Chocolate and the last Woody Allan movie

Hello Michael,

Im glad you have your vacation and that the weather and everything is nice. enjoy these days.
Nice that my gels worked out!!
Thank you but you dont have to send me chocolate. i already eat too much here :)

I had my vacation (2 weeks), my family came for a visit from US. So it was nice.

Enjoy your vacation!

regards
/ghazal

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Hello Ghazal,

So nice to read your messages after an 7 hours train journey from the Black Sea back to Sofia. I am glad you had nice vacations with your relatives from the US. It must be interesting to talk to them. I guess your parents and relatives are very educated and cultural people, if they decided to live outside their iranian home-country for so long time already, only to live in freedom and to have their kids grown up in freedom. Ghazal, I think you have to be very grateful to them (what you are, of course, I know too good).

Yesterday evening we had a very nice evening show at this little family hotel: A charity group of artists-dancers gave a performance with orphan gypsy kids. First they did some classical ballet, than they switched to their traditional belly dancing, and finally they invited the whole audience to dance with them. The funny thing was, that our 13 year old son (who always wants to appear cool, like when he refused last year to have the pink Phillips iPOD station) was invited to dance by a polish girl his age. They had obvioulsy already exchanged some eye contacts during the days before. Although he has a “big mouth” always, if it comes to girl-friends he is absolutely shy (must be genetic, I guess somewhere on the Y-chromosome).
Therefore he first appeared frozen like a snow-man, when the girl just grabbed his hand. Of course he followed here on the dance-floor, but knowing that we were also there, he was a bit reluctant to dance. Only when he saw that we were dancing as well, he overcame his passiveness and suddenly danced very enthusiastic and with very funny habbits. I think it was good for him to see that it is nice and relaxing.
Because he would be sad to leave right the next morning after this encounter, he and the rest of the family decided to stay 3 more days there at the beach ressort.
But since I have a meeting at the Bulgarian radiation research center tomorrow, I had to leave anyhow. Late this week I go to Belgrad (which is in Serbia, just cross the boarder) to talk to some doctors about Tinea Capitis patients. In case you have forgotten about this story from your MSc-lectures: They were irradiated as kids for a fungal infection on their heads (done in the 1950s, also in Israel, Marocco and Iran – click here to see a photo.

Sorry to wright you always so long messages, would be easier to talk. I miss this a lot.
Have you been to the movies recently ? I heard that “Super 8″ must be a good one.

About the chocolate: Sorry, Ghazal, but I cannot stop it any more, it is already on its way to Warsaw. If you don”t want to eat it all, you might do either of the following:

- eat only the thin chocolate layer between the waffers. Some assume chocolate helps to increase serotonine level, therefore it makes you happier. You can never be too happy, as was shown by the picture of you jumping high in Brussels. In case this was in part due to Belgium chocolate, you might try a little bit of this Knoppers stuff and test how high you can jump from this.

- you might help some of colleages/friends at the meeting surviving the polish cousine. I remember in the past it was not so tasty. Maybe you can please somebody a piece of chocolate buscuit.

- you can leave it till Christmas (or Jul or Yalda) and eat it with your family

- in the worst case, you can feet the birds and doves in Warsaw with it. There are thousands of doves on the public squares in Warsaw. Don”t know of they like
chocolate, but for sure they like the biscuit around (so you eat the chocolate for happiness, and give the biscuit to the birds for a good feeling). And I think in zoroastrian faith the birds are considered holy creatures.

Ghazal, my dear, wish you a nice time in Warsaw,
and as usual: happy days and success and optimism.

Take Care
Michael

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hello michael,

just wanted to thank you for the chocolate and I hope that everything is fine with you.

regards
ghazal

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Hi Ghazal,

I hope that the chocolate helped you to survive the polish cuisine.
For my feeling, polish cuisine is pretty much the exact opposite to the fine meals we had exactly a year ago at the persian restaurant here in Munich, where you and Shafa invited me. Please give her my best greetings and I hope there will be the possibility once to invite you and your family to such a nice place as well.

