Planes, Trains, Buses and Ferries
X Diaries: Latin Europe Adventure
Chapter One
Ahreeman X
Written: July 8, 2001
Republished: September 22, 2007

Just landed in Gatwick Airport, my plane landed and I walked inside the airport. About the same time it happened, all the commotion and the entire episode regarding the tragedy. Another victim of Islamic Republic of Iran, but this one was not a physical assassination; this one was a psychological victim due to depression. As I promised to keep off the net and computer for two weeks and later keeping off any news media, I had no knowledge of the tragedy. All I wanted was absolute peace for two weeks to forget about the whole world and to relax. If I would have known about this in London, I would have stayed there until the funeral, try to help, give my condolences to the family and do whatever I could, but I was on my way to Madrid and had no knowledge of this episode. Actually the news broke out to me in a resorts town near Lisbon-Portugal in a Persian Restaurant!

Rumors, rumors and more rumors, all kinds of stories, some said it was a suicide, some said it was an overdose, some even created conspiracy theories and said the family needed a victim to attract the public opinion towards themselves, especially when the younger brother is drafting and gathering an army at the Turkish border for commando warfare (gossip of course)! So somebody had to die for popularity of the family! Some said it was IRI's fault, they wanted to hurt the family bad! We had all kinds of ideas from murder by the family to murder by IRI, from suicide to overdose!

What do I believe? It was a simple overdose due to depression. When one is depressed, she takes more and more pills, because after a while the normal dose doesn't work any more, you need more to kill the pain. She was watching the election results on TV, the puppet won, she never had a chance to get to know her father and say her good-byes properly (they excluded her to see him on his dying bed), she never got to enjoy living in her country like the older ones did, she had no career, no goal, and most of all no love in her life. No purpose to live and on top of it a baggage full of past issues had caused this depression, which led up to her death. However, this was an accidental overdose, just an accident.

On the other hand, to my knowledge, she was an artist, a bright woman, a gorgeous woman, a wealthy woman, the most qualified bachelorette, which everything was going on for her, the perfect candidate for jealousy of the whole world. But as usual this was the perfect case of "our inside burns us and our outside burns other people!" The woman mostly attracted roaches around her rather than real men who would love her for herself. She never found the love of her life. She had no steady job or specific interest like the rest of the family. Mother into many tasks, older brother a wanna be politician, younger brother a wanna be militant activist and a culture lover, sister is into ..... we don't wanna go there. So everybody has a gig or a hobby but her! A sense of not having a purpose developed along side the decades of homesickness and not getting to know the father. If you notice, all children whose fathers died when they were young, or the father left when they were young, later in life, will develop issues. This is a psychological fact. Unfortunately at this point of her life the only thing that would make her happy was to go back to Iran, and we all know that by Spiders and Tarantulas being in power, sucking people's blood, this could not be, so the pill jar was the only answer! More pills and more, and suddenly the pain dies, but you need more and you will take more next time, and the pain will go away temporarily; however, one day you will take so many that the pain will go away forever and you will never wake up!

So all the anorexia, physical pain from the joints or muscles, psychological pain of the past, and depression caught up with her and finally daddy's princes went away. I only wished that they had enforced more control and watched her more often. When one has depression, others should keep a close watch, not to just leave her left alone. Maybe someone could have avoided this by dropping by at the hotel and save her, maybe, maybe...... but what bounds to be happen, will happen. What do you know, maybe I if I had known her much better, more like a friend, I could have stopped this tragedy. Maybe this and maybe that.....what's done is done.

My condolences to Her Majesty Farah Diba and rest of the family, may this will be your last sorrow. More power to you with everything that has happened to you over the years. May you find the strength to cope and continue charging dear Queen.

Leila was a flower who could well bloom in a proper atmosphere, yet this flower shriveled up and died. That's what I mean by another victim of the Islamic Republic of Iran. Another victim of Spiders who suck the blood of our people (Dr. Ahmad Kasravi). The sooner this regime dies out, the sooner the world will get some peace!

So I ended up in Madrid, in this trip first I wanted to relax and leave the world behind, second, I wanted to travel for sake of travel and to gain knowledge (history, archeology), third it was business and conventions, fourth was about political meetings and connections, all was quite fruitful.

Spending 15 and 1/2 hours in planes and airports of Europe is not easy, but had to do. I want to mention a few interesting points of this trip that I can mention here on the net.

