About a year ago I was presented with a travel itinerary that poses a few legit but polarized concerns of a developed-world citizen, the dilemma was to whether i should seize the opportunity to spend spring break in a country whose image is arguably way more bastardized by the media than of Berlusconi’s. The problem/difference is Berlusconi has his charlie’s angel pr team, Iran does not.

A few things sealed the deal on my decision to take the ‘risk’ for Iran

a) I was going with a man

b) 60% of the University student population in Iran are women

c) you can drink tap water in Iran, urban legend has it you can’t really do that here without the ‘filter kettle’. ‘here’ refers to a few countries i have lived in.

and most importantly,

d) Iran is the only middle eastern country that has a national football team for WOMEN. They went into semi-finals with the Koreans not too long ago and I remembered vividly as an aspiring footballer at the age of eleven watching women dressed in green hijab buffling each other towards the goal post, on tv.

A few days on, I was on the train to what turned out to be the most insightful experience I was ever bestowed upon.

The footage of Iranians dancing and singing, I still have embedded in my sd card. The food they shared, I salivate when I think about. The families I have met, and that of extended ones invited over as though I am that long lost sister, cousin, and daughter that miraculously appeared in their living room.

As I walked down Valiasr St, the ladies lift up their arms conveying signature salam in greetings, then their eyes shy away in respect. But I felt invisible still in the presence of my male travel partner, so much so, I took a day off from him to see the city by myself. One might perceived for a middle-eastern setting, my femininity would be a threat, on the contrary I felt the true civility of this country and its progress, albeit in a slightly different way of life.

Perhaps it is all on the surface, a gorgeous dormant volcano, and now it has indeed erupted, once again in the limelight for reasons it would rather not. But let it be known that it is a beauty, with its people every bit on par with manhood and its kindness, and unrivaled hospitality

To Farzad, the accidental tour guide we met on the street who then fed us many oranges and make pit stops for tea

To Rahmin, who is picking up English and all too a gentleman while at it

To Azizeh & Asgari, the professor and his wife, who were born a generation before the regime, he pointed us to the satellite dishes of Tehran while she laid the table with a Persian feast

To Sepideh who grew accustomed to the headscarf while she dons the ever glistening chanel shades, pity i didn’t get to stay longer, the underground parties i heard are epic

To the many more who refused my bill or tip or made almost a goddess-like stature out of my presence,

I write this as part of the pr team, to let it be known that I will be there again, that it is not as always as what it is at present, and that the eruption is of nature’s call.