Why I loved travelling in Iran

Most of my recent posts varied between mild anger and deep dark despair, so it’s about time to write something positive and encouraging here.

So for a change, I’ll talk a bit more about Iran. It’s not that I’m monomaniac, but I must admit that after visiting 18 countries on this trip, none of the 17 others have offered an experience anywhere near my 2 months of Persian adventures. I met a Dutch traveller yesterday who was just starting a round-the-world trip, and he was asking about my favourite country. I thought I’d share a summary of what I told him during two hours over iced tea.

The country is quite a beautiful one, but this is not what I would emphasise here, for there are many other places on Earth were you can enjoy more stunning mountains, beautiful deserts and great scenery without scaring the crap out of your friends and family.

Persian architecture is certainly impressive. A rich mix of influences that testifies of a culture over 2500 years old. This post would be a scam if I didn’t praise the beauty of those blue tile works covering the walls and ceilings of innumerable mosques, the incredible houses in Kashan and how comfortable they feel, or the overwhelming majesty of the map-of-the-world square in Ispahan.

With my engineering bias, I kept marvelling at those ancient wonders that were the water fountains in parks running on just the pressure of a stream, or the wind powered natural cooling systems they used (and still use) to keep houses, food and water fresh in the middle of deserts. If Iran wasn’t sitting on gigantic oil and gas resources, it would likely top the list of most environmentally friendly countries today.

All of this would be enough to make the country worth a visit, but in my view, the most memorable part of Iran is its people.

After having spent a couple of months around Turkey, Jordan and Egypt, I had grown used to the stereotypical smiling man walking up to me, engaging in a cheerful conversation about my origins, my family and my journey. Surprisingly enough, most of these conversations would be interrupted by an increasingly familiar “oh, and this is my brother’s/cousin’s/father’s/neighbour’s/friend’s/own carpet shop. Why don’t you come in and drink tea with us?” Needless to say, I half willingly fell in the trap once or twice in Turkey, but quickly learnt to fend them off. So getting off the train in Tabriz, I felt well versed in the art of gently turning down carpet retailers. The thing is, I never needed that skill in Iran.

On my first day, wandering around Tabriz, at least 10 people walked up to me, and engaged in friendly conversations, but none of them ever even hinted at any shop, be it carpet, jewellery or others. Conversation was simply that. People curious about you, your opinion and why you travel in their country when CNN and BBC tell you it’s the most evil place on earth. And it remained so until I stepped off the ferry in the UAE, at which point nobody gave a damn about whoever.

Not even in the maze that serves as a bazaar in most cities did I encounter any pushy sellers. Carpet sellers would happily explain at length why their carpets were far superior to any other, but there discourse was more that of a craftsman proudly explaining his art than that of a salesman. And trust me, you can’t listen to the art of carpet making without sipping tea, which kept appearing magically in my hand.

In between conversations, it would be hard not to notice how gorgeous people are. Most people would rank more than decently in any western beauty contest and this, despite the official religion that preaches modesty and forbids any effort to look attractive. And before you ask, while this is mostly for women, it holds true for men too. Tatoos, piercings or other body customisations are illegal, or at least seriously frowned upon. The government even issued guidelines for “decent haircuts” for men… As someone put it to me, there is quite “a waste of a beautiful gene pool”.

Iranians are a clever, educated bunch, and the immense majority of conversations I had there did teach me something about Iran, Islam, my own culture, or pretty much anything else.

But what really blew me away, even before I even hit the real Persia, in Tabriz, was people’s insane sense of hospitality. Many of the discussions you have in the street will lead to an invitation for lunch, dinner, or to spend the night at people’s home, if not all of these.

On one occasion, I asked my neighbour where to get off the bus as we arrived in Ispahan. Not only did she tell me, but she then offered me a ride in town, and her father who was driving insisted on me having breakfast at their place. After me turning down the invitation 3 times as tarof mandates, he simply replied by gesturing something like “and this is where we live, welcome home!”. I escaped after lunch, as the lack of a common language was becoming pretty embarrassing. In the meantime, the whole family of 6 awoke to find me sitting on their sofa, greeting them all with the best smile I could offer at 7am after a night on a bus seat.

More than once, I have been hosted by people who wouldn’t let me pay for anything, be it food, drinks, hosting or transportation, despite the fact that their income was way below mine. Insisting to pay for at least one dinner only brought me annoyed looks and “you are my guest, it is rude of you to insist like this, so put this money away, or I will get angry”.

