempted a long tiger stance, and the already-sewn-up-once crotch area tore apart anew, with a fatalistic "Rrrrip!" I hobbled back, and spent the rest of the evening with my legs held together as if carrying a heavy bladder.

Sepideh washing her hands before heading to a cafe for some post-sunset food

Sepideh was far more outgoing and lively, and she answered most of the questions as we chatted about their interests in poetry, their chosen majors and desire to travel abroad. But for some reason it surprised me when she told us she wanted to stay at home after she married, that she was more traditional when it came to family. Soheila, on the other hand, was keen on continuing to work. Though they have a lot of male friends, there are no boy friends. And when I asked what they thought of local guys, the verdict was unflattering.

"These days, Tehrani boys are less genuine. After two months, they will stop being friends with you. They are not interested in love," Sepideh complained, leaving me to fill in the unspoken. When I told her that in the West, sometimes women use men with similar intentions, she smiled.

“Are you guys looking to get married soon?,” I asked at one point, and they and Amir all burst into laughter.

“Would you take one of them out of Iran with you?” Amir asked, jokingly.

“I’d have to ask my girlfriend first,” I responded, and more laughter followed.

Coming to Iran, I was happily surprised to see how relaxed and easygoing the girls were about hanging out with two unknown, foreign men. I’m not sure how receptive most American girls would be in the same situation. Amir, however, explained that Soheila and Sepideh were of a more liberal background. They disagreed with the conservative social direction Ahmadinejad has followed, and liked the more moderate previous president, Khatami. So in being so open and friendly with me, they were living out their own politics about gender relations in a small, but very direct way.

They asked me who I thought would win the US election, and I told them that I think it’ll be close. When I asked who they support, Amir immediately responded: “Of course Obama! He has a better policy toward Iran.”

It was getting dark and the azan song was sung over loudspeakers, signaling the end of fasting for that day. A park police motorbike swept by on a parallel path, and the girls shuddered a little.

“Let’s go eat,” Sepideh said. They didn’t want any trouble with the police about hanging out with boys, as happens increasingly often these days. So we walked to a nearby restaurant for osh, a tasty Iranian noodle dish that is eaten during Ramadan.

Osh, a noodle dish eaten during Ramadan

Sweet dates and tea for dessert