Land of splendour
A month before I went to Iran, I did something I would do in the lead-up to any trip of a lifetime: I googled it. It was not a good day to google Iran. It is quite often not a good day to google Iran. After two minutes of grim reading, I clicked on another link, for the Lonely Planet guide to Iran, the intro to which read: “Welcome to the friendliest place on earth.” On one hand, war, death and oppression. On the other? Well, a Middle East Disneyland, apparently.
Before I even make it to Iran, it becomes apparent that the latter Google result is going to be correct. In the airport at Dubai, on my way to the gate to fly to Tehran, I start chatting with an Iranian woman who has spent the past 30 years living in LA. She’s flying back to Tehran to visit her sister and, about three minutes into our conversation, she sighs and says, “Oh I wish I still had a house in Tehran, so I could have you round for dinner.” Then, on the plane, I sit next to an Iranian mother and daughter, flying from Texas to do their annual pilgrimage to the religious sites in Iran and Iraq. They are super friendly and give me headscarf tips – the mandatory headscarf rule
