A Magic Carpet Tour of Persia

[Skyring]

It begins with a dog. Small, bad-tempered, obsessive. A bit like my wife, really, who chose the tiny terrier out of a lineup at the local animal shelter.

Our cat watched the new arrival come through the door with mixed feelings - outrage and horror - and she climbed up my left side, gained speed over my shoulders and vanished with a leap into the hall, not to be seen again for some time.

Our little dog (a "Skittish terrier", as I described her) was middle-aged to begin with, and over the years she slowed down, became less aggressive, less yappy, more sedentary, more incontinent. The cat became top dog, but the cat had the advantage of being able to use the cat flap to go outside when she needed to.

Eventually we had to rip up the carpets in our cottage, exposing various disasters of floorboards, linoleum, and cement beneath. Ugly, uneven and cold on our toes as Canberra's winter threatened.

The advertisement for an auction of Persian rugs at a nearby hotel came at an opportune time. Our dog would not outlast the winter, and we needed some floor coverings that suited our 1920s cottage and had a bit more appeal than the increasingly beige carpets that had preceded them.

The auctioneer wasn't the normal oleaginous salesman with a fast pitch and a line of chat. He genuinely loved his carpets, and would happily talk about the village where it was woven, the people who made it, their traditions, cultural designs, vegetable dyes and goat hair.

He knew a lot and wanted to share it.

We bought a few rugs and set them aside against the day when we could lay them down. But we pricked up our ears when we heard that he led tours to Iran as a sideline, had been doing this for decades.

The thought of participating on a tour through a "difficult" country, led by someone who really knew his stuff was too much for us. We signed up for the short tour, six days out of the full nineteen. I had a convention in Athens following, and we could combine the two.

If we liked Iran, we could always return next year to complete the tour.

 

[Skyring]

Most of the places I go, I just show my passport and walk on in. The USA requires advance notice, some places (like Turkey or Japan) require visas, but allow them to be applied on entry. A few (India, China) need to be arranged beforehand, but these have been straightforward.

Iran is a little more difficult. In theory, one can turn up at the airport and gain a visa on the spot, but in practice, entry needs to be arranged and approved before applying for a visa.

This is where the tour company earns its keep. Vicki, representing Granger Tours, collected the information in Australia, and Pasargad Tours (the Iranian side of the operation) submitted it to the Iranian authorities. We commenced the process some months previously and eventually, late February 2016, the approval number came back.

Vicki was happy to take all the passports to the Iranian Embassy in Canberra to have the visas applied, or we could submit them by post, quoting the approval number. With a March trip to Portugal looming, I wasn't keen on letting our passports out of our hands. There's enough stress in my life already without the prospect of our departure date arriving with our passports still in the mail.

I needed our passports, two passport photos, travel insurance documents and enough money to cover the fees, and attendance at the O'Malley Embassy between 0900 and 1400 on a Tuesday, Wednesday or Thursday. Tourist visas are $160 a pop, and same-day processing another 50%. So that was $480 for the two of us.

Vicki indicated that she would be at the embassy, along with another young lady who lived locally, so we might run into each other.

 

[Skyring]

I rocked up to the embassy around ten, expecting a fairly quiet operation. No way. There were people waiting outside smoking, the impromptu car park over the road was full, the waiting room was all but chockers. I grabbed one of the few empty chairs and studied the process.

After a while I got up and took a number from the dispenser, just like the supermarket deli. There was a number display, and I was a long way behind.

Most of those waiting were clearly of Middle Eastern extraction, but one young lady looked Australian. She was struggling with the photocopier in the corner, and I was able to help her before she slid too many dollars down the coin slot. She was the other local, and we chatted a little.

Nothing to read in the waiting room, no mobile phones permitted. I sat and savoured the atmosphere for as long as I could stand it - about five minutes - and then decided to join everyone else in the room, who were immersed in their phones.

