“Axis of Evil”-Not At All, Instead Iran Welcomed Me with Kindness and Open Arms.    

Iran 2006: Seeking Truth Beyond the Headlines

My route in Iran

Iran: A Journey Through Time and Civilization

Few places on Earth boast a history as deep and complex as Iran, or as it was once known, Persia. This land of ancient civilizations has left an indelible mark on the world, shaping art, philosophy, science, and even the very foundations of Western civilization. While its history is too vast to capture in a single post, here’s a glimpse into Iran’s fascinating past and how it continues to influence the modern world.

A Land of Empires and Conquerors

Before the arrival of Islam, Persia was home to one of the world’s earliest monotheistic religions—Zoroastrianism, a faith that influenced later Abrahamic religions. Persia’s golden age arrived with the Achaemenid Empire, founded by Cyrus the Great and expanded under Darius I. At its peak, it stretched from the Balkans to India, creating one of the most sophisticated and multicultural empires the world had ever seen.

However, history is never static. The mighty Persian empire eventually fell to the relentless march of Alexander the Great, bringing a wave of Hellenistic influence. Yet, Iran’s resilience remained. Over the centuries, it saw waves of invaders—the Arabs, who introduced Islam; the Mongols, who left a trail of destruction; and countless other rulers who shaped the country’s evolving identity.

A Country of Contrasts and Conflict

Fast-forward to the 20th century, and Iran found itself at the center of global geopolitics. With vast oil reserves, foreign powers—particularly Britain and the U.S.—propped up monarchies that were often accused of corruption and authoritarian rule. This led to a growing dissatisfaction that culminated in the Islamic Revolution of 1979, bringing Ayatollah Khomeini and the Shiite clerical establishment to power.

Since then, Iran’s relationship with the West, Israel, and the U.S. has been marked by periods of deep hostility, nuclear negotiations, sanctions, and complex diplomacy. Yet, beyond politics, Iran remains a country of immense beauty, culture, and history—one that continues to inspire travelers who seek to uncover its ancient wonders and contemporary complexities.

Iran is not just a destination; it’s a journey through time. From the ruins of Persepolis to the stunning mosques of Isfahan, from the desert caravanserais to the vibrant bazaars of Tehran, every corner tells a story of resilience, reinvention, and richness.

Navigating the Maze: How I Got a Visa to Iran as an American

Traveling to Iran as an American is anything but straightforward. The visa process is a bureaucratic gamble, heavily influenced by the shifting tides of U.S.-Iran relations. When I planned my trip, Iran had essentially stopped issuing visas to Americans, and even during my visit, relations were at a low point. The media was filled with heated exchanges between then U.S. President George W. Bush and Iran’s Mahmoud Ahmadinejad, who seemed to take pleasure in issuing threats against the U.S. and Israel. Needless to say, it wasn’t exactly the best time to go.

Yet, I was determined.

The Visa Gauntlet: A Game of Uncertainty

Unlike most destinations, Americans can’t simply apply for a tourist visa and go. The process is layered with uncertainty and depends on several approvals:

1. Applying Through a Third Country – Since Iran and the U.S. had no diplomatic ties, I had to send my passport to the Pakistan Embassy, where Iran maintained a diplomatic station to process visas.
2. Government-Approved Travel Agency – Independent travel wasn’t an option. I needed visa support from an Iranian government-approved travel agency, which meant a pre-approved itinerary and a government-assigned guide for my entire trip.
3. Employment Verification – Unlike any other visa I’ve ever applied for, Iran actually called my supervisor at work to verify my employment. That was a first.
4. Months of Uncertainty – The entire process dragged on for months, with no guarantees. Iran could deny my application at any point without explanation.

After what felt like an eternity, I finally received my Iranian visa—a surreal moment considering how many obstacles stood in the way.

Flying to Iran via Moscow

With my visa secured, I booked my flight to Tehran via Moscow on Aeroflot Airlines. Given the tense political climate, I fully expected a rough reception at Iranian immigration—perhaps a long interrogation or extra scrutiny.

But to my surprise, the process was smooth. No questions. No extra screening. Just a quiet stamp on my passport, and I was in.

As I stepped into Imam Khomeini International Airport, my assigned guide was already waiting for me—a requirement for all American travelers. And with that, my weeklong journey through Iran began.

A Land of Contrasts and Complexities

Despite the political tensions, I was eager to explore a country that had fascinated me for years—a place rich in history, culture, and contradictions. Over the next week, I would wander through Tehran’s bustling bazaars, marvel at the grand mosques of Isfahan, and stand among the ruins of Persepolis, once the heart of the mighty Persian Empire.

