From Largs to Tehran, the longest way possible. In London, where I went wedding food tasting then Southall for wedding clothes alterations. You can guess which one I preferred. Then a quick pit stop in Belgium, overnight chaos in the middle of nowhere Charleroi, hopping on and off public transport, nearly missing my flight, and briefly convinced I’d entered a Twilight Zone loop. Now I’m in Istanbul airport, which is absolute bonkers tonight. People fighting over charging points and seats like it’s Hunger Games, Airport Edition. My midnight flight to Iran is coming up soon. WiFi in Iran may be patchy, so see you when I see you… assuming I survive the airport chaos first. Finally made it to Iran, and what an intro already. Started with a near miss reunion in Istanbul airport, where I literally bumped into my friend trying to board my flight even though hers was 20 minutes later. To be fair, they had three flights to Tehran on the same airline within 90 minutes, so anyone could’ve ended up anywhere. With my delay we landed at 5am and got whisked off by our mandatory guide, Niloofar, the joys of being British. We changed 20 euros at the airport and suddenly turned into a millionaires. My wallet wouldn't even fold shut. First mission was breakfast. Five million rials about $5 for an all you can eat buffet, and worth every chaotic calorie after a long night. Very glad to finally be here. Misadventures are officially underway. We swung by the former US Embassy, which is now a museum and absolutely not shy about its anti US feelings. This is the site of the 1979 embassy takeover, when Iranian students stormed the building and held American diplomats hostage for 444 days. If you’ve seen the film Argo, that’s the story this place is wrapped up in minus Ben Affleck and Hollywood lighting. Inside, the museum leans all the way into its version of events. Old equipment, documents, reconstructed rooms and captions that don’t exactly mince words. Whatever your politics, it’s a fascinating little time capsule. Heavy history and even heavier messaging. Entry cost is one million rials. Still feels like I’m paying in Monopoly money, but the experience was worth every pastel coloured banknote. Inside the former US Embassy in Tehran or as Iranians call it, the Den of Espionage. Subtlety is not the theme here. The outside walls are covered in bold, loud, straight to the point propaganda murals. Think Death to America but make it street art. Even Banksy would raise an eyebrow. Turns out having a mandatory guide in Iran isn’t the killjoy I assumed it would be, ours is actually brilliant. Yes she had to be with us at all times because the government says so. She’s a freelancer who works with all the big UK tour companies, and she clocked immediately that we’re not the private car type tourists. We’re very much the stick us on public transport and hope for the best type. So after visiting the Azadi (Tehran) Tower, she marched us straight onto the metro like locals. Honestly, the metro itself was the market. Every stop someone new hopped on selling something, socks, herbs, jewellery, hats, lipstick, phone chargers, whatever they could carry. We even had buskers. Sukhchandan Kaur bought lipstick mid journey and the lady also put it on her. It was like QVC on wheels. Then we headed north to the local market, as if we hadn’t already shopped our way across 12 station stops. One of the most interesting metro journeys I've been on. After our very entertaining metro ride, we wandered through the local markets in the north of Tehran, all framed by snowy mountains. The market stalls were great, we tried fruit, pastries, nuts, sweets, if it was edible, we ate it. The market was busy, colourful and friendly. Perfect first day material. After a packed morning we crawled back to the hotel for a power nap. By evening we were ready to eat our way through Tehran again, so we headed downtown to hunt for street food. True to form, we tried everything in sight. If it looked edible, we sampled it. For dinner we went for the popular local soup, basically a lentil and vegetable mix. I tried the meat one, but it only had a whiff of meat, so I did what any sensible person does, I bought some kebabs and improved it. Worked a treat. We were surrounded by cats the entire time, very chunky, confident, thriving cats who clearly run the neighbourhood. A cosy, fun and food filled end to Day 1. Golestan Palace kicked off our day, but only after we demolished a ridiculous buffet breakfast. Then we headed into the land of marbles, mosaics and mirrors. Even with the slightly moody weather, the colours were still beautiful. Took a million photos because I'm me. The place is basically where the royals decided to show off for two centuries. It’s one of the oldest complexes in Tehran and the only UNESCO listed one in the city, mostly because it’s absurdly pretty and completely over the top. Next part of Golestan Palace was an absolute trip. The famous mirror rooms look like someone handed a box of disco balls to an architect and said go nuts. Every surface is shiny. Every corner is twinkling. If you move too fast, you might genuinely blind yourself. And then there were the risqué paintings, very much not what the current government vibes with. Apparently they tried to hide or remove them, but UNESCO stepped in and said, No, you can’t paint over history just because it’s a bit saucy. So now the paintings stay, locked into heritage status forever, and the government pretends it’s totally fine with it. Iran’s only