Namak Magazine - Dual Culture Ambassador

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A Dual-Culture Ambassador: Sixteen months of self-discovery in South America
Sina Nikkhou
Namak Magazine, Fall/Winter 2005 - pg. 28

Why did the streets of Quito remind me of Tehran? I knew no reason why the capital of Ecuador and the capital of Iran would have anything in common. What was even more strange was that I never had this feeling throughout my almost 18 years in the United States. Maybe it was the movement in the streets, or perhaps the facade of the buildings, or the inherent sootiness of a main city. But this feeling recurred in other South American cities, like a quasi de ja vu, whisking me back to a familiar place in my mind, while in reality I was a lone traveler in a continent where nobody knew me.

Unlike my youth, I was no longer an Iranian speaking Persian in my own country. Unlike my life up to then, I was no longer an attorney practicing law in the Bay Area. I was an Iranian American speaking Spanish (and later Portuguese) traveling in a strange land with a backpack and a guidebook.

It was a decision I made a long time ago: to live, and get the most out of life, you must abandon all things familiar and let the road carry you forth. Well, in my mind it was less philosophical, but that’s the gist.

Now, try explaining to your Persian mother that you are walking away from your career and your well-paying job to travel with nothing more than a few pieces of clothes and knick-knacks stuffed into a backpack: “When will you come back?” / “When I’m ready.” / “When is that?” / “I don’t know, but I will come back.”

I figured that having successfully adjusted to America since the age of 13, I had developed a unique skill which I could apply to other cultures. But I was faced with a decision of who I would be during my travels: An American or an Iranian? Steve or Sina? After some deep thinking (and several pisco sours) I decided the South American continent would forever know me as Sina. After all, it was the “real me” that was embarking on this voyage. I didn’t feel like I was turning my back on my adopted country; I just figured that given the lack of globetrotters from an Iranian background, I would do my part in representing the land of my birth.

And I was right. In my travels through a dozen countries, I met only three Iranians—well, I mean Iranian Americans. The locals and other travelers were, for the most part, amazed when I would write their name in Persian. I truly felt I was sharing my upbringing, my beliefs, my culture, my language, and my person with South Americans, and I like to think I left a positive impression.

In return, I learned two languages and many musical instruments (charango, flamenco guitar, bandeiro). I also saw some of the most awe inspiring sites on Earth. Watching the sunset in Machu Pichu, I could not help but think that the Incas were no different in the power and ingenuity departments than the Achaemenid and Sasanian dynasties of ancient Persia, even though they were worlds away geographically.

I also felt a connection with the people I met. I bonded quickly with my host family in Quito, where I had enrolled in an intensive Spanish program. At least once during my stay I even began speaking Persian with Maria, the mother. Perhaps it was because the linguistic compartments of my brain were functioning in overdrive, or
perhaps the Villegas were no different than the Abbaspours, or any other Iranian family. Everyone wanted to learn more about Iran and I learned that in the end, despite our linguistic, cultural, religious, and other differences, we are really very similar.

I returned feeling so quenched and empowered that I cannot aptly put it into words. I highly recommend my experience to all that have the desire. Don’t think of it as travel, but as a life chapter. You are the author of your own book and have nobody to blame if it is boring or unsatisfying. As for me, I have already started writing my next chapter...