8 More Magical Moments I’ve Experienced in Tehran

Updated: 8 July 2019

Books about happiness suggest writing about a particular positive experience because it helps you relive it. Because your brain doesn’t distinguish between real and unreal, it thinks the event is actually happening which makes you happy! So I guess I had the right idea by collecting these stories of everyday encounters that I experience in Tehran. I started jotting them down not just to serve as a reminder of why I love this city, but also to remind myself that it’s all about the simple pleasures. Here are 8 more magical moments I’ve experienced in Tehran.

Vanak Square

Vanak Square is one of the major public transportation hubs in Tehran. It’s noisy and chaotic, not to mention one of the dirtiest areas in my opinion. In a word, it’s a shitshow.

I woke up on the wrong side of the bed on this particular day- one of those days when I wanted nothing more than to stay hidden under the covers and tell the world, “I don’t want to play today.” But I had class, so I had to lift myself out of bed, slap on a smile, and hope that the whole “fake it till you make it” thing was true.

My class ended early, and since it was a beautiful fall day, I decided to go for a walk and maybe clear my head. I was smack in the middle of Vanak’s hubbub when I suddenly spied a man in traditional Kurdish garb. He was a solemn-looking man with a thick black beard. In a sea of people hurriedly going about their business, we somehow managed to make eye contact. And then he did something which totally caught me off guard- he smiled. Iranians are hardly known for smiling at strangers which is why I was thrown for a loop. But that small gesture lifted my spirits considerably. It was as if I was meant to see him.

Parkway intersection

The day lets up for drivers of shared taxis between the morning and evening rush hour. There are fewer passengers which means they have to wait longer for their cars to fill up which means it takes longer for their turn to arrive. All of which leaves them with a lot of waiting around time. Some of them sip tea to pass the time. Others take a nap in a patch of grass nearby. Most enjoy a chat all the while poking their noses into business that isn’t theirs. And a few are more productive, filling in the gap by stealing a quick Snapp service.

But on this day, I arrived at the taxi stand at Parkway intersection to find two drivers in the midst of a mean game of backgammon. The board was laid out on the trunk of the car, and the other cabbies had encircled them, providing commentary as if it were the NBA playoffs. As a hardcore backgammon player myself, I couldn’t help but watch along with the others, but just as soon, the last passenger arrived, and the board was quickly tucked back in the trunk until the next lull.

In front of my apartment

There are quite a few street musicians in Tehran, and some come through the neighborhoods playing their instrument. About once a week for a month or so, there was a violinist who’d walk down my kucheh playing nostalgic tunes which echoed up and down the street. I couldn’t ever see him from my window. I just heard his music which, although beautiful, for some reason made me sad.

One quiet evening, my reading was interrupted by the violinist. I opened my window to listen more clearly and peeked outside to see if anyone else had the same idea. To my surprise, I saw a woman from the building kitty-corner come out on her balcony and listen, too. Whether or not the violinist knew it, he now had an attentive audience of at least two. The music suddenly stopped, and I heard the woman make a song request. “Âghâ! Play Soltâne ghalbhâ!” she shouted down. And shortly thereafter, I heard the tune to “ye del mige beram, beram, ye del mige naram, naram” (part of my heart says I should go, I should go; another part says don’t go, don’t go)…

Elahiyeh neighborhood

I arrived super early to a class, so I decided to kill some time in a nearby park. It was an overcast day with a sprinkle of rain here and there. I sat on a random bench and was checking over my schedule and plan for the class when a stray cat fearlessly hopped up onto the bench with me. It was obvious this cat was no stranger to human contact. I did what anyone would do and stroked his head, and soon his eyes became slits and his purring intensified as he kneaded my leg with his tiny paws. Then he snuggled up next to me, and I realized if he fell asleep, I wouldn’t be able to leave until he woke up of his own accord. 

