In the morning at 10, I wanted to continue the endless mirror story by first trying to get a new glass and if not, go to the first bike shop and buy the mirror the owner had shown me, when I came there for the gears.
Until then, I nearly was finished with writing my diary. Normally, I write it in “word” to get the auto-corrections and then copy it to google translate (I wait for Ecosia translate, I would be happier to use that!) to find other mistakes I like to make, but the correction doesn’t find (this time, it was “cares” instead of “cars” besides others) and then upload it (with the remaining mistakes).
I don’t know how, but in this procedure I lost a bigger part of the text (Normally, the combination “STRG+S” is my most used one, but sometimes I forget it, to make things like that possible.). I tried to get it back with the “re-do button”, found only parts of it and lost all corrections I had made after that. I tried to overcome my feelings of frustration and fixed that. But it became to late for my bike-expedition to be back before Shoreh had leave home. So, it was postponed to afternoon….
In the meantime, I took pictures out of the book of old Shiraz, Arash had shown to me.
Persepolis:
Saadi and Hafes Shrine
Someone sitting where Nikoo and Amir now, and Arash in his childhood had been sliding down
Advertisment for a musical (film) about the Trapp family in Salzburg (Austria)
At later noon, Arash came home and now the plan became different.
The family went with me by car to the bike shop. On the way we saw a man in the car playing backgammon on his phone while driving , the game Mostafa had played with me. (see 082)
Another opportunity to chase a car (and make a blurred, zoomed evening pic out of the car, bit imagine it would be something more spectacular, like the hint to a crime to enjoy the blur)
please follow the arrow to the incriminated device
The shop was closed and gradually customers gathered. The offered mirror was better than that I had bought near Isfahan Gate, but without my bike, I was not sure if I could use my handle extension. The owner told us where to find people repairing my original mirror and to come back for his mirror if that doesn’t help. This is very kind…
So, we went on to a glass cutter who said he can repair it with flat instead of convex glass until the next day. (Story to be continued the next day)
We went on to a place with a crowd of nervous customers and at least 5 sellers to cope with their urgent needs.
It was a shop for nuts and sweets!
Arash bought something for the family, too, but his main goal apparently is, not only caring for me like a father (he is 10y younger than me) in Shiraz or on the way to Shiraz or on the way to B. Lengeh but until China – the bag is heavy and big.
I wish I once can show my gratitude to that extent. This care and these efforts to help me, to show me around, to make me feel comfortable, is pretty much to receive with so little to give back.
We went home, for some minutes, because the next would have been Yoga class (soon enough) but an uncle and 2 cousins had asked Arash for help, so he had to use the car instead of the bike to do all that in time.
The group welcomed me friendly and the teacher, another one than last time, wanted to know about me. Arash told my story but I don’t know if the teacher and the group continued to talk about something else during that or all the time about me and I started to feel a bit uncomfortable for wasting their time by my presence.
But then we started and the teacher cared a lot for me, forming my body to the correct positions (or as near as possible with my rusty joints) and teaching me the word لبخند (“labkhand” or for German: “labchand”), because feeling your ligaments nearly tear doesn’t produce a smile by itself, you must have the right attitude.
Something else:
There is the Jewish joke of a mother giving her son a red and a blue tie for birthday. Gratefully and proudly, he wore the blue one the next day and his mother says: “Ah, so you don’t like the red one!?!”
My efforts to refine my “Iran-fitting” eating skills reminds me on that. There should always be a good balance of all parts of the food until the end, because if your host sees an imbalance you get more salad (or rice or meat) and next you get meat (or salad or rice). Rice, you get nearly in any case if your plate looks too empty for the given time. The simple trick to eat slowly is simply too simply because it makes clear that you don’t like the food. So if you look for a third way between the red tie (becoming fat) and the blue tie (disappointing kind hosts by eating less than they calculate you could get into your body), try whatever you want, or just go with the follow and enjoy the food as long as you are in Iran.
You can try to “cycle it away” later.