Read Online A Bitter Veil by Libby Fischer Hellmann - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Libby Fischer Hellmann
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Chicago.
A blast of heat rolled over Anna as she walked down the steps of the plane, hot and dry and dangerous. Beads of sweat broke out on her neck. Fortunately, the air-conditioned Mehrabad Airport building was only a few steps away. Inside the terminal, they walked toward customs. Anna noticed the rounded arches and bright mosaics in the halls. It was early afternoon, but the airport was bustling with people, many of them Westerners. Her presence didn’t attract much attention.
Customs was problem free—the officials didn’t even open their luggage. Outside they hailed a cab. Nouri had called his parents from Frankfurt and told them not to come to the airport; everyone in the family would have come, and there would have been no room for their luggage. Anna was grateful for the temporary reprieve; it gave her time to acclimate herself.
The taxi driver spewed forth an eager stream of Farsi. Nouri replied, then said, “Please speak in English. My wife…,” he grinned at Anna when he said the word, “…doesn’t understand.”
Anna almost giggled. Nouri was trying to make her feel welcome.
The driver shrugged. “Not too much English speak.” He went quiet.
Soon a multi-arched tower loomed in front of them. It had gracefully curved walls, as well as an elegant design of recurring diamonds in blue and gold under the arches. A fountain burbled in front. “This is the Shahyad Aryamehr,” Nouri pointed out. “‘The Remembrance of the Shahs.’ We call it the gateway to Tehran. The shah built it for the 2500th anniversary of the Persian empire.”
The driver slowed down and piped up, again in Farsi.
Nouri translated. “He says it is built from eight thousand blocks of white marble.”
Anna craned her neck to see better. Imposing and stately, it resembled a Persian Arc de Triomphe.
A few minutes later the streets became choked with traffic and people. They navigated what Anna assumed was the business district, passing ten- to twelve-story buildings, a department store, and hotels. It looked much like any other large city.
They swung onto a wide boulevard flanked by trees. Western-style buildings with sharp geometric angles lined the street, but sprinkled between them were structures with graceful curves and domes, terraced roofs, and intricate grill work on the façades. Many were textured with colorful recurring patterns. In addition to white, Anna saw flashes of bright blue, green, even lavender. It all worked to soften the architecture. As they wound around, every so often she got a peek at the mountains.
They drove around circles with an occasional fountain in the center. “We are heading to north Tehran,” Nouri said. “It is the better part of the city. You won’t want to go south.”
“Why not?”
“It is just…well…”
“The ghetto?”
He nodded.
The cab driver launched into a fresh stream of Farsi, gesturing and looking at Nouri through the rear view mirror. Nouri listened, then replied in a sharp voice. The driver was suddenly silent.
Anna laid a hand on Nouri’s arm. “What just happened?”
“He was talking about riots against the shah. Asking whether we heard about them in the States. And what I thought about them.”
“But you didn’t want to talk?”
“No.” He patted Anna’s hand. “He could be SAVAK. Or an informer. Hoping I will say something, so he can turn me in. Or force me to pay a bribe.”
Anna stared at Nouri, then the taxi driver. Should she be concerned? She decided she had too much on her mind to worry about freedom of expression at the moment.
Nouri changed the subject anyway. “Now we are on Pahlavi Avenue. One of the longest streets in the world. It runs all the way through Tehran.”
Anna gazed out at the street. They could talk later.
“Well, what do you think of my city?”
She peered out the windows on both sides. “I love it.”
He laced his fingers through hers. “I’m so glad. Oh, Anna, what a life we will have together.”
“It
A blast of heat rolled over Anna as she walked down the steps of the plane, hot and dry and dangerous. Beads of sweat broke out on her neck. Fortunately, the air-conditioned Mehrabad Airport building was only a few steps away. Inside the terminal, they walked toward customs. Anna noticed the rounded arches and bright mosaics in the halls. It was early afternoon, but the airport was bustling with people, many of them Westerners. Her presence didn’t attract much attention.
Customs was problem free—the officials didn’t even open their luggage. Outside they hailed a cab. Nouri had called his parents from Frankfurt and told them not to come to the airport; everyone in the family would have come, and there would have been no room for their luggage. Anna was grateful for the temporary reprieve; it gave her time to acclimate herself.
The taxi driver spewed forth an eager stream of Farsi. Nouri replied, then said, “Please speak in English. My wife…,” he grinned at Anna when he said the word, “…doesn’t understand.”
Anna almost giggled. Nouri was trying to make her feel welcome.
The driver shrugged. “Not too much English speak.” He went quiet.
Soon a multi-arched tower loomed in front of them. It had gracefully curved walls, as well as an elegant design of recurring diamonds in blue and gold under the arches. A fountain burbled in front. “This is the Shahyad Aryamehr,” Nouri pointed out. “‘The Remembrance of the Shahs.’ We call it the gateway to Tehran. The shah built it for the 2500th anniversary of the Persian empire.”
The driver slowed down and piped up, again in Farsi.
Nouri translated. “He says it is built from eight thousand blocks of white marble.”
Anna craned her neck to see better. Imposing and stately, it resembled a Persian Arc de Triomphe.
A few minutes later the streets became choked with traffic and people. They navigated what Anna assumed was the business district, passing ten- to twelve-story buildings, a department store, and hotels. It looked much like any other large city.
They swung onto a wide boulevard flanked by trees. Western-style buildings with sharp geometric angles lined the street, but sprinkled between them were structures with graceful curves and domes, terraced roofs, and intricate grill work on the façades. Many were textured with colorful recurring patterns. In addition to white, Anna saw flashes of bright blue, green, even lavender. It all worked to soften the architecture. As they wound around, every so often she got a peek at the mountains.
They drove around circles with an occasional fountain in the center. “We are heading to north Tehran,” Nouri said. “It is the better part of the city. You won’t want to go south.”
“Why not?”
“It is just…well…”
“The ghetto?”
He nodded.
The cab driver launched into a fresh stream of Farsi, gesturing and looking at Nouri through the rear view mirror. Nouri listened, then replied in a sharp voice. The driver was suddenly silent.
Anna laid a hand on Nouri’s arm. “What just happened?”
“He was talking about riots against the shah. Asking whether we heard about them in the States. And what I thought about them.”
“But you didn’t want to talk?”
“No.” He patted Anna’s hand. “He could be SAVAK. Or an informer. Hoping I will say something, so he can turn me in. Or force me to pay a bribe.”
Anna stared at Nouri, then the taxi driver. Should she be concerned? She decided she had too much on her mind to worry about freedom of expression at the moment.
Nouri changed the subject anyway. “Now we are on Pahlavi Avenue. One of the longest streets in the world. It runs all the way through Tehran.”
Anna gazed out at the street. They could talk later.
“Well, what do you think of my city?”
She peered out the windows on both sides. “I love it.”
He laced his fingers through hers. “I’m so glad. Oh, Anna, what a life we will have together.”
“It
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