Day 96 Small World!

 SYNOPSIS:   In the middle of a fairytale forest I met an old friend.  On the road to Masouleh, I had a few thoughts about the connection between motorcycle helmets, the hijab, and religion.  Small, small world!Twenty kilometers east of Ardabil, the bus entered a tunnel, not even a long one.  When we emerged at the other end my chin dropped.  We had exchanged rolling hills with ploughed fields, a few sheep and thin grass for huge mountains with full fledged forests!  And that within seconds!  This was an Iran I had not seen yet.  The Zagros Mountains and the mountains north of Tabriz all were rocky and harsh, snow capped with sparse if any vegetation.  Here, there was a lush forest showing off all kinds of hues of soft greens.  The trees could only have been sprouting their leaves for a couple of weeks and everything was still fresh, tender and subtle.  It seemed like a fairy tale world.The wilderness was vast, but when we passed a small village I noticed that the houses were capped with flat or gabled metal roofs.  Gone are the days of domes, badgirs, and vaults frantically isolating against the heat.  Here, the heat in the summer is negligible, and the metal likely attracts heat to melt the snow in the winter.  The roofs were red, yellow, blue, even purple, brightening up the green surrounding it all.  We drove through this mountainous forest for about 50 kilometers, before we reached the coast of the Caspian See.  I could only see it in the distance, but the land flattened and became considerably hazy.Home architecture once again changed; from metal to tiled roofs, from multi-story to single story, from gabled to hipped (pyramid shaped) roof lines.  The forest continued to our right, but along the coastal plain there was agriculture.  Almost all of the fields were muddy wet or fully under water.  It seemed to be on purpose.  Are they used for rice plantations?  And it looked like grapes were grown everywhere.  I am sure not for wine but for fresh fruit consumption and raisins.  Lots of bulls and cows roamed around freely.  So freely, that the bus almost ran over two of them!  Taking a turn on the highway, all of a sudden we were faced with two cows that had gotten themselves stuck between the bar separating our lanes from the opposite lanes and speeding traffic.  They were cornered and visibly frightened by the fast passing cars, but had nowhere to go except back into traffic… I wonder if and how they got back into their pastures.In all my time in Iran I have not seen as much trash combined as I saw today strewn along the coastal road between Astara and Fuman.  Disgusting!  What accounts for that is beyond me.  Overall, the coastal strip, except for its well maintained fields, looked run down and dilapidated.  We were definitely going through some poor regions.   That surprised me as climate and the conditions here seem ripe for the rich folk from Teheran to flock here during hot summer months.  But perhaps, we were still a bit too far north for that.At the entrance of one of the small villages we passed a big green sign:  Security helmets are required!  For quite some time I have been on the lookout for motorcycle helmets.  Before Tabriz I had seen none.  That was nearly 7 weeks into my trip!  In Tabriz, for some reason, I saw about 5 people all within three days who actually wore helmets.  Traffic accidents are high, fatalities range in the thousands annually – who would be surprised?!  All along, I have been frightened by this traffic.  If I ever was in any danger on this trip, it was because of this insane traffic.  I had heard that wearing helmets is the law, but I had not seen any helmets or any evidence for this law until this sign.  Wearing hijab is the law, too.  And of course, I have yet to see a single woman who would dare break that law.  So, how can you have two laws and two so vastly different scenarios?  The men (who almost exclusively drive the motor bikes) get away breaking the law on a daily and collective basis.  In other words, who cares, what the law is – the only factor that matters is the enforcement of the law!   Now that seems simple enough of a concept, but all of a sudden I did see a parallel:For years, I have taken the stand that it does matter what the law or “the book” says.  For one hour in my monument class, I compare Christianity and Islam by looking at their scriptures comparing a few subjects such as treatment of women and violence.  People, after all, are universally similar.  Line up any group and you will have the exceptionally good and the exceptionally bad at both ends (what we call the extremists) and most of the rest of the people operate in the middle (what we usually label the moderates).  Therefore, if comparing people does not get you anywhere, what is left is to compare the doctrines they follow, or the laws, or the religions, etc.  But all this time I overlooked, that no matter what any book says, what really matters is weather that scripture is enforced or not.  The book can say what it wants.  It takes people to turn any doctrine into action, which, if you go full circle on this line of thought, should get the doctrine off the hook again …I much apologize!  This is a very cryptic description of a complex issue that occupied me for hours on the bus.  I am throwing it out here for what it’s worth.  I will have to mull this over a bit more.But the real surprise of the day was this – I get to remote Masouleh, my destination for today.  It’s a UNESCO protected village in these lovely fairy tale mountains that is well over 1500 years old.  I settled down in my hotel which is located way above the river, overlooking the village from one end to the other.  I met my neighbors on the terrace next door – three physicians from Hamadan with whom I had a cup of tea.  And then I went for a little stroll.  And ten minutes into this, I turn a corner and run into Mousavir, the receptionist from the Firouzeh hotel in Teheran whom I met two months ago!  He was born in this village and just visited his parents!  How is this for a small world?!  He remembered me and in true fashion immediately offered to help book a bus for me tomorrow to get back to Teheran.  He is just such an amazing person.And then I wrote this blog, sitting on my terrace overlooking lovely Masouleh, listening to the rumble of the river way down.  It’s a cold night.  I am sure the locals got out their winter coats if any of them are still out.  There are no stars…  There should be.  I wonder if that means it will rain again?Good night.