Traveling in Iran as an American wasn’t easy—but it was worth every challenge.

The Real Iran: A Warm Welcome in a Land of Contradictions

If you’ve ever watched the news, you’d probably picture Iran as a country filled with “Death to America” rallies, where furious protesters chant in the streets, waving fists in the air. This image is constantly projected by the media, creating the impression that Americans would be unwelcome, even unsafe in Iran.

But what I experienced was the exact opposite.

The moment I set foot in the country, I was met with nothing but kindness, hospitality, and warmth.

A Rock Star Welcome

I quickly learned that Iranian hospitality is legendary—but as an American, I wasn’t expecting the level of adoration I received. Every time I mentioned I was from the U.S., I was met with enthusiastic smiles and handshakes. People rushed to tell me, “We love Americans!” Strangers in bustling markets offered me free food, shopkeepers invited me inside for tea, and in one case, when I set off an airport metal detector, I braced for the usual pat-down—only for the security officer to smile, shake my hand, and welcome me to Iran. I was never searched.

Even Iranian women, despite the strict social norms, were openly friendly towards me. Some waved and smiled, while others even struck up conversations and offered me their phone numbers in case I needed help. I had heard that Iranians were some of the warmest people on Earth, but I hadn’t expected to feel like a rock star on tour!

The Government vs. The People

However, this warmth from everyday Iranians stood in stark contrast to the government’s relentless propaganda machine.

The Iranian government works hard to control the narrative—both at home and abroad. State-controlled media, internet censorship, and mass propaganda are the tools used to suppress pro-Western sentiments and maintain the regime’s grip on power.

• Anti-U.S. murals were painted on buildings throughout Tehran, some depicting missiles raining down on America.
• Television broadcasts ran anti-West and anti-Bush rhetoric on repeat.
• The infamous former U.S. Embassy, where American diplomats were held hostage during the 1979 revolution, is now controlled by the Iranian Revolutionary Guard—the regime’s most radical military force. I was curious to visit, but my guide warned me that stopping for photos could get me detained. Instead, we drove slowly past the embassy, just enough to catch a glimpse of the eerie mural of a Statue of Liberty with a skull for a face.

Strict Islamic Laws & Social Divides

Iran is a country of extremes, and nowhere is that more apparent than in its strict Islamic laws. The religious police enforce these laws, though I never personally saw them—or if I did, I didn’t recognize them.

• Women are required to wear veils and loose clothing, though in big cities like Tehran, many barely covered their heads, while in conservative rural areas, women wore full black abayas, with only their eyes visible.
• Music is heavily restricted, especially any song featuring a woman’s voice.
• Gender segregation exists, but it’s less extreme than in places like Saudi Arabia—I even saw women driving, which is banned in some Islamic countries.

While the big cities are noticeably more progressive, the interior of Iran remains deeply conservative. There’s a clear tug-of-war between tradition and modernity, between those who want change and those clinging to the old ways.

A Land of Contrasts

Despite my overwhelmingly positive experiences, I recognize that Iran isn’t without its complexities. While the majority of people welcomed me with open arms, I know that anti-foreigner sentiments still exist in certain circles. The Iran I saw was both warm and cold, both open and closed—a nation of contradictions.

But if there’s one thing I’ll always remember, it’s that behind the headlines, behind the politics and propaganda, Iran is full of kind, generous, and welcoming people. And that’s something no government can erase.

Anti-American Slogans

Walls Outside of American Embassy Now an Iranian Revolutionary Guard Station

Mural of the Leader of Iran-Supreme leader Ayotallah Khomeini, the original Ayotallah and one of the founders of the revolution 

Television program mocking George Bush and Tony Blair

Day 1: Moscow Vodka, Tehran Adventures & a Failed Ski Trip

My first day in Iran started long before I even landed in Tehran.

On my flight from Moscow, I found myself sitting next to two Russian engineers heading to work in Iran. As we waited for takeoff in blizzard-like conditions, trapped on the tarmac for an hour, they pulled out their survival essentials—vodka and sausage. True to Russian hospitality, they shared both with me, making for an unexpectedly festive delay.

When we finally landed in Tehran, we exchanged information, and I figured that would be the last I saw of them. But Iran had other plans.