The only perk being that they expect you to return the favour back home. If they ever manage to get out of the country, that is.

SickCity 2011

In June this year, I had a chance to try a new immersion video game called SickCity 2011.

The aerial view mode allows you to move around the map conveniently - here the Dubai map in easy mode (click for a detailed view)

As you can see from the screenshot to the right, it inherits a lot from the critically acclaimed SimCity series of games, but improves substantially, not only graphically, but also with the concepts of the game.

Where SimCity had no clear objective beyond building a city as big as possible, or maximising your tax income, SickCity enhances the game by giving different objectives depending on which race you decide to play the game as. There is also a choice of maps, which combined with the variety of races gives the game an unusually long lifespan. Building a city is not the only way to reach your goals. Read on.

Maps and environments

The game includes a choice of 7 different maps, with names like Dubai, Abu Dhabi or Sharjeh. Each map comes with a complete environment including specific game rules and laws. All these environments are interconnected, so that you can seamlessly move from one to the next in the course of a game. Depending on the race you adopt (and the corresponding game level), you start in a different environment, with rules that make it more or less difficult to achieve your goals.

Races and goals

One of the great strengths of the game is that you can choose to play the game as one of 5 races, each of which comes not only with specific strengths and weaknesses, but also with its own objective in the game. Each level of game play gives you access to one or more of these races.

• the Westerners (easy). Your aim is to fill your bank account, and get a career jump. You start with an office job, usually consulting or marketing. Your strengths include ability to convince yourself of your happiness while never smiling in public.
• the Filipinas (medium). The game starts as barmaid or waitress. Your mission is to save up the dirham and either get promoted to a qualified job or escape before falling into prostitution. Strengths include a wide smile that attracts the Westerners and their tips.
• the Indians (hard). You can choose to start as a receptionist or a waiter. You must collect dirhams and send them home. Some versions of the game include the ability to open a business, like a mobile phone repair shop. As a race, you are highly entrepreneurial, and know how to give and take within your network of friends.
• the Pakistani (impossible). You start as a taxi driver. Your aim is to save dirhams, send them to your relatives back home, and escape before 15 years, whilst avoiding to fall into construction jobs and lose your passport. Your strengths include high ability to cope with hard situations, and often genuine friendliness, but you are despised by virtually all other races.
• the Emirati, also known as “the locals” (god mode). This game mode is only accessible once you’ve completed all the previous ones and enter a cheat code. Not many players have gone that far, so we only have limited information about it. This race seems to give access to powerful options such as government connections, corruption and possibly immunity. This is the only race that can actually build a city. You start the game with a high pay office job, but it is unclear what your game objectives are.

The game editor, UAE Labs, have announced extra downloadable races for Christmas.

Graphics and playability

When compared to original SimCity graphics, SickCity 2011 is simply stunning. The game designers have included a fantastic “immersion mode” à la google maps “street view”, which allows you to feel like you are driving around a real city.

Another great feat is that the developers managed to abolish the old square tiles of the map, and allow to build virtually any shape of buildings, including circular or twisted designs. Beware though, such designs cost a lot more dirhams, and occasional bugs seem to prevent their completion. UAE Labs have claimed that these are features, not bugs, in that they reproduce real life situations.

First impressions

As you start playing the game, you immediately realise the potential in it. Characters are far beyond anything available in any other video game you’ve played before. The immersion mode does a great job of reproducing the first person environment that we are used to in other games, and the level of details in graphics is unbelievable. The emotional engine is embryonic though, and most computer generated characters will feel less than human, we can only assume that the dirham was given too heavy a weight in the artificial intelligence algorithms. Do not expect real life interactions yet. The game also includes a brand new ethics engine, which unfortunately still needs to be calibrated.

Send your kids away!

As I am writing this, a few high-end diplomats in dark alleys are probably discussing how to deal with that most embarrassing application Mahmoud Abbas handed them a few days ago.

A year ago, Barack Obama had promised to do his best to help move towards a two state solution in Israel – sorry, in Occupied Palestinian Territories – but he now seems to have to back off. And some of my well informed friends tell me it’s because elections are round the corner, and you don’t want to upset voters just before you ask them to give you their ballot.

