Diary Entry

The mountain range begins directly behind Tehran and offers a colossal backdrop when looking over the metropolis. Sara’s family lives in Lavasan, a small town already in the foothills of the mountains. Sara’s father Hossein and her brother Siavash lead me from the house to the mountains on foot.

It’s barren and dusty, but that’s only supposed to be in winter. All the shriveled herbs would soon bloom and turn the mountains green. I can hardly imagine it. It looks like a desert.

It may look like a barren desert to some, but it’s one big playground to others. Siavash loves racing down the hills on a mountain bike. For me he calls his good friend Amirhussein. He has an old but robust Range Rover and really enjoys steep slopes. Together we leave Lavasan and drive up what feels like vertical hills to crests from which we have a brilliant view.

Jackals cross our path and roam in front of the wagon until they disappear again into the vastness of the hills. We even come to a coniferous forest that looks like an oasis. And indeed, the forest flows into a large lake, which is one of Tehran’s water reservoirs.

Siavash nimmt mich einige Male mit in die Berge, sei es allein oder sei es in Begleitung seiner bezaubernden Verlobten Pooneh. Tief im Gebirge liegt noch tief Schnee.

Die Berge darunter haben spannende Farben. Deutliche Grรผn- und Rottรถne sorgen fรผr bunte Streifen.

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