The other day I went to get some of these large flat circular breads that are sold in shops run by people from the Middle East. The shop I went to is run by an Iranian. He wasn’t in. Instead I was helped by a younger fellow I hadn’t seen before. I picked three breads in plastic bags and put them on the counter. While the guy calculated the price I looked at a notice in Persian that someone had stuck on the counter. The young fellow noticed my trying to decipher it.

‘Oh,’ he said, ‘that’s a notice in Persian from someone looking for an apartment.’

‘Yes,’ I said, ‘I know.’ and I read the first few words back to him.

The guy was flabbergasted: ‘Why… how… ?’ And I explained in my best Persian that I had been in Iran twice and had picked up some of the language.  We talked some more in Persian and English.

Then the guy said: ‘If you want to have fresh bread, take the ones without plastic bags.’

I did, of course.

Iranians; you gotta lov’em…


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