The same well informed friends also tell me that most of these voters actually have no clue of what the whole fuss is about, but given a choice between helping the Jews or the Arabs, well…

And so we have millions of people being stuck in a horrendous situation because across the globe, the “free men” have no idea what they’re talking about. (granted, it’s a bit oversimplified, but you see what I mean)

Israel has a fantastic propaganda machine called Birthright. Basically, if you’re Jewish, of Jewish descent, or somehow you manage to make them think that your great grand mother’s name sounded Jewish, Israel (that is: the government and some of its wealthy friends) will buy you a round trip ticket to Tel Aviv from wherever you live in the world, and host you, feed you and take you around for 2 full weeks between the Mediterranean sea, and the Jordan river. Paid holiday? Pretty much! The only perk being that you must be under 26 years old to apply.

In return, they’ll teach you a bit of history from their point of view, show you how great their country is, and give you an application form to become an Israeli citizen. Needless to say, most people fly back home quite happy with their 2 weeks (except the few curious ones who actually decide to stay longer, and go take a look behind the wall of the west bank, but that’s another story).

Fact is, seeing the country for yourself is the best way to open your eyes to it, and having travelled fairly extensively myself now, I could go on for hours giving examples of travellers discovering foreign cultures, and correcting some preconceived ideas they had about them.

So I keep thinking that if a country like the U.S.A. decided to take all its kids aged, say 14, every year, and send them out to a random country for 2 weeks, these kids would come back incomparably more open to the outer world. For one, they could at least place one country on a world map, they would see that all foreigners are not Neanderthal cavemen, etc… They would come home, and talk with their friends about what they’ve seen.

And then one day, when they turn 18 and are asked to vote for this or that candidate as president (or any other position for that matter), they would probably believe a little less crap from them. They would most likely be a little unhappy about the proposal to go bomb that country where they made friends a few years ago.

That’s all great, but where do you get the money from? Let’s do the math for one kid:

• 1 round trip flight to random country: make it $1500. That takes you quite far, especially if it’s the US government buying craploads of tickets. (for those of you who read my rant against flying, I’ll let you figure out how much greenhouse gases are produced by the army’s activities)
• 15 days stay with a family, which gets offered, say, $100 per day to give the kid food, shelter, and let her/him partake in family life
• since “abroad” is dangerous, might as well pack in a proper health insurance. You never know, some of these countries don’t even have free health care. Bang, another $60! (that’s what I pay for my travel insurance, roughly, remember we’re going out of the USA, where health care actually has a decent cost)
• and there are some administrative costs there, we’re probably talking 10%. Ok, add $306.

OMG, we’re talking $3366 here! Just for one child!

US government census statistics tell us that there are about 4 million children aged 14 in the country in 2010. So now we’re up to a grand total of $13.4 billions! That sounds totally ridiculous, doesn’t it? $13.4 billions!

Well, it turns out that $13.4 billion is about 2% of the US Army budget ($663.8 billion in 2010). In other words, one child can be sent on a free life-changing 2-week trip abroad for less than the cost of a rifle (google tells me an M16 rifle costs the US Army anywhere between 3 and $10,000).

Is it very hard to imagine diverting 2% of the military spending towards educating children? (yes, I know what the answer is, sadly). For 2010, just the difference between what Obama asked for and the actual military budget voted in law was an extra $16 billion, or 2.4%)

For comparison, the US Department of Education budget is an estimated $56 billion in 2010. No comment.

“Wait!” I hear someone saying. “I’m not sending my kid to THAT country!” Well, you seem happy having him go kill people in Afghanistan or Iraq (both ranking among the 3 most dangerous places on earth) when he turns 18, with a 2% chance that he’ll come back in a wooden box (from Wikipedia, number of soldiers killed/soldiers in Afghanistan). Why is it so hard to have your kid sent peacefully to a place where nobody wants her or him harmed?

I’m quite conscious that this blob seems very anti-American. I’d say it’s mostly anti warfare, and the USA just happen to be the biggest war wager on the planet at the moment. But let’s be fair, and examine the case of a few other countries:

Country	Number of 14yo kids	Total budget for travels (billion USD)	Military budget (billion USD)	Percentage of it covering travels
Australia	280,000	0.94	20	4.7%
Canada	385,000	1.3	20.1	6.5%
China	19,062,000	64.2	115	56%
France	800,000	2.7	59.4	4.5%
Germany	804,000	2.4	45.2	5.3%
Japan	1,172,000	3.9	54.5	7.2%
UK	700,000	2.4	59.6	4%
USA	4,000,000	13.4	663.8	2%

I picked these countries because they seem to me to be the main partakers in “peace making actions”. Population figures are from the United Nations, and military budgets from the Stockholm International Peace Research Institute (SIPRI).

