Category: Iran

Iran is one of the countries that impressed me the most. Against all odds, I felt warmly welcomed here so often that the memory of it touches me to this day.

The Grand Bazaar of Tehran: Lost in the Labyrinth

The bazaars are a hive of activity. Daily shopping is done, gold and jewelry are traded, men sit together conspiratorially and barter something or other. Iran is a country of men, who would be surprised, and women are not always a part of it. I adjust my headscarf, uncertainly we stand in front of the bazaar entrance, it is inconspicuous and dark. The street is full of people, we stand out, foreigners in Tehran, a rarity.

Welcome to Iran

A woman approaches us at a brisk pace, and I am startled. I wonder if we did something wrong. The questions bubble out of her, where are you from, oh Germany!, very nice, wonderful, I have a brother in Düsseldorf, do you know Düsseldorf, do you like Tehran? And then what I was to hear even more often in Tehran, usually accompanied by a warm smile, outstretched arms and at the top of my lungs: Wel-come to I-raaaan!

She shyly grabs my young colleague, who could be her daughter, in her bright blond hair, you are so beautiful, she says with a smile, and can’t tear herself away from us. She wants to know more about us, somehow keep the conversation going, just spend a moment with us. It warms my heart. I get a premonition that Tehran will probably do more to me than just beautiful photo opportunities and the eternally annoying struggle with my headscarf.

In the middle of the bazaar: A mosque.

Secret confessions

She whispers to me quietly in her broken English: “Iran is wonderful country, but politics no good. Too much religion, too much, you know. My eyeballs are falling out of their sockets, we are standing on one of the busiest streets in the middle of Tehran, here and there people in uniform, I have the wildest scenes in my head, you can’t just say that here? Nor can you, her whisper suggests, and I am touched that it was nevertheless an important matter for her to let us know.

How many camels does a young girl actually cost?

The Grand Bazaar stretches over several blocks of houses, divided into the individual branches, in one corner sit the gold dealers, in the other there are household goods or food. The corridors are dark and follow no system. It’s one big maze. We split up into small groups before we get lost anyway, and I end up at a nut stand with two bloody young colleagues. I’m excited, at markets I’m always careful, the bag, the camera, and then so strange, as a woman. You hear a lot of things. The nut seller senses a deal and maybe more, and lures us into his store. Two more men appear out of nowhere and look at us with wide eyes. The door slams shut behind us. Instinctively, I turn to face the door and the window, who knows, maybe someone can still save us if the situation here tips over.

But it does not tilt. I’m a bit ashamed that I’ve already calculated how many camels we’ll be bartered for, how silly and stupid, while the nut seller pesters us with questions: where are you from, oh Germany!, nice, wonderful country, I worked for a German company, do you know BMW, do you like Tehran?

By the way, the nut vendor invited us over for dinner. At his family’s home, in a very civilized setting. I’m still a little annoyed that I turned down the invitation back then. It’s good to be cautious when traveling, but it’s even better to throw your preconceptions out the window.

01/05/2020
Tehran and a Lesson in Hospitality.

After all, hospitality is something you should know a lot about as a flight attendant. Especially after 16 years of professional experience. But after having been in Iran – or rather in Tehran – and by some coincidences even longer than planned, I know: There is still a lot to learn.

Iran: Prejudice and Reality

A vague image of Iran had settled in my mind: I thought of nuclear bombs, compulsory headscarves, human rights, magnificent palaces, oriental flair, and presidents who look as suave as an Uzbek farmer milking a goat. But no. But I also thought of the many wonderful Iranians I knew in Germany: beautiful, educated people with a heart of gold that warms every room. How does it all fit together?

I still don’t understand it. Why things are the way they are in Iran, despite the wonderful people who live there, is beyond me. But that’s part of traveling: you don’t have to question everything.

Snowy: Winters can get pretty white in Tehran.

Welcome to Iran!

Rarely have I felt so exotic and special in a foreign country as I did in Iran. Foreigners still seem to be a rarity in an embargoed country. And that’s how you actually always stand out like a colorful dog.

You can also learn more about Iran as a travel destination in these articles

Unfamiliar, but not unpleasant. Because the Tehrans are curious and seriously interested. Despite often lacking knowledge of foreign languages, people approach you in the middle of the street. In broken English, fluent Farsi or with hands and feet. And actually always with a similar conversation starter: “Welcome to Iran!” coupled with such genuine, truthful joy that it brings tears to the eyes of especially maudlin visitors like me every time.

How safe is Tehran?

Not once did I feel uncomfortable, unsure or lost in Tehran. As soon as you look around inquiringly, someone immediately rushes over – where do you want to go?, do you need help?, where are you from? – and any questions are resolved. Sometimes also the question where to have dinner, because not only once in Tehran I turned down invitations to a real Persian dinner in my own home. In retrospect, I’m annoyed that I didn’t dare – because in the course of the week I got the impression that these invitations were really nicely meant.

Fear of contact is out of place

Wherever you look: Nice people. For example, there was R., whom we met in a mountain restaurant. All the seating areas, where the guests were sitting comfortably barefoot on the floor and smoking shisha, were occupied. Uncertainly we looked around, stepped from one foot to the other – getting out was not an option: the feet were cold, and the stomach cried out for food. When the first ones noticed us, hands immediately shot up and we were called from all corners: here, here! As if it had become a competition to see who could invite the drumming tourists to join them in the seating area. So we sat down with R. and his friend H.; we talked about God, Allah, the world itself and the realization that our wishes for life are quite identical, despite such different circumstances.

And, of course, there was the obligatory invitation to tea and soup – so heartfelt that it was impossible to refuse and I already had pee in my eyes again from sheer emotion.

That’s the wonderful thing about my job: I would never have thought of visiting Tehran in my private life. And now? Do I want to come back and see much more of the country. Who would have thought.

26/12/2016