Birku arhīvi: Park-e Shahr

Teherāna – no Park-e Shahr līdz Park Abshar

Tieši divas nedēļas pēc iebraukšanas islama republikā, mēs bijām nonākuši tās pašā centrā – Teherānā – metropolē, kur dzīvo septiņreiz vairāk cilvēku kā visā Latvijā. Trīs niecīgie latvieši (un francūzis Maksims), ieradušies Pilsētas parkā (Park-e Shahr) nu vēl jo vairāk apzinājās savu mazumu, jo bija kā no laivas izmesti.

Mums nebija savlaicīgi izdevies atrast kādu, kurš mūs izmitinātu caur CS/WS, bet, pa ceļam visi stāstīja, ka Teherānā varēšot vienkārši doties uz kādu parku un uzcelt telti, Park-e Shahr tam esot lielisks. Pilsētas parks izrādījās nepavisam tāds, kurā būtu pieņemts vai atļauts celt teltis, un varējām tikai stāvēt un kasīt galvas par to, ko šonakt darīsim. Protams, kā jau vienmēr, viss beigās atrisinās, un šoreiz atrisinājumu sauca Rasūls. Pēkšņi uzrodas čalītis, kurš sāk kaut ko stāstīt par sava vectēva māju, kurā neviens nedzīvojot un kur mēs varbūt varot palikt. Parastā problēma – trešklasnieka angļu valoda – labākajā gadījumā liek mums izdarīt minējumus par to, ko viņš īsti saka, bet pašiem praksē pārliecināties, sekojot viņa mocītim, ir mūsu labākais rīcības plāns. Turpiniet lasīt

Finding peace in chaos in Tehran – from Park-e Shahr to Park Abshar

Exactly two weeks after entering the Islamic Republic, we found ourselves in the heart of it – Tehran – a metropolis that alone hosts seven times more people than my whole country. Three Latvians (plus one French guy) felt even punier being here because of this fact and because they did not know where will they be staying this night. We hadn’t succeeded to find a CS/WS host but we had heard that you can go to almost any park of Tehran and just pitch your tent up there. So, we had arrived in Park-e Shahr (City Park) which was recommended to us as one of such parks by our last night’s host Hamed.

Turned out that Park-e Shahr is close to the opposite kind of parks where you could camp. It’s not even allowed to ride a bicycle there. We came to the realization that, probably most (or all?) of the parks in the capital would not be meant for camping. Of course, some sort of solution always comes for these kind of problems, especially in Iran. While we were just standing there, scratching our heads, the solution really came, it was a he and he even had a name – Rasoul. A guy suddenly appears and starts telling us about his grandfather’s house where no one lives and where we could stay, maybe. We were guessing that he is telling us that, because, as usual in Iran, his English was far from fluent. But, just following his motorcycle and seeing ourselves was our best option at the moment. Turpiniet lasīt