Travelogue: Iran

Couldn't put off the purchase of a manteau any longer. I'm getting stares as though I were walking around in a bikini. Its the strangest feeling... people's reactions to you really can alter what you think is normal. Its 100 degree weather and in my layered clothing I feel practically naked. Not to mention the two separate occasions when I was harassed by the moral police (thought for a rather terrifying second that they would put me in the cop car and drag me away to no man's land of people-misbehaving-in-Iran). Anyways, the manteau is a rather ugly thing which leaves me looking like some sort of spy character from a 70's cop show... cheap aviators and all.

Dreaming in Iran is a violent affair. I dreamt of war and disaster, executions and atrocities. Not sure if its my own anxiety due to being alone in this alien country or if its the media's effect on my subconscious ideas about Iran. Either way, it makes for a disturbing morning.