Modern Tehran is a loud giant. It greets travelers with choking smog in the winter, grabs them by the throat with hot air in the summer, and forces them to quicken their pace. It tests everyone who arrives here, demanding an honest answer: do you love it or do you hate it?
The next trip was Shiraz. It was written about by Yesenin in his Persian Motifs, and sung by Hafez.
The city lies in Fars Province, the historical homeland of the Persians and the Persian language. This is where Iranian statehood was born.
We began to travelling through Iran — and that’s when I felt the strong desire to write. First and foremost, for my friends who had predicted a grim fate for me: suffering under a scorching sun, always wrapped in a chador, tucked away in some harem. I wanted them to know I was more than fine. I also wanted to share the extraordinary blend of antiquity and modernity I was experiencing — a vibrant garden of cultures, rich in tradition, cuisine, and nature.