1: If you want to read about a nice movie, continue here (otherwise jump to 2:)
I went to the movies last weekend, saw Woddy Allan’s newest film “Midnight in Paris”. I liked it a lot, it is a complex story of a young writer engaged with a rich american girl. At night he used to escape into a dreamworld that lays 80 years back in time. There he meets all his historic heroes like Picasso, Hemingway, Bunuel, Dali, Josephine Baker, the Fitzgeralds and many others, which I am afraid don”t mean anything to you since you are another generation (they are considered the lost generation and were in fact the wild rebels in the 20s of last century). In particular, he meets a girl Adriana in his dream journeys, who is played by Marion Cottilard. You might remember, we saw her last year in the movie “Inception” on the side of Leonardo de Caprio, but she won the Oskar for playing Edith Piaf in “La vie en rose” (which we did not managed to watch here in Munich). I liked the movie a lot, there are no special effects, but this nice idea that one falls in love to somebody who is living in another time. If you like good actors playing in Paris, try to see the film.

2: I think that the link I send you recently showing some pieces of historical arts in Bulgaria, which in my view resemble persian style, was not working. You can either try it again here or have a look at the attached photo.

Take Care, my dear,

Michael

PS: It always makes me happy reading some words from you.
At least they show that the time you had here in Munich was not a horror for you.
Reading the e-mails that I send every day and night to you to the guesthouse, I am a bit shocked.
It must have been difficult for you to accept these messages, that not always could hide a certain degree of desire, Ghazal.
Seeing that you have not completely terminated our communication lets me believe, that you are strong and confident enough to laugh about all this and consider it a funny episode in life.

Bulgaria and Persia – some common styles in ancient arts

The ancient Bulgarians came to the Balkan peninsula from the south russian and and Kazakh grass lands, were they lived next to skyths. The Partians, i.e. the native persian people, came from the same area and from their brought to Iran the expertise of horse breeding and riding.
But the Black Sea basin, located between the Balkan peninsula, caucasus mountains, norther Anatolia and the Crimean peninsula, was perhaps the earliest site of neolithic settlements. Luigi Cavalli-Sforza, eminent geneticist, anthropologist and linguist located the site of the original proto-indoeuropean language there. An intriguing theory by Pitman and Ryan, based on geologic and archaeologic research even claims that the great deluge (Noahs flood in the old testament, but described much earlier in the epic of Gilgamesh) happened there at around 5600 B.C., leading to a migrational wave of the early agricultural settlements into various directions.
It is thus not difficult to understand that in Bulgaria some historical artefacts, that sometimes are still reproduced in common craftswork, resemble to a large degree the persian-sassanid style


bulgaria-in-persian-style1

Riding Iran on a horse back

Hello Michael,
Such a nice horse! You trained her very well. Must be nice to have a horse, not so common i guess. I showed the video to my dad. He would like to know which breed it is. When he was a young boy in Iran during Shah”s time, he liked to visit his uncle in a village who had several horses. He said they had traditional persian breeds, a very old race. They were very pretty and elegant, but strong and hot-blooded at the same time. Must be nice animals, this combination of power and beauty. What breed is your Penelope ?
regards
ghazal

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Dear Ghazal,

Penny is in fact a danish breed called Knappstrupper. My experience is that although she was very wild and stubborn initially, after I gave her a couple of lessons she quickly learned and now is pretty obidient. I guess, a persian breed would be much wilder (like you). Persian full-bloods (or studs) in fact were beside arabs and berber-horse the origin of the famous english breeds, which gave rises to the best racing horses ever (probably combining the physical power of old english races with the temper and slender body shape of the orientals).

If you come to Munich the next time, you might ride her a bit.

