The Caspian Breeze

By Petra O'Hare

A thrilling journey to the heart of the Middle East in search of closure.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Petra O'Hare
• Release date: Dec 31, 2022
• ISBN: 9798215966693

Book preview

Packing My Bags: Farewell, U.S.A.

I am not sure exactly how I felt when I started selling my stuff, getting rid of my things, and throwing away kitchen tools I had been using for many years. Even the mugs I loved were all trashed. I donated my books, most of my clothes (some were never worn), bags, furniture, and whatever was worth donating. I was so focused on making sure that I got rid of all my stuff by my departure date that I wasn’t concerned about how I was getting rid of them. Nevertheless, I was sad to say goodbye to some of my things that reminded me of good times, old friends, and family. Looking back, I have to praise myself for being so determined to make such a huge move, which to many people (including most of my colleagues) seemed completely absurd. I could understand why they thought this, but I didn’t agree with their opinion. I knew I wanted to move to Iran, and for a long time I thought about it, and planned it. What was risky is that I had only planned my exit from the U.S., and not what would come after I moved to Iran. I did not know where I was going to stay or for how long I would stay in Iran. The goal was to stay as long as possible, and if I ended up buying my own place, then I would probably stay forever, only visiting the U.S. every once in a while to see family and friends. The thought of not having to work for a living and having enough savings to live off of for a long time was pretty tempting. The day my colleagues found out I was moving to Iran, they were shocked and one of them, who had been backpacking around the world, reminded me that I had not been to Iran for a long time, and that things in the Middle East are not to my taste. He definitely knew the Middle East and its people well enough to say that. My other coworkers were mostly shocked and didn’t have a whole lot to say about my decision. Every time I remember their facial expression, it cracks me up; they must have thought I had gone mad.

As I got closer and closer to my departure date, I wondered why I was not nervous about this upcoming drastic change in my life. It baffled me. I had always imagined this move would give me nightmares, and tilt my entire world, but no! This wasn’t as scary as I thought. I still had some sleepless nights worrying about how to get rid of my bed and other large furniture that wouldn’t fit in the trash disposal bins. I decided to hire some people to come and move my mattress and bedding and dispose of them in my apartment complex’s trash area. I finally found a couple of people who were willing to come by, at nighttime so that my neighbors wouldn’t see me dumping the mattress there as it was not allowed. When the guys arrived, they told me they parked somewhere nearby and that they couldn’t find my place. I went outside looking for them and found them parked just in the street across my apartment, but suddenly they drove away. A few seconds later, they texted me saying a homeless man had started approaching them and they got scared so they drove away. I texted them back saying it was OK, and to keep safe. I went inside my apartment and realized that this probably isn’t the right way of getting rid of my mattress and bedding. There must have been a reason for why I couldn’t find somebody to dispose of my large stuff.

The next morning I Googled how to get rid of your large furniture, and saw this junk remover advertisement. Sure enough that is what I needed. I searched junk removers near me and found some. I called one company, and it took me a few minutes to schedule an appointment for them to come by and remove all my large furniture including my mattress. Thankfully they had time that day, and came by around 2 p.m., moved my stuff, and saved me from another sleepless night. Looks like to avoid stress, sometimes you must know what is right, and do just that.

Once I got rid of all my furniture, the next big thing was to sell my car. Emotionally, this was challenging. We did a lot together, went to so many places, moved to different cities, and all this created a bond between us.

As heartbreaking as it was, I called a dealership nearby and scheduled an appointment to get a quote. On my way to the dealership, I kept talking to my car, telling her that I loved her so much and if I could take her with me, I would; I think she understood. I promised her that her next owner would be nice too.

I got the quote, and it was a lot less than I had anticipated. It was disappointing, but I knew I only had a few days left before my departure and that was not enough time to explore other selling options. The quote was good for only three days, so I told the dealer guy I would come back soon.

Since I was leaving the U.S. in a few days, there was no need to go grocery shopping, the take-outs would do just fine. I ate a lot of Taco Bell in my last days in the U.S. It would be difficult not to indulge knowing I would not have access to this delicious food for a long time. On my way home, I stopped by a Taco Bell and got a Nachos Supreme (my favorite).

