The Pride in Persia (Iranian Secrets)

I often speak very fondly of Persia, making sure any listeners understand that these people are not, under any circumstances, to be mistaken for Arabs. Usually there is someone that will start asking questions about whether Iran was dangerous, did I fear for my life etc and I play a fairly straight bat and tell them the truth - that I was so scared I wrote my first Will before entering the country. I was 26 and found the whole ordeal rather sobering. Although I can honestly say we had an incredible time visiting the country, with hospitable and welcoming people, it wasn't so much my life that I should have been scared of.

We were in Shiraz, a poetic, romantic city, steeped in heat and history. A short drive away is the infamous Persepolis, the exulted palace Darius and Xerxes, but our interests for the day lay far closer to the city of grape-fame. With our vehicle once again causing havoc in our journey, an excited Western-dressed gentleman with short dark hair approached and the conversation went something like this (dispensing with some of the other pleasantries like names etc.) with my thoughts added in brackets:

IRANIAN MAN: Where you from?
RICHARD: (Here we go again, you’re not from the UK remember as they hate those dudes) Ireland, Irlanda, Dublin.
IRANIAN MAN: Ing-land?
RICHARD: No, Ireland, Irrlanda, Irr-landa.
IRANIAN MAN: Oh okay.
RICHARD: Do you live in Shiraz? It is a lovely …
IRANIAN MAN: Irrlanda.
RICHARD: We are going to Yazd but we are having trouble with our vehicle.
IRANIAN MAN: I not understand.
RICHARD: We go Yazd, but battery is kaput. Can you help?
IRANIAN MAN: I not understand.
RICHARD: Battery not work. Do you have a car?
IRANIAN MAN: Ah yes, battery … car?
RICHARD: Car, machine, vehicle, machine.
IRANIAN MAN: Ah my car, yes I have car.
RICHARD: Brilliant. Is your car near here?
IRANIAN MAN: Yes, yes, car is near … how old you?
RICHARD: (Hang on …) You have car near here?
IRANIAN MAN: Yes, yes. How old you?
RICHARD: (Sigh) I am twenty-six years old.
IRANIAN MAN: Oh right. I am twenty-six … no wait, twenty-four years old.
RICHARD: (You’re bloody not) Oh good. Well I have to find someone to help with the bat--
IRANIAN MAN: What is deek?
RICHARD: What?
IRANIAN MAN: What is deek?
RICHARD: (Does he mean dick?) Deek?
IRANIAN MAN: Yes, deek. Man and boy have, woman and girl not. What is deek?
RICHARD: (Right okay … he means dick) You mean dick?
IRANIAN MAN: Yes dick? What is dick?
RICHARD: (He does mean dick. Let’s be mature about this) Dick means penis.
IRANIAN MAN: What is penis?
RICHARD: (Oh for God’s sake!) Penis. It is the thing you pee out of.
IRANIAN MAN: Ah yes. You have dick? You have good dick?
RICHARD: <SILENCE> What?
IRANIAN MAN: You have good dick, yes?
RICHARD: (You dirty …) I’m going to find someone to help with battery. Goodbye.
IRANIAN MAN: Nice to meet you …

I think he said something else afterwards but by that time I was headed for the nearest driver who didn’t look like he wanted to shag me. Quite a search as you can imagine. So that's Persia...not what you were expecting, right?