While millions Tehranis choose to remain in the capital of Iran, some have left to find the bombing of Israel. The writer is a double national traveler in 1,150km, through the countryside and mountains of Iran, in his efforts to return home in London. He asked to write the bottom of the pen-ning rostam.
Three days to visit from London to my old parents in Tehran, I woke up with the sound of strong bangs. The jets seemed to fly over. I can see the buildings on fire – a lot of fires – away. Iran attacked.
Throughout the day, thick smoke comes from buildings. People are worried but in my surprise, many say: ‘It will pass in a while, soon, we have been.
Although my definition is that things can easily get worse. I arranged for my parents to go to the countryside but after a tear call from my daughter, I decided I had to go back to my parents in trouble.
At first, my goal was to go to Asara, the town of border with azerbaijan as nearer – 500km – from Tehran. However, the day before I need to leave, I know that the azeri border crossings are restricted to nationals with special consent.
Another option is Turkey, a more difficult journey of 900km northwest. Reports increased by major parts of the Turkish border and there were rumors it closed from time to time, with some travelers turned away.
I started feeling trapped. But then a relative said a friend left Yerevan in Armenia next day with a family group and friends. When he said there was a place for me, I felt a great comfort.
The group met early next morning on the main bus terminal in West Tehran, who seemed bad than usual. We consist of many families, including children and old people.
Google Maps put 1,150km driving in Yerevan in 17 hours; We drive straight, with no night’s stop, short breaks. I have inserted myself. Grateful, fuel is not a problem – the bus is turned away from a full tank and does not change the 800km drive to the Armenian border.
Traffic is good at first but then we hit the motor over there. The 90-minute journey in the first Great City – Qazvin – we took five hours.
To go very slowly that some motorcycle parked drivers under the picnic under the trees or under a cloth broke with two parked cars for shadow. Seemed to be unconscious.
Finally we stopped at a motorway service station near Qazvin, with good stocked food courts and shops. Then we spoke to Tabriz, across a light scene marked by the rare building in the industry. The additional North we drive, the more agriculture agriculture turned around, with beautiful fields and orchards.
Now, our group is sharing snacks, fresh fruits and food we carry. The bus has a refrigerator, and also has ice cream. We lift our legs by walking up to the bus. Some sleep, some, when it is allowed internet connection, follow the news on their phones. When we arrived at the historic Tabriz town, the capital of Iran in the 16th century, we covered 600km and night.
I can’t sleep with everything, but weird, not tired. Now we drive small towns and villages, so beautiful, even in the dark.
Later we approached the Town of Armenian border of Nordooz / Agarak when we arrived at a fork on the road. The driver has been consumed. He turned to the right. The only light is the moon and as we drive, I see the silhouette of the mountains beautiful.
Then, suddenly, the driver stopped and began to change. The road is lost. I don’t know how he handled a three-point turn with a big bus but yet we’re going back to this same junction – and at this time we took the left turn.
We carry along a river and have relieved everything we see the street lights at regular intervals indicating the border. One person stopped us from the army worshipers accompanied by someone in the worn civilian, with a gun.
Women began to pick up their headscarves but the man of the army, politely, sent us to relax. After examining the back of the bus with his torch, he lifted us up. A short distance we reached the Iranian side of the border where we took the bus, and healed our three drivers with tips.
In my surprise the crossing is not busy to cross – we enter the look of a slightly lid in the province with a bad fluorescent light. Our baggage has passed through an X-ray machine and our passports are stamped. Guards seem to relax, as it is a normal week. We all got comforted but no one feels happy. We left our family and back friends and Iran attacked.
We were told we had to walk 1km in our baggage to reach Armenian border post. It’s good to have a kind of golf cart carrying old, kids and some of the baggage. Some of us dragged our luggage in the whole unequal face.
The Border Border building has a Soviet feel – a long ceiling, a small officer off-duty and a table with a lot of cigarettes to be free. Smiling Armenian officials greet us in Persian, which is nice.
We still have another 360km in Yerevan, this time to ride a new bus. The day of the sun is broken. The scene is one of the greatest I am experiencing – the mountains covered by velvety weed in which plants and flowers are like amiter.
We allow ourselves an hour breakfast in a simple, small but attractive restaurants – fried eggs, omelette, lentil and better Lavash Bread.
Finally, Yerevan appeared on the horizon. Driving from the border comes eight hours, and the entire journey from Tehran, 31 hours. When the bus enters the main square to drop us, no one clapped or rejoiced. How are we?
