With the exception of a few Iranians, we were the ONLY ones who actually deplaned onto Kish. Every few meters of the airport transit lounge, the customs people kept saying "Visa, this way--". They wouldn't believe we were actually staying. 

So, who is "us" you might ask. Well, practically everyone from the Dubai dive club changed their minds about going. The group of 15 ended up being a group of 4. Michelle and myself and these two other guys, Michael (Germany) and John (Canada). With the exception of the two dive masters based on Kish, we were 100% the only westerners on the island. 

The dress code: Just before our rickety old Russian plane from the 70's (and that just might be a generous estimate!) came to a halt, Michelle and I were handed veils. After the veil came the Chador; a long overcoat type dress that buttons at the neck and ends at the ankles. 

Fortunately, we had kind of known what we were getting ourselves into and had packed our own Abayas and Shaila's (Emirati gear) into our suitcases. My veil kept slipping off so I was considered the "rebel" by Michelle, Michael and John. I did look the most authentic of the group however! 

Prior to the Revolution, the Sheraton hotel thought that KISH might become a tourist hot spot. So, in the early 70's they erected a hotel there. Times changed, the Sheraton pulled out but the hotel remained. To date, nothing has changed, including the carpeting, wall paper, furniture. Talk about your retro weekend. 

Michelle and I had to be "covered" at all times in public... including inside the hotel. We both found it an interesting experience (for a weekend!). Wearing the Abaya (black robe) makes you feel a bit glamourous as it swoops about you. About an hour into wearing our Iran-friendly clothing, we both admitted to the desire to traipse about wearing loads of expensive jewelry, high heeled shoes and Gucci handbags. To the credit card's relief, there were no Gucci stores in sight. However, for some strange reason, the mall did sell designer pots and pans from Germany. Hmmmmm--- did I say mall.  
Truly, with the exception of household items and clothing shops, there was nothing to buy. No postcards, no Souvenirs. It was a cheap holiday. 

The diving: After a year without doing any diving, I went on three great dives including my first ever night dive. It was a little scary suiting up in the black of night---made a little more frightening by the Iranian police boat that pulled up to us, flashing torches and firing questions at the dive crew. I guess they were just checking to make sure we had a license to be out there. We did. But, you know how it is--- foreign country-- the police always look intimidating. That is, until you examine a little more closely and realize they're closer to 12 than 30. 

On the dives, we saw heaps of fish and my favorite, sea turtles. Also manta rays, eagle rays and barracuda. 

Given the rule that we had to be covered at all times, you may be wondering how the diving was managed. Well, we were allowed to dis-robe once the boat is 50 metres away from shore. The part between getting from dive shop to boat required significant patience and humor. Covering the hair is most critical. So, in the dive shop, we were allowed to take off the Abayas as long as we were wearing loose trousers and baggy shirts (preferably-long sleeved). Donning the veil and street clothing plus carrying the gear--- we, were then able to cross to the boat. The boat being in water meant some wading. On one dive, everything I was wearing got wet as I attempted to climb aboard. Not exactly, in keeping with the conservative approach when your clothing is sticking to you like second skin. Thankfully, it wasn't a white T-shirt. 

Michelle and I both agreed that the adventure was worth it. We learned alot and came back more apprceiative of our freedoms. The trip though offered great insight into the travails some of our students experience and also, explained why so many women here aren't into sports. Wearing all the requistite clothing and just walking in heat at the 40 celsius mark should be an Olympic sport in itself! 

Getting back home also took some energy. We flew on KISH AIR. No recommended for the faint of heart! Our plane was a thirty six seater--- Russian and old. 

Climbing up the stairs of the small plane, propeller turning, engines whirring and veils blowing--- I felt, and Michelle looked like somthing out of an Audrey Hepburn movie. 

First, we had loads of problems getting out of the country. Not to mention, Michelle's troubles of getting into the country. An American in Iran! 

We arrived for our 2:30 departure to learn (after an hour) that the timing had changed from 2:30 to 11:00 am. The ticket guy ferociously demanded to know why we hadn't reconfirmed 72 hours in advance. He didn't care we'd only  
been there 48 hours! Anyway, not to worry-- there was a 4:00 pm flight. Kish is a busy place! 

Then, they said the plane was full---disbelieving, we looked around the empty airport. Oh, right--- the visa run people waiting in transit. We took turns yelling, demanding, screaming. "Oh no, was the thought in each of our minds... I can't spend another night on this island!". 

Eventually, we got on the flight. One passenger ended up sitting on a "jump seat" which was actually, a fold down metal chair--- not, fastened to anything! Hardly anyone wore seatbelts--- safety was not priority one. 

Well, at the end of the day, we emerged from KISH with good memories of a fun adventure.