Iran > The climb of the Alborz Mountains

Although the alarm falters, we are out of bed by half past eight. A quick shower and breakfast follow. After breakfast, we walk toward the university complex for Friday prayers. From the experiences of previous travel groups, we know that we will likely not be allowed into the complex. Still, I am curious to explore the surroundings. In the wide shopping streets where we walk, all the shops are closed. Friday is the day off in Tehran. Via Vali Asr Avenue—the longest street in the Middle East—we make our way to Keshavarz Boulevard. The sidewalk lies in the middle of the road. Crossing the street in Tehran requires some courage. Cars flow continuously in one stream and honk immediately if you even think about crossing. I observe the tactics of the Iranians: they simply walk across in a gradual straight line. Using the same approach, I reach the other side safely. At the intersection by the university, there is still little activity. I had expected it to be very busy.

Iran - Laleh Park in Tehran near the University of Tehran

However, I do see plenty of police. The streets around the complex are closed to traffic, and a tense atmosphere hangs in the air. We decide to first walk into the park across the street. On this day off, people enjoy the grass, play football, or jog through the park. I am immediately approached: “Where do you come from? Ah, Holland. Welcome to Iran!” The park looks well maintained. The conifers are trimmed in spirals, and the fountain sprays high above the pond. I am approached again, this time by two men. Are you a tourist? they ask, and they want to see my passport. Tourist police, they say, showing me a badge I cannot read. I am unsure whether to trust them. I show my passport but hold it firmly. “Holland? Ah, Holland.” They advise me not to take photos in the park today, as it is forbidden. Confused, I walk on. We head toward the university. Expecting to be stopped, we walk down the street leading to the complex. Just before the entrance, a man runs toward us, shouting, “Damn USA!” When bystanders point out that we are from the Netherlands, he comes back to apologize.

Iran - Climb to 2500 meters in the Alborz Mountains

Through these bystanders, we ask if we can enter the university grounds. Of course! Just as we hand in our bags and cameras at the depot, we are told it is not allowed after all. We are at the wrong entrance, we are explained. I think we are being turned away, but one of the men guides us to the main entrance. Here, it soon becomes clear that we still cannot go inside. Tourists are welcome after one o’clock, but not during Friday prayers. We walk back toward the city center and order a fresh orange juice. Paying remains awkward. Prices are indicated in Toman, but the bills are in Rial. The difference is a zero. So, an orange juice costs 2,000 Toman (€1.50) but is paid with a 20,000 Rial note. In a typical Iranian restaurant, we order a chicken kebab lunch. Just in time, we return to the hotel. I quickly pack my daypack and leave my main luggage at the depot. The bus is already waiting. The eccentric young driver—receding hairline, long hair, and a goatee—maneuvers the bus skillfully through traffic. He sounds a sharp whistle if cars block the way and does not shy away from the other side of the road if it is faster.

Iran - View of the Iranian metropolis Tehran

After an hour, we reach the edge of the city. It is clearly busy with day-trippers. Due to the crowd, we get out and walk the last stretch to the chairlift, where we meet Reza. Reza is our guide for the walk to the Guesthouse at 2,500 meters in the Alborz Mountains. I step into the bright yellow chairlift. Many Iranians come to the mountain to relax. At this altitude, it is cooler than in the city. In one of the many teahouses on the mountain, we order tea and a sweet treat before beginning the climb to the Guesthouse. At a leisurely pace, we climb over the rocks. Turning around, I have a beautiful view of Tehran in the light of the setting sun. Thanks to yesterday’s rain showers, there is no smog. Arriving at the Guesthouse shortly after six, most Iranians are already heading back down. We are welcomed with a cup of tea. I shower and put on a sweater. At this altitude, it is noticeably cooler. In the evening, we eat at the Guesthouse. Various dishes are set on the table, each more delicious than the last. Satisfied, I crawl into bed.