15 minutes of Farsi Fame.

in largesse.

Masuleh, about an hour's drive outside of Rasht, is an ancient, layered town perched on a steep mountain slope. The rooftops of the buildings in Masuleh double as pavements. So, walking from one street to another, by way of a narrow stair-case, you often find yourself on top of the shop you were just in. This confused me somewhat, at first, when one minute the smiling, wavy guys at the tea-shop seemed to be but mere specks in the distance and the next minute I turned a corner and was face to face with them.

Something funny happened in Masuleh, though. I became a nationally renowned, Iranian television celebrity. Well I did a segment for a television show. Or an advert. I'm not really sure what happened, but I was filmed. I even got mic'd up, like Matt Baker on Countryfile.

My lines were as follows -this is a very rough guide to oral Farsi-: "ahem, Family Borzorg, Nowruz Mubarak!!", announced with big smile. I like to imagine that in a month, around the time of the Persian New Year (Nowruz), I will appear on television somewhere, on some channel in Iran. I know for sure I was the only Westerner in Masuleh that day, and the only Scot for leagues around.

Perhaps some of the people I have haphazardly met along my way will see my ginger beard in HD at the height of the festive season. Why stop there? Perhaps I'll be broadcast on massive screens in central Tehran? I'll become a symbol of Nowruz, a legend the likes of which have never been seen since Darius. And great statues of me will be erected across the land; my unwashed shirt, my straggly locks, bed-bug bites and all!

Most likely, though, I'll be featured on some slow buffering video on an obscure website for Zam Zam cola, or something.

*What I like about this photograph is the argument that was happening downstairs, in the bottom left.