When I got home, I called some of my friends and family to say goodbye. Some did not think I would last there for too long, some were happy for me, some wanted to know more about my plans. It’s funny how when you decide to do something, even if it seems totally crazy to others, as long as you think it’s the right move for you, nothing can change your mind. Some of my friends told me horror stories about life in Iran and how people are treated there. No democracy, no justice, no future! It all seemed way too exaggerated, so I tossed those stories out of my mind, and kept my eyes on the ball. I had wanted to move to Iran for years and had been convinced that the U.S. was no longer a place to stay, at least not for me. All the terrifying news about police officers harassing people of color, random people attacking Asians on the street because they thought it was their fault that COVID was here, and all the hatred in the air made me think the U.S. was no longer a place where I wanted to live. We were also starting to see a noticeable increase in prices, rent, food, gas, electronics, and goods in general. The economy was falling apart, and that pulled the trigger for me. I knew things were going to get worse once the economy plummeted and did not want to be in the U.S. when it all happened. I wonder if I am guilty of abandoning my country in tough times, but what could I have done?

I remember when my family and I moved to the U.S. (I was eighteen at that time) I called my friends to say goodbye the night of our flight. One of my good friends cried asking why I wanted to leave Iran. She said we were in the same boat and that we had to fight to make things better. I remember she said to me, We’ll make it together, we’ll go to college, and things will get better here. It really made me feel bad that I was leaving my friends in Iran and moving to another country for a better future...what about our friendships, what happens to people when they rip off their roots and plant them in another land?

I told my friend that I didn’t think there was any future for anybody in Iran, let alone me. I was not a gifted girl, not talented in any particular way but still managed to waste time lying in bed doing nothing productive. There may had been one thing I was good at; I loved buying books and reading. That’s all I was good at back then and not much has changed since. The stress of the college entrance exam was so intense that I could not see myself doing well on that exam. I did take the entrance exam knowing in a few weeks I would be off to the U.S. and so I was happy to just sit there with my friends, those with whom I had bonded over hardship, and take the exam just for the heck of it. I remember the day of the exam my dad took me to University of Sharif, where I was assigned to take the college entrance exam. I walked inside and was immediately overwhelmed by the excitement of seeing my friends standing in front of a large, gloomy building, which was where we needed to go. We all embraced, and talked about things other than the exam we were about to take. In Iran you work your butt off for that exam, and that one exam decides your fate for the rest of your life. I guess a lot of people living in the modern world (as opposed to the third world) don’t actually realize how tough life is in countries like Iran where there aren’t just enough opportunities for everybody to go around. Either you get into college, get your degree, and then maybe if you are lucky you`ll find a decent job, or you don’t get into college and become a burden to your family forever. There aren’t many opportunities when it comes to work or business in developing countries. Unfortunately, the corrupt structure of the Islamic regime has made everything much worse for the middle class and underprivileged. Fortunately, today I see many young people making money off the internet, using social media as their business platform to advertise their products and services. It makes me happy to see there are other ways of making money that young people take advantage of. This has especially helped women who own small home businesses thrive and do better than the previous generation. Times have definitely changed.

When I finished my dinner, I went to pack the remainder of my clothes (whatever I had left after donating most to charity), random items I did not want to get rid of (including stuff I was emotionally attached to), electronics, etc. Thankfully, it looked like I had enough space for all my items to take with me to Iran, although I was a bit worried about my luggage being over the allowed weight.

I had also been going to my bank taking out as much as I thought was safe to carry with me during this trip. Every time I took out a large amount of cash, I felt powerful and liberated; I’m not sure why exactly I felt that way. I wasn’t sure how much to leave in my bank account just to be safe. I needed to have enough savings to start over should I decided to return. I remember my first manager once said to me not to ever burn bridges because you just don’t know how things will turn out; this world is way too unpredictable to toss your opportunities out the window. I’m glad I took that advice seriously and have always been cautious not to burn bridges whether it was my friendships, work-related relationships, jobs, or anything else in life. I took care so that doors did not shut down on me.

The Iranian money was losing value fast, and I knew it wouldn’t be a problem for me exchanging my U.S. dollars. Iran was in desperate need of U.S. dollars to cover its foreign currency deficiency so they could improve the depreciation of Iranian Rial currency. The country was in serious economic and social downfall at that time—not that they were doing any better before, but this time around civilians were feeling the maximum economic pressure due to the sanctions. I was warned by many people that it wasn’t a good time to travel to Iran, nor to permanently settle there. Another issue was my U.S. citizenship, which would raise security alarms. The Iranian officials had arrested and imprisoned a number of foreign nationals or dual citizens on spy charges; that was another risk for me. I knew the regime was deep in trouble, but the arrests they had made did not make any sense; they looked more like hostage-taking scenarios.