Lunch with Russians & a Skiing Mishap

With my vehicle and assigned guide, I had free rein over my time in Tehran, which was rare for an American. So when the Russians invited me to lunch at a restaurant, I thought—why not?

Over a meal of kebabs, rice, and endless tea, we discussed Iran, Moscow, and global politics, but mostly, we just enjoyed the random camaraderie of travelers brought together by fate. After lunch, we decided to do something completely unexpected—we would go skiing in the mountains outside of Tehran.

Iran might not be the first place that comes to mind for skiing, but the Alborz Mountains rise dramatically above the city, home to some impressive ski resorts. The plan seemed perfect—until it wasn’t.

After making our way up to the ski lift, we were abruptly told that skiing was done for the day. No reason, no explanation—just a firm “no more skiing” from the resort staff. It was a mysterious end to what could have been an incredible experience.

Frustrated but amused, we parted ways, and I spent the rest of my day exploring Tehran, getting a feel for the city’s energy—its chaotic traffic, sprawling bazaars, and contrasts between modernity and tradition.

A Risky Domestic Flight to Shiraz

As night fell, I boarded a domestic flight to Shiraz—one that, in hindsight, might have been the riskiest part of my trip.

Due to decades of sanctions, Iran’s commercial airline industry had suffered immensely. Replacement parts for planes were nearly impossible to get, and the domestic airlines had a notoriously bad safety record. The aircraft I boarded was an old Boeing, likely held together by ingenuity rather than new parts.

Yet, as I settled into my seat, I reminded myself that adventure comes with risks. The lights dimmed, the engines roared, and soon, I was on my way to Shiraz, eager to experience the ancient wonders of Persia.

Narenjestan Garden

Day 2: Meeting Mr. Abbas – A Guide, a Pilot, and a Storyteller

I arrived in Shiraz, a city steeped in poetry, history, and the grandeur of ancient Persia. But what made my time here truly unforgettable wasn’t just the city—it was Mr. Abbas, my guide for the week.

In all my travels, I’ve had my share of guides—some great, some forgettable—but Mr. Abbas stood out as one of the best.

A Man of Many Lives

Mr. Abbas was in his 60s, but his energy and stories made him seem much younger. His life had been nothing short of extraordinary:

• A former Iranian fighter jet pilot, who flew combat missions in the Iran-Iraq War
• A retired airline captain who had flown commercial jets across Iran
• A student of the U.S. Navy, trained in San Diego in the 1970s during the rule of the Shah of Iran
• A passionate historian, with an encyclopedic knowledge of Persian history, culture, and politics

He had fond memories of San Diego, raving about the city I call home. He even had a soft spot for SeaWorld, a place I never expected to hear mentioned in the deserts of Iran.

But like many Iranians I met, he was deeply critical of the current regime. His words carried the weight of someone who had seen Iran transform from the pro-Western days of the Shah to the strict theocracy of the Islamic Republic. He longed for change.

A Guide Who Made the Journey Special

Long road trips through Iran’s deserts can be monotonous, but with Abbas, there was never a moment of silence. He had a story for every mile, weaving together personal experiences with grand historical narratives.

He spoke of dogfights over the Persian Gulf, the Iranian pilots who once trained alongside Americans, and how his country had changed so dramatically since those days. His opinions were sharp, his humor dry, and his passion for history made the ruins we visited feel alive.

I couldn’t have asked for a better guide.

A Bittersweet Memory

Not long after my trip, I received heartbreaking news—Mr. Abbas had passed away from a heart attack. The man who had brought Iran’s history to life for me, who had once soared through its skies, was gone.

It was a reminder of how fleeting life is, and how travel isn’t just about the places we see, but the people we meet along the way.

Rest in peace, Mr. Abbas. Your stories will live on.

Days 3 & 4: Shiraz, Nomads, and an Experience I Helped Create

Shiraz—a city of poetry, roses, and history—was a pleasant stop on my journey through Iran. Though not the most architecturally striking compared to cities like Isfahan or Yazd, it had a relaxing atmosphere that made it unique.

One of my favorite places in the city was the Tomb of Hafez, the beloved Persian poet whose verses have influenced Iranian culture for centuries. Walking through the gardens surrounding his tomb, I saw locals gathered, reading his poetry aloud—a testament to how deeply ingrained poetry is in the Iranian soul.

But the real adventure was about to begin.

A Nomadic Experience – An Uncharted Path

For years, I had dreamed of staying with Iran’s nomads—a way of life that has existed for thousands of years but is quickly disappearing in modern Iran. When I mentioned this to my Iranian travel agency, they were puzzled.