Take Care, Ghazal
Michael

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Hi Michael,
Yeah, a horse is something really nice, in particular at a time when there is so many unnecesarry violence around us (like this idiotic maniac who killed 78 childred in a norway youth camp last week).
I was following too many IC blogs over the last days that made me very sad indeed. There were talks about cultural genocide, iranian holocaust, very agressive discussions about Mozzadegh and the Shah and the Tudeh and the British and the Russians and the Germans and the Arabs and about whom of those to blame more for the current tragedy in Iran. I felt how all my confidence about a bright future for a new, free Iran vanished more and more, since a new Iran would require a pioneer spirits, rather than people feeling comfortable in their role as a victims. Don”t take me wrong, I think every nation should be aware of its history, but I would prefer this in a less emotional and more academic style. The worst example of how one could show historical awareness is probably the annual ʿĀšūrāʾ, where the feeling of martyrdom among Shiits is revitalized again and again and has a significant influence on the social life and political structure, usually not for the best.
In contrast to these very hate-loaded political blogs I mentioned above, there were – thanks God – also a few that showed the nice and beautiful side of life, like the poems by Soosan Khanoom and the JJs adventure with the horse. In particular the horse story and the very vivid discussion that followed made me wondering. Is there something left of the nice horse-riding tradition in Iran that my dad told me about ? Maybe this could help the people of Iran to find back to their tradition of philosophy, tolerance and culture.

Take Care
/ghazal
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Ghazal, my Dear,
Your last mail made me wonder if it is possible to travel Iran on a horses back, like a young australian recently crossed half of Eurasia, 6200 miles from Mongolia to Hungary ?

How are the iranian immigration rules for a horse , assuming I want to enter the country from the north (Armenia or Azerbaidshan). I have friends there and could get a horse in either of the two countries. Although I have a nice mare here in Germany, the long transport to Iran would be too stressful for her.
Will there be sufficient food for the horse ? Will people respect horses in Iran, assuming that I have to cross or even ride along a motor-way ? In Germany, horses have to wear a number-plate and a liability insurrance, if you ride them on a public road (not kidding). How is this in Iran ?
In Europe, dogs fouling is forbidden in public area (you can get fined up to about 1000 euro if your dog is messing up the street), whereas horse faeces (although much bigger) are always tolerated and people walking-by even collect it to fertilize their rose gardens. How is this in Iran ? Will people hate my horse if it drops feces on the street ? (the recent blog petition about killing stray dogs in Teheran made me slightly pessimistic). Historically, the Parthian Empire was famous for its arts of horse riding in the whole southern and eastern hemisphere. Is there something of this heritage left ? Or is this just another issue for the fight between persians and arabs for historical and cultural hegemonie over the domestication of horses ? Did horses arrived together with the Partians from the inner-asian regions and came to Arabia later, where they started the famous breeding ? Or was it vice versa ? I will post this to IC and if the readers there have any suggestions, I”ll redirect them to my blog.

Take Care, my Dear
Michael

The gels you left behind are still fine

Dear Ghazal,
It is a rainy Friday today (the americans would say its a “vanilla sky”).
I hope you are o.k., hope my last e-mail was not too frustrating. As I told you, there are still plenty of things in the world that are amazing. For instance this one: I tried to detect a new Rb1 promotor variation today, and because I was too lazy to make a new gel, I went through the fridge were we all store our agarose gels. And guess what I found there: several plastic bags with gels, and written on them with your nice handwriting “Ghazal, 2.5% agarose +EtBr, 12-06-2010″.
Since I remember you were always working with highest quality, I thought I give it a trial and run my PCR samples on it. And if you believe it or not, but the gels still work perfectly. The only trouble is, that I could detect the Rb1 promoter only from human cell lines (MCF7). Most frightening, that DNA from myself does not contain Rb1 signal. Now I have to worry whether I am mutant (like X-men).

hrb1-promvarianty-kopie

So you see there is always a bid to worry, even if something amazing is happening. But what made me really sad was to see that you left behind these gels, but did not stayed here yourself.

Thank you anyhow, Ghazal. In case I can do something for you in compensation for the gel: let me know.
enjoy the weekend, and write something.

Take Care, Michael

PS: I forgot what was this special chocolate waffles you liked so much ? Was it “Knoppers” or was it “Hanuta” ? Since I am not going to the Warsaw meeting I”d like to send you some – not only to say thank-you for the gel, but also to honour your achivements with the conference price that you were awarded.

The death of a Diva and of 69 teenagers


What an awful weekend !  A right-wing maniac kills 69 teenager in a norwegian youth-camp, and a soul-diva gives away her life in London.  Why nobody was around to stop this nazi murder on his way to the youth camp ?

