After a few layers of security, Captain and I walked into Dr. Nazarimer’s office situated adjacent to the main triangular parliament building. There were about 9 others in his office waiting to see him. At 9:57am, the man with a plan walked in and immediately cleared everyone out of his tidy office. We were asked to sit down at his desk, a fine mahogany counter, and a few fasitidiously arranged folders. His office was finely organized and the fact that he was actually earliar than the time he said made me wonder if he was actually not Iranian. After embraces, he dove in:

“I read all your documents and I’m going to write a letter to the parliament deputy/liason at the Ministry of Foreign Affairs (Mr. Shahidi) to clear any obstacles and have the visa processed….”. I nearly peed my pants in excitement, but refrained temporarily.

 

After elaborate praise for the project, he took out a fancy notepad that appeared to be a doctor’s prescription, but with a fancy letterhead. I was later informed that these notepads are key motors for getting the ball rolling and they carry lots of weight in any government setting. He began composing in farsi:

“Our brother Bobak Bakhtiari has been attempting to run from the Caspian Sea to the Persian Gulf with his American friend….please clear any obstacles for him and the filmmakerwith respect to a visa….. as this project will be beneficial for the Islamic Republic. A portion of the run has been completed already….”

There were other notes jotted down and I was asked to staple an I ran Pitch folder to his prescription for running and head to the Ministry Of Foreign Affairs. He also asked me to give him a copy of the letter I had written to the President of the P.E.O, but to address the letter to Mr. Mottaki, the Foreign Minister. “I’m going to see Mottaki tomorrow and I’ll give him a copy of the letter and have him get involved too since there seem to have been a series of challenges…. I’ll do everything I can.” He smiled and his compassionate eyes loomed over me like a friendly koala bear offering me a juicy mango in slow motion.

After sniffing the prescription for running several times and smiling, I took a cab ride to the Ministry of Forein Affairs. The cabbie, (who looked like Mr. Toothpick, the famous Italian actor in the 90’s I believe), stopped the car:

“What building do you want to go to? There’s over 13 of them.”

“What!? I thought there’s only 1!”

“No.”

He looked over at my prescription, “Oh, that’s probably building 3”
In a few moments, I looked out and felt like I was at a small liberal arts college in New England.

Large brick buildings, expansive pathways, courtyards, clean open space. I was mistaken. The Ministry of Foreign Affairs was actually almost as large as Disneyland.
I walked into Building 3 and found Shahidi’s office, the Parliament liason the prescription for running was addressed to. “Sorry, I’m not Shahidi, though I am sitting at his desk…how can I help you?”. I proudly presented the prescription to him.