Tehran <-> Washington, DC 1970-1973 teen girl blog
Back in 1970, Hilary and Kathy were 14 years old and best friends in Washington, DC. Then Kathy moved to Tehran. They wrote to each other pretty often--and kept the letters--for your pleasure as a proto-blog from the 70s. The letters start here.

Kathy and Hilary in May 1970

 



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  Monday, August 04, 2003


Kathy to Hilary, September 16, 1972, cont., Tehran, Iran
The parrots are giving me dirty looks. I tried to catch one, but didn’t succeed. Hence the dirty looks.

A ring-necked parakeet's dirty look.

We had a crow for awhile--his name was Henry and Johnny’s family gave him to me when I admired him. Henry was unpopular with everyone from Rupert [the cat] on up--except me, I appreciated him. He would follow me around the house. I was the only one brave enough to feed him. He bit. I gave him back when he chased Mom and Bucket around the atrium.

We got the parrots--the Green Slime--in Mashad when we went there in August. We drove. Mazanderan and Khuzistan (I think that’s how you spell them) are more interesting scenery-wise than the desert panorama to the south. The Russian steppes begin there, and we imagined that we could actually see Russia--now I can say that I’ve seen the USSR! If you want to be technical I could say I’ve been there, because supposedly the Caspian Sea is Russian water ‘till about 30 (or 300?) yards from the Iranian shore. Since the Caspian deepens very gradually Steve and I waded out that far.

Anyway, Masahd is the place of pilgramage for all the Shia’s. An Imam--Imam Reza--actually died there. I trust you know about Imams--they are the people that the Shia’ believe are the direct descendents spiritually and physically of Mohammed, instead of the Caliphs who they believe are usurpers. This is where they split with the Arabs. No infidel is allowed in the shrine of the Imam Reza--but this is a challenge, of course, so we sent dressed in chadors.

Shrine of the Imam Reza, Mashad.

Steve had to wear one too because his hair is so long. I was chastized for being unvirtuous because my chador tended to slip off my head, and a good foot of jeans showed beneath the chador. (No extra-long sizes in chadors!) The chadors are hot, stifling, clumsy, and unattractive. How even a devout woman can wear one is beyond me, unless they use them to cover the state of their clothes. Everyone knew we were Qafirs (unbelievers) but nobody got upset about it and they were very nice. Next we’re off for Mecca!
5:35:03 AM    comment []



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