UNESCO listed palace and it’s absolutely gorgeous…and a tiny bit naughty. A great combination, really. Next stop was the Grand Bazaar. This place is massive, a proper maze of alleys, courtyards and shops stacked on shops. It’s also the weekend, which apparently means every single person in Tehran decided to go at the exact same time as us. At points it was so busy I thought we might actually get crushed. You don’t walk here, you get carried by the current. One wrong turn and you’re in the copper section, another and suddenly you’re in carpets, blink and somehow you’re surrounded by underwear. No logic. Just bazaar magic but completely overwhelming and brilliant at the same time. After surviving the human tidal wave that is Tehran’s Grand Bazaar, we wandered over to Imām Khomeini Square for lunch. There’s a little street food lane, and we went straight for a proper comfort meal, rice with tomato chicken stew. Simple, delicious, and only $4. Then came our currency exchange experience, which honestly felt like a deleted scene from Narcos. Our guide met the guy at a car park. She had arranged the meet and ordered our money and he came carrying more cash than a small bank. Completely illegal of course, yet somehow extremely routine. Big bundle of notes and she counted it all. My share alone was 110 million rials, which looked so ridiculous. Try keeping a straight face while your guide hands you bricks of money like you’ve just completed a drug deal. But hey I’m officially a multimillionaire now. And still I won't pay for a coffee at the airport. Perfect. Left Tehran and hit the road to Kashan. First stop is Iran’s best service station. Both Niloo and our gloriously sarcastic driver Ibrahim swear by it, so I trusted them. They were right. Clean, shiny, modern, full of cool shops and cheap snacks. I tried the weird ones. Next stop on the road to Kashan was Fin Garden, a Persian garden and a good excuse to wander around pretending to understand ancient engineering. This place dates back to the Safavid era in the 16th century and is all about balance, symmetry and water doing clever things without electricity. The fountains and pools run purely on gravity, fed by a natural spring, which feels smugly impressive even by modern standards. It’s also historically dramatic. This is where Amir Kabir, a reformist prime minister who tried to modernise Iran, was murdered in the bathhouse in 1852. So yes, beautiful gardens, flowing water, shady trees and a light dusting of political assassination. UNESCO approved, obviously. Basically, it’s a peaceful summer retreat with excellent vibes, immaculate geometry and a reminder that history is never just pretty ponds and flowers. Checked into our second hotel in Iran and Kashan is absolutely showing off. The city is famous for its historic merchant houses, many of which have been restored into boutique hotels, and this is one of them. Courtyard, arches, tiles, fountains, all very beautiful and looks like a period drama set. Only minor downside is the enthusiastic mosquito population. Sultan Amir Ahmad Bathhouse is basically what happens when Persians decide even bathing should be elegant. This historic hammam dates back to the Safavid period and was rebuilt in the Qajar era. It’s all domes, tiles and clever engineering. The whole place was designed to stay cool using water circulation, thick walls and airflow long before air conditioning was even a dream. Functional, beautiful, and far classier than any spa I’ve ever been to. Then we had one of those moments that makes travel unforgettable and slightly jaw dropping. A small group of Iranian women were sitting together, chatting quietly, soaking up the beauty of the place. One of them started to sing. She had the most beautiful voice and the acoustics in the bathhouse were perfect. A few seconds in, a strange high pitched whistle suddenly cut through the air. Everyone burst out laughing, including her. She tried again. Same whistle. More laughter. Another woman tried singing, no whistle at first then the whistle came bsck on. So the first woman tried once more, whistle came on. At this point we were all laughing, thinking it was some weird acoustic quirk. Then the ticket guy came in and spoke to her. She went quiet. I asked our guide what was going on, still expecting a technical explanation. Instead she said, very calmly, He’s reminding her that women aren’t allowed to sing in public. And just like that, the laughter drained out of the room. It was one of those moments where you’re reminded exactly where you are. Iran is warm, welcoming, full of art, history and humanity and also a place with rules that can stop a beautiful voice mid note. Travel really does open your eyes, sometimes gently, sometimes like this. Next stop was Agha Bozorg Mosque, one of Kashan’s most impressive buildings. I admired it very respectfully from the outside. To go in properly meant adding even more layers and at that point I decided my cultural appreciation had reached its limit. The architecture is beautiful though, perfectly symmetrical, calm, and quietly grand. Then it was time for lunch in what can only be described as a hidden restaurant. No signs, no fanfare, nothing to suggest food existed there at all. You step off a normal street, walk through an unassuming doorway, and suddenly you’re in a peaceful courtyard with tiled walls, plants, and delicious food being carried to tables. The food was excellent, fresh and comforting, and cost me about $3. I’m still not over how cheap food is here.