I did consider all these risks, and was still determined to follow my plan without fearing the unknown. After all, life is full of risks and unforeseen dangers, and I was willing to take the risk.

I finally packed all my stuff, and made sure everything would get to Iran safe and sound. I did my best to take as few fragile items as possible because nothing was clear yet; I did not know how long I would stay in a hotel, or how many times I would move from place to place. Only taking the essentials was the best thing I did.

The next day I went back to the car dealership and sold my beauty. Needless to say I was overwhelmed with emotions as I said goodbye to my one and only Golf. Once all was done and I got my check, I took an Uber home. The Uber driver was an older gentleman, a very nice, talkative guy who I enjoyed talking to. As usual I asked how he like driving for Uber, and he said he liked it because it gave him the flexibility he wanted, and that he was his own boss (which I understand is a huge perk).

When I arrived home, I walked past the parking spot where my Golf had been parked a couple of hours earlier. Selling that car left a hole in my heart, and it was something that I did expect when the thought of moving to Iran first occurred to me. I remember the first time I drove that car I was so nervous. My first car was precious!

My apartment was getting emptier and emptier each day as I got closer to the departure date. I went to take a quick shower and before that I decided to order a box of dozen classic glazed donuts from Krispy Kreme, my favorite donut shop. Donuts always make me happy, no matter what, and that day after losing my car I needed something to lift my spirits. The order was placed, and it said it would be delivered in about forty minutes, which was enough time for me to take a quick shower and do all the after-shower personal care. I also called my auto insurance company and canceled my policy. The insurance agent asked why I was canceling my insurance and when I told him because I was moving abroad he said excitedly, Wow! Good for you, and good luck with your move! He seemed pretty happy for me, but would he still be happy for me if he knew where I was going?

When the delicious donuts arrived, something inside told me I was going to miss Krispy Kreme donuts badly. You can find donuts in Iran too, but I knew it wouldn’t be like these, and I think I was already addicted to Krispy Kreme donuts and wouldn’t want another kind of donuts.

That night I ate half a dozen donuts, and went to bed early so I could get up early the next morning. I was relieved that I had finally gotten all my major to-do items complete, and that the rest were easy to do. I took a look at my to-do list, checked off the sell your car item, then looked at the other items to be done. It seemed like I was on the right path, and the rest of the stuff could be done on the day of my flight.

The next morning I got up around 8 a.m., which is pretty early for me, and proceeded to make coffee so I could enjoy it with some delicious donuts from the night before. My flight was the next day, and I was looking forward to it although the thought of sitting on an uncomfortable seat for at least twelve hours put a damper on my morale. Every time I traveled to Iran, I dreaded the long flight and wished I could find a flight with a shorter flight time, but each time the shortest I could find was at least sixteen hours long.

I caught myself overthinking the dreadful flight, and convinced myself that visiting Iran and the long flight are intertwined and for the sake of making the trip easier on myself, I promised to find something productive to do during the flight so I could feel like I was making the most out of my flight time. The last time I’d visited Iran, only three months back, I had to keep my mask on for the duration of the flight as well as in the airport where I had my layover. Some people seemed OK with it, and I couldn’t understand how they managed to be so positive about having this annoying piece of cloth on their face the whole time. The only time we were allowed to take the mask off was when we were eating. They also advised people sitting on the same row were not supposed to take the mask off all at the same time. Nobody understood what it meant, including the flight attendants, and so we all collectively decided to ignore that one rule. It’s funny how people sitting in the same row did not need to talk before coming to a consensus that they would disobey the rule. We all took our mask off at the same time and nobody seemed to care.

Two days back I had taken my PCR test, and that morning as I was enjoying my coffee and donuts, I got a text message notifying me that my PCR test result was available for me to view. Quite nervously I downloaded the test result attached to the text message, and there it was, my negative test result. I happily crossed off the receive your PCR test result item from my to-do list.

