I’m still amused by the paradox of a black cloaked grandmother stuffing that ultimate symbol of the ‘Great Satan’ - a burger - into the hood of her chador. It’s not all bad though – fresh potatoes produce the fattest chips in autumn along with bubbling vats of hot caramalised beetroots while fresh juice stalls offer some zing to cleanse the yang of the grease.
Category: Iran
Above the clouds in Iran (2018)
Iran fascinates me - history, politics, people - the paradox. From the old men defiantly singing under beautiful Safavid bridges to the postcard seller who fetches bread for my picnics, the cities are full of stories and characters. Yet, it’s the mountains that always call me back. Barely 24 hours after landing at Imam Khomeini International I was already plotting my path up though the fairy lights, dried fruit stalls and teahouses into another world - the Alborz Mountains.
The Lonely Chopstick 