“No foreign traveler has ever requested this before,” they told me.
“We’re not sure if it’s possible.”

Weeks passed with no clear answer. Then, just before my departure, I received exciting news—they had managed to get permission for me to stay overnight with the nomads of the Lur tribe.

I would be one of the first foreigners to do this.

A Five-Hour Journey into the Wild

From Shiraz, we drove five hours south, deep into the rugged Iranian countryside, searching for a nomad camp. The Lurs are a semi-nomadic people who migrate between summer and winter pastures, living either in black tents or small stone houses, depending on the season.

Some raise sheep, while others are renowned for weaving Persian carpets—a craft passed down through generations.

Living Among the Nomads

That night, I camped outside the home of a nomadic family, surrounded by endless mountains and open skies.

• The nomads prepared meals for me, sharing simple but delicious food.
• I observed their daily routines, from milking sheep to weaving carpets by hand—a practice that takes weeks, even months, to complete.
• Despite their isolation, they were deeply connected to their country—a realization that hit me when I saw portraits of fallen family members on the walls of their home.

I had grown accustomed to seeing massive murals along Iran’s highways—portraits of young men who had died in the brutal Iran-Iraq war, which left millions dead. Even in this remote nomadic settlement, it was no different. The family had lost at least ten of their own—a sobering reminder that war spares no one, not even those who live far from cities.

Leaving My Mark

My stay with the Lur nomads was one of the most surreal experiences I’ve ever had.

Even more rewarding was the fact that this trip existed because of my request. After my experience, the Iranian travel agency decided to add nomadic stays as a future option for tourists, making me the first of what I hope will be many travelers to experience this way of life firsthand.

It’s rare in travel to feel like you’ve blazed a new trail, but in this case, I did. And that made the experience even more special.

Nomad boy sheperd with sheep

Countryside of the nomads

Small nomad village

Nomad houses

Nomad families are large. This was a photo I took with the family during dinner

Patriarch of nomad family

Women making bread

Sewing carpets 

All nomad families have a gun for protection from wolves. I am holding this families gun in in this photo

The Carpet That Wasn’t Meant to Leave

Among the many wonders I encountered during my stay with the Lur nomads, one object caught my eye—a beautiful handmade carpet, featuring an intricately sewn tiger in its design.

I was immediately drawn to it. The craftsmanship, the colors, the energy of the tiger—it felt like the perfect piece to take home as a memory of my time among the nomads.

Curious, I asked the nomad woman who had woven it if she would sell it to me. She agreed, and after some friendly negotiation, we settled on a price. I handed over the money, and just like that, the tiger carpet was mine.

Or so I thought.

A Call from the Nomads

Hours later, while we were driving back to Shiraz, my guide’s phone rang—a rare event considering nomads lived completely off the grid. Back then, cell phones weren’t common, especially in remote areas like this. The nomads had been so determined to reach us that they traveled hours to the nearest landline just to make the call.

Their request? They wanted the carpet back.

An Unusual Change of Heart

This was highly unusual. In nomadic culture, once a deal is made, it is considered a point of honor to uphold it—reneging on an agreement is almost unheard of. Something about this situation felt different.

Perhaps the carpet had deep family significance, or maybe the woman who sold it wasn’t actually authorized to do so. Whatever the reason, it was clear that they regretted letting it go.

I had no way of knowing the full story, but I didn’t hesitate to return it. Some things are worth more than money, and if this carpet held sentimental or cultural importance, I wasn’t about to take that away.

Returning the Tiger

Instead of driving all the way back, my guide promised to drop it off the next time he was in the area. And just like that, the tiger carpet returned to its rightful owners.

Even though I never got to keep it, I walked away with something just as valuable—a story that captures the depth of Iran’s nomadic culture, the unbreakable ties of family and tradition, and the unexpected moments that make travel so rewarding.

The tiger carpet I bought from a family

Nomad tent

Nomad man with traditional hat

Men smoking shisha

Smiling young nomad man

Traditional clothes of nomad woman

The Cave of the Ancient King – My Favorite Place in Iran

Of all the incredible places I visited in Iran, this remote cave in the mountains was my absolute favorite.

Far from the cities, in a landscape untouched by tourism, we parked our car and set off on foot, hiking a few hours up an unmarked trail. The path twisted and climbed, revealing rugged cliffs and endless vistas. But the real treasure was waiting at the top—a 1,500-year-old limestone statue of an ancient Persian king, standing at the entrance of a vast cave.

