It’s my last day on the west coast, and a shot of my Iranian evil eye ring on an old Mexican blanket sums up how I feel about coming back to Tehrangeles. Full of comfort and nostalgia for the days when I was younger and more naive. Now my cousin, who is like an older brother to me has an adorable 3-month old baby boy. The man who gave me noogies is now a father. Things change, but also things stay the same.
Los Angeles is full of Iranians that are longing to recreate what they left behind in Iran. Food is the easiest way to channel this longing for the past. Grocery stores here sell Akbar Mashti ice cream and even bake fresh noon sangak and barbari, Iranian breads. I went to a community in Orange County, where at sunset men sat around smoking hookah outside. Traditions like this travel well. The reality is it’s not the same as someone’s homeland.