Three Iranian Jokes

The below jokes are not invented by me. They are all told during the road journey to the key attractions in Yadz by our Iranian guide, complete with sound effects and actions. Enjoy!

Iranian Joke One
An Iranian woman went to the doctor. Doctor says, “ Please take off your chador and your clothes.”
She says, “But I’m shy.”
Doctor says, “ But you have to take off your clothes so that I can check your body.
Iranian woman, reluctantly says,
Alright, but can you switch off the lights?”
Doctor says, “No problem.” And the lights were off within a few seconds.S
In the pitch-dark room, the Iranian woman says, “Doctor, I have taken off all my clothes. Where should I put my clothes?”
Doctor says, “Okay, just place your clothes anywhere near to mine.

Iranian Joke Two-Iranians are so polite to each others.
An Iranian woman is pregnant. Doctor says, “Congratulations, You have twins. This are the 5 tablets that will be good for your body. Please take one on each day. The lady got impatient and decided to take all the tablets at one go, instead of one per day as requested by the doctor.

One year has passed. No baby.
Five years passed and still no baby.
The Iranian woman decided to go to the doctor for a ultra-sound scan. And in the scan, they saw two elderly wrinkled men standing at the door of the vagina, “You go first”, said the first one old man, “No, no, no, you go first, said the second. And the courtesy continues.

Iranian Joke Three- Biscuits with Milk
An Iranian man was sitting alone, frowning and looking very sad.
His friend came along and said, “Why are you unhappy? Tell me, please.”
The Iranian man said, “I want to drink fresh milk. My mother didn’t give me her milk when she was young and I really want to drink it.”
His friend said, “Don’t worry. My wife has big breasts. You can come to my house and drink her milk.
Next day, the man went to his friend’s house. The big-breasted wife was at home.
She took off her shirt and offered her breasts to the Iranian man as instructed by her husband.
The man started sucking on her left breast and enjoying the milk. The wife became aroused and started moaning, and said, “ Tell me what else you want, I can give you anything, everything.
The man went on to suck her right breast, and the woman repeated, “ Tell me what else you want, I can give you anything, everything, " in between heaving sounds.
The man replied with his eye closed, “ It would be good to have some biscuits with the milk.”

Yadz, Iran - Of Teahouses, Gorgeous Courtyards and Sun-baked Walls

Yadz is a beautiful old city town complete with sun-baked tiles, a unique bazaar and little shops that sell interesting trinkets and souvenirs. Strolling around the historical town is amazing. It’s little why it’s known to be one of oldest civilizations and a UNESCO site. Some of the old houses in Yadz are stunningly spacious and beautifully decorated with ornate carvings.

There's something very rustic and romantic about Yadz and it's our favourite place in Iran.

On the first day we arrived, we were trailed by two young teenage boys. Tired of all the “cheekopeh” encounters in Iran, we decided to feign ignorance to all men and pretended that we did not see these boys. We then went into an authentic teahouse for a pot of tea (chay). The boys were hot at our heels.

Several times they tried to chat with Arlina and Weichean, but they continued to feign ignorance. Their hearts melted when one of the boys innocently asked, “Excuse me, can you please talk to us? Are Iran people very scary? I just want to practise English.”

By the time I came back from my toilet visit cum short shopping trip, Wei Chean and Arlina were already happily chatting away with these two teenage boys, Ali and Saadey.

Ali’s command of English was amazingly good by Iranian standard. He was very curious about Singapore and how to express himself in English. He was like a huge sponge, eager to absorb new information and learn new English terms. And we were of course, more than happy to share all these information and knowledge with him. We even whipped out our pens to teach them how to use the Chinese chopsticks, including his good friend, 17 year-old Saadey who stands at a towering height of 1.92cm, but couldn’t speak a word of English

”Do you have any last orders for us?,” Ali said before we parted our ways. “No, no, of course not. All the best for your studies, and you’ll better get back to your brother’s house and buy your bus tickets back to Tehran today. “Not all Iranian men are “cheekopeh” lah,” we concluded, these two young 17-year-old boys were so polite and innocent, their intention of approaching us was really just to practise English, and we had kept them an arm’s length distance for the longest time, for fear of being “cheekopehed”.

