Summer Sense of Time

For breakfast, we eat fresh-baked rosetta rolls with butter, sour-cherry jam, and feta cheese We drink endless glasses of hot, sugary black tea.

Lunch is khoresh-e-bademjan (tomato-eggplant stew) and rice, served at 2:00 PM. We have so many guests today that we spread a tablecloth on the marble floor in the foyer—set a sofreh—so that we can all be together.

After lunch, with shutters closed to darken the living room, nearly everyone reclines on the floor with pillows and naps. I keep quiet, writing another long letter to my mother and reading.

Later in the afternoon, we drink more tea. We slice and eat watermelon and munch on pistachios and chocolates. We then head out shopping.

Dinner is spaghetti alla carbonara and salad, served after sunset, at about ten o'clock. We then stroll through Rome's crowded piazzas, gelato in hand, joining the passeggiata.

An hour or three after midnight, we return to the apartment on Via Sesto Miglio. We spread out our bedrolls and fall fast asleep.

The Shah is Dead

It’s the end of July when we hear that the shah is dead. We are picnicking and swimming at Lago di Bracciano. It’s a large blue lake, not far from Rome, that’s surrounded by rolling hills, with a 15^th-century, fortress-like castle atop one of them. A wonderful escape from Rome’s heat and humidity. 

No one in our party is sad about the shah—except maybe Khanum G, who deeply despises Khomeini and his entourage of mullahs—and there is even mild pleasure that the controversial monarch is gone forever.

The shah’s passing seems to signify that the Islamic Republic might now have a lot more staying power, though. Knowing that they will be forced to wear headscarves and dress modestly, in hejab, when they return to Iran, Khanum G and F are not pleased. Extremists on Tehran streets will throw acid in their faces if they don’t comply, though. And men aren’t spared either. Razor blades were recently outlawed in Iran, so they too must look Islamic, with long, pious beards.