I’m an American and my first day in Iran blew my mind

I had been talking about visiting Iran for months — it seemed like the perfect destination. There was a mix of ancient beauty, unique stylish culture, and crucially an element of the forbidden. It was to be the highlight of my trip, and I went to great lengths to obtain the coveted visa in Beirut, especially as an American. However, when my departure date to Tehran rolled around, I found myself a little nervous. Iran isn’t like backpacking Europe or Southeast Asia — there’s very little information on the internet. Iran is isolated from the Western banking system so I would have to bring my own cash in amounts that I’ve never carried before. Furthermore, I wasn’t sure how the authorities would react to an American. Would I be interrogated? Would I be deported, or worse detained? All of this was up in the air, but as usual, I decided to take the leap.

As I arrived bleary-eyed in Tehran at 4:30, I was jolted awake not by the impact of the airplane’s landing gear on the runway, but by a sense of anxiety and unreality at the fact that I was actually in Iran. It was just so unbelievable. I was the first person off the plane, confidently walking across the sky bridge like I owned the place, despite being nervous, but oddly not as terrified as I probably should have been. I quickly made my way to immigration behind a line of gabbling Arabs in traditional dress, nervously waiting my turn and observing the immigration proceedings of others in order to get a sense of what to expect.

Finally, I was faced by a burly immigration officer who spoke little English. He quickly opened my passport up to my visa and began entering some information into his computer. He then quickly stamped my passport, leaving me slightly elated until he pulled out another peace of paper written all in Farsi and began asking basic questions. I answered quickly expecting some sort of interrogation as I had read on the internet, but they were just simple questions. He then proceeded to leave his booth with my passport and show it to another immigration officer, who made a phone call and began conversing with yet a third officer. At this point, I thought I was in deep kimchi. Everyone else, even the Gulf citizens had passed through quite quickly even through Iran was technically involved in a full-on proxy war with them. But I kept it cool. I was then led to another enclosed room where I had no doubt I would be interrogated about the nature of my trip, but another officer simply came in to thoroughly fingerprint me. Finally, I was led back to the initial immigration booth and the immigration officer left me with my passport and a “Welcome To Tehran.”

I was excited and surprised as I quickly picked up my luggage and met my friendly driver, Mohammed. I quickly changed money without incident (leaving me with a gigantic wad of cash), we hopped in his taxi and began our cruise north down the mean streets of Tehran. I watched street signs with distinctly Islamic/Iranian names and gorgeous mosques pass us by in our long journey to the city, the cold, dark night adding to the sense of surrealism. We finally made our way into the empty streets of the city center, lit Farsi signs streaming by, and my driver quickly dropped me off at a side street motioning to my hotel. I was quickly met by the night receptionist who may or may not have offered me prostitutes and I crashed at 6 am into a dreamless sleep.

When I woke up, I wasn’t quite sure where I was, but I decided it was time to find out for sure. After a quick shave and shower, I made my way out onto the mean streets of Tehran. While my hotel was in the city center, the area I was in seemed to be a center for the buying and selling of auto parts. I quickly found my way to the Mellat metro station where I was stopped by a heavily armed police officer who began questioning me in Farsi. I quickly replied “ne farsi”, and he looked me over, confused. Then I replied in English “I’m a tourist,” at which point he smiled and replied in English. “What are you doing here?” “Uh…tourism?”

As I made my way into the train station, I wasn’t quite sure how to go about buying a metro ticket, so I made my way to the ticket counter. “Ingilizi?” I asked two old women at the counter. Unsurprisingly, they both replied in the negative. I motioned for one ticket. Then as I handed some cash over, both of their eyes widened in horror. At first I thought it had something to do with the cash and then I saw my finger was bleeding profusely somehow. They were nice enough to hand me a paper towel and then they asked me something like “You from where.” I quickly replied “America.” At this point their eyes went wide, but this time in surprise. They quickly tried to piece together any English they knew, and we had a short pidgin conversation, after which I made my way into the metro.

I emerged from the Meydan-e-Azadi station to a view of the twisting, bipedal Azadi Tower, often displayed synonymously with Tehran and Iran in general, especially in American news programs. As I crossed a parking lot to make my way into the surrounding park, that’s when it hit me. I really was in Iran. As if to affirm this, I saw two Iranian Revolutionary Guardsmen having a cigarette in the park. I quickly walked towards the tower where a number of what seemed to be Gulf tourists and locals were busily snapping candid shots of each other. I then sat down to appreciate the moment before walking around the sprawling park to appreciate all sides of the tower, which like many historical buildings in Tehran was under renovation. Having taken in my fill of the tower, I tried to decide what the next logical destination in Tehran would be. Obviously, the former US Embassy Complex, now the “Den of Spies.”

As I walked up the stairs of the Taleqani metro station, the first sight that greeted me was a bold mural with the words “Down With America” written in bold. Hmm…that’s curious, I thought. I then saw that the whole complex was walled off with a heavy gate protecting the entrance. Interestingly, the perimeter was covered in a host of quite attractive anti-American graffiti which I spent some time perusing and snapping picture of. In most of the artwork, the US was generally characterized by anything red and blue, and demonized quite extensively. My personal favorite was a picture of the Statue of Liberty, with a skull located in place of the face amidst the American flag in the background. This particular piece was located at the entrance to the former building from which the building inside and the watchtowers used by embassy personnel were visible. Two days later, an Iranian guy I had just met (who found it highly amusing that I was American) and I attempted to enter the embassy, but were told by the guard that no visitors were allowed, especially not Americans. At the time I was posing as an Iranian — which seemed to work out as nearly everyone thought I was Iranian, to the point of asking me for directions in Farsi on the metro.

After an amusing time at the embassy, my next stop was Tajshiri Square. Tajshiri Squre, in the far north of the city, is at the center of the wealthiest area in Tehran. It is also the setting for the Instagram feed, “Rich Kids of Tehran”, which depicts the excesses of some of the wealthiest teenagers in Tehran. I had been following the feed for some months now and it did not disappoint. I quickly met an Iranian university student who spoke English quite well, and we explored the streets of Tajshiri, hitting chic backroom cafes, seeing Tehran’s first shopping mall, and watching Audis and Lamborghinis drive by, which are actually exponentially more expensive due to Western sanctions. I was impressed by not simply the wealth, but the vibrancy of the area and the people that lived and visited there. There were colorful markets, cool cafes, stylish shops, and an overall hint of a dynamic, elegant culture. This was the Tehran I had heard so much about and overall, it was a great finish to my day. I had very high expectations for Tehran and incredibly, on my first day, these expectations had not only been met, but exceeded. The 8 hours I had spent exploring so far were a whirlwind, and it felt like I was entering another world, which was a little exhausting. So I headed back to the city center for a kebab dinner and then a warm bed.