Bridging Friendships: A Lovely Date with the Esfahan Girls, Esfahan

We were strolling along the Esfahan riverbank when we chanced upon two shy but friendly Esfahan girls who spoke very limited English. Tired of getting “cheated” and playing mind games with Iranian men, we decided to be friendly with Iranian girls only. Arlina said that it’s time we girls be aggressive and make the first move as we inched closer to the Iranian girls who sat next to us along the riverbank. After much gesturing and use of short, simple words, we managed to strike a date with the gals. Feeling gleefully proud of her "achievement, Arlina said, “Who says we need to be invited to people’s house, we can also invite them out for dates?” See, we have a dinner date tomorrow?”

Dinner Date Turned Strange Iranian Men-Dancing Session (Esfahan)

We met Mr Sani at the Amir Kabir Guesthouse on the first day we arrived. The guest house is owned by his relative and spoke good English. He invited us to dinner with his family the next day at 8pm and said that he would be interested to know more about the Buddhist teachings after Weichean mentioned she is a Buddhist.

After the afternoon “scare” and the “hug-and-kiss” request, we thought the dinner appointment would definitely be the safe one for sure, not one of those, with “cheeko” intentions.

Happily, we took out the headscarves, toys and little presents we brought from Singapore from our backpacks, ready to give them to our new acquaintances who would be hosting dinner for us.

The evening started off quite well. Mr Sani was slightly late but he apologised profusely. He had deliberately rushed to the guesthouse in a taxi as there was a jam. Together, we took a taxi to his car, which was parked about 5 minutes away. “So nice and thoughtful of him, to rush down from work for strangers, like us,” we thought.

Mr Sani then brought us to his brother-in-law’s shop, to say hi to him, and then sprang a surprise visit to his sister’s house. Her house was very nice and posh, with plush carpets white curtains and a big garden. His sister was shocked to see guests, as she was not wearing her chador, but was very sweet and nice. Despite the impromptu visit, she gave us each a plate of mixed nuts, fresh fruits and some desserts. We liked her immediately as she seemed very nice. Her 19-year-old son was also very friendly and comical. He was huge and had big gestures. His mannerism reminded me very much of Lenin in the literature book, Of Mice and Men, the gentle giant who had no clues of his strength and murdered a woman by accident. We spent about 20 minutes in her house.

Mr Sani wanted us to dance, and cheered us on. He even pulled us from our seats, and swung Weichean and myself around with his nephew. It was strange, but we thought maybe it was the Iranian culture to dance and since there were no other strangers, we did not think much about it. Soon, Mr Sani said we had to go as his friend was waiting for us at his house. Strangely, he didn’t mention anything about his family or the dinner invitation he promised though.

We followed him in his chair and he drove a good half an hour before we saw his friend who was waiting at the roadside. We split into two cars, Arlina with the 19-year-old “Lenin, while Wei Chean and I with Mr Sani and his friend, who seemed very friendly though he couldn’t speak English.

When we reached his friend’s house, the wife was nowhere in sight. Mr Sani said that the wife went to another town to bring her daughter back and should be home in one hour’s time. It was about 9.15pm then. We sat around and ate more nuts and chatted. Mr Sani even joked and said that we can cook for them.

At 10.30pm, the doorbell rang. But it was not the wife.

In came a group of Iranian men in their mid thirties, whom Mr Sani introduced as his colleagues. Mr Sani had specially invited them to his friend’s house to dance for us as they are accordingly to him, very good dancers. They started to play Iranian music and wanted us to join in the fun of dancing. We declined profusely. Mr Sani said, “You don’t have to dance, just clap your hands.”

