It's good to be back home.

It's dawning on us that today is our last day.

The American tourist lying back in the chair, the young Iranian applying his craft; the television is on in the background, where the Ayatollah leads prayers as the President prostrates with the rest of the congregation. Old meets new, East meets West, pious meets secular.

Standing there, as the crowds walked past and the sun approached the horizon, we couldn't help but wonder: could it be that we, too, are called to build such bridges that demonstrate a symbolic and real equality?

No doubt the name "Imam Khomeini" stirs feelings in Americans. Even so, it is in a place like Khomeini Square that you really get a feel for the famous hospitality of the Iranians. Everywhere we go, we are asked, "Where are you from?" When we reply "America," there is usually a response of surprise (not a lot of our fellow countryfolk venturing here these days), followed by a very warm greeting.

Today was strange, wonderful, and varied.

Our first stop was Persepolis. Wow. I have been fortunate enough to see some of the great ruins of the Middle East: Syria's Palmyra, Egypt's Pyramids, Lebanon's Baalbeck, Jordan's Petra, Iraq's Babylon. This place definitely holds its own among those notables.

This is a big country! We spent most of it on the bus, driving from Ahwaz to Shiraz.

We had been anticipating today back when we first started planning this trip: Susa. The modern (and I use the term loosely) city of Shush, one of the oldest urban centers in the world, is also home to the ruins of ancient Susa.

Our flight on IranAir took us from Tehran to Ahwaz. Two cultural curiosities for me were the covered women in the safety booklet and the in-flight meal (it's Ramadan)

Despite what people here might think of the current situation, there is a general consensus of gratitude that the days of the Muhammad Reza Shah Pahlavi are gone.

We are here in the middle of Ramadan, but there are enough foreigners (and enough traveling/non-fasting Iranians) that we are able to take all of our meals. The only difference is that, instead of breakfast in the lobby, it is held on the thirteenth floor, giving fantastic views of Tehran and the Alborz mountains.

We had about six hours in the Amsterdam airport, which is like most European airports - faint, stale cigarette smoke; yellow and green neon signs; cold, non-descript tile floors; black, stiff-backed leather chairs.