Vicki and her husband turned up after a half-hour or so. A few people had come in, a few gone out, but glum tedium prevailed. Vicki was able to provide a few hints as to how things might go - "Could be quick, could be 'come back tomorrow'" - as well as some historical background: "It was much worse before they added the waiting room."

The actual work was done in a tiny area with a counter, a couple of windows and no chairs. The waiting room was much bigger, and had a toilet attached. What happened before, I wondered. Did you have to hunt for a likely spot in the bushland opposite?

Vicki talked about the tour, the dress standards, money, hotels, food, and drink. "There's a non-alcoholic beer; some people develop a taste for it." I took mental notes on the dress requirements. For me, no shorts, no bare arms. Fair enough. For Kerri, headscarf, modest clothing, no ankles, no bare arms. "You can get away with three-quarter length sleeves, about up to here." She indicated a spot about mid-forearm.

The other local had her number called, she handed over her documents and a wad of money and came back. After about twenty minutes she was called back, given her visa and passport and set free.

Vick showed me the stack of passports and documents she had. Sixteen on the tour, made for an impressive display. I mentally multiplied by twenty minutes each and wondered if she planned to camp overnight.

My own number came up, I handed over my documents at the counter, and opted for payment by credit card instead of the cash in my pocket. Always counting those frequent flyer points, you see.

My twenty minutes elapsed and I was given our passports back. Rarely have I seen more impressive visas. Multicoloured, multi-scripted, incorporating a photo, hologram, relevant dates, signatures of officials…

Took up a whole page of my passport.

My photo didn't look the best. My passport photo is pretty woeful, and the visa image still worse. No smiling, no photoshopping, no glasses. Am I really that glum and decrepit chap with no hair? Geez, what happened?

Still, I was overjoyed to have the visas. This thing was really happening. Tehran, here I come!

 

[love_the_life]

Looking forward to reading of your experiences.

Hey, the visa photo is not so bad - they always say, "when you start to look like your passport photo, it's time to come home."

 

[JohnM]

Very much looking forward to this as coincidentally I've recently been scoping Iran for a possible visit next year. All reports I've seen indicate that it is amazing.

 

[LadyC]

Sounds like it will be an amazing trip. Looking forward to reading all about it.

 

[trentusjuventus]

Looking forward to this as well. In these days of electronic visas and what not, there's nothing more satisfying than a good old-fashioned full-page visa in your passport!

 

[Skyring]

Normally I'd arrange my own travel, but for Iran, I wasn't so sure. I accepted the offer of a tame travel agent and let them sort it out. A good price, but not the flights I would have chosen.

Leave Canberra on Virgin Australia where I have zero status, meaning no lounge in Canberra, interline luggage to worry about, and an unfamiliar terminal transfer in Sydney. Then Qatar to Tehran via Doha, Aegean to Athens, Qatar to Melbourne via Doha, and (finally) Qantas back home to Canberra.

Qatar, at least, is oneWorld, so I'd have some lounge access in Sydney, Doha and Athens, and a chance at airmiles. Reading the advice here, I wasn't expecting a real lot.

Next time, I'll probably work Tehran into a DONE4 or a J RTW award. But for this time, well, let's go with the Persian solution.

Our weekend in Lisbon went smoothly and pleasantly, apart from me returning home exhausted with a savage cold. I'll finish that trip report when I get a chance, but for now, I'll head for Tehran.

I have a friend in Tehran. I've known her for some years when I used to send her Mills and Boone romances as part of this BookCrossing jaunt I'm mixed up in. If I get a chance, I'll try to contact her. But Tehran is a big place, and my schedule is rather tight.

As departure approaches, I'm getting two responses from friends and family. Most say, "Are you sure it's safe? Take care!"

But a few say, "You'll love it!"

 

[Skyring]

Our son drops us off at Canberra International Airport. In a few months time there will be international flights again after the short-lived Fiji debacle a decade or so ago. Singapore airlines flying to Wellington via Canberra. Should be a reasonable run, especially with Canberra's lack of curfew.

