On the other hand: When we actually got to the airport the dark clouds seemed to clear up.
It started badly enough: My companion was beginning to get worried about the lenght of her coat/manteu, which is supposed to go to below the knee (and be square and ugly and not show the female form in any way). Maybe this coat wouldn’t even be useful in Iran? This was especially unfortunate, since she had spent most of the day before colouring the coat black to fit the cheerful Iranian colours. The mood worsened as she saw herself spending her whole time in Iran in her only other coat, which we fittingly called the Beppo street-cleaner coat.
But then, fortune smiled upon us: When the nice girl at the counter asked for our tickets and where we were going, and we told her Tehran, she said: “That’s funny. That’s where I’m from! I’ve just been there and its great!” We immidiately started relaxing and she told us that the weather was good and that she had a Danish boyfriend who had been to Iran several times, loved the country and the food.
Then my companion gathered the courage to ask about the coat. The girl glanced at it and said “Don’t worry, you’ll be fine. No problem.”
Thanks, check-in-counter-girl!