And why there was nobody to tell you, Amy, that you were perhaps the greatest voice in music and you simply did not had the right to waste your life at the age of 27 ?

Verse aus dem EVIN Gefängniss

Bahareh Hedayat has been sentenced again to 7 years in the notorious Evin prison. The following letter she send to her husband. I have collected translations of this and other prisoner letters into various languages at the partner website Evin-Rosetta If you want to read other than the following german version, or if you want to contribute a translation into your own language follow the aformentioned link.

Ich sehne mich nach Deiner stillen Umarmung

Ich würde gern wissen, wo Du jetzt bist,
Und wie Dein Tag vergeht,
nachdem Du aufstehst,
und Dich wäscht.
Ich möchte wissen, was Du trägst,
wen Du morgens zur Arbeit gehst,

Ob Dir langweilig ist,
oder Du erschöpft bist,
oder müde oder ob Dich friert.
Der Wind, der durch die Gitterstäbe weht,
Trägt den Staub der Stadt herein.
Spürst Du das auch,
Wenn Du zu Hause die Fenster öffnest ?

Ist es noch dunkel,
Wenn Du morgens das Haus verlässt,
Und Dich auf den Weg zur Arbeit machst ?
Ist das Licht im Treppenhaus immer noch kaputt ?
Warum denke ich gerade daran,
obwohl mir die Erinnerungen an unser Haus langsam verblassen.
Ich habe vergessen, welche Farbe seine Mauern hatten,
Und auch wenn Du mich versuchst daran zu erinnern,
In meiner Vorstellung werden sie doch wieder grau.

Wo schläfst Du jetzt in der Nacht ?
Wer wäscht Dir Deine Sachen ?
Hast Du neue Freunde kennengelernt,
Seit dem Tag, als Sie mich von Dir fortgerissen und eingesperrt haben ?
Mit wem streitest Du jetzt, und worüber ?
Was liest Du Neues, und welche Musik hörst Du ?
Ich mache mir Sorgen, dass Du ohne mich noch länger vor dem Computer sitzt.
In den endlosen Stunden hier in dieser betonierten Zelle
wird jeder Augenblick Deines Lebens unendlich wichtig für mich.
Zum Beispiel was Du Dir kaufen gehst, wenn Du Hunger hast,
Gemüse oder Obst vielleicht.
Jetzt ist doch gerade Sommer bei Euch draussen, oder ?
Gibt es jetzt schon Aprikosen, Pflaumen und Himbeeren ?
Und die Berge von Wasser- und Honigmelonen bei den Strassenhändlern -
Die Erinnerung an ihren Duft macht mich schwindlig.

Bekommst Du immer noch Kopfschmerzen, wenn der Tee zu lange gezogen ist ?
Wirst Du unruhig, wenn Du wieder mal vergessen hast
Dein Telefon aufzuladen ?
Wäscht Du Dir immer noch die Haare im Abwaschbecken in der Küche,
und isst den Jughurt mit trockenem Brot ?
Hast Du Dir endlich eine neue Brieftasche geleistet,
und ein neues Hemd ?
Ich will nicht, dass Du Dich vernachlässigst,
nur weil ich nicht bei Dir sein kann !

Ich werde verrückt, wenn ich nicht weiss,
Woran Du denkst, wenn Du an mich denkst.
Worüber würdest Du mit mir sprechen,
Wenn Ich jetzt bei Dir sein könnte ?

Wenn Du mir etwas kaufen könntest,
Was würdest Du aussuchen ?
Sehnst Du Dich nach der Zeit, als wir zusammen waren,
Und denkst Du an die all die Jahrestage ?
Als ich im Juni zum ersten Mal nach Majideyeh kam,
Und Du mich in Isfahan herumgeführt hast.
Wir sind ziellos durch die Stadt gelaufen,
Nur um zusammen sein zu können,
bis der Sonnenuntergang im Saei Park uns daran erinnerte,
Dass der Tag langsam zu Ende geht.
Und dann Zav, und wie wir mit Ahmad nach Darband fuhren,
In jenem Frühjahr 2008.

