A Different Iran

One of the strongest memories I have of Iran is standing outside a regular neighourhood mosque covered in the black mourning flags that are so typical there. Decades of negative imagery on T.V made my wife and I unsure about entering the courtyard. Finally we ventured in and ended up parting ways. Suddenly I heard a commotion only to turn around and see my wife engulfed by around 40 women, all curious as to where she was from...friendliness and hospitality that we were to encounter wherever we went.

At every turn we found things that ran against the facile stereotype propagated outside its borders.

Another shock were the fashionistas in northern Tehran, words would be hard to describe it but perhaps paintings can.

I've just come across this wonderful young artist from that huge city at the foot of the mountains whose paintings show that world. Many may have heard of Saghar Daeeri, but if you haven't, definitely click over for more.

Walking to Hornachos

10kms to go

Springtime outside Hornachos, Extremadura, Spain.

A Walk in Istanbul

I took a walk awhile ago with my Couchsurfing host, now friend, Oya. We started in the Istanbul of the guidebooks and ended up in the Istanbul of her childhood. A walk that took us from the tank tops of Eminonou to the hiijabs and niquabs in Fatih, with a short detour to see the black robes through the last remaining churches in Fener. Needless to say which was more interesting, the guidebook loses once again. Published in Singapore in The Straits Times.