Preparation

Thick gold chain necklaces, dainty silver pendents, name-brand lip-gloss in various fruity colors, music video DVDs... These are just a few of the things that I purchased this weekend as part of the mini treasure trove of "gifts from abroad" that I'll be toting to Iran. I heard they don't check suitcases at the airport anymore like they used to do, so I'm hoping they won't confiscate the music video DVDs at the airport because the people I will give them to will be SO happy (they are super expensive on the black market there). I have thought of every detail, of every gift. I've bought a headscarf. I have a packing list. I've considered whether peep-toe heels would get me arrested or whether wearing boots would be too hot for the season. All I don't have is... a ticket.


Every day I wait to buy my ticket, I fear the price goes up. Only a limited number of airlines even fly to Iran, so they can charge whatever they want. I feel like it's been one delay after another. First, I had to wait to find out if my father's uncle's family would agree to take me to my grandmother's grave. Check. Then I had to wait for my mom's sister to let me know if I could stay at her place depending on her husband's chemo schedule. Check. Now I'm waiting to find out if The Company needs to send me to London next month. I won't find out until my boss gets back from vacation next week. If I go to London, I would just fly to Tehran round-trip from there. If not, then I'd fly round-trip from New York. Either way: It has to be in May because I'm all over the place in June and July will be hell on earth in Tehran, and time is ticking!!

The gifts are wrapped and piled on my dresser--little blue boxes, small black bags with red tissue, lacey jewelery pouches tied with pink ribbon. The custom of gift-giving is so rigid in Iran. I have had numerous phone conversations with my mother about who I need to buy gifts for and what is appropriate. These are customs in Latin to me. In the past, she has been known to take a whole extra suitcase just for gifts. I don't want to do that, so I'm trying to keep the gifts restricted to women and children, and if I end up not bringing enough, I guess I will feign American ignorance. But I think I have enough. I bought extras of everything in case there is someone I forgot or someone else shows up (which invariably always happens). This will be the first time I'm visiting as an "adult," not under the wing of a parent or staying at my grandparents' (who have both since passed), so the onus of Knowing How to Act is all on me now. I'm tired of just thinking about this and being in a holding pattern. I want it to happen.

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There is spring thunder and lightening outside as we sit at the dimly red-lit Bourgeois Pig over fondue. My white date talks about going to Catholic school on Long Island; I talk about Seattle and the small social scene. We talk about "Winter's Bone", and the merits of dark chocolate over milk chocolate, and the suburbs over the city, and the Jonathan Franzen piece in last week's New Yorker. He's someone to talk to.