AP Photo/Michael Weissentein A country of surprises: the Iranian ski resort of Dizin.

Late last year I applied for a visa to study Persian in Iran, expecting to be rejected out of hand. I was stunned and elated when the official at Iran's London embassy told me it had been granted.

But the Iran-shaped silver stamp in my British passport still was no guarantee. Tensions were high between the U.S. and Iran, and before I left I heard stories of Westerners turned back at the airport without explanation.

My flight from London landed at Mehrabad Airport on a gray December morning. I joined a line of elegantly dressed expatriates waiting to show their passports.

I stepped to the counter, a 32-year-old American journalist (with a British mother) on an unusual winter vacation. The customs officer looked over my passport and motioned me off to the side. I understood just a couple of words as customs officers examined my passport: "Amrika" and "Amrika-ee" -- "America" and "American."

The clock ticked. I cursed myself for booking a single ticket that showed New York as my point of departure.

The chief officer walked over, smiling, and handed me my passport. I headed for the baggage claim, elated. My stay in Iran had officially begun.

FREE TO ROAM

I took a cab to the Dehkhoda Institute, Iran's best-known center for Persian-language instruction for foreigners. I filled out forms and caught a ride to Tehran University, where I was given a room in a guesthouse used by visiting academics.

Given my pedigree I expected to be closely watched, perhaps even assigned an official "minder."

Instead, I got a key to the guesthouse's front gate and spent the next six weeks attending morning classes, and spending the afternoons, evenings and frequent holidays getting to know Iran.

Tehran, vital and bustling, was far from the dour and lifeless metropolis that I had expected, with black-shrouded women and security agents on every corner.

The city is massive, sprawling from the slopes of the snowcapped Alborz mountains far south into the desert below. The streets are busy and crammed with stores, selling fruit fresh and dried, steaming-warm bread, dozens of types of pastries, DVDs from around the world, the newest German and Korean appliances, flowers and even American toiletries and candy bars from around the Middle East. I saw fewer cops or soldiers than on the streets of New York.

I roamed Tehran and the Alborz without restrictions, drove for three days with a fellow student through the central desert and flew to the historic city of Isfahan for three days without anyone so much as checking my passport.

WELCOME, AMERICAN

With U.S. troops in Iraq and Afghanistan, the troubled U.S.-Iranian relationship was at a low point. Worried about introducing myself as an American, I tried out British, Canadian and French before realizing that the truth was by far the best option.

"Ahle koja-ee? -- Where are you from?" "Amrika," I would respond.

The response was almost universal: a double-take, delight, then a flood of questions. Why was I here, what did I think of Iran, did I like it better than America and what did I think of President Bush? People were well informed about the United States, and deeply concerned that Americans not see Iranians as terrorists.

Religion was never an issue. People rarely asked. And those with whom I discussed my Jewish background were interested and respectful.

The biggest problem was learning to handle Persian hospitality, a force that can be overwhelming.

A ride in an informal cab (many people take passengers in their personal cars to make money) became a dinner invitation, then another, then an ongoing friendship with the driver and his family. An introduction to a friend of another Dehkhoda student became a daylong tour of Isfahan and another friendship continued by e-mail.

Some offers were genuine, others were ta'arof, offers purely for the sake of politeness -- part of the intricate system of courtly manners that underlies every action in Iran.

The many dinners were long and intricate affairs, prepared with grace and tremendous pride. Laid out on an immaculate cloth on the floor, they started with tea and fruit, and could encompass a dozen dishes through the course of the night -- pickled vegetables, fresh herbs, lamb or chicken kebabs, stews and rice with tiny red barberries.

A NATION'S IMAGE

I began to understand why Iranians are so upset by their country's image in the West. The Iran they know -- the one I came to know -- is a land of deep hospitality, poetry, art, courtesy and grace.

Flooded by American culture by way of satellite TV, Internet, and DVDs, Iranians, or at least cosmopolitan Tehranis, are savvy observers of the U.S. and appreciate many things about America while rejecting others.

With both nations' governments trading tough talk and threats, it's a shame the gulf between the countries remains so wide that many Americans will never have the chance to appreciate Iran in the same way.

Difficult issues divide Tehran and Washington: they have opposite views on Israel, the future for Iraq, regional issues, nuclear power, and much more. Both countries relate through tough talk and threats. And a visit to New York by Iranian President Mahmoud Ahmadinejad has left many Americans outraged.

Still, I came away feeling it is a shame the gulf remains so wide. Not many Americans will have the chance to appreciate the Iran I was lucky enough to see.

asap contributor Michael Weissenstein is an editor at the AP's International Desk in New York.