Kathy to Hilary, September 16, 1972, cont., Tehran, Iran We left Wednesday and drove from Tehran to Gorgan. It’s very humid and hot on the other side of the mountains in Mazanderan, and I couldn’t sleep. (I don’t think I could stand Washington in the summer again.) We stopped to look at a dead porcupine in the road in the mountains when we drove to Pahlavi Dezh to see the Turcoman rug market. Mom wanted to buy every rug we saw, but there were five of us in the Alfa and where would we put them?
Turcoman rug market. 
Rug seller. 
In Mashad I bought lapis lazuli at the bazaar, four dark blue round stones pasted to a card. We bought the tuttis [the parrots--ring-necked parakeets] in a bird store. I wanted to get the mynah bird because it talked and because the name “mynah” comes from “zema meenah,” which means “my dear” in Pashtu--the only words I know in Pashtu (ahem). The “dear” bird said “Javid Shah!” (long live the Shah) which some mullahs thought was very funny.
We saw the tombs of the poets Ferdowsi and Omar Khayam--Ferdowsi’s is a massive Nazi German looking monstrosity built by the Shah or his father. Hideous. Omar Khayam’s is very beautiful. We almost caused an international incident over some peeping toms in the toilet. They even started throwing rocks. We got away. The return trip to Tehran was uncomfortable. I had two parrots in my lap on dirt roads and was covered with feathers and sunflower seeds and, needless to say, bird shit by the time we got to Tehran.
5:00:40 PM 
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