The Lone Guardian of the Mountain

The 30-foot-tall statue, carved during the time of the king it honored, was a symbol of defiance—a tribute to a ruler who, against all odds, fought off a Roman invasion. It had stood guard for centuries, until an earthquake in the 1970s sent it crashing to the ground. Thankfully, it was later restored to its original position, reclaiming its place at the mouth of the cave.

There was no sign, no information board, no ticket booth—just the raw history of Iran, untouched and waiting to be discovered.

A Cave with No Limits

The cave entrance was massive, and unlike historical sites in most countries, there were no barriers, no guards, no restrictions. We were completely free to explore, venturing deep into the tunnels with nothing but our flashlights and curiosity.

As we navigated the dark passageways, we found that the cave continued all the way through the mountain, leading to an opening on the other side.

For a moment, it felt like I had stepped back in time—exploring a hidden world where history and adventure blurred together.

The Magic of Solitude

The most amazing part of the experience?

We had the entire place to ourselves.

No crowds, no guides, no barriers—just us, the wind, and the silent gaze of a forgotten king standing guard over his cave.

It’s rare to find places like this anymore. In most countries, a site like this would be heavily regulated, fenced off, and crawling with tourists. But in Iran, adventure still feels raw, unfiltered, and real.

This place was more than just a cave—it was a gateway to a forgotten world, and it was, without a doubt, my favorite place in Iran.

cave entrance

View from hike to cave

Looking out from the inside of the cave to a view of the King Shapur statue and my guide standing next to it

Ancient carvings in the cave

My guide telling me a joke at King Shapur’s Statue

Day 5: The Serpent Falls – A Journey to Margoon

On my final day before heading back to Shiraz, we embarked on one last adventure—a journey to Margoon Waterfalls, a remote natural wonder named after a snake due to its winding, serpentine shape.

But getting there was no easy feat.

The Road to Nowhere

The waterfalls were 100 miles from Shiraz, in the opposite direction of everything else I had seen on this trip. To make things even more interesting, the road to Margoon was awful—one of those narrow, winding, pothole-filled mountain roads that make you wonder if the journey is worth it.

Margoon falls

Margoon Falls

Tracing Ancient Persia: From Margoon Falls to Yazd

After visiting Margoon Falls, we journeyed through some of Iran’s most historic sites, stopping at:

• Persepolis – The grand ceremonial complex of the Achaemenid Empire, built by Darius and Cyrus the Great around 500 B.C. It was later sacked by Alexander the Great, but its ruins still evoke the grandeur of ancient Persia. Walking alone among the silent ruins was an overwhelming experience, a humbling reminder of Iran’s deep history.
• Naqsh-e Rostam – The rock-cut tombs of Persian kings, including Cyrus the Great, who was known for his tolerance and respect for human rights, even allowing Jews to live peacefully within the empire.
• Yazd – A desert oasis city, reached after stopping at remote villages, abandoned Silk Road caravanserais, and stretches of desolate desert landscapes along the way.

The journey through these ancient sites and forgotten trade routes felt like a step back in time, revealing the rich history and cultural depth of Persia beyond its modern borders.

Me in front of the Persian Lions at the Gates of Persepolis 

Tomb of Darius 

Persian Lions at the Gates of Persepolis 

Carvings at Persepolis 

Ancient City of Persepolis and Tombs of Kings in Background 

Exploring Abandoned Silk Road Caravanserais on the Way to Yazd

As we made our way to Yazd, we encountered abandoned caravanserais—once vital rest stops along the ancient Silk Road, where traders sought shelter from the elements and bandits on their long journeys between Europe and China.

Some of these caravanserais evolved into thriving cities that still exist today, but most have been forgotten, slowly crumbling into the desert sands of Iran.

I absolutely loved stopping to explore these ruins, imagining the days when Persian traders, camels, and travelers passed through these now silent, weathered outposts, leaving behind only whispers of their history in the vast, empty desert.

Scenery on way to Yazd

Caravanserai Ruin

Caravanserai Ruin

Friendly family that invited me in for tea

Caravanserai Ruin

Caravanserai Ruin

Yazd: A Desert Oasis of History and Charm

I spent one night in Yazd, a desert oasis city with a rich Zoroastrian heritage. I wandered its maze-like mud-brick alleyways, climbed the Towers of Silence, where bodies were once left for vultures, and visited the Eternal Flame, burning for over 1,500 years.

