The Kish trip was ok.
Less than 6 hours on the island, and getting the visa was just like getting tissue in the toilet, which was even a little harder in Iran.
So one problem solved.
Well I can't think of any problem right now,
except if Fifi wants to give me one, which I hope she doesn't. Hehehhe.
So yeah we wore a Muslim dress again and took a picture of myself and Fifi.
Fun fun fun. Not. That was the only thing to do, really.
I brought my bedtime reading and was at it for about 15 minutes,
ate crappy snacks from that coffeeshop at the airport,
ate half a pear, which reminded me that I was pear-shaped, and that got me depressed.
So I listened to Colin's iPod (which he gladly charged for our trip),
and lsitened to some tunes >>> I had a kick out of listening to Ben Folds Five's Song for the Dumped, and Dead from the Waist Down by Catatonia. D from the W Down was something to listen to on my way home form Kish, looking out the plane window, watching the plane slowly slice through the clouds.
So that's my day.
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