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thus far in Iran, was wearing the full traditional black chador, which leaves only the face uncovered. Her English was excellent and so was her steadfast refusal to negotiate on price. I was happy to pay the asking price, though, as I particularly liked the sound of the room, with its own bathroom, television, and fridge.
    I wasn’t to be disappointed; the room was excellent. It was spotlessly clean with all of the aforementioned features as well as a marbled floor, a spy hole in the door, and a wonderfully comfortable bed. The bathroom toilet was of the “squat” variety but was clean and modern. I dumped all my gear, drank a load of cool water from the fridge, and headed outside into the blazing sunshine and the crowds.
    Knowing that Shahram was going to give me the whole tourist trip later, I just strolled around getting a feel for the place. One of the first things I learnt here was just how hard it is to cross an Iranian road. None of the supposed crossings were observed in the slightest by the traffic, and as the traffic was constant, you just had to take a deep breath and sprint across. And forget about only looking left and right before stepping out. Check every conceivable angle of the compass and even throw in up and down for good measure. It was nerve-racking to say the least. Even on the pavement you weren’t safe, with mopeds weaving in and out of the crowds and appearing from nowhere. I got a kind of formula down for crossing, which was to only do so when others did, but to make sure I was slightly farther down the road than them, so if things did go wrong, they’d get hit first.
    Tabriz was teeming with life, and everywhere I looked was something insane to check out. I stopped by a crowd of men gathered around a television set outside a shop. Here, on screen, were two highly disabled men doing the most incredible break dancing. With stunted legs and arms, they looked like Thalidomide sufferers, but both were as nimble as hell. Their crazy break-dance moves were well-received by the crowd and got a rapturous applause. I couldn’t quite work out if I liked it or not. It would have been considered outrageous in England, but here it was perfectly acceptable and the DVD of it was selling like hot cakes.
    I walked on down the road and was struck by another peculiarity, namely just how gender segregated Iran was. On the whole, women walked, sat, or talked with women and men did so with men. It was also something of a surprise to see a number of guys openly holding hands in what would definitely have signified a gay relationship at home. But here, I guess it was just a sign of friendship. After all, homosexuality is highly illegal in Iran and punishable by hundreds of lashes or even death, so it wouldn’t have been a sensible thing to advertise.
    There were many very inviting cake shops along the roads, one of which got the better of me and I popped inside. The cakes were all really cheap but of an exceptional quality and really attractive. I bought a whole bag of cream-filled cupcakes, which tasted delicious.
    Another interesting place I tried was one of the many milkshake shops. As well as the more traditional flavors, this place also did a fresh carrot milkshake. I tried one of these bright orange shakes, which was surprisingly good, as well as a fresh banana shake with big chunky grains of sugar in it.
    Having lost myself for a good part of the day doing more wandering, tasting, and exploring, it came as something of a shock when I realized how late it was. Back at the hotel, I gave Shahram a call. He apologized that due to unforeseen circumstances at work, he’d now be about an hour late and would come and get me as soon as he could. This was fine by me, as it gave me a chance to recline on my bed and read up on Tabriz and Iran in general.
    Two things in particular caught my attention on the same page of my guidebook. The first was under the heading “Marriage, although not until death do us part” and