Now I am totally conscious that improving education budgets in itself would be a very good move, and this idea alone would certainly not solve everything. I’m aware that there are other drivers to those wars and unhealthy situations than lack of understanding, but I do think that a scheme of that sort would greatly improve the situation.

Suggestion of the day: hey America! how about doubling your education budget for the cost of 2% of your army?

An iranian gay pool party

I’m looking out the window at the stunning scenery unrolling in front of me, as we drive away from the city. I don’t know where we’re going. None of the passengers know. Not even the driver.

His instructions are to drive along that road about 30km out of town (one of the major cities in Iran, which again, I won’t name for obvious reasons) and call a mobile phone number. As he does so, he is given a landmark at which he should turn left into a dirt path.

The car leaves the main road, and we drive down a narrow lane between a few commercial or industrial buildings. A young man is standing by a gate, and waves at us. After the usual persian greetings, he yells over the grey wall, and someone opens the gate for us, from inside. We drive through what looks like the storage area of a construction works company, filled with bricks, steel bars and related paraphernalia. The gate behind us is closed, and another one opens, yielding into a sort of private garden, shaded by trees. Two more cars are already parked there, we are the last ones to join the party.

Two days before this, I was invited by X to join this pool party that he and friends were planning for the weekend. X and his friends don’t exist. At least, that’s what president Ahmadinejad proudly told the world from New York a few years ago. X and his friends are gay, and they are trying to lead a somewhat normal life in a country that makes it impossible for them.

In Iran, being homosexual is not illegal. Homosexual intercourse is. Punishment is death for offenders. People get hanged for making love. That’s for the law. Reality is that homosexuality is so taboo in Islam, that being openly gay condemns you to be an outcast. X and his friends could go on for hours telling the stories of young men trying to come out to their families. Most of them would instantly get rejected by their parents, brothers and sisters. Many would have to move out of their home, and as a consequence, lose their friends, their job and the few things left. At that stage, their only option would be to flee the country, and hope for the best abroad, usually as a refugee in Turkey, as a first step towards moving to a more tolerant European capital.

Officially, a gay man can get exempted from military service by being declared “mentally ill”. All he needs is an interview with a psychiatrist to get the certificate. He is then free from army duties. But he is also excluded from any public service job, as well as medical and teaching jobs, to name but a few.

As we get out of the car, persian dance music starts blaring out of speakers that have been brought by someone and installed on a chair. The usual assortment of kebab, fresh vegetables and bread is placed on mats laid out on the ground between the cars. I’m directed to join everyone by the pool.

A dozen young guys are hanging out in or around the pool, playing, laughing, taking pictures. I can’t understand their conversations, but “facebook” comes up with almost every photo taken. Clearly, everyone is enjoying those few hours of freedom within the enclosure of 3m high walls, hidden from a society that doesn’t want them. They don’t really pay much attention to me, because they have too much to share and discuss in those precious hours. Here they can say aloud what they keep inside the rest of the time. Here they can wear whatever they want. Here they can be themselves.

Someone is hungry. We gather on the mats, food plates are passed around, and as the guest, I must help myself first to everything. Conversations are loud and happy. Some ask me how gay men live in Paris and elsewhere in the western world. I tell them the story of a lunch I had with a friend in a Paris restaurant owned by a gay couple. How the waiter interrupted everyone’s meal to stand and proudly sing “La vie en rose”, to end up in a passionate hug with his lover in the middle of the restaurant. They are all listening intently. This story is hope for them, and I know they will dream of it tonight.

After lunch, we return to the pool, to play and laugh a bit more. Some are dancing. But as the sun goes down, it’s time to pack. Everyone returns to their civilian clothes, turns off the sound on their dreams and gets in a car. They drive out the walls, back into their daily prison.

X is in his late twenties. He never told his family that he is gay. Only a handful of very close friends know his secret, most of them are gay too. His dream is to move to London, so that he can live with his English boyfriend, and write and publish what he wants, without the fear of censors. Or of execution.

Stolen youths

I had some of my most intense encounters while in Iran.

One of these happened while I was hosted for a few days in a big city by a newlywed couple. I spoke mostly with her because her husband was working fairly long days, and she hung around most of the time. And also, her English was far better than his. I’ll call her Nasim.