Not much was left to be done, and my flight was the next day, so I decided to finish the book I was reading to avoid having to take it with me. Wow, I really made sure my carry-on was light. Since the book was not all too interesting, I had trouble focusing but still managed to finish it that day, and then went to the local library and left it in the drop-off bin. I wonder how many people are like me in that they absolutely cannot trash books. To me, and hopefully many people around the world, books are precious and are not to be disposed of or trashed. Books are not trash, and they don’t belong there. They are a wealth of knowledge. I have yet to read a book which does not have anything new to teach me. I don’t think there is one.

That day, my last full day in the U.S., I did not eat proper lunch. I just ate donuts. There were a few more things to be done before I left for good. I had to throw away my last piece of furniture: my writing desk. I needed my desk to sit down and work on my laptop. I also had to throw away my tea kettle, tea pot, some remaining food, and my favorite coffee mug. I decided to throw those items away the next day before I took off; I needed them to make tea in the morning.

Around midnight I tore the writing desk apart so I could carry the pieces downstairs and dump at the disposal location. Since it was against the rule to dump furniture pieces in the trash bins, I had to wait till midnight to make sure nobody would see me. Previously, the management had asked residents to watch and report whoever was disposing of items that were not allowed to be disposed of in the trash bins. I made sure I didn’t make any noise so I wouldn’t alarm the neighbors. This was a secretive mission, and I am proud to announce that I accomplished that mission successfully.

When I was done with the sensitive task of dumping the pieces of my writing desk, I went to the kitchen and made some tea with extra cardamom, my favorite kind of tea, and checked off a few more items on my to-do list. Checking items off your to-do list is always satisfying whether it’s work-related or personal. I made a habit of writing my thoughts, plans, and daily routine years ago. It has helped me a lot to keep my thoughts straight, authentic, and organized. At one point I was so enamored of my daily notes that I wanted to actually turn that into a book; thankfully, that did not happen and I did not embarrass myself by publishing those notes.

The next morning I got up early. It was my departure date, the day I had been waiting for! I had to get rid of my blanket and pillow so I immediately run downstairs and dumped them in the trash bin. Then I went back upstairs and made a pot of black tea. There were still some donuts left which I had to finish before I left otherwise, they would be wasted. I checked my flight to make sure it was going to be on time, and thankfully it was. I walked around my apartment, which was soon going to be not mine anymore, and looked for anything that I had to throw away or pack in my bags. I didn’t see anything except for one thing; the internet router. A few days back I had called my internet provider and asked what to do with that router. They said that I could basically throw that away and pay whatever the cost was. I agreed to it because it seemed like a better idea to not give myself the trouble of taking an Uber to one of the Internet provider stores and dropping it off. Basically, throwing it away was the easier way of getting rid of that router.

My luggage was in the middle of the living room, opened up, with lots of stuff inside. The plan was to close the bags right before leaving.

It was around 10 in the morning, and I had a lot of time before my flight, which was at 6:15 p.m. I made some phone calls and spoke to my family and of course they asked me again to change my mind and stay. They said that it wasn’t too late yet. In fact, it was too late; I had already given up my apartment, job, and car!

I proceeded to make some more black tea, adding extra cardamom and cinnamon to make it special. My final tea had to be special! I opened the cabinets to make sure I didn’t leave anything in them. It looked like I had done a great job of throwing stuff away, and there was nothing left in the cabinets. My apartment looked a bit sad. It had been emptied of furniture, books, monitors, and other stuff that make a place home. I looked around that apartment and it looked exactly as it did when I first moved in.

My apartment was naked, and I knew soon enough it would be occupied by new people. California was dealing with a shortage of one-bedroom apartments, and there were a lot of people looking for apartments. When I turned in my application for this apartment, there were others who had applied for it as well, and I was lucky enough to get it because my income was higher. When the apartment management called me and informed me that my application had been approved, I was over the moon. The day I moved in, the management told me the other people who had applied for this apartment were so upset they didn’t get it.

When I asked for an Uber ride at 3 p.m., the closest car was about twenty minutes away. That gave me enough time to throw away my tea kettle, tea pot, and my last mug, then pack my laptop and close my suitcases.

When packing my laptop, I noticed my suitcase was not closing. There was way too much stuff in it, so I did what every person would do: sit on top of my suitcase so I could close it out. I successfully closed my suitcase, put both suitcases and my carry-on by the door, and did my final walk around the apartment. Everything was OK. I took pictures of each room to have a record of the state I left the apartment in; every renter should do this when moving out.