When I was touring the Latin Europe and North Africa, one of the people in this tour was an Indian Sikh man with a Dark Blue Turban. At first one would look at this guy and say Oh another religious Indian! But this man turned out to be one of the highlights of this trip! His name was Nick and he was from Houston, he was traveling with her Texan white wife and his two mixed race girls, very beautiful girls indeed. When I as usual in any trip became the center of party, talk of the crowd, and the controversial figure among the 45 passengers of the traveling bus, I started to know this man better. I can honestly testify that this man most definitely knew more about the Persian history, poetry, sociology and culture than many Persians around the world and many of you guys in IPC!

The man been there and done that, he was the victim of racism all his life in Texas, the southern rednecks been giving him the whole 9 yards all his life, specially that he was determined to be himself and wear the Turban and be what he really is! He did not try to look American, he actually tried to be what he is and look very Sikh! The man was speaking such fine English with American accent that you would barely notice that he is originally a foreigner! No, Indian accent or stereo type typical Apu or Ravi Shankar Indian accent, not at all!

But he was wearing what he truly believed in, and that's admirable. I admire people who wear, think and do what they really believe in to, even if they are Hezbollahi! A true Hezbollahi with belief in Allah has more value for me than a mediocre Disco Dancing, Cabaret Tehran Opposition! I might end up having a hand to hand combat with that Hezbollahi and kill him, but I have more respect for him than the sissy boy in Westwood who waves the Lion, Sun and Sword flag, part time!

I was thinking of Indian James when I was talking to this guy. This man was an authority on Sikhism and he double OKed what I was stating on Sikhism. The Sikhism is not a separate independent religion, and it is not a branch of Hinduism. Sikhism is more like a cross over, a bridge between Hinduism and Islam. In addition there are strong elements of Sufism/Mysticism in Sikhism. Sikhs are very much into Sufism, and Daravish practices. That's where Khalsah theories and practices of Sikhism comes from. So basically if you put Hinduism, Islam and Sufism, then you will get Sikhism. For example Sikhs do believe in a single God (monotheism), and they do not believe in many Gods (polytheism) like Hindus; however, they also believe in Reincarnation and past lives unlike Muslims who do not believe so! As we see, Sikhism as the Sikhs say, took the best of both worlds, Islam and Hinduism. Imagine riding along deserts, steps of Spain and then again Green lands and prairies of Portugal, discussing Ancient history of Arcasid (Ashkanid) era of the Persian Empire, Invasion of Alexander to Persia, fundamentals of Sikhism, History of India before and during Mughal Dynasties, Invasion of Nader Shah and what he did in India, Analysis of Iran before, during, and after the 79 reaction, nature of Mullahs' ideologies, Safavid's creation of Shiite, Separation of Pakistan from Persia, reunion of it to India and then again separation of it from India, and many other historical episodes! While Nick and I were discussing history, philosophy and politics, majority of the crew except a few did not have any clue about what the hell were we talking about! Some were bored and lost about anything in ancient history, specially near east, some were trying to ease drop to learn a few things and educate themselves, yet the hole episode was funny, it was like the two of us were speaking another language and these guys were practically lost and not understanding a word! Then there was Blondie and of course Brunetty in our group and another friend from Ecuador who was off and on jumping bare feet in between our discussion and making a comment alongside the debate! I need to mention that there were a group of my colleagues alongside this group of 45 in the bus and in this trip. As usual a few of these guys follow me everywhere I go around the world, and there is no stopping in that! But this did not mean that they knew anything about the ancient history!

When the political discussion heated up, smartass Blondie made a comment on how I am such a hypocrite in the way that I am an atheist, yet I preach morality, and defend GW Bushes religious stands and vote as a solid GOP member! Blondie as usual is a flaming liberal, a bold one too, but sometimes she makes me speechless, I guess she is on to me! tsk tsk

By the way, I don't know what's up with me but for some strange reason, never ever in my life I had Tall Blonde Model types automatically get attracted to me and chase me around! I always had to chase after them and catch them like fishing for them, kind of like a challenge; however, there were always Black girls, Chubby Mexicans, Transsexual Chicks, Transvestite dudes and Gay Guys very very much attracted to me, even chasing me around! What's up with that?! Do I have something written on my forehead that I don't know of?! And what's up with chunky little blondes?! How come I always end up with some chunky big bosomed blonde somewhere around the world! Is it my deep emphasis on the platinum blonde hair subconsciously, or is it that my descendants were butchers and I just love meat?! Could it be that subconsciously I like Abgusht (a Persian Soup dish with chunks of meat in it) and Abgushti girls! What's up with this meat obsession in many of us Persians! We like a woman with some meat on them in all the right places, like top and bottom, like topsy curvy! For Allah's sake if Persian men would not be so obsessed with Abgusht, maybe the ladies would lose some weight and shape up! But then again these days jogging and anorexic dieting is in style among the ladies inside or outside Iran, that's the hip Persian thing to do these days, so I guess farewell to the Chunks, it is!