Talking with her, it quickly struck me how negative and pessimistic she was. Over the three or four days they hosted me, she hardly left her house, explaining that going out feels like a chore, for she cannot wear what she wants (the first time we left the house together, she put on her “manto” and scarf, and told me “look at this!” with a hint of despair in her voice), nor behave like she’d want, or talk freely to people.

She trusts very few people besides her husband, a handful of friends, if that. She’s not even comfortable talking openly to her parents, who she describes as quite religious and conservative. She calls herself an atheist.

At 26, she’s finishing her masters in playwriting, putting together her thesis, and her dream is to leave the country as soon as feasible. She wants to go to Europe, where she feels she would be able to do what she wants. Study, and write about what matters for her. As I ask more details about her studies, she tells me she is not really studying what she wanted, and asks me in return: “Have you ever had your dreams, your carrier stopped because of who you are? I couldn’t study what I wanted, because I am a woman.”

The next day, we were watching a BBC report on the first days of the crackdown on protests in Syria, the army shooting civilians in the streets, when I noticed she was weeping silently. “You know Syria and Iran are allies. Our government sends troops there. So somehow we Iranians are responsible for what is happening there.” she explained. “I hope protests come to Iran soon.”

The conversation went on, and she explained:

“In 2009 [following a very controversial re-election of president Ahmadinejad], protesters in Tehran were killed in the streets by the army trying to silence them. Most of the people who were shot actually could have run away to save their lives. Many chose to stay and shout in the face of virtually certain death. They were shot dead.

Iranian people saw this happening. My family is fairly conservative, and we disagree on many topics [she's is one of the most progressive Iranians I've met]. But since 2009, I’ve seen them slowly come to realise that those deaths were not meant to be, were not right, and that there is something wrong with the current state of affairs and the government, despite them having taken part in the 1979 islamic revolution and having asked for an islamic regime.
These people did not die for nothing. Their death have slowly made my parents, if not change their mind, at least be more open to progress, they are more and more often questioning the regime, despite their religious beliefs. And I’m sure they are not alone.”

And over a cup of tea, she asks, as seriously as one can be: “These people made a change when they died. Do you think I should die for my country?”

Stand up for your rights – Women’s rights and activism

Warning: names, places and dates have been changed for obvious reasons in this post. Essential facts however are as I found them, and I tried not to distort what I’ve seen or heard beyond the needs of protecting people.

I walked out of the shower, looking forward to another great day in Iran. Ali looked up from his computer and simply said: “my friend’s just been arrested”.

I met Ali in one of the major cities of Iran, and following the tradition of Iranian hospitality, he soon invited me to stay for a few days at his place. Ali is in his mid twenties, living with his family as is common in Iran. He’s full of energy, incredibly positive about life, especially considering the situation he is in.

One of the reasons that prompted me to accept his offer was that he mentioned women’s rights activism. In a country like Iran, simply being interested in those issues can get you into serious trouble. Ali was more than merely interested, he was actually working to raise awareness, and hoping for a change.

About a year ago, the police raided his family’s house an early morning, looking for evidence of his crimes, and arrested him in the process. He was sent directly to jail, without being told the detailed charges held against him. Obviously, he knew what it was that had taken him there, but he wasn’t told what he was accused of, meaning he had no idea about the punishment he could expect.

His crime was to have taken part in organising a petition signing event. The petition was asking for more equality between men and women in Iran, for instance by setting an equal amount for blood money for both sexes, or by giving women the same rights as men for divorcing. Basically, they were asking for more equality between men and women in the law. The organisers were aiming to gather a million signatures from people in the streets of Iran.

Things got tricky, however, because Iran applies sharia (the coranic law), and therefore, a petition asking for changes in law could easily be regarded as  criticising Islam, despite what the petitioners said. And that is a serious offence in Iran.

Ali was kept in jail for about two weeks, and was finally released, still not knowing what he was accused of. A year later, nothing has changed. Ali’s future is still a big question mark. His passport was confiscated, so that he cannot leave the country, as least legally.
One day, as we were driving around the city, discussing his situation, he almost broke out crying, and shouted to himself: “I want my passport back! I want to leave this country!”

One morning, I was taking a shower while Ali was checking his emails. I walked out of the shower, looking forward to another great day in Iran. Ali looked up from his computer and simply said: “my friend’s just been arrested”. His friend was one of the petitioners, from another city somewhere in the country. Ali explained that when she got arrested, her relatives most likely contacted the network of activists she was part of, who released the information to specialised (and forbidden) online press. This is how Ali learnt about his friend being in jail. This is how people learnt about his arrest a year ago.

