Travelling in Iran as a woman

This trip was always going to be about challenging preconceptions. Half way through my holiday I can write that one of the greatest surprises about Iran has been what a pleasure it is to travel here as a woman. Not only have I felt absolutely safe wandering the streets of large and small towns, but we have been able to speak to both Iranian women and men - something our male travelling companions haven't really been able to do.

Regardless of gender, Iran is one of the friendliest nations on Earth. I've never felt more welcome in a country. In cities, towns and villages we have been welcomed by locals on the street, in cafes, shops and mosques. It's usually the older men - those over 40 - who initiate conversation, answering our 'Salaams' with 'Which country are you from?' We have learnt to pronounce Australia 'Or-stray-lia' (Gabrielle is particularly good at this) and, surprisingly, it was in Tehran where we have most surprised the locals with our excellent grasp of English.

But the women are also keen to talk. While the men openly greet us from their shops, the women tend to circle us shyly first, waiting some time before approaching us to speak. In Tehran, two young women giggled nervously near our group before trying to take a photo of us without our noticing and then shouting 'thank you for coming to our country!' At the same place, just outside the main Bazaar, a woman in her thirties approached our guide Reza to ask where we were from. Hearing his answer she then spoke to us in excellent English, explaining she was an English teacher and that her mother, who was next to her, made her learn English. She too wanted to know how we spoke such good English in Australia.

But probably our most touching experience was sitting in the women's section of the mosque in Shiraz. In one of the Shrines, two nomadic women and their three children came and plonked themselves down right opposite us to stare, smile and film us on their mobile phone. I think one of them was saying they were going to sleep there that night - the Shrine is open 24 hours a day - but we don't speak Farsi and they didn't speak English so our communal understanding was limited. I could show them a photo of Simon and the boys, but other than that we probably just spent 20 minutes smiling and nodding at each other companionably.

At the same shrine, an older woman came and asked Gabrielle to pray for her. She showed Gabrielle some bad hospital test results. Joanne had also been asked to pray for someone. I think it made us all feel uncomfortable but I know that for me, it wasn't just that I don't believe in God, I think a lot of it was just discomfort about being asked to be personally involved in the lives of strangers. But that sums up Iran I think.

In another Shrine at the same mosque we met a young nurse who worked in the burns unit at Shiraz's main hospital and volunteered at the Shrine because 'this is where my heart is'. She told us, with limited English, that the Shrine is a place where people come to pray, to relax, to chat to friends (in person or on mobiles, which we saw a lot of) or who even came for 5, 10, 20 days to read and recite the Koran. It was a place about as different from a Christian church as it's possible to be.

We asked our male travellers whether men approached them at the Shrine but they said not. But the men were undeniably hospitable as both Gabrielle and I managed to wander into the men's Shrine by mistake. While I was politely re-directed early on, poor Gabs managed to get to the third and final room before realising she was the only woman. She came scuttling out pretty quicky to the generous laughs of the men (though not before spotting a man inside holding a sign which seemed to indicate an ongoing competition to 'win a luxury car' which seemed out of place).

More than a few times men are keen to emphasise their opposition to the Government, and in particular to the veil. A typical conversation might go like this...

'Salaam, which country you from?'

'Salaam, we're from Australia.'

'Australia! Do you like Iran?'

'Yes! Man inja ro dust darim' (I love being here)

'But not our president. Ahmadinejad is very bad. The veil, no good!' And this statement is usually accompanied by a dusting off of the hands.

We have had this conversation many times with men. They are always the older men and it's the first thing they are keen for us to understand. One taxi driver asked our guide to emphasise to Gabrielle that the Muslims didn't build Shiraz University. We haven't had this conversation with women, except for one young woman who joked that men may have to do national service for two years but women have to wear the veil for life. She jokingly went to take off her veil for a photo we took. Almost, but not quite.

At Hafez's tomb in Shiraz we met a beautiful group of schoolgirls on excursion - I guess they were around 8-10 years old. Their uniform was a hot pink trouser suit with a white veil. In Iran, the law says girls should start to wear the veil at 9 years, and it will also be part of their uniform. But depending on how conservative the family is many girls might not start wearing it full time until they are older...say around 12. This little group shouted 'hello, how are you!' and when they heard we were from Australia their eyes bulged with excitment. Their astonishment is something I will remember forever. We may as well have been from Outer Space.

In Abaku we had a band of teenage men follow us through the entire two-hour walk of the town, through the lanes, to the shrine of Martyrs and up a steep mountain to the Tower of Silence where the Zoroastrians used to lay out their dead. When we came to the Mosque we spoke to the old women of the town, joking and laughing that both Kim and Gabs were single if they had sons. Our band of men dispersed the corners of the courtyard....unwilling to continue cavorting under the watchful eye of their female, elder townsfolk. The old ladies were delighted to talk to us through our guide. We had a good laugh about the fact that Gabs's mum was looking for a husband for her...they suggested we wait to meet their sons who would soon be at the mosque for prayers. It was the highlight of our stay in that town. Abaku is interesting in that it is religously very conservative but politically reformist. Our guide said that Ahmadinejad visited the town to speak at the local soccer stadium and not one single person went to listen to him. That combination of conservatism and reformism is common, and vice versa. It's an incredibly difficult country for foreigners to get their head around.

We have only had two negative 'people' experiences in the group while being here. One was that same group in Abaku - one of those boys pulled on the backpack of one of the girls in our group - I think more to get her attention than anything else - and more seriously today, one of the young girls had a man follow her through the back lanes of Yazd who forcibly tried to kiss her. He backed off when she threatened to call the police, but continued to follow her as she made her way back to the hotel. A horrible experience in any country, but particularly in a strange place. But this experience has been a one off so far and I'm absolutely certain Iran is as safe, if not safer, for women than Australia or Britain. The town we are in today, Yazd (central Iran), is much more religously conservative than any of the cities we have been in before. All women we have seen wear the full chador (long black cape and veil, but the face is not covered). It has also been the least outwardly friendly town (by this I mean we haven't been stopped for a chat by many people at all) but last night an Imam urged us to come closer to watch the Friday prayers and today we have been welcomed into coffee houses and kebab joints for rest and resuscitation, even with our less than conservative flip flops.

Regardless of gender, it is amazing what can be communicated with very few words.