Last stop of the day in Kashan was the Tabatabaei House. A 19th century merchant’s palace where every wall, ceiling, and window is basically showing off. Not colourful like a rainbow, but the mirrors and carved wood make the sunlight throw a proper disco party indoors. Windcatchers on the roof keep it cool, the high ceilings scream we’re rich, and the courtyard is basically Instagram heaven. Fancy, sparkly, and somehow practical, classic Persian style.
Road trip day from Kashan to Yazd. First stop was Narin Castle in Meybod, one of the oldest mud brick fortresses in Iran. Some bits date back over a thousand years, possibly even earlier. It’s all layered mud brick, narrow passages and views over the desert. Next up was the icehouse, yes an actual ancient freezer built centuries ago to store ice through the blazing desert summers, using thick mud brick walls, deep pits and clever airflow. No electricity. Just Persians calmly inventing climate control. Lunch was in a caravanserai, one of the old roadside inns where traders on the Silk Road stopped to eat, sleep and swap stories after long desert journeys. Think camels instead of cars and spices instead of snacks. We ate lunch surrounded by history, arches and thick walls designed to keep out heat and bandits. Food was excellent and served on fire. Cost was $3. All of this stitched together by long roads, big skies, and Ibrahim’s running commentary. One of those days where the journey is very much the point.
Closer to Yazd we stopped at Kharanaq, a tiny mudbrick village that looks like it was abandoned halfway through a movie set. We had the entire place to ourselves. No crowds, no noise, just silence, mountains, and me happily wandering off getting lost for ages. Kharanaq is over a thousand years old, built as a fortified village with narrow alleys, stacked houses, and rooms piled on top of rooms to protect people from heat, cold, and unwanted visitors. Everything is made from mud, which somehow has survived earthquakes, time, and people like me climbing around it. I wandered through crumbling corridors, climbed sketchy staircases, peeked into old rooms and rooftops, and generally pretended I knew exactly where I was going. I did not. My guide would absolutely not have approved. Surrounded by mountains, with the wind blowing through empty passageways, it felt like stepping back centuries. Slightly eerie and one of those places where you lose track of time without even trying.
We rolled into Yazd late, dusty and tired, and very ready to stop moving. Yazd itself is one of the oldest continuously inhabited cities in the world, sitting right on the edge of the desert. It’s famous for its windcatchers, those tall towers, its mud brick architecture, and its deep Zoroastrian roots.
Our hotel is another beautifully restored historic house with a courtyard that instantly makes you forget the long road. Hunger kicked in fast, so we went straight out for Iranian kebab, not the late night greasy thing we’re all picturing. It was a long day but I'm going to like Yazd.
