Talking to Iran

I was the only Westerner on the flight to Tehran. I helped a middle-aged Muslim woman next to me plug in her earphones so she could watch David Guetta’s, Dirty Sexy Money.

A seven-year-old girl sat across the aisle from me. Her eyes widened when the air hostess handed her a colouring book with crayons. She turned to her parents, confused that she had received gifts and they had not.

After disembarking, the young girl bounded ahead through the airport tunnel alone. Her freedom and explosive enthusiasm comforted me. Perhaps I was more nervous about safety in Iran than my stubbornness cared to admit; young girls do not bound ahead in dangerous places.

About Talking to Iran

I travelled 11,000 km through Iran sleeping mostly on couches, floors, and occasionally, a spare bed.

Welcome.

talkingtoiran@gmail.com