Extraordinary welcome

I've been delighted by the help and welcome we've received in the few days we've been in Iran - but today's experience at the bus station makes me realize how pleasant travelling independently in Iran is going to be. I've made the effort to learn a few words of Farsi and this effort is making all the difference. We arrived at Tehran's Western bus station (terminal-e gharb), a vast, sprawling bus park scattered with tea and snack kiosks. Sunk into the ground in the middle of this is the terminal building itself. It's a huge concourse lined with bright shops - bookshops, chay stands, sandwich bars - and dozens of ticket counters each belonging to competing private bus companies. Normally this kind of setup is an exercise in frustration - running around trying to figure out the right place to buy the appropriate class of ticket without getting skanked or made to feel like a complete fool. Let's just say I've had a few moments like this in places like India.

Well, this time it was different - very different. At the first counter I was directed immediately to the company selling tickets to Rasht. The Rasht bus counter was heaving but I got to the top of the crush quickly and asked for two tickets to Rasht. "Ahh, you speak Farsi!" beamed the guy behind the counter (in Farsi) and moments later I had our tickets. I asked what time the bus left and was delighted to be able to understand his reply. Next question was "where is the bus?" I didn't understand the reply, but the man's hand signals indicated he'd show me. Aisling had been standing to one side with the suitcases (living out of a backpack at our age is a drag) so after profusely thanking the guy at the ticket counter, I joined her and we took our time buying some snacks for the journey and slurping some sweet black chay.

Some time later the bloke from the ticket counter joined up and introduced us to his colleague who led us a short distance to our bus, lined up with dozens of others, their destinations displayed in Persian script. He disappeared after my thanks. Everything happened at a pleasant pace - there was no pushing or shoving. People excuse themselves if they need to squeeze past one amother in a tight spot here. I loaded our luggage into the bus's belly and received two plastic tokens in return - like you would at a cloakroom. Finally, the bus driver's assistent guided us to our seats, where we settled down, relaxed and comfortable. Ten minutes later, the bus departed.

Before our journey to Iran began, I'd heard many times of the hospitality and helpfulness of ordinary Iranians. Every word of it is true.