It was cold and well past midnight when I crossed the border between Iran and Armenia. Everything went smooth: I didn’t get any questions, just a bunch of stares from a dozen Iranian soldiers, as one of them kept aimlessly flipping through my passport’s pages. Then I was on my way, walking across the bridge that separates the two countries. Iranian flags adorned one side, the other was bare as paint had weathered.
To be honest, I was quite relieved when I noticed I had reached the Armenian side of the river and was now, officially, free from the Iranian rules. For the first time in three weeks, I was allowed by law to – as a woman – sing out loud in public. And I did. I sang Tailor Swift’s “Look what you made me do” and didn’t give the slightest fuck about the stares I got. Continue reading Dropping the act: recharging in Yerevan→
My return to Tehran brought a completely different feeling than my first arrival. After more than 1,5 month on the road, it felt good to return to a familiar place. I liked the fact that I could navigate the metro without having to look at the chart every five seconds. I liked how I could find the way to my hostel without the help of a map, how I knew where to buy water, how the shop owners and hostel staff remembered my face. I felt like I had – in a way – returned home, and it was a lovely feeling. Continue reading Saying goodbye to Iran→
I had been recommended a trip to Qeshm island by many people. The first was a New Zealand girl who checked in my Tehran hostel when I was checking out. Then there were a couple of Germans, a Chinese guy and of course the lovely Suhaniya. So when I felt myself getting more and more tired of the cities, the daily harassment on the streets and the visits to mosque after mosque after mosque, my choice between Kerman or Qeshm was an easy one.
By the time I reached Shiraz I was getting remarkably stressed out due to the struggles of solo travelling in Iran. I was also feeling extremely tired, but perhaps not ready to admit it. I had planned relax time in Armenia, not Iran, and there were still so many things and places I was dying to see! If it wasn’t for the super comfortable and welcoming Taha hostel, I might have kept going at my steady pace and seriously out done myself. But thanks to their relaxing courtyard, kind staff and supreme beds, I suddenly didn’t mind wasting time in the shade with watermelon and tea – at all. Continue reading Be kind to your sleeping heart: a visit to Shiraz→
My take on the world and the things I love. Prominently among them: travel, art and the ordinary. I share my discovery of our beautiful world, my self and the arts I'm trying to develop (photography, sketching and writing) in a way that is both honest and poetic. Please join my journey.