So after dozens of luxury boring bus drives, overnight or two stays in many cities and hotels along the way, we had arrived to the town of "Fatimah" in Portugal. This town has a story, let me tell you the "storybook religious fantasy" story first. And then there were 3 children in the mountains (how come it's always caves and mountains in these stories?!), the children went on to the mountains (like Mohammed, Moses and Jesus went in the caves and mountains)!, that's where they met a holy character, an angel, a God sent, a holy mother, a Saint, like Holy Mother of Jesus, the virgin Marry! Her name was Fatimah, she prevailed herself to the kids and gave them a mission to do. To preach words of God. Eventually kids went back to the town and finally had to drag the locals to the mountains to prove the existence of the Lady Fatimah; so the whole town goes to Fatimah and gets blessed. Later on, Pope sends a missionary to find if this site is blessed or not, is it a hoax or is it a holy shrine? Pope's missionary accepts it and then all together they build a humongous bohemian of a monument as a cathedral, with a separate building as a chapel around a huge cemented field with a marbled path or a walkway to the shrine. The marble pathway is a mile long and the pilgrims have to start from the beginning of it, kneeled down, kneel walking like kneel crawling all the way to the shrine where the holy mothers and priests bless them with the holy water and the whole ceremony takes place. Along the way on this marble pathway there is a candle area where they buy very long candles like a one foot to five feet candles to burn and wish for things and pray. there are also candles available and made of wax in forms of body parts, it depends what body part of the patient does not work, hand, foot, head, etc., so the family buys that part and brings it to the alter and shrine to dump in a certain huge container and then buys those long candles to burn and throw in the candle area. Candles are thrown in a huge candle burning area like the faucets area of an orphanage or bootcamp, they are not placed and set! So imagine if one person is an idiot (sorry, mentally challenged) if being politically correct (PC), then they buy the head candle for him, if he is crippled (Physically Disabled, PC) then they buy the feet ones, hey, what if he has a problem getting a hard on?! (Sexually Challenged), you know like in needs of viagra, then what? Will they buy the Dildo looking candle for him? We got some of those in F Street Bookstore in Cali, the wax kind, the rubber kind, even the chocolate kind!

So, these believers go kneel crawling for a mile all the way to the shrine and kneel in front of the priest or Bishop to bless them and cure their disease, touch their foreheads and give them a piece of dry bread which looks like Alka-Seltzer, and maybe some Holy Water at the door! When I saw this monstrosity of a business of selling salvation, it just occurred to me that how the public in the world is so naive to be influenced in believing anything, absolutely anything! Blondie went like, "just because you are a God Damn Atheist, it doesn't mean that people should stop believing and do according to their beliefs! That smartass Blondie! So I told her, just because we are in Portugal, it does not make me to shut my mouth and not to express my freedom of speech on the idiocy of the public now would I?!

Now let me tell you the true story and the historical truth about the town of Fatimah, Portugal. When Arab Moors including Arabs and Berbers from Morocco, invaded the Iberian Peninsula and took over Spain, Portugal, all the way to the middle of France and they more or less stayed about 800 years over there, changed Spanish language from the Latinish form to present form with about 1/3 of Spanish words having Arabic roots, they also conquered many towns, built many castles and palaces. One of these towns, which were built by them, and all kinds of monuments was built in it by them was this town. When the Arab Commander built a strong hold at that point, he called it Fatimah, after the name of Mohammed's daughter Fatimah. This is beside the controversy of the new information, which presented that Mohammed was not even able to make children and Fatimah was not even his daughter, yet adopted (Khadija's niece). Anyhow, The Arab Commander named the town Fatimah and it staid like that, even when Moors had left (after 800 years) and Catholics took their land back. And that is all to it, but the wild imagination and the great story telling, Saint creating minds of the Church, has created the rest of this delusional epic! The same church, which stole all the episodes of Persian Mitraism and created wild stories about a Jewish bastard child of an unwed virgin mother in Bethlehem who was a preacher, and made him the son of God (Jesus). The same church which stole every single epic from the Persian Mitraism Religion and adapted it to the life and times of "Isay" so they could create Jesus Christ our Lord! The level of crap was getting so high at the town of Fatimah, that I had to leave the shrine of pilgrimage, especially when I would see these cattle-like people kneel crawl one after another for a mile, some with knee-pads and some without on the path of marble to the Bishop, so Fatimah could bless and cure them or their loved ones. Religion is the opiate of the masses (Karl Marx). Religion works as the morphine, heroine or opium, how true that is, how true......

