Masquerade

In 1970, Sarah Hobson traveled through Iran disguised as a young man. Her goals were to explore the country and to study Persian designs and crafts, and she felt that she could travel more safely and experience more aspects of Persian life if she did not appear as a woman. Riding on a motorcycle called Mephistopheles, she visited bustling cities, desert wastelands, and sacred shrines. She talked with nomads, craftsmen and women, Islamic scholars and many, many others. Masquerade gives the reader a fascinating glimpse into a very different culture, seen from a very unique perspective.
—Cathryn Pisarski, Editor of Cune Magazine

Here is an excerpt from the sixth chapter, Tribal Interlude.
   I started Mephistopheles and set off back to Firuzabad. The sun was dropping steadily in front of me, its brightness dazzling my eyes so that I could hardly see. On the right, the edge of the plain soared into a cliff whose face was gouged with crevices, and on the left, a few fires were flickering in front of black tents as preparations began for the evening meal.
   Ahead of me was a cloud of dust and the noise of sheep-bells. A large flock was coming towards me, taking up the whole road, so I stopped the bike and waited. Small boys drove the sheep on with sticks, yelling and whistling, and when they saw me coated with dust, they called:
   "Are you all right?"
   "Fine," I called back.
   "What are you doing here anyway?"
   "Just looking. It's good country."
   They clustered round me. "Do you think so? It's dry though. Where do you come from? Have you got any sheep?"
   I laughed. "I'm from England. It's all green there."
   "Green? All the year? Oh please, come with us. You must tell us about it."

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