It was a really strange scenario. Image this, five men sitting directly opposite us, in casual poses, some with legs wide open. One fat Iranian man started prancing in front of us, doing the provocative Middle Eastern dance, twisting and bending his fat body, but I must admit, Iranian people can really dance though. We had to pretend to be really busy taking photographs to prevent us from getting pulled to the floor for dancing.

By 11pm, there was still no sight of the wife. While Wei Chean was showing the photographs to one of the strangers, he conveniently placed his arm on Weichean’s shoulder. Arlina plucked the Iranian’s man fingers off Wei Chean’s shoulders and we started to scout for our exit route.

We discussed amongst ourselves discreetly and decided that we better scoot. We were surrounded by complete strangers and the only consoling factor was the 10-year-old son of the house owner, whom we spent most of our time with playing computer games.

Arlina went to open the main door. “Lenin” asked if she was looking for the toilets. We said it was getting late and we were feeling a little tired and would like to go back to the guest-house. Mr Sani was surprised by our sudden request to leave the home, but was gentlemanly enough to send us back.

On the way back, Mr Sani and “Lenin” wanted to bring us to the nearby fastfood restaurant for dinner, but we declined.They said ”Lenin’s” mom and his wife had saved food for them and they would be able to eat when they returned home.

We went back to the guesthouse with empty stomachs, the presents and headscarves intact.
Was there really an intention to host dinner at his home? Are we being too overly sensitive about all the things that happened in the home? Are they genuinely hospitable by inviting their friends to dance for us as a welcome gesture? We couldn’t’ decipher by agreed that it was a strange night indeed.

A Hug-and-Kiss Request and A Lesson Learnt in Esfahan

We were strolling the streets in Esfahan and stopped a car to ask for directions. The driver couldn’t speak much English, but seemed very friendly and eager to help. He drove off, without giving much useful information. Minutes later, he turned his car back again and tried speaking to us. We told them that we would like to go to the Imam Khomeni Square, Ali Kappo Palace and Imane Mosque. They seemed to know and offered to drive us there.

We were grateful for their hospitality. Our new friends, Shampu and Amir were both businessmen who happened to be having a day away from work.Upon reaching, we thanked them and wanted to say goodbye but our kind “drivers” insisted on playing host. They even paid for some of the admission charges for the main sights and bought us ice-cream.

On the way, Shampu’s nephew, Rezar joined us in the vehicle. I was squashed between the driver, Amir and Rezar in the front seat. It was a very awkard and uncomfortable position, as two of us were squeezed into one miserable seat, with my bums leaning against the driver’s clutch.

Rezar was the only one who could speak English and he had to play the role of the translator. They brought us to a nice alfresco-dining restaurant which served wonderful chicken kebab and tea. Again, they refused to let us pay for our own meals. We felt indebted to them for all they had done, extending such hospitality to complete strangers like us.

With words and hand gestures, we chatted about prices of cigarettes, housing in Singapore, education policies and many others. His uncle suggested that we could stay in his apartment so that we could save our money rather staying in a guest-house.

After lunch, Shampur bade goodbye as he had some business to attend to. Rezar suggested us going to his uncle’s apartment to take a look. If we liked, we could stay there, if not, we could just be there for a while. It was hard to refuse at that point and out of gratitude, we acceded to his request.

Amir’s house was on the fourth level in an apartment that looked like a typical condominium in Singapore. Sacks of cement were lying on the floor, the lift was still not in operation and there did not seemed to be any living beings in the brand-new apartment.

As we climbed the stairs, we had an uneasy feeling. If anything should happen to us, we would definitely not be able to get immediate help. Maybe we were scaring ourselves, we thought. We caught a glimpse of a unit that was occupied, and that calmed us a little. “We just sit for a while and then “charboat” after that,” we decided.

The house was very spacious. The living room was nicely lined with Persian carpets and cushions. We sat around and Amir served us dried fruits, nuts and tea. We chatted with Rezar about his plans of pursuing his studies in Sweden, the government policies in Iran and religions. Amir’s family used to stay near the border near Iraq, and because of the war, they escaped into Iran. It was a casual afternoon conversation and the television was on. Amir was watching music videos through satellite, with Madonna and Britney Spears prancing around provocatively in their sexy tight-fitting outfits.

