After very little sleep on the bus (Millat bus or similar – almost everything was broken) we arrived 04:30 in Tehran at the Azadi bus terminal. The bus terminal was bigger than expected and so we walked quite a bit – past some sleeping people – to the main street where we ordered a Snapp. At least Mel saw the Freedom Tower on the way. Shortly after 05:00 we reached the, us already known, Heritage Hostel and immediately fell into a deep sleep.

Punctually 08:00 Mel sat again at the breakfast table, while Andreas still slumbered peacefully. After we had sanitized ourselves, we started our last day of vacation to explore Tehran. First we walked to the Golestan Palace. We had no motivation to visit all the halls (7 million rial per person), so we just bought the standard ticket. As always, 1 million rial per person. The grounds were extensive and everywhere on the houses we discovered well-preserved mosaic decorations. There was also a marble tomb to see and a live photo shoot with locals in traditional garb.

Mel then dragged Andreas to the big bazaar. Worried that we might get lost, we went straight ahead as far as possible. Andreas’ mood deteriorated abruptly. Too much hustle and bustle, too warm, too big, and in the middle of it all locals with motorcycles and big carts to transport the goods. After an hour, we had reached the exit to end up in the middle of the city chaos. Daringly, we crossed the streets to the metro station. Once again, due to communication problems, we were able to ride the metro for free. A local had noticed that we wanted to go to a mosque and navigated us during the metro ride.

During the ride, Mel noticed that in front of the mosque was still the stop of the old U.S. Embassy, short decided we got off sooner. Already along the walls it was clearly noticeable that the relationship between Iran and the USA was – let’s say – tense. After we paid the obligatory million rial entrance fee, we could visit the former embassy. A piece of history. There were still various old computers, communication devices and spy equipment to see. One could literally still feel how quickly attempts had been made to destroy material and how conditions must have been during the occupation of the embassy in 1979-81.

Afterwards we went to an art district in the immediate vicinity to take a break. Unfortunately, we were not served in the first café, so we continued to the next café, where we finally got a coffee and a melon juice, which had a very special, slightly fishy taste and did not quite meet Andreas’ taste buds. Afterwards, Andreas was dragged by Mel to a souvenir store to buy magnets, as usual.

Our next trip took us by metro to the vicinity of the large Mosalla Mosque. Once there and after what felt like several kilometers of walking in scorching heat and no shade, we found that one side of the mosque was just a gigantic construction site and no access was possible from the other side. So we drove on to Tabiat Bridge, where we wanted to meet Pegah.

From the bridge, we had another good view of the mountains and the city. On the first floor of the bridge – yes, the bridge consists of three floors – we took a seat in the VIP café and waited for Pegah. Since women have no sense of time (editor’s note: written by a woman), we walked slowly back to the metro station so as not to miss our return flight to Germany. In the park, under a gigantic Iranian flag, we finally met Pegah. She accompanied us a little further in the direction of our hostel.

Once again we had to say goodbye – with countless hugs – to Pegah, whom we had meanwhile taken very much to our hearts. Before we drove to the airport, Melanie bought cigarettes, of course more than allowed. We ordered a Snapp and were actually, against all expectations, after 45 minutes already at the airport. The check-in went relatively fast. At passport control there was a counter for foreigners and wheelchair users. Once again, Mel burst his hat when – without understatement – a crowd of wheelchair users drove up. After a little more than an hour we finally passed the passport control. A coffee and a cigarette later, our plane left Iran (with a slight delay) in the direction of Germany.