I left the keys on the kitchen counter, took a picture of it, grabbed my bags, and left to meet my Uber driver downstairs.

Page |  

Packing My Bags: Farewell, U.S.A.

Arriving in Tehran, Iran

The flight happened to be uneventful, and smooth. Other than the discomfort caused by my mask and the suffering brought about by a long flight, nothing bad or good happened. As the plane touched down in Imam Khomeini International Airport in Tehran, the reality of not returning to the U.S. hit me hard. I had left my job, had no apartment, no car, really nothing to allow me to go back to the U.S. and start a new normal life. This move was truly a huge leap for me.

In the past when I flew to Iran, I only stayed for a couple of weeks or at most three weeks, then returned home. I never had to deal with things you have to deal with when actually living in a place, and I did not know whether I was prepared to face the things I had to face in a very much male-dominated society.

In my previous trips to Iran, I did not pay too much attention to people around me; it was inapplicable. This time around I did pay attention because it was somewhat important for me to get to know the people in the society to which I would belong. Nothing unusual or negative popped up until we got off the plane and got to a COVID checkpoint, where the PCR results were checked. The guy in front of me got into an argument with the officer checking his test result. Here we go again, Iranians arguing! I thought. I was basically right...in Iran people argue a lot over their basic rights, and I know now what it feels to have to argue over your most basic rights, things that should fall in place smoothly but don’t in most third world countries, including Iran. After the PCR checkpoint came the passport checkpoint, which was ridiculous. The officer who was sitting in one of the kiosks left without saying anything and left me wondering whether I should go to the other line or not. I ended up moving to the other line since I didn’t know what to do.

Once I passed through the immigration checkpoint, I went to the carousel and picked up my luggage. Then I headed to the taxi station, where I took a taxi to my hotel. The taxi driver put my suitcases in the trunk of his car, and we drove away. It was around midnight (Tehran time), and suddenly the reality of what I had done dawned on me. I was in Iran because I was going to live in Iran, a country ruled by Islamists, with a crippled economy. I would be living among the people I used to live among, but I did not know whether I still was a part of their society after living abroad for nearly eighteen years. In the darkness of the road, as we drove to the hotel, I asked myself very seriously this time whether I had made the right decision. I said to myself that I did not have to answer that question right that moment, but pretty soon I would have to have an answer. As we entered the city of Tehran, I saw the nightlife Iranians are fond of. Busy streets filled with people looking to buy some delicious fast food, families buying fruits, couples holding hands, lovers drinking coffee while chatting (perhaps about their bright future), kids running around asking their parents to buy them sweets, all that was refreshing to watch. You don’t see that sort of nightlife in the middle of the work week in the modern world; people work harder in the modern world, which means they need their proper rest in the evening. In third world countries, it’s different. The streets were lively, which was nice, and I realized it would take more than I thought to get used to a completely new lifestyle here in Iran, and to become a part of this culture. Doubt started taking over me almost as though I had lost the security I always had. This time around, I was really on my own and no one was going to look after me.

I arrived at the hotel and checked into my room, which was a pretty spacious double-bed room with a nice bathroom and shower. I was impressed. I had booked that room for six days, so in a day or so I had to start looking for an apartment in Tehran. The guy who carried my luggage to my room told me that the hotel restaurant was closed but the kitchen was open so I could call the kitchen and order dinner. I was surprised that they served dinner that late at night, around 1:20 a.m. Due to the international economic sanctions on Iran and the crumbling economy, the inflation had skyrocketed, and the middle class was no longer able to afford the simple leisure they used to be able to afford, including traveling. The hotel was empty, and later as I moved to other hotels in the city, I noticed all the hotels were experiencing the same thing, not many guests.

I put down my backpack, removed my travel waist pouch, and took the clothes I was going to wear in the hotel out of my large suitcase. The best part of traveling for me is when I get to my hotel room, and take a nice hot shower after a long flight or drive, then make a hot cup of tea and relax on the bed watching TV. The only time I watch TV is when I’m relaxing after a long trip.

After the shower, I made some tea and enjoyed it with some chocolate the hotel service left for me in the coffee/tea station by the desk. While the tea was brewing, I explored my room to see what sort of interesting things I could find around, then peeked out the window to check out the view, which was blocked by a gloomy old building.

As I sipped my tea, I turned the TV on to see if there was