Evening in Tehran
The park is packed. Every bench occupied, every sports area in use, every patch of grass spread with picnic blankets.
The paths are a rush hour of strolling families, children running, skating, cycling, the youngest and eldest being pushed along. Here and there young couples hold hands.
And don’t even think about driving and arriving. The streets are jammed, and the footpaths packed with motorcycles and scooters.
It is a happy, friendly, warm atmosphere. We foreigners may not feel quite at home, but we feel a part of the holiday. Nobody points or stares, our gaze is met with smiles, we are accepted.
We have arrived safely in Iran, we have joined up with the rest of the tour party, we have had a dinner together: a dinner of Chinese food (without a chopstick or bowl of rice to be seen) in a Polynesian restaurant with a fabulous view of the Alborz Mountains.
I’ll keep up the report on our flights in – I’m not going to let our Emirates First Class experience go undocumented! – but the reports will necessarily fall further behind. I’m not the sort of travel blogger who livestreams his experience.
Nor will I report on everything. The headline moments, the hotel reviews, the flights, sure.
The long hours of bus travel, the forgettable fast food, the hassles with internet, not so much.
But we are here in Iran, we are enjoying the experience, the days are just packed…