Today we visited the Towers of Silence in Yazd. These towers were used by Zoroastrians for sky burials, a practice designed to avoid contaminating the sacred elements of earth, fire and water. Instead of burial or cremation, bodies were laid out on top of the towers and left for vultures to do their thing. Efficient and natural. The bodies were arranged in stone circles, men, women and children kept separate. Once the birds had stripped everything down to the bone, the remains were swept into a central pit where lime and rainwater slowly dissolved them back into the earth. Nature recycling at its most brutal. No ceremony up top, no mourning either. Silence was the whole point. Next stop was the Zoroastrian Fire Temple, home to a sacred flame that’s said to have been burning for over 1,500 years. The temple itself is very modern and sanitised compared to everywhere else we’ve been to. Fire represents purity, truth, and the presence of Ahura Mazda, the supreme god in Zoroastrianism. It didn’t have the drama of the Towers of Silence, but it was still quietly powerful knowing this belief system predates Islam, Christianity, and pretty much everything else in the region. From there we wandered into Yazd’s old town and visited the mosque. Cue full compliance from me, head covered with what can only be described as a sheet, doing my respectful best. Inside, I spot two local women strolling around uncovered. I won’t lie, I was fucking annoyed. Not at them but at the absurdity of the rules. After all that existential contemplation at the temple and mosque, we wandered into Yazd’s old town. This is basically a mud brick maze with twisty alleyways and dead ends appear out of nowhere, windcatchers loom overhead, and every corner feels like you’ve accidentally trespassed into someone’s courtyard. Yazd is one of the oldest cities in the world, and it shows in the best way. Built from adobe to survive desert heat, the city perfected passive cooling centuries before aircon. Those tall windcatchers funnel breezes down into homes, keeping it cool. Obviously I got lost taking far too many photos. Then we tried Yazd coffee, which is not coffee as you know it. It’s dark, spicy, slightly sweet, and super strong. It has cardamom and cinnamon, maybe a few other secret spices they don’t fully disclose. I couldn’t drink it. Yazd isn’t a place you rush. You drift, you get lost and you reappear somewhere unexpected but familiar. One thing you do notice though are all the cameras. They are everywhere. Not one here or there, but every few yards, every corner, every alley. You may feel alone, but you absolutely are not. Someone is always watching. Yazd by night was a whole different mood and honestly even better than daytime. The mud brick lanes glow under soft lighting and the wind catchers look dramatic. Instead of bars and booze, the young crowd comes out to sit on steps and corners, chatting, singing, playing instruments, just hanging out. No busking, no performances, just spontaneous jam sessions echoing through the alleyways. It felt cool, social, and oddly wholesome in a way you don’t expect after dark. We ended the night back at our favourite café for dinner. It's definitely one of those days that quietly sticks with you.
We reluctantly said goodbye to Yazd which is my favourite city so far, and headed south towards Shiraz. Our first stop at Pasargadae which is the resting place of Cyrus the Great. Casual little tomb. No big deal. Just the founder of the Persian Empire and one of history’s most decent rulers quietly buried in the middle of nowhere. Cyrus wasn’t just about conquering things. He’s known for early ideas of human rights, religious tolerance, and generally being a fair and just ruler by ancient empire standards. His tomb is surprisingly simple for someone who ruled half the known world.
Our second stop was at Naqsh-e Rostam, Iran’s ancient necropolis carved directly into a sheer rock face. These cross shaped tombs are over 2,500 years old and are believed to be Persian kings, Darius the Great and possibly Xerxes. The tombs were carved high above ground to deter grave robbers and to elevate the kings closer to the heavens. After absorbing several thousand years of history and feeling mildly unworthy, we stopped for lunch and refuelled because contemplating ancient empires is hungry work.
Ever since I first saw photos of Persepolis years ago, this place has been at the top of my list..And today, I finally made it. Standing here felt a bit surreal. Tall columns, carvings that have survived invasions, empires, earthquakes and time itself, and me wandering around trying to take it all in without tripping over ancient stones. The only thing missing was the sun because of course the one time I’m somewhere this epic, the sky is grey. Still, even without perfect lighting, Persepolis absolutely delivers. This is one of those places where you don’t need imagination because history is right there under your feet. To some people it's just a bunch of columns. Persepolis was the ceremonial capital of the Persian Empire, founded around 518 BC by Darius the Great. This city was built to impress. Kings received delegations from across the known world, all bringing gifts, all carved into stone so no one would forget who was in charge. Then along came Alexander the Great in 330 BC and burned Persepolis to the ground. Whether it was revenge or a drunken accident is still debated. Either way, it's history’s biggest oops. What’s left today is still amazing, staircases designed so horses could walk up them, columns that once