A Caspian Story

On our way to Rasht, the capital of Gilan province and the main city of the Caspian region, we stopped at an olive shop in Rudbar. I bought some olive oil, pickled olives, and garlic to take back to my family in Tehran. When I asked the owner what he considered the tastiest local dish, he answered, “My mother’s sweet and sour patties/shami-e torsh.” I asked him where his mother lived, and he pointed upstairs. We climbed the stairs, and found a beautiful family: mother, daughter-in-law, and her two children. The mother, Om al-Kolsum Asadi Golshotori, served us tea and just-picked apricots from the one tree in their backyard. Then she explained how the patties/shami were an easy dish to make. The way she cooked and served us this simple lunch with some fresh local bread touched all of us. She made us feel part of her family. After lunch, she told me about the pain of losing one of her sons in the war with Iraq. I said it might be better to count her blessings instead of dwelling on her loss. All of a sudden she looked into my eyes and nodded her appreciation. We took photos and bought more olive oil. When we said goodbye, I could see in her face that we had truly communicated with one another—she by her hospitality and generosity and me by my encouragement. I found this to be a recurring theme throughout my trip: Iranians, and especially women, touched my heart again and again with their kindness and generosity of spirit toward total strangers. As the poet Sohrab Sepehri said, Iran has the finest mothers, the best food, but the worst intellectuals.