I continued petting him when a woman came walking down the path and stopped when she saw us. “Aww, look! He’s found you now!” The cat clearly knew her because he jumped off the bench and rubbed against her legs.

“Yah,” I said. “He just came onto the bench and laid down next to me.”

“There’s an elderly man who used to come by every day and feed and pet him,” the lady told me. “But he’s been sick for a while and hasn’t been able to visit, so this poor little guy’s been lonely.”

It broke my heart to think that this cat was looking for and missed his human friend. It was all I could do to keep from putting him in my bag and taking off. But then I imagined the old man getting better and coming back to find his cat friend vanished.

I don’t know what happened to either of them. I just hope the old man is better, and the two friends have reunited.

Various streets

This is something that has happened all over town and makes my heart sing each time- catching whiffs of homemade cooking. The last time it happened, I was on my way home, and as I passed by an apartment, the scent of ghormeh sabzi wrapped me up in warm nostalgia. Why is it that when I walk down the street and smell what someone is making for lunch, it makes me so happy? 

I think it’s the sense of familiarity. Growing up in the US, we lived in a house, so there was no chance of smelling what the neighbor was cooking. But even when I lived in an apartment, if I did smell something, it was usually like, “What is that!?” But in Iran, it’s familiar. It’s home. Mmm, kotlett (cutlet). Mmm, piâz dâgh (fried onions). Mmm, ghormeh sabzi.

Especially ghormeh sabzi. Because it’s the scent of ghormeh sabzi that transports me back to our brief residence in Tehran in the early 80s. My mom and I would walk hand-in-hand on the way to pre-school, and as we approached the door, together, we’d always smell what was cooking for lunch that day. “Today you have gheymeh!” my mom would exclaim. Or, “Oh! You have ghormeh sabzi for lunch today!” I remember the potent smell of this herb stew more than any other dish.

So I guess it all boils down to that familiarity and fond memories. And as I walked by that building just a few days ago, I thought, “Who’s the lucky person who smells this and then goes inside to find it’s coming from their home!?”

Mellat Park, 1am

It was the 14th of Farvardin, one day after sizdeh bedar and the final weekend of the Nowruz holiday before work and school started. My friend and I had gone to see a movie, and when it let out, it was about 1am. We had parked on the other side of Mellat Park, so we had to walk through the park. “Is this even safe!?” I asked. Of course I know that Iran is safe, but I’ve had over 30 years of conditioning telling me not to walk in a park after dark, and it was 1am for crying out loud!

But as we walked deeper into the park, I noticed people… lots of people. Families slowly packing up their picnics, children playing on the playground and in the grass, couples taking selfies with the light decorations up for Nowruz (kind of like Christmas lights). And all my apprehension melted away. 

This is a side of Tehran and Iran that the media seems to conveniently miss every single time. This night was an example of just one of the many things I can do here that I would never dare in the US. Granted, it was the holiday period, but the truth is, I can’t imagine it being much different at any other time.

Sarv Blvd, Sa’adat Abad

I was about to cross the street when a moving truck zoomed by. The driver was singing at the top of his lungs while the man in the passenger seat grinned widely. No explanation needed here. Just heart-warming to see two such chipper souls kaleh sahar.

In a Snapp

The 5th of my foolproof guidelines to crossing the street in Tehran is that one-way streets mean nothing. As a passenger, like it or not, at some point, you’ll definitely come head-to-head in a game of chicken that you didn’t sign up for. Often, neither car is willing to get out of the way, and more often than not, it’s the idiot driving in the wrong direction who yaps the loudest. In fact, this scene from the movie Sa’at 5 Asr is actually not that far from the truth. (And you’ll even hear a couple of phrases from this post.)

But back to my magical moment. This time, my Snapp driver stopped to let the other car pass. The car flashed its lights. The Snapp driver flashed back. And the other car honked to say thank you as it squeezed past. No unnecessary drama. And an entire conversation beautifully played out in the language of high beams and honks. Nothing short of magical.

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