But for now, we have to transit to Sydney for our first overseas leg. The Virgin side of the terminal is unfamiliar territory, and I approach the checkin desk with caution. At least it is mid-afternoon and we have the lady's full attention. My bag is nudging the limit, as usual. And Kerri's is all but empty. As usual.

I guess several kilos of books and a bunch of electronics adds mass to my gear. Not to mention a tripod and several packs of Tim-Tams, carefully protected inside a Sistema box.

Our bags are interlined all the way through to Tehran, but we'll have to collect Qatar boarding passes in Sydney. More hassle. Grumble, grumble.

We get some lunch at the airside cafe, Kerri buys some thick politico-economic magazine at the newsagent, and we set down to await our chariot to Sydney. An ATR, Virgin's equivalent of the Dash-8 shuttle.



I pull out my 40-150mm ƒ2.8 lens to take some shots of the kangaroo sculpture near the taxiway and a C32 of the USAF. Always worth a glance over at the RAAF VIP base to see what birds have flown in.

 

[JohnM]

Just out of interest, is this TR live or from the past?

 

[Skyring]

Just out of interest, is this TR live or from the past?

Two weeks old now. I'm back home and working through my notes. Gotta say that my internet in Iran was pretty mediocre, and in Greece I was too busy.

 

[Skyring]

Wednesday 13 April 2016
VA 657 CBR-SYD
ATR726 VH-FVY "Marcoola Beach"
Scheduled: 1605
Boarding: 1545 G3 2A/2C
Pushback: 1607
Takeoff: 1615 to North
Landing: 1658 from North
Gate: 1707

Good seats, almost at the front of the cabin. Hang on, this is an ATR, right? So pretty much the worst seats, with the cabin door at the rear. Oh well, not in a hurry today.

I used to get excited by the first leg of a long trip, even if it was only a short hop to Sydney. But not today.

We're promised a quick trip. Sometimes these legs can be ridiculously short, like about thirty minutes, and the poor cabin crew scramble around to serve everyone a snack and a drink and then clear up before final. Not much longer today, but we pass over Sydney and come down from the north. This adds a few minutes extra, and enables some spectacular views.



I flip through Voyeur, Virgin's house magazine. Pretty cool, but my attention is caught by one advert and I close the pages hurriedly.

 

[RooFlyer]

More jealous of this trip than almost any other I've followed here. I was going to include a side trip to Iran at the end of a trip to Turkey I'm doing next month, but the TA reminded me that visiting Iran will make me ineligible for the US visa waiver program. I need that for my work, so no Iran for me this time!

Once I've done with LOFAP for work, then Iran here I come!!

 

[JohnM]

More jealous of this trip than almost any other I've followed here. I was going to include a side trip to Iran at the end of a trip to Turkey I'm doing next month, but the TA reminded me that visiting Iran will make me ineligible for the US visa waiver program. I need that for my work, so no Iran for me this time!

Once I've done with LOFAP for work, then Iran here I come!!

My sentiments are the same as your first comment, RF.

How come you need the waiver for your work? If you were to do any work in LOTFAP, don't you need to get a full visa anyway because doesn't the waiver expressly forbid working?

In practical terms, does denial of the visa waiver for LOTFAP only mean that you would have to apply for a visa for each (or multiple?) visit to LOTFAP?

I recall many years ago, I needed to get a visa to go to a conference/visit research institutions in LOTFAP because I was travelling on my newly-minted official passport. Silly me thought that an official passport would offer more 'benefits' than a personal PP.

It was a minor PITA at the time but from the experience of travelling all over on an official PP, I concluded that it offered no benefits at all. The LOTFAP visa requirement was an actual disbenefit (bizarre that as an employee of a supposedly 'friendly' government LOTFAP treated me as more of an alien than if I were a tourist.) From then on I always travelled on my personal PP as a 'tourist', making no mention of conferences (even when I was once paid to give a keynote talk) and institutional visits. I let the official PP expire and never renewed it.

