22 Apr 2017
Just outside the National Museum is a park in the traditional Persian fashion: shady trees, fountains, running water, ambling paths and benches. And beside the park, on the footpath beside a busy street is a little street food domain, a half dozen stalls selling various hot and cold snacks.
A hot and dry day. We had a few minutes before our bus returned through the Tehran traffic, and I scooted down to grab a couple of cold drinks, ignoring the fragrant smells of the food vendors.
The bus arrived, we tourists filed aboard, there was the ritual counting, and we moved off. I grabbed this snap of the al fresco food court, the cheery gent in the foreground looking up from his lunch.
Iranians live their lives on the streets. It somehow seems as if half the population are driving somewhere, half are strolling, and the remaining half are having a picnic of some sort. It’s a fun, colourful, entertaining lifestyle, and I have to chuckle at the misconceptions I once had of Iran as a dour land of religious fundamentalists, thanks to American media and political opinion pieces.