Persian Mirrors: The Elusive Face of Iran Read Online Free Page A

of matching diamonds and emeralds made decades before by their father. In a country where university professors earn only a few thousand dollars a year, the necklace is priced at half a million dollars.
    I met many of the Laleh’s receptionists and waiters during the revolution. We lived through those heady and scary days when rival factions shot up the hotel looking for would-be enemies. For the most part, the staff stayed on, thankful to have jobs in a country whose revolution did not deliver prosperity. The men behind the reception desk are no longer allowed to wear ties, which are considered a symbol of the corrupt West. Some of them wear silk ascots instead, a modest rebellion.
    In the early days of the revolution, it was still possible to get a drink in the hotel and the minibars were fully stocked as the hotel management tried to keep the Islamic Republic at bay. But armed Islamic zealots finally arrived at the hotel one evening and politely demanded access to the storage area in the basement. They had orders, they said, to destroy all the liquor in the wine cellar. In a fit of Islamic frenzy, they poured bottles of wine and champagne into the outdoor swimming pool. They opened thousands of cans of imported beer and pitched them into a service driveway. The manager of the hotel estimated the value of the lost stock at $325,000. That ended the battle.
    Soon afterward, the Air France stewardesses were banned from sun-bathing in the chaises longues near the five-sided pool. The pool was emptied of its water and closed. Later, masons came and installed a mosaic of tiles on the lobby wall. It welcomed all visitors with the words, “Down with U.S.A.” The doormat was imprinted with a large American flag that visitors stepped on going in and out of the hotel.
    Over the years, the Laleh became downright seedy. The carpets wore out, the bedspreads grew faded and torn. In the rooms, the air-conditioning system made so much noise that I opted for open windows and the sound of Tehran traffic. But that invited hungry, plump mosquitoes. The cockroaches became so comfortable that they didn’t bother to flee when the bathroom light was switched on.
    A few years ago, the Ministry of Islamic Guidance and Culture poured enormous sums into renovations. The occasion was the 1997 summit of the fifty-five-country Organization of the Islamic Conference, which attracted Muslim heads of state from all over the world. Iran was the host and wanted to show off. So the gray facade of the Laleh was painted white. The lobby was redecorated with gray and black marble, mirror-mosaics, polished brass, and crystal chandeliers. Gulf gauche, I call it. New bedspreads, drapes, carpets, lamps, and air-conditioners were bought. The American flag doormat was replaced with ornate white stones decorated with stars. The tiles that spelled “Down with U.S.A.” were removed and two red carpets were rolled out the front entrance. Framed posters were hung, not of mosques and mullahs (the generic term for members of the clergy) but of Iran’s pre-Islamic sites. Pre-revolutionary Muzak tapes were taken out of storage—even an orchestral medley that included “Strangers in the Night” and “On the Street Where You Live.” Ataollah Mohajerani, the Minister of Islamic Guidance and Culture, said at one point that three hotels could have been built for the cost of renovating this one.
    Room service at the Laleh is a refuge from the restrictions of the Islamic Republic. I hate eating while wearing a head scarf; the ends of the scarf usually wind up in my plate. But I can eat all the caviar I want bare-headed in the privacy of my room—even for breakfast over scrambled eggs. And in Iran it’s economical. Depending on the source, it can cost as little as $ 10 for one hundred grams of an excellent Sevruga. I keep it in my minibar.
    When I do eat out, I can always get a table at the French Rotisserie, the culinary gem of the Laleh. With its caviar and blinis, its