A few entries ago I complained about how the lower middle class does not possess the means to philosophize, consumed by their struggling dailyness and livelihood. Three weeks without posing an entry would lead me to reflect that I have yelled at nine year olds more so than I’ve read, I’ve filled out nonsensical paperwork more so than I’ve translated poems. But take this entry as a clear opposition to the intellectual drought of the middle class everywhere. I traveled to Pachuca today, a charming town spread on hills. There I met a lovely friend with whom I explored the city’s museums and archeological sites. I felt alive again. One of my favorite parts of traveling is conversing with random people! Reactions, perspectives, faces, hopes, and wishes are what I crave. I love to ask questions, and I love to be asked questions. The term “the Middle-East” immediately triggers a conversation which delves into politics soon after. Example:
Mexican A: Where’re you from?
Aria: Iran
Mexican B: Ahhhhh!
Mexican A: so what’s spoken there? What do you call it?
Aria: Persian
Mexican A: terrorists live there! (not to be mistaken with a question, this is a statement)
Mexican B: and bombs...
Aria: exactly!
Mexican A & B: Aha! (in unison)
In this dialogue I don’t mean to reduce my Mexicans into stereotypical people who ask shallow questions based on distorted information, but show my weariness of being asked political questions in general. My whole youth was politicized, and I rightly believe that my region and its people have so much to offer to the world, perhaps beyond the troubling conflicts of today. Therefore I grow weary of any type of audience who jumps into political discussions without asking me about Middle Eastern culture, food, music, poetry, etc. Today was another day. I was walking home from the bus station, tired and hungry when I walked by an exotic, tiny bookstore. I took a quick look and continued walking. But I couldn’t resist the temptation. I went back and looked around. I didn’t have any money or energy, so I asked the cashier for a business card. She immediately caught my accent and asked me where I was from. Unlike almost every other time, “Iran” was the beginning of an hour long conversation about traveling, cultures, cuisines, and poetry!
My companion became really interested in my origins, so much so that she went back to her computer, found an online radio for Classical Persian songs and played them in the bookstore. There is no way I can explain how I felt like listening to Setar, Santour & Tar and Persian poetry being played at a bookstore at the heart of Mexico. It was unbelievable. At my absolute delight, every customer who came into the shop asked about the music, and my companion would excitedly point to me and say, “tenemos un amigo de Iran!” My companion told me about her passion to visit a few friends in Turkey but was unsure if she could afford it or logistically do it. I talked about my future traveling plans, and soon my companion was inspired and decided to seriously pursue visiting and working in Turkey for some while.
I’m so glad, more than I’ve ever been as an ambassador of my culture in Mexico, that I was able to be a source of inspiration for a young, appreciative world citizen to embark on an adventure and see more of this world. For all I know, we can use a wonderful ambassador of Mexican culture in the Middle East. I wish her the best, and I look forward to returning to her book store for a conversation about literature and traveling over a cup of tea.
Aria
