The immediate responses from my family, friends and colleagues upon hearing that I, a female solo traveller had made plans to travel to Iran was met with: “why would you go there?”, “it’s not safe!”, “you’ll be in danger!”, “you are naive!”, “alone?”, “are women respected there?”, “but don’t you have to be covered?” etc., etc., etc. You get the gist, although phrased differently, all the same sentiment.
With each of these comments I shared several of my many reasons about why I wanted to visit this country; the historical sites, great architecture, diverse landscape, photography opportunities, delectable cuisine, and, that by all accounts from my research, an opportunity to connect with some of the friendliest people in the world. I had no doubt how fabulous Iran would be, and even before I left Canadian soil I was feeling like an unofficial ambassador to Iran, sharing images of the landmarks I would be visiting, and clarifying misconceptions about one of the oldest cultures in the world, its politics, and the lack of risk to my personal safety and security.
But, I’m not sure anyone was convinced.
So, this blog isn’t about the wonders of sights, archaeological ruins and attractions that time and time again, left me speechless. Because at the heart of it, my family, friends, colleagues could appreciate me wanting to visit those historical sights and the country's landscape. Their concerns were rooted in their misconceptions of Iranian people and their customs. And, even I underestimated the warmth and genuine welcome that I would receive.
In Iran I was a tourist and looked like a tourist. Often I could often feel the eyes of locals upon me, questioning my origin, wondering about the absence of a spouse and seemingly keen to ask questions.
The typical pattern was that while I was taking photos of the sights, my tour guide would be approached by a local and then became a translator for the conversation that invariably followed. “They are asking where you are from” he would say to me. To which I would respond directly to the person inquiring and respond “Canada”. This led to various renditions of generally the same conversation about, where specifically I lived in Canada. For most, my small province of Nova Scotia was unfamiliar but knowledge about Quebec, Toronto, even Saskatchewan led to me drawing a map of Canada in the air to pinpoint Atlantic Canada in relation to whatever city or province that person was familiar with.
But notwithstanding the subtle differences in the content of these conversations, every single interaction, whether the person was local from the town I was visiting, or also a tourist visiting from another Iranian province, I would hear the words “welcome”. These words were spoken by every Iranian I had an interaction with, and the words were often accompanied by a quick gesture whereby their hand or finger lightly touched their chest, hovering above the location of their heart. A genuine acknowledgement of a stranger in their country, and each time a heartfelt welcome, greeting me to Iran.
Overall, I can say that during my time in Iran there wasn’t one person that I encountered that was anything other than warm and hospitable. They are welcoming to foreigners, visitors, quite simply because that’s who they are, welcoming people. Yes, lots of reasons why everyone should add Iran to their travel bucket lists, but most of all because in Iran, you are welcome.