Rezar asked me to go into the bedroom and said that he had something to discuss with me. Since Arlina and Wei Chean were both in the living room, I followed Rezar into the bedroom.

He sat down on a pile of stacked carpets and cushions in the bedroom and said as a matter-of-factly, “My nephew (he means his uncle), would like to kiss-and-hug you. Okay?

It’s probably “safer” to be a conservative Muslim woman, whom the Iranians have more respect for, than a Chinese woman now, I thought.
“No, No, I’m Chinese. Chinese and Muslims same same, cannot,” thinking I could get away with it by using religion- Islamic faith as the trump card.

“But why? you are in Iran?,” he asked again, looking almost innocent and perplexed when I turned down his calm request.

Not knowing what to say, I repeated myself, “No, no, Chinese and Muslims, same same. Boyfriend in Singapore, boyfriend not happy, cannot. Sorry” He frowned his brows and I started to sidetrack to other topics, “When are you going to Sweden, you said your sister was in Stockholm now right?”. I continued to bombard him with pmany completely irrelevant questions just to ease the awkard situation. I made a fast exit back to the living room and communicated to the rest of gals in a mixture of Singapore slangs, Mandarin, Hokkien and English that it was time to leave.

We decided that things were getting a little strange and since we had a dinner appointment, we could use that as an excuse to go off. We told Rezar that we needed to leave soon as the dinner appointment was at 7pm (actually it was at 8pm), and we need to get back to the guest-house to rest for a while. Rezar asked us to wait for another 10 minutes, as the other friend, Shampu would be back soon and he can send us back.

”Die, if Shampur comes back, it would be three men against three of us,we would be outnumbered.” We started clearing the nuts, dried-fruits and washed the teacups. Arlina went to open the door to make sure that the escape route was clear. We told Rezar, “No, no, don’t worry, we can just get a taxi back to our guest-house from here. Thank you anyway.” Admir, Rezar’s uncle was busy on the phone throughout this time.. Thankfully, we got a cab in the next 10 minutes. Before the taxi left, Rezar asked us where we would be going the next day. “We’re not sure, we might just walk around on our own,” he gave us his number and asked us to call them if we had time tomorrow.” “Okay, thank you,” we said, and waved bye bye to him.

Like hell we will.

Venturing into the Middle East, Iran, Turkey and Syria

“What? Are you crazy, you’re going to Iran?” That’s the general response of many of my friends when I told them about my month-long expedition to the Middle East. To many Singaporeans, Iran is often associated with their nuclear policy, the unsafe country next to Iraq where war is imminent. For me, I’m curious to explore this mystery-strodded part of the world which I have seen and heard so much and see what life is like there.

The Middle-East trip turned out to be a lot more challenging as we had to decipher the good and sometimes bad intentions of the people, find quick solutions to get ourselves out of awkward situations with ease, play charade with strangers to get them to understand our questions
We visited many sights and mosques till we suffered from arches-fatigue and swore not to see arches again. We enjoyed the comfy comforter in a tree-house, endured the icy water in a heater-less cave hotel and spent an unforgettable night with the nomads in the middle of the desert.

We made friends with many locals, chatted with guides about their countries and their hopes, talked to shop-owners about their beloved cats, girlfriends and their restaurants, spoke to travellers about places they have been and eavesdropped about the case of a missing Australian girl in Syria,

The people showered us with great hospitality, too much sometimes. Free snacks and drinks offers by old friendly vendors in the bazaar, young Iranian girls chucking pieces of paper and notebooks into our faces for autographs as if we were celebrities. And even private, lewd jokes about the Iranian men and women, complete with actions and special sound effects by our Iranian guide, erm.. too much actually.

Some experiences were very pleasant, and some were rather risky on hindsight. But all in all, the one month in Middle East was truly a memorable experience. We embraced the beauty and the people of this often misunderstood cradle of civilizations.