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One-way ticket to Tehran

Publicados: 05.10.2019

Pack, set off, move on. Pilgrims are always on the move. I packed my things on October 2nd and said goodbye to Armenia. I was early at the bus station because the bus was supposed to leave at 11:00 a.m.



I've already written about F&F - this time it was frustration. At the bus station, they told me that today the bus would only leave at 3:00 p.m. because 21 people were coming from a festival and couldn't arrive earlier. Waiting for 5 hours with all the luggage in a boring and dirty bus station outside the city...not fun.

Then I entrusted my luggage to one of those travel agents and made the difficult journey back to the city. I preferred to wait in a park rather than in that sadness.

But as life goes, frustration turned out to be a stroke of luck. On the way to the park, I came across a shop in a small side street with sparkling beads and sequins of the highest quality. All the things that I usually have to buy expensively in Switzerland were here in abundance and at the most modest prices. I almost bought half the store.

Shortly after 3:00 p.m., the bus started.


Bye bye Yerevan, goodbye Armenia!


Just before we left Yerevan, the bus stopped and the three drivers quickly packed many cardboard boxes from the side of the road behind the driver's seats. They stored an incredible amount of boxes and I would have liked to know what was inside. Later I saw an inscription: "Humana 2", which means baby food, which is apparently very expensive in Iran thanks to a certain gentleman beyond the pond.


The bus was loud and crowded. Everyone here listens to music as loudly as possible. People sang along and clapped, it was a real commotion.
And
Then came a second stroke of luck in the twilight.
Suddenly the music was turned off and someone played a real flute, beautiful in this slowly fading light and the shadows that were getting longer and longer over the mountains. There was also a drum and I got goosebumps. It was so magical and somehow not of this world.
Later I learned that these 21 people were a Kurdish-Iranian music group that had given concerts in Armenia. It was a colorful mix of men and women of all ages. They were now on their way home to the north of Iran.

We arrived at the border at 12:30 a.m. and I sincerely hoped that everything would go smoothly with my visa. It did.
At that time, I was already a fully integrated member of this group and everything I had read about Iranian hospitality before came true on this bus ride.

The women watched me a little shyly and yet curiously. Then one of them dared to speak to me, but unfortunately only in Farsi. They called Layla, who could speak English. And so I immediately found a friend. Layla translated in both directions and the women literally took me, a poor solo traveler, under their wings. I was coddled like a baby and never felt safer in my life than in the middle of the night, shivering in a pitch-dark, completely unknown rest area, not knowing exactly where I was or if I would reach my destination. But I had never had so many mothers watching over me, so it could only go well. Each of them offered me something from their provisions to eat, they took me to the toilet at every stop, and they were constantly near me during the border crossing, especially Layla.
After the border, we all wrapped ourselves in our blankets and slept peacefully until Tabriz. The group left the bus there and only three other people and I remained. Of course, a large bus for 4 people doesn't work, so we had to switch to a smaller bus on the highway, including luggage. That's when I got a taste. In Iran, everything is possible, even the impossible.

The most difficult part was the last leg, from Tabriz to Tehran. I felt like it was endless.

We made a stop at a tourist restaurant for lunch. A small, old lady also took care of me here and wanted to share her packed lunch with me. However, I had brought something myself, so we sat silently and yet connected next to each other and enjoyed our meal.

The journey continued and after a little over 25 hours, the bus stopped at the Azadi Terminal in Tehran. Finally arrived!!! I even managed to take the metro to my hostel and not pay an exorbitant taxi fare. Exhausted, I collapsed on the bed and wanted to know nothing more about the world. Just take a shower and sleep.








Responder (1)

Monika
so schöne Erlebnisse im Bus, und sooo eine lange Reise...!