Mark Steadman knows Iran well and has led many of our tours there, but for the first time, he sees it in winter light.
Although the usual deep orange sunset marked my arrival into Tehran’s Imam Khomeini International, it was accompanied by something unfamiliar – a chill in the air. I was excited about my first winter visit to Iran, having seen the changing of the other seasons in this fascinating land.
The ritual ‘welcome meeting’ with our Wild Frontiers Iranian tour operator is never a conventional affair; barely an hour’s drive from central Tehran we parked the car and headed up a crisp valley of copper coloured winter foliage to Chean Kalogh, Crows Crag, a 3000 snow crested peak high above Tehran. Shin deep in crisp virgin snow, filling the lungs with fresh mountain chilled air was the perfect way to close 2015!
Iran in winter is visibly different to the place I had left in the sweltering July heat. A thick blanket of snow and ice replaced the summer dusting of snow on the Alborz Mountains, which dominate the northern skyline of Tehran. In Esfahan the fountains of the magnificent Nesf –e – Jahan, half the world, Square were iced over in the early morning. It was almost eerie to see the courtyard of the famous Abbasi hotel, usually busy with stylish Esfahanis socialising over tea and saffron ice cream, silent as we walked back to our rooms at night. The historical sites, restaurants and hotels were also quiet – we saw just two other tour groups throughout our ten days travelling around Iran. Trees in the well-kept parks and avenues (an important feature of any Iranian town) were barren of leaves.
On the flip side, tiny red pomegranate bulbs had ballooned into juicy fruit, being squeezed on street corners. Just picked walnuts were so fresh they could be crushed in your hands. The two combined perfectly for one of the tours stand out dishes – fesanjan stew.
One thing guaranteed in Iran - whatever the time of year – is the amazing hospitality of the Persian people. A few days into the trip and we were already familiar with the shouts of ‘welcome to Iran’ from across the streets and the offers of tea and food from locals. My group emerged from a dazzling mirror work shrine in Shiraz clasping drinks that the people inside insisted on them taking. School kids were lined up in a mosque in Yazd to greet us with the few words of English that they had learnt. A cheeky boy on a bicycle raced past our picnic in the pretty town of Na’in shouting ‘I love you’.
The mood of the people remains positive after the summer nuclear deal, and there are already a few signs of how things may develop - new shopping complexes in Shiraz and the welcome sight of new facilities at many of the historical sites. There’s still a long way to go though, parliamentary elections this February will give a better indication of what direction the religious theocracy will allow the country to move in.
Most days brought crisp clear mornings, blue skies and by midday, enough warmth to continue the picnicking traditions! Culinary tweaks were however required to run a winter tour – hot chocolate breaks proved a popular alternative to tea and coffee; we watched the eerie sunset at the Zoroastrian burial ‘Towers of Silence’ clutching cups of warm ovaltine! The season’s fresh nuts and pomegranates perfectly complemented the creamy Iranian feta at picnic time. Oranges were seedless and sweet. In the bazaars vendors sold hot caramalised beetroot and the burger joints sold hot thick juicy chips. There’s no better illustration of the paradox of modern Iran than traditional women stuffing satanic fast food into the hoods of their black chadors!
In summer, the Zayandeh River sends a refreshing breeze through the immaculate parks and gardens of Esfahan, cooling the city. In winter, beside the wonderful 17th century arched bridges that span the river, old men folk in caps sat around little fires drinking tea, sharing memories and laughter. Occasionally a song would break out, accompanied by a little clapping and a shuffling of feet – a lament for good times past. I was soon welcomed with tea and cake – and I beckoned an American member of the group to join me. Tea and cake were thrust upon him too, and one of the men pulled out a worn black and white picture of Jimmy Carter with the Shah from his wallet. These beautiful human moments, for me, eclipse even the splendours of the great Achaemenid palaces.
On our last evening in Tehran we passed the old walls of the US Embassy, a lasting symbol of the ‘Great Satan’ with its famous revolutionary murals. Juxtaposed a little further along the road was a ‘Wall of Kindness’, a stand of clothes hung out by Tehranis for the poor to take.
There may be an unfamiliar chill in the air, but there’s deep warmth in the people whatever time you choose to visit Iran.
