Here I am in the middle of Iran, in Isfahan. But first let me take you back to my arrival in Tehran at IKA airport, because you have some catching up to do. Sitting on the flight, wondering what was awaiting. The stories some people told, women never travel on their own, you will not be able to get about without a driver and interpreter, and of course, is Iran safe?, all are easily batted away with facts and figures when on solid land, but once in the air there was no going back. I was sitting next to an Iranian woman, hijab already firmly in place, though manteau folded neatly on her lap and a blond looking westerner. We started talking and I learnt R and her husband B, who was from Ireland, had lived
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