held wooden roofs now long gone, and stone carvings so detailed you forget they’re over 2,500 years old. Persepolis is power, ambition, and a reminder that even the biggest empires eventually get crushed. As we were leaving, just when my brain was full of empires, kings and conquest, I got distracted by a couple of cats. Naturally, I stopped to say hello. Empires rise and fall, but the cats remain completely unimpressed. Made it to Shiraz and it’s raining cats, dogs, and possibly small camels. Checked into our hotel and immediately went in search of food because I'm always hungry. On the way, we admired the beautiful citadel, which looked grand in the rain and twinkling lights.Then we hit Joulep, allegedly the best café in Shiraz. It definitely is the best cafe. Desserts and pastries were so amazing and local dishes were all homemade. My dinner was 8 million rials so $8 but it included a massive hazelnut Paris Brest and baked cheesecake. Yes I ordered 2 dessert...have you met me? It was definitely worth getting soggy for. Next morning it was still raining. But nothing could stop us especially after a huge breakfast. First stop was Nasir al-Molk Mosque, aka the Pink Mosque. Ironically, it’s mostly blue. Built in the late 19th century during the Qajar dynasty and famous for its kaleidoscopic stained glass windows. I had to cover up again but it was worth it to see the section dedicated to martyrs. A somber reminder of the sacrifices made by Iranians in various conflicts, more recently the 12 days strike by Israel in June. After the Pink Mosque, we headed to the Ali Ibn Hamza Holy Shrine, a major Shia pilgrimage site with classic Persian architecture. As you enter the building through an unassuming doorway, you first have to drape yourself in a sheet. Then you wait in a room that’s almost like a lounge for the devout with books, teachings of the Holy Book, and big posters of quotes. And then you enter the shrine and bam! Honestly, I’ve never seen a shrine so bling and pimped up. Every surface is mirrored and sparkling like someone unleashed an entire disco ball factory inside. The body rests in a box in the center, half in the men’s section, half in the women’s, and the whole thing somehow has a green alien vibe going on. Jaw dropping, dazzling and completely frigging nuts. Then we had lunch at our favourite café.
For our last soggy night in Shiraz, it's been raining since we arrived, we tried the city’s signature dish, Kalam Polo. It’s Shirazi rice cooked with cabbage, turmeric and spices, often served with lamb, in our case lamb meatballs. Think biryani vibes, but Shirazi style. Earthy, a bit tangy, and seriously comforting and it’s a local classic so I had to try it.
We arrived just in time too, as they only had one portion left. It was the most expensive meal so far at 8 million rials about $8, but it was clearly meant for two. Which meant one obvious thing, I asked for a doggy bag. Because when life gives you a lamb meatball rice mountain, you pack leftovers like a responsible person and have it for lunch on the long bus ride to Isfahan.
We took the coach from Shiraz to Isfahan. A small delay, a long ride, but comfy seats and plenty of time to stare out the window. The views were mostly beige, until we hit a few snow dusted valleys. The real highlight though was sharing my lunch with the politest stray dog ever. Absolute cutie. We rolled into Isfahan just as the rain finally gave up only for the weather to casually threaten snow next. We checked into our cute little bijou house hotel and settled into our final city in Iran.
Checked into our cute little bijou house hotel and immediately did what we do best, we went out in search of food. Landed at Namakdan Mansion and somehow ended up sitting outside, which is normally not my idea of fun when it’s cold but they had proper fire pits. Actual flames...strong possibility of setting ourselves on fire. I didn’t care as we were warm and toasty. We’re staying right near the bazaar, mosques and palace, so everything around us looked ridiculously beautiful once it got dark, all lit up and quietly impressive. Warm fires, great food, and wandering back through history at night. Strong start to our final city.
Isfahan is famous for a certain dish, so naturally I had to try it. After hearing the ingredients I quietly questioned my dessert choices. Khoreshteh Mast is a dessert made from yoghurt, saffron, barberries and lamb. Imagine the smoothest, most luxurious yoghurt dessert you’ve ever tasted. Silky, delicate, slightly sweet then BAM a surprise lamb floss for texture. Soft, stringy, meaty little reminders that this is Iran and nothing is ever straightforward. My palate was confused. My brain needed a minute. Did I briefly regret ordering a meat dessert? Yes! Did I stop eating it? Hell no!. I finished the whole thing, only occasionally pausing when another lamb strand appeared between my teeth.
Our first visit of the day is Imam Mosque formerly Shah Mosque, home to one of the biggest domes in Isfahan, possibly the country and possibly the universe. Built in the 17th century under Shah Abbas I, this place is perfect symmetry and insane blue tilework. The dome shifts colour depending on the light but not today because there's no sun. The tiles feel hypnotic, and the whole thing is engineered at a slight angle so it lines up perfectly with Mecca even though the square doesn’t. This is where Maths is important. I was fully absorbed in centuries of architectural genius until I got distracted by a cat lounging around like it owned the place and it probably does.
