In Shiraz Airport, there are good places to sit and type, so you can go to the restaurant and order the ever present cup (or rather glass) of chai and sit at a table by the window and therefore watch to see if your plane is actually going to turn up. In Iran flights often run late and of course they never like to tell you when you check in, so you have to either watch the ramp for the suitable plane or go and ask and then they quite blithely say “Two hours late”, with no apologies, and you just go away.

My taxi ride out here was in something that had possibly escaped from the clown act at a circus. A Chevy Corvette of distinctly ancient vintage, minus several bits that had come off over the years – who needs inside door handles, window winders, rear view mirrors ?? – all just fluff around here. The one windscreen wiper had two speeds just about terminally slow or otherwise the wiper from hell, going about 60 wipes to the minute. It took several tries to get it started and then the driver hung on to his steering wheel like grim death.

The shop in the departures area sells just about every kind of tat available and then more – I’ve always wanted to buy a 2 ft tall golden, gilded glass samovar, complete with a shiny tray and 6 gold rimmed glasses – the ideal carry on ! They have brought junk to a new level here – awful dolls in hula skirts, playing guitars, enormous boxes of dates ” energetically vitimised” they claim – hmm. You could spend ages just browsing and trying to keep a straight face, as the little man who runs the emporium is convinced you are interested in everything you pick up. Hours and hours of mindless fun!

This morning in Shraz, coinciding with our own plane’s departure, which I now orchestrate totally, there was a flight on something called Iran Asseman Airlines to Kuwait.  I took a good interest, as I am sked to fly it at the end of Jan to connect in Kuwait to Luxor. I’m now having second thoughts. The plane, a 727, looked ropey beyond belief and the crew straight out of a field. The pax are the great unwashed going to work in Kuwait, so travel with much hand baggage, mostly of the cardboard box done up with much knotted string, which is now rapidly coming undone.

Our aircraft, having departed, I had some time before my return to Tehran. At the deserted counter, I asked their check in staff the abstract question as to whether I would be able to interline my nice red suitcase through Kuwait to Luxor, when I travel at the end of January. This was quite beyond them. Firstly we had to establish that NO, I was not trying to travel today ….. why was I not travelling today ? — we have plenty of seats … well, I am traveling in 7 weeks – 7 weeks ? – then why are you here today? It was getting a bit Manuel-ish, so I had one of our agents intercede on my behalf and do it in Farsi. This resulted in them thinking that I wanted to BUY a ticket today, though just how they would have accomplished that leaves a big blank in my life. We went round and round in circles for a while. I picked up a Kuwait bag tag and asked if they had other tags to other destinations ? But we fly to Kuwait – Yes…but … we then went back to why wasn’t I going to Kuwait today ?? and where was my bag ? Then another guy turned up who had not been part of the earlier conversation and HE thought 1 was trying to check in for a flight in 7 weeks time. You had to be there to enjoy it.

I think now I may have to reroute completely – trouble is, this was the perfect connection.

Now in Tehran and all ready for that drink on Emirates. Same cruddy 737 brought me back here – crew even worse than before, esp. on safety. How about, on landing, having no one but a scruffy in flight security guard sitting on the front jump seat and to make it worse, not even wearing a seatbelt. And a heavy container full of cans of Coke out in the middle of the aisle!! The Purser guy, a vintage flyer was down the back packing up leftover food to go. Boy did I rip into him when he finally made his way forward after landing. Told him Allah wasn’t going to get us out of burning plane … grrr. The preamble on their inflight announcements always starts with ” In the name of God, the Almighty, the Compassionate …” and then goes on to say that “Inshallah” we shall reach our destination. It always injects a feeling of not 100% certainty. Imagine BA always saying that ‘we hope, God-willing’ to reach our destination. The Duty Free shop here, in the absence of booze, is heavily into … yes, carpets …… just roll up this nice 8 x 12 carpet and lug it on board. Or how about a nice Japanese rice cooker, which would feed a family of 6 for about a week …

And FINALLY, having practically kissed the Emirates crew who welcomed me on board in Tehran, I changed planes in Dubai and I’m now in hi tech Hong Kong and can be in touch with the world. So great to be back in rampant Capitalism and have access to alcohol too. Though I cud do without the excess of Yule around here … it’s everybloodywhere ……. Santas, Angels, the lot. But it will NEVER make we want to live in Iran!  

Tim