Short Cuts of Iran, - not so short

Finally! Again.
Today I visited Iran. I was hoping for a brief visit.

We have our Iranian visas, I applied with Peters passport as well since there is no Iranian embassy in Slovenia. We have to get there before the 27Th of September, getting closer.

The embassy is far out on Lidingö, I got up half past six to get there before opening half past eight, on the way I took ugly visa-pictures. When arriving ten min before opening the embassy was already filled. 26 numbers ahead. Each number took on average 8 min, you cleaver mathematicians realize that I could enter the office around noon. My application took approximately 1 min. Then I waited, again. Receiving visa took as long as waiting to apply. All together 6,5 hours at the embassy. No lunch.

It was a bit like visiting the middle east. Everyone was very friendly and tried to help each other cut the line, thus 8 min between the numbers. You could hear people shouting Hadji! (to older men to show them respect, I think) and Mishkil! (which is "problem", I think?) Hadji is what you call someone who made the pilgrimage to Mecca. All the time when someones number was called he waved at the older men and shouted Hadji! to take them with them into the office in order to help. The system was suffering a bit.

Äntligen!

Finally!
This Monday I took my drivers license, no hidden pride here.
The night before I was dreaming about driving non stop and when I sat in the car with the inspector I was dripping of sweat. After half an hour driving and at least seven min parking whilst swearing I was told I passed but that I should beware not to drive to slow and over-careful, else I might annoy the surrounding drivers.

Now I just have to get Iranian visa (at least three hours at the embassy), get travel insurance, cancel paper, clear out the apartment, pack, host a small farewell drink, work one day, lead a jewellery course one evening, get my digital TV going, buy Swedish books for half a year and some other minor things. Whatever, last weekend we threw a party for fifty people in a house without running water or electricity.

Guardianship manners

I applied for a Syrian visa, they were most friendly at the embassy and I was most nervous for some reason. I don´t know why, nothing to be scared of. But why do they have to know the name of my father, whether I´ve been in Palestine or not and such things? I don´t like the Big Brother feeling. Getting worst around the world I guess. Like in Italy where you have to accept an agreement before you can use internet at internet cafés. You have to agree that they can check if you visit suspected websites, terror information and so on. Big Brother can see what you read, that is about as close as you get to not having freedom of thought isn´t it?

Well the Iranian embassy is to come, I so much wonder if I should cover my hair when I go there, it is Iranian grounds isn´t it?

Pausfågel

The Tuscan poppies, much like the swedish ones.