Erinnerst Du Dich noch an meine Kochversuche ?
Ich habe Sie vergessen,
Wenn Ich frei käme, müsste ich wieder neu Kochen lernen.
Weisst Du noch, wie wir unsere ersten Möbel erstanden haben,
Stück für Stück ?
Und wie wir 2008 das Neue Jahr gefeiert haben,
Am Strand des Kaspischen Meeres.

Erinnerst Du Dich was am 6. Jui 2002 passierte ?
Ich kann es Dir genau sagen:
Du warst verzweifelt, weil ich mich nicht entscheiden konnte,
zwischen Dir und meinem früheren Leben.
Doch sechs Jahre später wurde mir klar, dass ich mich richtig entschieden hatte:
Denn vor dem Gefängnisstor hast nur Du auf mich gewartet.
Und kurz darauf hast Du mich an die Hand genommen,
so als würden wir ein ausgelassenen Spaziergang durch die morgendliche Stadt machen.
Dabei ging es zur Gerichtsverhandlung, und wir beiden wussten,
Dass das die uns wieder für lange Zeit auseinander reissen werden.

Als ich dann schon im August wieder raus kam,
Warst Du da und brachtest mich weg von diesem Ort des Schreckens
und wir fuhren zu uns nach Haus,
und die Abendsonne blendet mich so dass ich nichts sah.
Auf den Treppenstufen drehtest Du Dich um zu mir und sagtest:
“Warte eine Sekunde, ich will Dir etwas sagen.
Ich bin erst in den letzten Monaten aufgewacht, als Du plötzlich fort warst,
und erst da habe ich gespürt wie sehr Ich Dich brauche”.

Weisst Du noch der 7. März vor 7 Jahren ?
Ich weiss das Du Dich erinnerst !
Amin, ich vermisse alles, was wir hatten,
Mein Leben hinter diesen Mauern und Gittern ist voller Schmerz,
weil ich die Sehnsucht nach Dir nicht ertrage.

Meine Nächte sind voller wüster Träume.
Soll ich etwas bereuen, doch was würde es ändern ?
Ich weiss es, genauso so wie Du.
Hier in der Einsamkeit der Zelle
Machen einen diese Hirngespinste verrückt.
Ich habe im letzten Jahr drei Mitgefangene sterben sehen,
hier in diesem Dreck,
und doch hatten Sie bis zum Schluss ihre Engelsgesichter behalten.

Kannst Du Dir vorstellen, was für einen unerträglichen Schmerz das bereitet ?
Ich wünschte, dass weder Du noch irgendjemand anderes das jemals erleben muss.

Nur Deine stille Umarmung wird mich wieder erlösen von diesen Alpträumen.

BAHAR, 9.Juni 2011, EVIN Gefängniss

Bahareh Hedayat ist eine iranische Studentin, Aktivistin für Frauenrechte, Mit-Initiatorin der 1Million-Unterschriften-Kampagne sowie Sprecherin und Zentralrats-Mitglied von Daftar Tahkim Vahdat. Sie wurde am 9.Juli 2007 festgenommen, und am 9.August des selben Jahres auf Bewährung entlassen. 2008 wurde Sie erneut vorübergehend verhaftet. Seit 2010 ist sie im berüchtigten EVIN Gefängniss (Abteilung 209) eingekerkert. Die Abteilung 28 des Revolutionsgerichtes setzte Ihre Haftstrafe auf  neun einhalb Jahre fest.

Den oben wiedergegeben Brief an ihren Mann Amin Ahmadiyan (Mitglied der Islamischen Studentenverbindung) konnte Sie kürzlich aus dem Gefängniss herausschmuggeln. Er verleiht ihren Gedanken, Ängsten und Wünschen, vor allem aber ihrer Liebe zu Amin Ausdruck. Die deutsche Version folgt einer englischen Übersetzung von M.P.D.

Source www.iranian.com

Her name is Penelope – She is a crazy horse !

