The Swimming Pool

"Do you wear a chador when you swim?" a friend of mine asked me. "Well, there are plenty of 'women only' swimming areas...although there is such a thing! It's called a "Burkini!"

I’ve realized that minor details of life here, the logistics of say swimming in the Islamic Republic, are of interest. Beyond that, those details are often filled with some colorful and funny story.

So here's how it went: The pool is near my house, a 15 minute walk down Vali Asr Street. A relatively fancy area, the facility is average but expensive for Iran standards: $7 per entry or $50 for 10 entries. (I managed a $1 discount for my one time entry)

When I entered the "locker room" which was really a hallway, I wasn't sure if I should strip down right there. I'd heard stories like this: a Western raised Iranian girl naively strips bare and the women bombard her with shrill rebukes, cursing their eyes for having seen such an indecency. I found a "dressing area" up some stairs, next to where some buxom ladies in tight lycra were practicing what looked like Pilates, slipped on the new one-piece and stretchy swim cap I got in the bazaar, and sashayed discreetly down to the pool.

The pool was an average to small sized rectangle, and unusually steamy. In the front shallow end 5 or 6 madams gently bobbed around. My cousin had been to the same pool a few months earlier and got in a fight with some ladies of a similar description, after bumping into one of them. "AYYYYY" she had screamed. "MY LEGGGG, AKHHH"....an so on.

It appeared safe enough though, and I was already there, so I went for it.

All eyes unwaverinly upon me, I stepped into what turned out to be an oversized jacuzzi. I managed to swim around the massive of sweating ladies and to the deep-end, ready to begin my laps. The fun had just begun. The ladies were walking, or bouncing, back and forth, the width of the pool which was about 4 meters. I figured I could manage to dodge them each time, but that proved impossible as their speed was never consistent and sometimes they would even stop somewhere in the center. So I’d swim to a point and turn around just before touching them. But then strange things kept happening. Some of the women started swimming the length of the pool also, they’d take a couple laps, always right where I was swimming, stop in random places, continue the bobbing in the shallow end. Other women continued some sorting of bobbing in the deep end, I'm not sure how. I was constantly changing my route. At one point I could have sworn a concerted effort against my lap swimming (I guess it's not so common here) . It felt like a video game, and I was that ball which bounces back and forth from the walls trying to avoid little rockets. The bobbing always went along with gossiping. From the bits I could gather, it was mostly about who has lost or gained weight recently.

I was getting rather warm. Imagine swimming laps in a big jacuzzi with various obstacles strategically moving about. And not just any obstacles, but these old fat Iranian women - not something you really want to mess with. I had to take a couple breathers. While cooling off the top half of my body, I would watch the theatre in front of me for a minute--Synchronized Swimming Iranian Style--then join the field once again. It was almost more dangerous than crossing Vali Asr.

When I think of it the Swan Lake song still pops in my head. During one of my little breaks, a giant rippled ass floated inches away from me, followed by feet splashing violently near my face. The same woman was bouncing earlier. She wore goggles and a nose plug and jumped more fervently than the others.

I managed to swim for an hour, physically bumping someone only once. She was nice, and didn’t attack, so I’d say it was a pretty successful initiation--that’s exactly what it felt like.

Later in the sauna, I sat facing 3 of the fat bobbing ladies from the pool. They were huddled around something, and on closer inspection I saw that it was a picnic! They were peeling tomatoes, oranges, cucumber, sweet lemons and shalqam (a type of Iranian turnip), along with bread and cheese. All this in the heat of the sauna.

In between gossiping, they would offer me chunks of bitter tasting fruits, which had some health benefit or another...."This one helps you digest," being the remedy of choice for most.

I remember bits of their conversation:

-“Is there any salt there?”
-“No, I forgot it.”
-“Ok that’s better anyway. We should stay away from all things white.”
-“Yes, better that we don’t have any salt”
.....
-“Does your husband still drink a lot?”
-“Not so much, every once in a while some whiskey…”
-“You know, alcohol is pure calories!”
-“Yes whisky is bad for cholesterol.”
-“Yea, like I said it’s pure calories!"
.....

They briefly turned their fickle attentions to me:

-“Ohh, she has such a nice body doesn't she...Yes, you have such a nice body”
-“Well, she hasn’t had kids yet!”
-“Yes, we had kids, and when you have kids you just have to eat so much. You have to eat so much that you want to get sick. It’s horrible!"
-“Yes and then you have to breast feed, and you don’t want to the milk to go dry so you are forced to eat a lot again. Or else you’ll have to answer to your husband.”
-“It’s such a good thing you don’t have a husband yet.”
-“But I do have one.” I said.
-“Oh thank god!”
-“Yes thank god!”

Then they quickly went back into their world, gossiping and talking again mostly about weight gain/loss:

“Remember that trip, that’s when I gained all the weight. Yes, because the food was so good....”

I couldn’t bear the heat much longer, and I was trying really hard to finish the shalqam…so I left. “Goodbye” I said "Nice meeting you."

Ghorboon-et beram!! (“I’ll sacrifice for you”—typical Iranian greeting), they took turns saying.

When I told my friend the story, she said I should burn some Esfand (an herb Iranians burn to rid the evil eye) immediately. So I did. I like to do it from time to time anyway.

The gym was blasting some up-beat techno music, but no one seemed too enthused. One girl walked leisurely on the treadmill and another stood next to her chatting. The center of action at this place was definitely the pool. After my shower, I took another peek inside and found the ladies bouncing inside the steam again. They were there when I arrived, and it looked like they were just getting comfortable when I left an hour and a half later. Perhaps they think they will sweat off those pounds…only to go eat them again in the sauna.

<----Early 20th Century European Swim Suit

"Burkini" ----->





And here is a similar story I read, with an different perspective, from over in England...