Iran has been in the news for all the wrong reasons. Western media has vilified its image in people’s minds. So when I mentioned to friends that I was moving to Tehran, no one was really impressed. Even well meaning journalist friends were apprehensive about my safety. However, since my husband had been living there for nearly two years then, I was more confident about the move.

Armed with three tickets, passports and 8 pieces of luggage, I landed at the airport with my children, Johaan, 8 years old, and Olivia who was only 3. As I went through the motions for my first trip out of the country, I was clueless about what to expect.

I thank my stars for placing a classic Iranian beauty behind me as I stood in queue for my visa. She was wearing a smart black cloak and the kindest smile I have ever seen. While Iranians have always struck me as the most delightfully warm group of people, she was still exceptional. On one of her bags hung a tag with the name Coconut Lagoon, a well-known resort in Kerala.

Being a native of Kerala, I enquired whether this was her first trip to India, and whether she had liked Kerala. “Yes,” she said. But she didn’t stop there. In the 10-minute gap before we took our seats, she told me many tales of the food, water and boat rides with pure glee. I never realised how vital this conversation would become to my life in Iran. It was the beginning of a great friendship that enveloped me through thick and thin of Iranian life.

Since my husband had not warned me that exposing my arms could get me into trouble with the cops, I had worn an audaciously sleeveless yellow Punjabi suit. I was advised by my only Iranian friend to cover my modesty appropriately with the dupatta. That was the first of a series of codes into which I was initiated.

The first sight that greeted our anxious eyes as the Iran Air aircraft began its descent into Tehran was the majestic snow-clad Alborz Mountains.

As we alighted from the aircraft and made our way to the terminal building at Mehrabad airport, the air outside was cool and crisp, and fragrant with the roses that abound all along the roads and street corners of the city. A weekly holiday in Iran brings its denizens out into the streets and parks of the city. I was faced with a sea of humanity in black, blue and grey. The clothes covered them from head to toe. I thought about the lack of colour in their attire and my mind went back to the colours that India represented to me.

Despite the crowds, there was an atmosphere of calmness, or was it dullness, a repressive all-pervasive numbness that surrounded me. There was no sound of music anywhere (Islam forbids music), no public expression of merriment and no loud laughter. My husband, who had come to the airport, bundled us into a waiting taxi that whisked us to a chello kababi for dinner.

A chello kababi is a restaurant, which serves long grained, steamed rice topped with kababs and a great dollop of butter accompanied with greens and garlic curds.
 
Dress
All women, Muslim or otherwise, must wear a rupoosh (a long coat that goes upto the ankles) and cover their feet with socks and shoes or sandals. The head should be covered with a scarf supposed to also cover the neck. Non-Muslims need not wear black. There is not much restriction on the men, but wearing figure-hugging clothes, or Bermuda shorts, or even open slippers or sandals without socks, could raise eyebrows. No one wears a tie in Iran, but a sports jacket would be in order. T-shirts, if not too flashy, are all right, but long sleeved cotton shirts are recommended. Those visiting Iran in summer may require sunglasses and a good cap to avoid severe glare — especially in the desert areas.

Transport
The capital city of Tehran, with an area of 1,200 sq. kms, is situated at the foot of the Alborz Mountains. It is hot and dry in summer (temperatures soar up to 42°C) and cold in winter (with the mercury dipping to -16°C). The city has a population of about 67 lakh inhabitants.

Driving past Azadi Square, with its great tower and museum built in 1971, and the long tree-lined avenues irrigated by the melting snow waters of the Alborz range was always a pleasure. The roads are wide, tree-lined and very clean. Iranians have developed a very natural and efficient method for irrigating their trees.

The melting snow from the mountains is allowed to flow through channels that run across natural gradients all over the city, providing adequate water for the long tree-lined avenues and normalising humidity levels. With melting snow flowing systematically along the streets and the snow-capped mountains providing the backdrop, the city of Tehran makes an impressive picture postcard.

Transport is not cheap even with petrol priced at an equivalent of Re.1 per litre, and diesel at just Re. 0.20. Taxi drivers love to make small talk and overcharge foreigners as in any other country. Any trip will cost not less than Rs 100. Roads are well maintained. Public transport is made up of share taxi services, which are much cheaper, and buses, which ply on most frequented routes for Rs 2 coupons. Iran Air — the official airline of the country — offers a 50 percent discount in airfare in June. The food and in-flight entertainment on Iran Air is nothing to write home about.

Hotels are generally clean, but the facilities are quite basic. Iran has yet to go a long way in developing tourism. Most hotels have facilities for both western and Indian style toilets. So those with arthritis or obesity need not worry.

Historic
We paid a visit to the National Museum which houses, among other rare artefacts, a few original panels and staircases from Persepolis. The well maintained museum is a treasure house of rare pottery, ceramics, cuneiform inscriptions, fabrics, etc. The same afternoon, we made a trip to the National Jewel Museum, where jewels were displayed under heavy security. Diamonds, rubies and emeralds held us enthralled by their exotic array. The famous Peacock Throne (about which we had read in text books) was not as impressive as I’d expected.

Seasons
The most spectacular visible change that touches the soul is the change of the season from autumn to winter and winter to spring. The transition of spring to summer is no pleasure whatsoever as the heat beats down whatever enthusiasm you have. As the weather became progressively cooler and tall maple trees sport leaves tinged yellow, orange or shades of reddish brown, it made a beautiful sight.

As October progresses into November, these no longer remain on the trees. They lie beneath your feet wherever you go and crunch under every footstep. Trees, shorn of their majesty, look a poor reflection of themselves a few months ago. So they stand, seemingly lifeless. In a month’s time, they will be covered by a blanket of snow. To watch snow flakes settling on all trees, buildings and vehicles is a sight. Kids rush out in packs draped in woollens, socks and mittens to play with snowballs. In a day or two, when the snow turns into ice, the roads become slippery and scary to walk on. It is not fun watching old people slip and fall. Sometimes you wonder whether the sound you heard was one of their bones breaking.

Towards end-February, the season loosens its chill.  Snow melts, and blossoms of every colour sprout from the dead boughs everywhere. That is simply the most remarkable array of natural colour I have ever seen in my life and one that will remain with me for a long time. The change is dramatic and every tree seems to have awakened from its winter slumber, refreshed. In the distance, the Damavand still refuses to let go of its cap of snow.

Nobody, however sceptical, would ever return from this strange land untouched by its natural beauty, historical richness and energy.

Read more on food in Tehran