Dad, Traveling, Iran

"...And you won't hear from your dad for a while. He's in Iran." Mom said casually over the phone, as I was hurriedly finishing up the conversation to get back to my dinner. Then it struck me: Iran? What Iran? The country that ignores the world and goes ahead with nukes? The country of Ayatollah Khomeini? The land of Persians? I didn't even know that visiting Iran was such an easy deal until I heard that my own dad is there.

Traveling is my dad's hobby, along with his violin and books. When people gather with family during the national holidays such as lunar New Year - which is this weekend - my dad packs up his belongings and takes off abroad by himself. Since I came to the U.S. and my mom became frantically busy with her work, traveling has become his routine. And he's picky when he chooses his destination. He never appreciated the U.S. (what's there except for massive land and food?), thought trip to Japan pointless (food's too tart! things so small and detailed!), and EU countries banal (his ears are more valuable than his eyes - he undervalues visual art). Instead, he enjoyed Tibet and India, China and Turkey.

What he sees and hears during trips remains mysterious to me. My dad never goes on to talk extensively on his occasional getaways to exotic locations. I only get glimpses of them from the pictures and teas and scarves that he brings back for me. And he seldom calls when he is out there, the habit that scared my mom and I when he went to Pakistan last fall. My secretist dad did not leave any contact info. We vaguely assumed that he was somewhere in Pakistan, hopefully safe. Perhaps, it was good to hear that he went to the Afghanistan border of Pakistan after the fact. I’m experiencing deja-vu this week. I am clueless on his whereabouts, except for that he is in Iran, not the safest place in the world. All I can do is to pray for his safety and wait for his call, which is unlikely.