The road to Armanestan
The joys of hitchhiking and Iranian hospitality
One night I was trekking down the side of the road in Tabriz, Iran. The sun had just set but I was feeling eager to make as much distance as I could towards my next destination, Armenia. I was finally getting to the edge of the city, so I stuck my thumb out to catch a ride, and within just moments a car pulled up.
The man in the car spoke no English but he beckoned me to get in. I hesitated as I was still trying to establish as quickly as I could where he was headed and my instincts were telling me no, and I still couldn’t pinpoint why. During our short interaction a second car pulled up. The car already had more people crammed in it than seats and a young man, only a couple of years younger than me, jumped out and walked up to me.
“Hello, I can speak English. what do you need help with?”
I explained to the young man that I was just trying to hitch a ride towards the border of Armenia with somebody that was already heading that way. After a few words with the driver of the first car he explained.
“This man is heading to a town near the border tonight, but I think it will be hard to find somewhere to stay. My mother says you should come and stay the night with us and have something to eat because it is late now and dangerous out here. What do you want to do?”
I looked back and forth a couple of times and decided to go with my instincts. I told the young man(whose name turned out to be Sina) to thank the driver of the first car and that I would come with him and head to Armenia in the morning.
The family lived a very short distance away and on arrival they ushered me into the living room. With plenty of space, cushions and rugs I sat down and started chatting with the family. They were Azari Iranians and one of the adult sons who was visiting had a Kurdish wife and a 2 year old daughter running around the room showing off. She kept saying ‘Axe’, which means photo, and would take the occasional selfie with me.
As was the norm there for a visitor such as myself I was brought out tea and food. We sat around chatting for an hour or so and learning about each other. The family reminded me a lot of my own. 3 loud young adult sons, a couple of their spouses present, and a very kind and religious mother. It was just like a Muslim version of my own.
In the morning when I awoke I was brought a delicious breakfast of honey, that they had collected from the mountain themselves, fresh warm bread, cheese and tea. I got my things together and as I started saying my farewells, the mother started stuffing food in my backpack. Fresh bread, honey and cheese for the road.
As his mother didn’t speak a word of English, Sina had to translate for us.
“She told me she has four sons now and she said to make sure you say hi to all your family from her”
We embraced and then I had to take an ‘axe’.