I'm thinking of what might be the practical future impact on my annual DONExs which always include a bit of whipping around LOTFAP for SC benefits reasons.

I think your - and others' - inputs into this question on this thread are on topic and are likely to be of interest to others contemplating visiting Iran.

I'll PM you the Iran trip I'm looking at .

 

[Skyring]

The recent US entry changes have bothered me a little. Briefly, people visiting Iran and a few other nations will now be ineligible for the Visa Waiver scheme for visiting the USA. Instead of filling out an online form for approval, I'll now have to attend the US Embassy and apply for a visa. This comes at a greater cost and inconvenience.

I enjoy travelling in the USA and have many good friends there, but I won't be denied entry, just have it made more difficult to enter.

The chance to visit Iran is worth it, I think.

 

[RooFlyer]

Hi JohnM. Rather than take skyring's TR on a tangent, I've started a new thread here.

I hope your Iran trip isn't the $35,000 'Iran by private train' that one US Travel Agent pushed my way!

 

[JohnM]

Hi JohnM. Rather than take skyring's TR on a tangent, I've started a new thread here.

I hope your Iran trip isn't the $35,000 'Iran by private train' that one US Travel Agent pushed my way!

Good idea.

Definitely not! The link is on its way.

 

[Skyring]

On arriving at the Virgin terminal in Sydney, I gallantly lead my wife the wrong way for the transfer bus. Like the similar Qantas operation, this is free for Virgin passengers, the difference being that it travels on public roads, instead of around the north end of the main runway and through various Qantas maintenance areas, always a good chance for unusual angles of some of the big jets.

On arriving at the exit gates, I realise I should have turned right instead of left on leaving our gate, and we retrace our steps to the transfer lounge. As it happens, we haven't missed the bus, just gained some extra exercise. The bus makes a stop outside the terminal entrance, so we could have kept on walking anyway. Useful for the next time I take a Virgin flight, an unlikely prospect, given my heavy Qantas investment in status credits.

We're a little early for the Qatar checkin. I've dropped down to Gold with Qantas, which makes me oneWorld Sapphire, and I join the premium line, even though we are flying at the back of the bus. We're about three passengers back from the head of the line, as opposed to about a hundred for Economy/no status pax.

We still have to wait for the Qatar staff to prepare their desks and have a briefing from a team leader. It's only a few metres away, so I listen with some interest as he issues instructions and information. A full flight, check carryon bags for weight etc. etc. When he allocates staff to checkin counters, I notice those given the premium desks are pleased. One chap pumps his fist, and one young lady looks very happy. Apparently it's her first time promoted from the Economy desks.

She takes longest to set up, so the couple and solo traveller ahead of us are served first, and we get her. She's eager to please, and doesn't say a word about my carryon bag, which I suspect may be a touch over the limit. It's got my camerabag inside, along with a laptop, a bunch of rechargers and a change of clothing, plus a few bits and pieces. I try to avoid putting expensive or fragile items into the hold, where there's a chance of theft or damage.

Bless you, Maryam, I thought, reading her nametag. Of course I could have rearranged a few things to get under the limit. Still that would have been inconvenient, and a burden on my dear wife, who probably would not appreciate being my camera mule.

No Express card is offered, but that's okay. I have a dozen or so already. If the general queue looks long, I can swap over to the Fast Track.

Of course it isn't. This time of day there's not a lot of passengers, and we both breeze through passport control and security into the duty-free shopping mall maze. We don't need anything here, though I contemplate a hipflask of good single malt.

But I can go a week without a drink. That's my usual state of affairs anyway, as I won't drink alone, and Kerri only drinks on non-work nights.

