Flying into Tehran in the middle of the night is, in some ways, a remarkably other worldly experience. I imagine the people below dreaming, as we do, of living a comfortable life, a life of loving and being loved, of being safe in our changing world. How easy it is to forget, with the amount of hyperbole in the media, that this desire is essentially universal. As much as our cultures, histories, and politics may differ and be misinterpreted, in so many ways we are more the same than we are different. Within a day of landing in Tehran we find that our integration into this new world has happened seamlessly. We readily exchange glances, smiles, and finally conversations with those around us. Eager to preserve this moment of meeting by capturing it on film, we take numerous photos of each other, each photo symbolic of a desire for connection and understanding.There are fourteen of us traveling together through this varied landscape of snow-covered peaks, green hills studded with groves of wild almonds, stretches of highway, bustling city centers, and sun-baked lands. We wend our way, our trip resembling a “connect the dots” of rock reliefs, back into Iran’s intricate past and peoples as we work our way from the north, westward, then into the south. At Sar-I Pul-I Zuhab, we imagine the life of King Annubanini and his people, the Lullabis. In Susa, the seat of the Elamite Empire for approximately 1500 years, we visit the Tomb of Daniel and walk quietly amidst the worshippers. In Khuzestan we tour Choga Zanbil, the largest known ziggurat – even in the oppressive heat we are suitably awed by the structure. We wander through Pasargadae, the ancient city emerging from fields of delphiniums and cornflowers. Upon the advice of our own Queen of the Lullabis, Professor Holly Pittman, we take a detour to view Kurangun, a glorious Elamite relief. In Shiraz we try faludeh, a refreshing concoction made of rice noodles, lime juice, and rosewater. We visit a madrassah and engage in an exchange with the resident mullah and dean, translated by our superb guide, Saeed Alizadeh. We even take turns being Darius, posing commandingly on the plinth where he once stood. In Isfahan at Khaju bridge we meander under the arches and are serenaded by a group of gentlemen who regularly gather here to sing. And, of course, there is Persepolis, but that is another story…