I eventually asked him what sort of outcome he expected from his situation, and how long he thought he would remain clueless. His answer was vague, yet scary: “Iranian law says they have 18 months to charge me with something, which means in a little less than 6 months, I will know. I don’t expect any information update before then, as letting me in the dark definitely does a good job of keeping me quiet. In terms of what they’ll charge me with, it could be anything from telling me not to do it again, to accusing me of spying. That’s punished by death in my country.”

Since he was arrested, Ali has stopped his activities related to human rights.

8 mistakes you shouldn’t make about Iran

Since I decided to visit Iran, I’ve heard countless comments about the country, most of them being prejudiced and wrong, so I thought I’d set the record straight to start with, and dispel a few common misconceptions. Some of these points I’ll develop a bit further in later posts.

1. Iran is dangerous to visit. Well, if you plan to organise political rallies against the government, chances are you’ll get arrested, accused of being a US spy, and hanging off a rope in a square before you have time to call home. On the other hand, if you’re just coming to learn about the country, meet people and understand their culture, travelling in Iran is less risky than in many western countries. After two months in the country, I haven’t met a single traveller reporting problems. My take on it is that punishments are so severe that petty crime is almost unheard of.
2. There are Talibans in Iran. Wrong. They’re next door, in Afghanistan. Since the revolution of 1979, Iran is a theocratic regime, meaning the big boss (currently Ali Khamenei) is a religious leader. And, in theory at least, Iran is a democracy. Granted, the “supreme leader” is not exactly the most progressive man on Earth, but you’ll have a hard time finding hard-core islamists pointing a kalashnikov at anything not halal in Iran.
3. Women all wear burqas. Wrong again. Iran applies the sharia, the coranic law, which requires women to wear hijab: cover their hair, and wear ample clothing that conceals their figure (the purpose being to avoid turning on men). That’s for theory. Practice is a different story altogether. Read this post (coming soon) for more explanations. The fact is that after over 50 days in Iran, my count of women wearing burqas was at exactly zero.
4. Iranians hate all westerners, especially Americans. Some probably do. I never met them. Most people are actually very eager to meet foreigners. When travelling through the country, it’s hard not to be stopped in the street by people who want to say hello, ask how you like the country, and offering tea, dinner or a place to stay. I didn’t meet any Americans during my stay, but this is most likely due to the practical hurdles specific to US citizens (who must be accompanied by a registered tour guide during their whole stay, and have to book the entire itinerary in advance). I can’t think of any other place I’ve been to where people displayed this much gratitude for visiting their country.
5. Iranians are all extremist Muslims. This is hard to back with official numbers, since the government basically considers any citizen to be a Muslim (with a few exceptions, Iran also hosts some Armenians, and even Jews). For an Iranian to say they don’t believe in Islam can lead to serious trouble. However in private, many happily explain they’re neither Muslim nor religious. Overall, I found Iranians a lot less religious than other middle eastern countries I visited, including Turkey, which paradoxically is a secular state.
6. Iran is under developed. In many ways, it is not. The country boasts modern infrastructure, an extensive and modern road network, good trains, and many airports. Drinking water runs from taps in almost every city (and free refrigerated water taps are available at countless street corners). Most reasonably sized cities have at least one university. Hospitals are modern, with widely available plastic surgery. Now if this isn’t a proof of development, what is?
7. Iran is an Arab country. Now this is the best way to get in trouble! Most Iranians are Persians, not Arabs, and they will fiercely defend their heritage, which pre-dates the Arab invasion (and the country’s adoption of Islam) by at least a millennium. When asked about this point, most Iranians will start a long rant about the differences, and how the confusion is a gross misunderstanding of their culture. Actually, this is one of the very few topics I’ve seen people getting angry about.
8. There is no alcohol in Iran. Well, I had to keep this one for the end. Officially, Iran is a “dry” country. Production, sale, possession or consumption of alcohol can lead you to jail on paper. Reality, like for many things forbidden in Iran, is quite another story. The famous Shiraz grapes originate from the city by the same name, which is right in the middle of Iran, and Shirazi people (not to talk about Iranians in general) certainly won’t forget to remind you of that fact. Since the revolution, making wine is illegal, but it doesn’t mean they don’t do it any more. It just means they don’t do good wine any longer.