All flights to Esfahan (or Isfahan) were fully booked which meant taking a bus down from Ramsar to this major cultural capital. It was a long drive and during one of the restroom stops in a parking lot in the middle of the desert I got approached by a small man who handed me a note. He had been on the same bus as I had but I hadn’t really noticed him at all, perhaps due to his small stature. This is what the note read:
Hello, my name is Majid.
I study agriculture.
What is your name and where are you from?
What is your profession?
I read the words once more and looked back at the small man. I started answering his questions but he quickly shook his head and simply pointed at the note again while handing me a pen. He wanted me to write down the answers and I wondered if he might be deaf. I wrote my answers down and handed the note back to him. He smiled, the bus driver honked his horn to tell us it was time to go again and Majid instantly turned around. So much for the deaf theory.
Once back on the bus it turned out the small Majid had a small bag with a big dictionary inside. He carefully deciphered my reply and soon handed me another note, causing another passenger to ask what was up with all the love letters passing back and forth.
Majid wrote that he liked my home country because it was best in agriculture. I guess you learn something new every day. As he requests, I give him my e-mail address so we can stay in touch, which he does. He sent me multiple e-mails asking me if everything was ok, if I needed a guide and he wrote that if I ran into any trouble I should contact him. Majid, like many Iranians, turned out to have a big heart for such a small man.