Muhammad woke me up at seven in the morning. After washing, he took me to the road outside and took a bus to their school.
The school is not big, and some places are covered with weeds or some rubble. Although it is a university, it doesn't look like my primary school. My arrival naturally became the focus of the school, and there were always students asking questions about Muhammad. Muhammad said that his teacher's English was good, so he took me to school to see if the teacher could get me a passport. He took me to the office and talked for a few minutes. I know his teacher's English is poor, and he can't make up his mind about my passport.
Out of the office, Muhammad took me into the classroom. The classroom is very small, and there are about fifteen or sixteen people sitting in it, all of whom are boys. There is a small blackboard in front of the classroom.
After a while, a tall and thin teacher came into the classroom and began to lecture. This is an advanced mathematics course. It seems that the students have no textbooks. They all took sixteen open notebooks and wrote down the key points and exercises on them. The teacher first drew a complicated figure on the blackboard, then began to explain and occasionally asked some questions. The students took notes meticulously, and I seemed to be back in the high school classroom. The classroom atmosphere is very active, and everyone is eager to answer questions and full of curiosity. This is a calculus problem mixed with a little linear algebra. I haven't completely forgotten it, just because I don't know the language. However, in order to maintain the good international image of China students who are diligent and eager to learn, I insisted on not yawning and occasionally smiled back, which brought the excellent quality of China students who didn't pretend to understand to the extreme.
Class is finally over. According to yesterday's plan, I'm going to Bam Castle. Muhammad had a class, and he asked Sanwa (a stout young man who smoked a pipe last night) to accompany me.
I said goodbye to Muhammad and thanked him for his care. Since then, my contact with him has been limited to my likes and comments on Facebook. Apart from those modal particles, his English is very limited. Later, I found that he learned "I love you" again.
He said "I love you" to me. I really want to tell him that "I love you" can't be easily used between two big men, but I think it will be difficult to explain. It would be nice to understand his thoughts. He said that he would learn English well.
Sanwa took me to Bamgu Castle by taxi. She didn't ask me to pay the fare and bought me a ticket. Bagu Castle charges foreigners150,000 rials, while locals only need 20,000 Wan Li rials. I was really embarrassed to let him buy it, so I forced myself to pay for it.
This is the largest air-dried adobe building in the world with a history of 2500 years. Unfortunately, it was destroyed by an earthquake in 2003, which killed nearly 30 thousand people. Nobody lives here now. Walking in the ethereal streets and yards, the broken walls around are embarrassing.
After visiting the ancient castle, I invited Sanwa to eat an ice cream, and he always took a taxi to take me back to Kerman. Bam to Kerman is about180km, and the charge is 1 1 Wan Li code (about 22 RMB). The taxi was stopped twice, but no one checked my passport.
After having lunch in Kerman, I went to the station and bought a ticket back to Tehran. While waiting for the bus at the station, I once again became the focus of people around me. There is a handsome guy sitting in the front row with three or four women beside me. He turned to talk to me and asked for a photo. I agreed to his request. He blew me a kiss when taking pictures, but he didn't touch my face.
This attracted a policeman (or station security guard). My heart was pounding and I had a premonition that something was going to happen. Sure enough, he asked me to show my passport. I told him that I only had one copy, but he only recognized the original. He ignored the explanation for a long time.
I'm at the end of my rope. Let him take me away. Like a criminal caught red-handed, I was taken into an office in full view. I explained a few words to the people inside, and they understood. Then one of them said a few words to the police and the police let me go. I flew back to my seat like a free bird after being acquitted. People around me look sympathetic, but they stop taking pictures of me.
The bus back to Tehran is a white Volvo bus with comfortable seats. I was going to have a good sleep, but I was in big trouble near twelve o'clock at night.
When I arrived at a checkpoint, a policeman got on the bus and asked me to show my passport. I can only give him a copy of the first page of his passport and the Iranian visa page. He can't speak English, I can't explain it, so he was taken off the bus.
It's cold outside. I was taken to the cabin at the checkpoint. There is an electric stove in the hut, and the people inside come out. I tried to explain to him that I made a futile speech to those two people, and finally I begged them. They are hard-hearted and cold-hearted.
Many minutes passed, and I saw that the Volvo bus carrying all my luggage had started. I pointed anxiously at the white moving object and almost jumped up. They reassured me and told me that the driver just drove over and parked on the side of the road. Sure enough, the car stopped.
But I still think that if you are considered a spy in a major event, it will be over. After another hard communication, I finally understood that although I copied the first page and visa page of my passport, I didn't copy the page of renewal, and they would think that I was living illegally now.
Someone in the room picked up the phone, probably to check my records or to ask for instructions from my superiors. I waited anxiously. Half an hour passed, and they finally told me that it was a misunderstanding.
I rushed to the car and apologized for my delay. They sat quietly without any complaints. I wonder what would happen if this happened in China.
After sitting down, several young people next to me talked about what had just happened, and then took me to take pictures. Halfway to the toilet, an uncle in the car called me aside and warned me to be careful of those young people.
"They make friends with you first, and then steal your money." Uncle solemnly told me that it was not like a joke.
I miss my uncle very much, but I still thank him for his kindness. Among these young people, Amin Rahim is the youngest. Later, when I was in Jordan, I also received a Skype video from him. He asked me if I was still in Iran, and his family asked me to be a guest.