Your assumptions are your windows on the world. Scrub them off every once in a while, or the light won’t come in.
Last March, I spent almost 3 weeks in Iran (I wrote about the Imamzadeh Hamzeh Mausoleum and there is plenty more to come) on what was the most wonderful, life-altering travel experience of my life. It was a moment of questioning everything I had been conditioned to believe about Iranian society (particularly coming from the UK), of reinforcing my belief that being nice to others is the only way to exist on this planet and that maybe it’s time to take a break from city life and move closer to nature.
Going through my photographs, I realised that I didn’t spend much time – only 4 days – in Tehran but, nevertheless, it had a profound impact on me. I arrived and almost felt scared to look at people in case I was perceived negatively. A few weeks later, after exploring central Iran and meeting dozens of local people, I returned to Tehran with confidence (and sadness at leaving).
A few months after my trip I went to India for an academic course, where I met an Iranian woman. As we talked, she said “this (meaning India) is what people think Iran is like”. I smiled because I, too, had been one of those people. I knew Iran would be architecturally-alluring (I’m a ceramic enthusiast) but, rather shamefully, I did not expect the advanced society I found – the openness, the diverse range of languages, the expansive universities and a consistent curiosity from everybody I met. It was just fantastic. And, as with all such surprises, it led me to question my own subconscious views about the world outside the West, but more on that another time. Who knew I would be able to find a sharp, fruity flat white in a cool, locally-run coffee shop? The streets are cleaner than most in my city (though plastic consumption is awfully high) and people are helpful, chatty and kind. From my first excursion alone to a ceramics museum and relaxing on my hotel room terrace with a view of the snow-topped mountain sipping Sencha from home to eating lavashak (dried fruit roll) for first time and strolling through the streets alone feeling safer than I do at home, everything & everybody I encountered made me look at Iran through new eyes, and what a joy it was to be there for Nowruz (Persian New Year). And fresh-pressed-before-your-eyes pomegranate juice costs 70p! In London, it’s £4-5, and tastes half as good.
I’m not going to write a top-5-to-see-in-Tehran after being there twice because that would be ridiculous (and it makes no sense when people do that). However, I hope to provide some insight into an extremely rich, intricate culture through the eye of an explorer with a thirst for knowledge and human understanding. My way in life is to be open, to look beyond the barriers society tells us we should have and to share this world through kind actions. As it turns out, the people I met in Tehran have a very similar way of life. I loved every moment of it. It’s important to acknowledge that ‘my’ Tehran doesn’t not match with what mass media portrays, nor am I suggesting that my blissful and enriching experiences are indicative of what local people may experience.