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tions: How free would we actually be? Would the hotel rooms be bugged? Was there really
absolutely no alcohol—even in fancy hotels? Would crowds gather around us, and then
suddenly turn angry?
I was about to set foot in what just might be the most surprising land I've ever visited.
By my first night in Tehran, it was already clear that Iran was an intriguing and complex
paradox: playful Revolutionary Guards, four-lane highways intersecting with no traffic
lights, “Death to America” murals, and big, warm, welcoming smiles.
Tehran, a youthful and noisy capital city, is the modern heart of this country. It's a
smoggy, mile-high metropolis. With a teeming population of 14 million in the metropolit-
an area, its apartment blocks stretch far into the surrounding mountains.
I stepped out onto the 15th-floor balcony of my fancy hotel room to hear the hum of
the city. I enjoyed the view of a vast, twinkling city at twilight. Fresh snow capped the
mountains above the ritzy high-rise condos of North Tehran.
As I looked straight down, I noticed the hotel's entryway buzzing with activity, as it
was hosting a conference on Islamic unity. The circular driveway was lined by the flags of
