Watching with the enemy
THE TWO COUNTRIES the United States hates most this month are Iran and Mexico. Iran, for its nukes; Mexico for its Mexicans. This is not a particularly good time to be waving south-of-the-border flags or screaming classic Persian fight songs. It's like parking a bookmobile in front of Pol Pot's house.
So when Mexico played Iran in the first round of the World Cup on Sunday morning, I drove down to watch it at Caspian, an Iranian restaurant in Irvine, to see how rowdy the two sides would be brave enough to get. I chose Irvine not only because it has a huge Iranian population but because it happens to be in California, which is chock full of Mexicans.
I arrived at Caspian at 8:15, 45 minutes before game time, and the parking lot was already full. After I shouldered my way to the counter, I bought a tea and a bowl of halim, an Iranian porridge made of wheat, lentils and meat.
At the condiments table, I noticed that everyone was pouring astronomical amounts of sugar and cinnamon on their halim. The first clue that a food will not be delicious is when people cover it with sugar and cinnamon.
As I entered a room packed with 648 people, a huge chant went up. Having occasionally seen the news over the last 30 years, I was initially nervous about being in the middle of a huge crowd of chanting Iranians.
But the guy sitting to my right, Raytheon software engineer Navead Hashemi, noticed my disquiet and gently translated the song for me: "What is Iran going to do to the team? THEY'RE GOING TO TEAR THEM UP!"
I felt much better.
Looking to get along, I asked Hashemi if I should refer to my new friends as Iranians or Persians.
"Persian sounds better to Americans because of terrorism," he said. "Me, I always tell people I'm Iranian."
I stared nervously at my halim. Then he clarified: "I do it to get that bad impression out of them." For a software engineer, Hashemi was awfully cocky about his ability to charm white people.
Though I don't know a lot about soccer, it seemed to me that the Iranian players were messing up the little things, such as getting the ball and kicking it toward the other goalkeeper.
When Mexico scored the first goal, I was shocked to hear a wave of cheers go up in one corner. Then I remembered that I was in a restaurant, and everyone who worked there must be Mexican.