Up to the Qantas lounge, and I gaze wistfully at the door to the First lounge. It's been a while since I've been inside. I've been Platinum a few times, but lost it a year or so back. Kerri has joined me there two or three times, once even gaining a quick massage before a long flight.

The desk dragon admits us into the regular lounge. She seemed puzzled by something, and I realise when we find a couple of seats near the icecream bar that I've inadvertently swapped our boarding passes. Kerri has mine, and I have hers, which indicates no status. I sort them out, and look with a wild surmise at my pass for the first leg:

 

[Skyring]

Quite possibly the shortest official visit to the Qantas lounge in history. We bounced back up into motion, dallying only at the front desk to explain to the kind lady there that we were heading upstairs. "Worth a try," she said.

My thoughts precisely.

We admired the vertical garden in the First lobby before ascending the escalator past the clackering destination board. I held my breath as our boarding passes were inspected, but we were waved in. Hardly believing my luck, I escorted my wife to a table and a lovely young man offered us menus and took our drinks orders. Champagne for me, a tall G&T for Kerri.

I made the obligatory social media snap of a flute, along with enough design elements to demonstrate the venue. You may call me WG, I guess.



The Qantas First lounge in Sydney is as good as it gets in Australia. Until recently, I would have said, best in the world, based on my experiences of Qantas's oneWorld competitors' flagship lounges, but that unbelievable Emirates lounge in Dubai tops Qantas in several respects, though not in elegance.

Anyway, glad to be here, and we sipped our drinks and contemplated the menu.



Salt and pepper squid caught my eye. "Our most popular dish, Sir!" and when it arrived I could see why. Perfectly spiced and textured. Very easy to turn this into tangy rubber, in my experience. I savoured it, sharing a few morsels with Kerri, all the while feeling this would be too good to be true and someone would come along to eject us.

Kerri skipped the entrée and went for the kingfish, while I chose the "Chairman Mao pork" for my main, with a side of rocket and parmesan salad. Somewhere along the way I switched from bubbly to Shiraz, and my but it was good.

Outside, our bird was parked, a B773 with a beast on the tail. Ten across seating for us on a nearly fifteen hour flight, so I didn't regard it with any great fondness. Still, it's a pretty view.



Somewhere along the way I heard my name called over the PA, and I glumly walked over to the desk. Sometimes it's a good thing to be called over, often involving a new boarding pass and a change of seat in the forward direction, but I wasn't real confident about this.

Sure enough, my boarding pass was inspected again and retained so a copy could be made. I was allowed to go finish my food.

The lovely young lady sought me out a minute later in mid-gulp. She handed me back my boarding pass and said there had been a mistake, but once I was in, I was in.

"Don't worry, Qatar will pay!" she grimly said. I had visions of young Maryam, first day on the business desk also her last, pay docked and shipped back to Qatar.

But this didn't stop me enjoying dessert and a coffee. Sadly, the pavlova in a glass has vanished from the menu, but my double icecream was of a very high standard.

All too soon we were forced out. Time to board, but we both felt pleasantly mellow.

I inquired at the gate desk, worried about Maryam's mistake, but after checking my record (now apparently adorned with a comment), the chap there assured me that it wouldn't come out of anyone's pay packet. Or skin.

 

[cgichard]

Backtracking to your earlier posts about Iranian visas, I had a somewhat disconcerting experience. I went there in 2007 with an Australian tour group (can't recall which now but we went to Iran after Uzbekhistan and Turkmenistan) and I used for the visa (organized by my travel agent) another copy of the same photo I had used for my passport. I liked Iran so much and we saw so little of it on that brief visit that I went again in 2008 for a more extended tour, this time with Martin Randall, the UK tour company. So I had to get another visa. But this time the application said that I had to be wearing a headscarf in the photo. So I had another photo taken, this time with headscarf. However, when my passport came back the photo in the visa was not the one I had just submitted, but the one from the visa issued a year previously. I did not relish the feeling that I was in their files.