What captivated me most were Yazd’s ornate restaurants, built around fountains, pools, and lush courtyards open to the sky. By day, sunlight streamed in; by night, diners gazed at the stars while enjoying incredible Persian food, music, and ambiance—making Yazd truly unforgettable.

Old city Yazd

Mudbrick alleysways-Yazd

Mudbrick alleysways-Yazd

Old Men Congregating in Mudbrick alleysways-Yazd

Shop in Yazd

Mudbrick alleysways-Yazd

Mudbrick alleysways-Yazd

 Yazd

Restaraunt in Yazd

Zoroastrian Funeral Tower where bodies were left for vultures to consume

Zoroastrian Temple-eternal flame

Days 7-8: Esfahan – Iran’s Most Magical City & A Soviet-Era Consulate Visit

I spent my final days in Esfahan, home to Imam Square, one of the largest and most breathtaking squares in the world, surrounded by centuries-old, ornately tiled mosques. With its majestic bridges and stunning architecture, Esfahan is truly one of the most magical places—not just in Iran, but the world. I explored as much as I could in a day, but there was far too much to see, ensuring I’d have to return someday.

A Soviet-Style Experience at the Russian Consulate

While in Esfahan, I also had to visit the Russian consulate to obtain a transit visa for my Moscow airport transfer to Belarus. My gut feeling told me something was off, and I soon discovered that Russia considers flights to Belarus to be domestic, not international, requiring a visa—even for transit.

I had previously attempted to secure one in Moscow, where an immigration officer hinted that with a bribe, it could be arranged. Not wanting to risk my Belarus trip on corruption, I opted to get it in Iran instead.

Luckily, the Russian consulate in Esfahan was incredibly approachable. The officials, seemingly bored and welcoming, immediately invited me in for tea. Inside, statues of Lenin still stood, making the consulate feel like a Soviet-era time warp.

As we sipped tea together, we discussed politics and sports, and the officials were stunned that an American tourist was traveling through Iran. To my relief, they quickly issued my visa, and I was on my way—one step closer to Belarus.

Imam Square

Ornate Tiles Inside a Mosque Dome

Female worshippers

Bazaar

Friendly Imam

Iranian female tourists 

Isfehan Bridges

Isfehan Bridges

Lost in Esfahan: A Night Among Ancient Bridges and Unexpected Help

My hotel was near the 1,000-year-old bridges over the Zayanderud River, and one evening, I decided to explore alone, venturing into the city without my guide.

As I wandered for miles, I observed young couples on secret rendezvous, carefully avoiding authorities who would arrest them for meeting before marriage. The city at night was beautiful yet tense, a place where tradition and modern desires quietly clashed.

Lost Without a Hotel Card

Caught up in my exploration, I realized too late that I had foolishly forgotten my hotel card—no address, no phone number. Now, I couldn’t find my way back, and to make matters worse, no one spoke English.

Just as frustration set in, a few kindhearted policemen sensed my situation and offered to help. They drove me around Esfahan, searching for my hotel until I finally spotted it.

I returned to find my worried guide waiting up for me, relieved that my late-night solo adventure hadn’t turned into a disaster—just another unforgettable story from Iran’s most magical city.

Isfehan Bridges

Isfehan Bridges

A Brief Encounter with Mischief at a Zoroastrian Temple

The only time I felt treated badly as a foreigner on this trip was while climbing to a ruined Zoroastrian temple. A group of teenage boys seemed eager to mock and antagonize me, even going as far as to throw a few rocks my way.

However, I didn’t take it too seriously—they were likely just excited or naturally mischievous rather than genuinely hostile. I kept my cool, stayed friendly, and even snapped a photo with them.

In all likelihood, they were just the bullying type in general, treating locals no differently than they treated me. So, while it was a moment of tension, it hardly overshadowed the warmth and hospitality I experienced elsewhere in Iran.

Ancient Zorahstrian Temple in Isfehan  

Rowdy kids I met

Farewell to Mr. Abbas: A Bittersweet Goodbye

At the end of my journey, I said goodbye to my dear friend, Mr. Abbas—a moment that was unexpectedly difficult for both of us. Over the course of the week, we had bonded deeply, sharing experiences, conversations, and laughter.

Sadly, I later learned that he passed away sometime after my trip, making our farewell even more poignant.

From Esfahan, I flew to Tehran, then onward to Moscow before finally arriving in Minsk, Belarus, where a new adventure awaited. But the memories of Iran—and my friendship with Mr. Abbas—remained with me long after I left.