Further south, near Lisbon, there was a tourist resorts called the town of CasCash pronounced like Kaskash, which is pretty much close to KosKash (pimp in Persian). If we really nicely put it then Koskash means pimp in Persian, but amazingly this town's name was a Persian cuss word! Was it built by a Persian commander in Moorish Armies of Islam when they invaded the Iberian Peninsula?! I was still cracking up over town of Cascash, specially when Nick understood all Persian cuss words and he started cracking up when I later on saw him at the hotel and told him that: "Haji, you really missed the CasCash, you KosKash you!" This town was not built by a Persian but amazingly when I was telling the Brunetty and Blondie (both with their voluptuous Bazookas hanging/walking half a foot in front of them) about it, suddenly I started bitching about how the food from all these countries of west Mediterranean sucks and it is for sure way down in the world cuisine, and I wish there was a decent Persian Restaurant here. Guess what, what are the possibility of finding a Persian Restaurant in a little town of CasCash? I was walking with Blondie in the Fancy shopping Bazaar Market and there it was on the sidewalk, "Persepolis Persian Cuisine"! We couldn't believe it! Not even in Lisbon, in town of CasCash. I have found a Persian Restaurant in KosKash!!!!!

I mean what were the odds of finding a Persian Restaurant in Portuguese resorts and town of CasCash?

So eating so much Shiite Spanish/Portuguese/Moorish crap, we thought that we found heaven! The owner was a lady, and all the employees were Persian, they had just opened up the place in the very expensive area of a very expensive resorts town of CasCash, hoping that the English/American tourists who are familiar with Persian food, make the business bloom! This place was also the very first place that I had found out about Leila's death in London. The waiter informed us about it and Blondie went to the street corner newsstand to buy Spanish News Magazines, which he showed us about it. Pahlavis are still big in Europe and when something like this happens, magazines, especially the tabloids write a 15 page article and interviews about it with a great selection of new photos on the family. this is unlike America that CNN just makes a 30 sec comments on it! Pictures of Leila and Queen were all over the stands, she bought a couple of Spanish Magazines for me to read them to her. In a mean while the waiter, busboy, the chef, cook, and the owner were all over me, glad to find a Persian in CasCash, or even in the country of Portugal! I asked them what's the population of Persians in CasCash (KosKash)? They said, well knowing that this is one of the finest beaches in Portuguese Riviera, maybe 70. I asked them, how about the whole country of Portugal? The waiter said, a few hundred! I told him, a few hundred is a population of Persians in a block of any Persian area in San Diego, like Del Mar, La Jolla, Rancho Penasquitas or Poway!

He told me that we are glad to see a Persian from outside world, we are glad to ask thousand of questions from him, especially someone from Southern Cali (The Little Iran). I told him, if I would stop and talk or just say "hello my countrymen" to any Persian that walks on the boardwalk or shores of San Diego County, I will be stopping every 30 second to say hi to somebody! the owner was so friendly, she goes where are you from? I said "Shiraz Diego" (San Diego). She said, oh my God, my chef is from Shiraz, but not Shiraz Diego! I just couldn't help it, so I said: You know the name of your town (CasCash) is a kind of shaky, how does it feel to be Persian and from town of KosKash?! They just broke out laughing hysterically! so I continued: So does this mean that you guys are KosKashis from KosKash?! Are you CasCash citizens?! They just couldn't stop laughing. I went on.......I mean what are the odds of me finding a Persian restaurant in CasCash?! I am eating chelo kabob in CasCash!!!! So we had lots of laughs, cries, reminiscing, found out about Leila's death, we even heard waiter's conspiracy theory on her death, owners political input on her death, ............ we gained everything from Persepolis Restaurant, except a decent Persian food which we came for!!!!!

