It is impossible to end a 2.5-hour air journey by getting stuck in the seat given from the most uncomfortable place.. A narrow sofa is annoying when I need some sleep to calm my already cluttered mind.
With the words of the stewardess “there are empty seats in the back two rows”, I hurriedly get up from seat 10 and move on to number 32.
The probable Iranian passenger, who was sitting by the window at that time and spreading his belongings on the middle row seat, is trying to recover. I make a “no need to be bothered” sign with body language. I’m very happy to be able to have a comfortable journey at the back of the plane while I just couldn’t move my leg or arm. When I had the thought of visiting the cultural values in Tabriz, two days before the trip, I experienced one of the biggest disappointments with Shahin’s sentences “I am going to the fair in Isfahan, the Tabriz plan is cancelled”.
Iran Entrance Stamp
Always the most For someone who is accustomed to acting with at least two different plans, I am trying to activate alternative plans by taking action when this single-plan appearance is getting messy. The fact that Abi reminded me that he had been to Iran before creates a spark for me.. I am calling Sedat Abi without wasting time asking why I had not thought of this.. Thankfully, he proposes two different people, one in Tabriz and one in Tehran.. At the same time, my graduate classmate Yasemin informs her Iranian friend, Mitra, who lives in Tehran, that I am going.
I carry the phone numbers and names that I have listed on an A4 paper in my book to read.. Since I bought Vodafone’s 60 prepaid minutes, which are valid all over the world, I think that I will not have any problems with the phone. I get information, I construct my name in my head. Unfortunately, I don’t have any other steps in mind.. Yasemin also informed that Mitra’s son broke his arm at the beginning of the journey and it would be difficult for him to take care of me.. I say ok once again, helplessly.
I have my Iran travel guide book in my backpack and the mediocrity of what I will experience as I head into the unknown and the commitment to coincidences excite and frighten at the same time.
In-flight food service
The food service, which takes place approximately 20 minutes after the flight takes off, is the moment when the first live dialogue is established with the person sitting next to me.. Pooria, whom I ask where she is from while smiling at each other, tells that she lives in Tehran and that she returned from her holiday in Antalya via Istanbul.
I say this is an opportunity and I populate my questions one after the other when I find someone living in Tehran.. While getting equipped about Tehran city life, from the simplest transportation tactic such as where I can stay, where I can go, how to get from the airport to the city center, to all the touristic centers, Pooria takes small Persian notes in my small notebook that I can use in case of a problem.
His phone number. After giving, he says maybe we can meet if the times fit.. After consuming the food and drinking the tea, the plane lands. We are having a forced separation with Pooria, as Iranian citizens and foreign nationals pass through separate counters at passport control.. When you say tourist visa office on one side and insurance office on the other, Tehran Imam Khomeini International Airport is not much different from ordinary airports.
A long queue forms at passport counters where only 3 police officers work.. While Iranians getting off the plane can enter their country in a very short time, the queue of foreigners does not move forward.. Foreign passengers, predominantly from Saudi Arabia, Iraq and the United Arab Emirates, and their children are waiting in the queue.
Some foreigners from Western countries betray themselves with their appearance, while making me smile with the headscarves that blonde-eyed women try to hold on to the test with the regime. my face.
While noticing that Pooria, who says she will help you after the passport control, the possibility of waiting for me is gradually disappearing due to the increasing time, the queue is increasing more and more instead of decreasing.. As the crowd increases with each new landing plane, the clumsiness of the police officers in charge of passport control makes everyone nervous, and they start to taunt. crashing. I head towards the counter opened by the newly arrived police officer, just like the other people waiting in the middle of the line…
When I get out, I say thank you as the queue starts to move slowly, wondering where I will go, whether I take a taxi or the subway.
Meeting in the queue
Just at that moment, someone trying to talk to me in a loud voice saying “Mr. Muhammed, Mr. Muhammed” caught my attention, two people behind me. I’m trying to manually change the settings of my cell phone, which can’t handle it, while I’m putting the person I understand to be Turkish under probation.. Although I tried 4 different local GSM operators, I can’t get success.. Although we landed at 14.55 Iranian time, it is approaching 17.00.. The person trying to talk to Mr. Muhammed on the phone also complains about the crowd, he says we can’t pass the control.. However, my mother thinks that I overcame the phone problem by purchasing Vodafone’s overseas package in advance.. I am afraid that he will panic because he thinks there is something wrong.
I approach the person who ended the phone call with Mr. Muhammed and ask which line he is using, and I explain that my phone is not working.. He says he’s from Vodafone too. We both talk about why we are in Iran when we can’t reach a conclusion about the phone not working.. He shares with me that he plans to hold a few job interviews in Tehran, where he came to his company to look for alternative markets. Şamil Bey understands that I am not. He recommends Ferdowsi Grand Hotel, where he is staying, and says we can go together to the hotel… During our dialogue, we come to the end of the passport queue that never ends and turns into an ordeal.
The passport policeman who took my passport and turned it over, said, “Ahmet?” says. Being idle, I say yes in Turkish in response.
He looks at my face one more time and puts the entry stamp on my passport… While I’m going to get my suitcase, Mr. Şamil passes the control.. I take my first steps by following Şamil Bey, whom I met only 15 minutes ago, on my unplanned, unscheduled, surprise trip to Tehran.. We are meeting with Muhammed Bey, among all the people’s cries of taxis.. I concede the first goal in the kissing ceremony. Iranians kiss on the cheek three times. When I withdraw after two, Muhammed Bey stays in the air.. My apologies.
As we jump into a car manufactured by Peugeot in Iran, our journey to the city center begins.. In the driver’s seat of the car, Iranian Azeri from Tabriz and Mohammed, who speaks Turkish, is in the front seat, Mr. Shamil, a Mechanical Engineer, whom I met 15 minutes ago, and me in the back, whose Iranian plans have changed 3-4 times in two days.. It seems like Tehran is going to be even more complicated than I expected while I feel like I’m on a safari over the desert.