Hi Ghazal Dear,
It was almost exactly a year ago that I wrote you this story about my nocturnal encounter with a young horse. It almost caused me crash with the car into the wall of the village cemetry. I always thought that the story that followed this accident somehow coined a special relationship between me and the horse. I observed her the whole last year through, since her owner is a friend of us and she lives with many other horses on a ranch just cross the road. Last month our friend and my family made a deal and they gave me the horse as a gift to my 50s birthday. So suddenly, I became the master of Penelope, who is a real beautiful, large mare of the breed of a Knappstrupper.
During the first month of our “partnership” Penny exhibit a strong own character, she permanently refused to be hold or guided around by me. All other horses on this ranch were absolutely confident, always curios and willing to walk and happy to ride. Only Peggy appeared resistant to training. I already became frustrated, when another rider advised be to be more insisting, and to combine some gifts (like carrots and dry bread) with a strong hand.
And suddenly, I think that we got a bit closer, and now Penny understoud that it is really nice not only to “hang around” the whole day on the green with other horses, but it is also fun to be ridden some time every day. Have a look, Ghazal, if the horse fits to the image you had last year when I told you the story. I hope that we make more progress, and that soon I can ride with Penny to the institute. You know how much the german politics now promotes renewable energy and alternative means of transport. What could be better than using more horse for our daily way to work ?

We are Green – Morteza Mofahari

Morteza Mofahari is an iranian composer. He had to flee Iran and currently lives in Germany.
Together with many more iranian people who suffered from the political oppression in their country, Morteza Mofahari is among those whom a international solidarity campaign dedicated the entire July.

Love in the Era of Social Networking

Ghazal my Dear,About a year ago we were sitting at the bone fire on the bank of the Isar river and I was badly condeming destiny for beeing so cruel to me by sending you here, the most fascinating and inspiring person I ever met, but at an too young age to get closer with somebody like me who was in his fourties already. There at the river bank, laying on the peble stones and talking open about our dreams and about science and life, you remember I told you how little I could understand your confession that – except for a school-mate – you only had boy-friends that you met at internet dating-sites. My suggestion to you, just to wait until a real brave and strong person approaches you in a coffee-bar or in the train or at the university, without going through all this cyber-dating proceedure could not convince you much, even though I argued that this short relationship that we have here in Munich (you call it friendship, for me it is a bit more)is the best example that two people can still meet each other outside the cyber-world. The fact that I simply went to you after the lectures and never hesitated to invite from then on almost every day to go out, without having ever seen your Facebook identity, this you obviously considered an exception. Maybe you saw me as a social fossil, or an immoral person who stands outside the social networks.

Zoe Margolis, writer of the blog “Girl with a one-track mind” and author of a book with the same name (under her pseudonym Abby Lee) wrote a remarkable witty and obviously experienced essay about the evolution of a relationship in the era of social networking. It shows that it is so damned easy to turn a loos exchange of some thoughts with a so-called “friend” at Facebook into a more and more privat and intimate relationship. Because it is just words, ideas, and maybe photos that are exchanged, one never has to present itself in his entire personality. The social networks are almost invented to polish a personal identity from all unwanted details. It starts with the very simple thing as a photograph on your privat page. It usually shows you at a younger age, in a very pleasant condition, sometimes after sophisticated Photoshop work. One of the obvious examples is Zoe Margolis Blog-page itself: Whereas in reality in front of a TV camera she appeares as a mature, self-confident woman, her blog autobiography shows her on a college girl style picture. I”m not trying to make any judgement here about which of the two appears more attractive (this as usually lays in the eye of the viewer), for sure the two images almost show two different characters. And as there are these huge uncertainties to find out how somebody looks in reality, if you only know him through social networks, the rest of your web identity is usually also a reflection of how you would like to be, rather than what you really are.
Zoe Margolis describes in her short essay in a very clear and pointed way how sooner or later the real person behind the web identity has to unvail itself, if the relation gets closer and closer. And a relationship goes trough a difficult, not so say catastrophic time if confronted with these torn images. How hard it is and how painful if the social network link suddenly dries out.
Zoe Margolis describes this as following:

Once upon a time, outside the social network of the Internet, you’d just shrug if someone dropped communication and accept that if they really wanted to stay in contact, they’d simply pick up the ”phone and say hello. But in the web of modern interactivity, where you get used to the regular loud chatter of the (false?) intimacy of the social network, the sudden distance and silence from someone you’ve connected with on a frequent and personal basis is –ironically – deafening.”