Looks like Food just sucks in that part of the world, even Persian Food! When I was leaving, I saw in his eyes that he really wanted to come with us to America, to Persian community of South Cali, he was so out of place over there, it was like he was loosing a friend! So I thanked him for letting us know about where to get the magazines, thanks for everything, and I will see you in San Diego, maybe next year! He laughed, his eyes glittered and he jumped and kissed me on both cheeks like a long lost friend, he hugged me and said his farewells. This poor waiter was one of the many lost Persian souls refugees around the world, trying to get the residency of the home country. He was one of those children of the revolution who has been jailed or exiled by the revolutionary Mullahs. He was one of those who helped making this revolution, and later he had to leave Iran because of this so-called revolution. It took him 10 years to escape Iran from Pakistani border to India and later to Cyprus, Greece and finally made it to Portugal (each of these countries have a limited quota on taking refugees). Now he was looking and hoping that he would end up in USA and finally builds a semi decent and a free life. What I liked about him was his sincerity, he said "we made this revolution, and later on we preferred to eat Shiite than have had made this revolution!" How true it was, most of the people who helped making this 1979 revolution, later on regretted like hell that they have participated in destroying Iran and Iranians' Lives, specifically their own lives! The happy waiter with sad eyes full of hope in Portugal was waving at me and screaming Khodahafez (good-bye) my friend, bon voyage, while Blondie was dragging and pulling my hand out of the little Persian joint that I manage to find, even in the oddest places around the world! Only you would manage to find a Persian joint in Portugal, only you Dr. X! The happy waiter with sad eyes, another victim of Islamic Republic of Iran, another victim of spiders who suck human blood and wear Turbans.......

Later on Brunetty, Umberto my South American pal, and the New York people of our group asked us, have you guys seen that Persian Restaurant in CasCash? We said, we ate there guys! They said no way, we wanted to go there. We said, that's a good thing you didn't go or you would have been getting the wrong idea about the Persian food! Your best bet is to go to a fine Persian Restaurant in New York! Overall Southern Portuguese shores are like fine Riviera for British wealthy to camp out or buy a villa, but for us who come from "The Finest Tourist Attraction Resort of the world" (San Diego), CasCash was a little village. We fortunately have the pleasure of living in the Real McCoy.

There were a few people from New Zealand in our crew. Are you guys familiar with "Haka", the native New Zealanders' (Maori) tradition of greeting, welcome and challenge?! Natives of New Zealand (mix of Indian and local Polynesian) people, the Maori people paint their faces and do a traditional warrior movements which is like a dance. They do this before war or challenge, and also as a welcome wagon. Some of you have seen this tradition probably in National Geographic or other shows, I even saw a movie about it, a real movie with actors, not a documentary. I always wanted to get more info on it, and the New Zealander crew gave me the info. It looked like all the pieces came together for me to gain some knowledge during this trip! But relaxation? I don't know! This vacation was like a boot camp, one of those vacations that you got to cover one city a day, sight seeing everything in town, waking up 6am and go around town until 9pm when you drop dead in your hotel room! But at least the business, educational and political parts of it was progressive. I had to meet and talk to a few people for the business and for the political reasons, and I did. Other wise this vacation was no lying at the shores of San Diego, it was more like a Boot Camp for Marines! On the run at all times!

Spain has progressed a lot since Franco died. Spain had opened up to the world economy and is going through a boom. Bush was there when I was there to sign many new pacts and the anarchists welcomed him well! Portugal went through an economic boom too. Spain amazingly was very clean, organized and pretty, south was more classic but North was more industrial. One interesting view was the view of the corporate employees camping in the middle of a grass divider in the middle of a main street living in cardboard boxes and tattered tents, showing their future to the world to see! They were demonstrating against the corporation, which they worked for and now went bankrupt without paying them a dime of pension! Typical European method of creative demonstration!

Southern Spain is way different from North, south is more Eastern, more Arabic influenced, more colorful, flamingo dancers are original, flamingo music is with soul, life has a different pizzazz. North especially Madrid is more like another busy European Capital, but South let's say Seville is just another world. What's interesting about the Iberia like many other places like France or Italy, is that people take life so easy, they still live like old times, every day they take an afternoon nap, "Siesta" time from lunch to late afternoon continues. They eat, sleep, party and relax everyday of their lives and in between work. They actually close shops and businesses during Siesta time and open up again in the afternoon. Everywhere is closed during Siesta hours, just like old Iran (even many places in Iran today!). These people take life so relaxing and simple compare to upbeat life in the fast lane, American Style of ours. Picture us trying to Siesta or Fiesta in a middle of the day in California! We work hard like dogs all day long, sometimes with no time to even eat lunch! In my case, it is the fifth year that I have been eating one meal a day, I skip breakfast and lunch, I only eat dinner (not right, I don't recommend it!) We don't have time to Siesta, Fast paste corporate life in the fast lane American Style is our motto! What do you know maybe, these people, the Spaniards, French, others know how to live! The funny thing is that Japanese think that we (Americans) are too lazy! They think, they are the hardest workers! But the fact is that even with all their discipline, they are lagging and tagging behind the great US of A on production lines! Ye baby ye...... Continued next page

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