A holiday in Iran

There have been three main responses to the news that I am going on holiday to Iran.

Response 1: Really? But you won't be able to drive
Response 2: Really, but you won't be able to walk around on your own
Response 3: When you're arrested I'll lead a campaign for your release

I think the third scenario is unlikely. If I am jailed, something very interesting has taken place along the way. But I'm very interested in the second and third responses. I think people are confusing Iran with Saudi Arabia. But then, I don't really know. And that's the point. I'm going to this country because I don't know much about it. Nor does anyone else I know, and in London, where everyone's a traveller, that's saying something.

I'm going to Iran to meet up with Gabrielle Jackson, who is touring the world blogging about kebabs (visit her at http://kebabquest.com/). Gabrielle was inspired to go to Iran by the memoirs of Azar Nafisi, a professor of English literature who has also written about her life, career and the history of the novel in the shadow of the Islamic revolution. Her books are among the best I've ever read and they have now inspired me. I'm also going to Iran because I've spent the last three years holidaying in Western Europe. My adventure resevoir is bone dry. I want big travel eyes and wide travel ears.

Thanks to my parents, I think I'm more open-minded than most people but I'm still surprised by the similarity of reactions I get to this trip. Most of all, I'm surprised by people's lack of critical thinking. To most, Iran is what they read in the newspapers (broadsheets and tabloid) and that is the stoning of women, the illegitimate imprisonment and torture of citizens and foreigners, and very likely the building of nuclear weapons. I know those are all real things in Iran. But they are not the only things about Iran. They can't be. Three people together in a meeting room can be complicated, so how can you dismiss a country full of people, with a history of art and poetry as old Iran's, as one dimensional?

Nothing of the regime's barbarities should be forgiven in the name of cultural plurality. Marrying off nine year old girls to 50 year old men - to any men - is not a culture, it's a disgrace. But don't you know similar stories could be written truthfully about human rights and political process in the UK? They aren't, because that's how nationalism works. But don't you want to go and see what it really looks like? And talk to people who live there? Can't you see beyond the headlines and accept there is going to be a country largely inhabited by kind, generous, normal people? I've read the Iranian embassy's British website. That doesn't paint a rosy picture of Britian, but Iranians still travel to visit us.

Of course some people are genuinely interested to know why I'm so keen to go. I always come back to this; Iran is a country where women's rights were removed in a single generation by the Islamic revolution. Even worse, many of the young women most affected fought for a revolution themselves, not knowing what it would become. In her books, Azar writes about the guilt she feels in being part of a revolution which then stripped her rights as an individual in her own country. It is not impossible to imagine this happening. Every time a British politician argues to repeal abortion laws, I feel a chill of similar air. But Iran now sits on the edge of history. I want to know what they think after those 2009 protests. I want to see if there really are posters which read 'Sister, guard your veil, Brothers, guard your eyes!' I want to see what women wear and how they look and talk. I wonder what they want. Is it something similar to what we have, or is it very different? And when do they think it might happen?

The other thing people usually ask me once they've suggested my choice of holiday destination is crazy, is 'What does Simon think?' Right here, in this mighty British democracy where I both drive and walk on my own, smart people are asking me whether my husband approves of my trip.

Katherine.