Next visit is the Sheikh Lotfollah Mosque, often called the most beautiful mosque in the world. A bold claim. I haven’t seen every mosque on Earth, so I’m reserving judgement, but yeah, it’s stunning. Built for the royal court rather than the public, there’s no minarets and no courtyard, just pure elegance and mind blowing detail. The dome is famous for its peacock effect. If you stand in the right spot, the tiles radiate like feathers. Subtle, refined, and quietly flexing centuries of beautiful craftsmanship.
Next up was Ali Qapu Palace, the Safavid era masterpiece famous for its towering balcony and ornate music rooms. Ignoring the elegant designs and beautiful architecture, we just pissed about instead. The views over Naqsh-e Jahan Square are spectacular if you can squeeze past the hundred people doing their best Instagram influencer poses. Naturally, we joined in with our own slightly less graceful spoof.
Naqsh-e Jahan Square and its bazaar which is a UNESCO listed masterpiece built in the early 17th century, historically the hub of commerce and politics. Honestly, if you tried to go into every single shop, it would take at least 6 to 8 hours, and that’s without getting distracted by the carpets, spices, or tiny teahouses hiding around every corner. We shopped, snapped a ridiculous number of photos, met locals, and of course stopped for tea and coffee.
Next stop are the bridges of Isfahan. We focused on the two most famous, Khaju Bridge and the Sio Se Pol.Bridge also known as 33 arch. Khaju Bridge, built in the 17th century, isn’t just a bridge. It was a meeting place, a mini palace, and even a spot for the Shah to hold court. Sio Se Pol, with its 33 arches, was designed for pedestrians and processions, and is just iconic. We saw them at night, which is definitely the best time. People were hanging out, singing under the arches, laughing and just enjoying the night. It was flipping freezing so we headed back but not before buying cheesecake.
We popped into Abbasi Hotel before dinner which proudly claims to be one of the most beautiful hotels in the world. Iran does love a bold statement. It’s definitely lovely. For our last night's dinner we returned to the best place, Namakdan Mansion. I gave the infamous lamb dessert a miss this time and went straight for the chicken kebab. It was delicious but our food went cold as soon as it hit the table. No matter as we used the fire pits to heat it up and to keep ourselves warm. After dinner, we wandered the streets a bit more before heading back to the hotel to demolish our yummy cheesecakes 😋.
Woke up to snow in Isfahan, pure surprise! Rushed out into the square like a child on snow day. Snowmen were built, snowball fights broke out, and hands and feet turned to ice. Somehow, after all the fun, we managed to drag ourselves to Chehel Sotoun Palace. Chehel Sotoun, Forty Columns, is actually named for the twenty wooden columns in the front pavilion that reflect in the pool, doubling their number. Who cares! Let's go have more fun in the snow.
After fun in the snow, we wandered into the Armenian quarter of Isfahan. Totally different vibe, girls with bright hair, fashionable outfits, and head scarves nowhere in sight. Music, singing, and even a bit of dancing until, predictably, the police drove by and silence fell. We popped into the Vank 🤣 Cathedral, the main Armenian church here. Built in the 17th century, it’s famous for its stunning frescoes depicting biblical scenes and a mix of Persian and Christian architecture. The gilded details, painted ceilings, and massive central dome are jaw dropping. Definitely a contrast to the mosques and palaces we’d been exploring, and very much Instagram worthy…if you can ignore the sudden silence the police patrols bring.
Left Isfahan over 2 hours late, with snow and traffic looming, fully expecting more chaos but somehow arrived exactly five hours later right on schedule with zero drama. Naturally, the airport then stepped in to restore balance. First security check was pure confusion. Everyone sends everything through, but via different conveyor belts. Then men and women go through separate entrances away from all your stuff. So you have no idea if you'll see any of it again. Then came the personal touch, a female guard seated on a chair goes straight for your crotch massaging it with impressive confidence and commitment. No small talk. No hesitation. After passport control there’s another security check. Helpful signs everywhere, including one that calmly informs you that disrespecting staff may result in 3–6 months in prison, a fine, and whipping. At that point, I smiled politely and let the lady do whatever she felt was necessary in the crotch region. Fun times in Iran airport. A memorable last day, surprise snow day and two fanny fondles.
