I
t's March 2018. I am in southeast Iran, setting up camp where the shifting sands of the Dasht-e Lut forge a living work of art. As the sun falls, my eyes widen; the golden light reveals the magnetism of a mystic wilderness. Max, my husband, and I pitch the tents under a gentle desert breeze. Infinity and silence, giant dunes scored by alien rock formations. "Lut is my favourite place in the world," says Hooman, our Iranian fixer. "It's the only place where I can get a glimpse of what freedom feels like."
"It's the only place where I can get a glimpse of what freedom feels like."
The Dasht-e Lut is a vast salt desert spanning Kerman, Sistan, and Baluchestan provinces. One of the hottest places on Earth, it is Iran’s only natural UNESCO World Heritage Site. We camp among its towering kaluts and salt plains, a pristine landscape scientists long thought too hostile to support life. “It turns out we do find animal life here,” Hooman says. “Who knows? Maybe we’ll spot a desert fox over dinner tonight.
I had arrived in Iran three days earlier, my flight touching down in Shiraz, the city of poets and gardens. On a bright morning, I visited the Nasir ol Molk Mosque — the Pink Mosque — where stained glass threw jewel-bright mosaics across Persian carpets. It was just Max and me there, no other foreigners; local children played on prayer rugs while their mothers prayed, their faces shaped by devotion.
From there we moved to the Ali Ibn Hamza Shrine — an otherworldly interior of hundreds of tiny mirror fragments that fracture the light into something between a fever dream and a jewellery box. I thought about how central Shiraz once was to medieval Islamic culture; inside the shrine, the air itself seemed to thrum with faith and history.
The next day, an hour’s drive northeast brought us to Persepolis. Founded around 515 BC as the ceremonial capital of the Achaemenid Empire, it is a UNESCO site of extraordinary scale: broad raised terraces, monumental stairways, profuse reliefs of delegations bearing tribute, and towering columns that still suggest the full weight of ancient imperial order. Five kilometres northwest, Naqsh-e Rustam’s cliff-cut royal tombs deepened the encounter — cross-shaped façades carved into rock, bas-reliefs of kings and conquered foes, inscriptions that pull you into a world of ritual and power.
I often felt safe as I moved through Iran. A small unease crept in only on domestic flights, where the aircraft showed their age — a visible legacy of decades of sanctions that had constrained maintenance and fleet renewal. The same sanctions that, after a brief thaw following the 2015 nuclear deal, tightened again when the US withdrew and reimposed restrictions. Tourism has never really existed. And since the current war, it has stopped entirely. But in 2018, it was still possible. I am glad I went anyway.
Despite the complicated politics, I travelled independently, leaning on the kindness of locals I’d connected with through Facebook groups. “See You in Iran” helped me book guides, hotels, and flights when standard sources were thin. Iran asks for a certain determination — and that effort pays off. The country hosts some of the world’s oldest monuments, sits at the heart of the ancient Silk Road between China and the Mediterranean, and travel there still returns an old-fashioned sense of discovery: the magic of going somewhere you don’t quite know the ending of before you set off.
More than anything, Iran gave me access to a corner of the world that has been off-limits for much of its modern history — and with it, a precious sense of humanity. I have no desire to put my money or my voice into the pockets of those complicit with a regime of oppressive politics. But I do have every desire to connect with and benefit the local people. Iran may be the friendliest country I have ever visited. It is the Iranians — their warmth, their generous hospitality, their willingness to set aside the enmities between countries and welcome you with open arms — who leave the most lasting impressions. One afternoon, in a random bazaar, Max and I got talking to a couple as we wandered around. They invited us for dinner. That evening, we arrived at their home to find a cloth laid out on the floor, covered in dishes of Persian cuisine. Gestures like that outlast any headline.
Iran may be the friendliest country I have ever visited. It is the Iranians — their warmth, their generous hospitality, their willingness to set aside the enmities between countries and welcome you with open arms — who leave the most lasting impressions.
If I had to pick one city that makes my imagination flourish over Iran’s ancient golden age, it would be Yazd. Arriving from the Lut Desert, I found it hard to put into words its peculiar atmosphere — but easy to taste it, navigating through winding lanes, blue-tiled domes, soaring minarets, covered bazaars, and elegant old courtyard homes.
That feeling shifted entirely when I reached Isfahan. Two hundred miles south of Tehran, this largely 17th-century city of 1.3 million people has mosques decorated with exquisite blue mosaics that rank among the most beautiful on Earth. Robert Byron once rated Isfahan “among those rarer places, like Athens or Rome, which are the common refreshment of humanity.” I understood why. I walked along Naqsh-e Jahan Square — home to arguably the most impressive collection of Islamic architecture in the world — locals spreading out on blankets for picnic dinners, groups of friends, families, even couples holding hands along the river bridges.
On a Saturday morning, I took another domestic flight deeper into the country, eager to see the magnificent, labyrinthine, UNESCO-listed Tabriz Bazaar. In most Iranian cities, bazaars helped define the layout of the city and its social and cultural life. But Tabriz is something else — the world’s largest covered bazaar – and once among the most important trading centres on the Silk Road. I barely shopped. I just walked through 24 caravanserais, 22 domed halls, watching the everyday lives of young and old Iranians unfold around me in a place that has been doing exactly this for centuries.
Twenty-five kilometres from Tabriz, the Aladaglar Mountains — the Rainbow Mountains — were my last stop before the flight home. From up there, with no other soul on the horizon, I watched a madly surreal landscape – shades of red, white, ochre, violet, and green, shifting as the light moved across them. I stood there in something close to a meditative state and thought of Hooman’s words in the desert about freedom. It felt like the right place to end my trip. Only by travelling in forbidden territory had I come to understand that in spite of everything dark about Iran’s politics, there is also so much to love. I hoped then, as I hope now, for change. But standing in those mountains, I was also aware that I had lost myself entirely — to the desert, to the culture, to the people who, more than any monument or landscape, are the jewel in Islam’s crown.
Practical Information
| Destination | Iran — Shiraz, Persepolis, Isfahan, Yazd, Kerman, Tabriz & the Lut Desert |
|---|---|
| Best time to visit | March to May and September to November offer the most comfortable temperatures. The Lut Desert is best visited in winter (December to February) when extreme heat is manageable. Avoid July and August when temperatures in the desert can exceed 70°C at ground level. |
| Getting there | Iran is accessible by air via Tehran's Imam Khomeini International Airport (IKA) or Shiraz (SYZ) from Istanbul, Dubai, Doha, and several European cities. Independent travel within Iran relies on domestic flights and private drivers — standard booking platforms do not operate there. The Facebook group 'See You in Iran' (seeyouiniran.org) is the most reliable resource for arranging guides, domestic flights, and accommodation when conventional sources are unavailable. |
| Where to stay | Iran has no standard international hotel booking infrastructure accessible from most Western countries. Independent travellers rely on locally arranged guesthouses and boutique hotels, often booked through fixers or the See You in Iran network. For insider guidance on travelling Iran independently, contact Nanda via Instagram @nanda_haensel. |
| Currency | Iranian Rial (IRR). International cards do not work in Iran due to sanctions — bring sufficient cash in Euros or US Dollars to exchange locally. |
| Language | Persian (Farsi). English spoken by younger Iranians in cities; minimal elsewhere. Learning a few words of Farsi is warmly received. |
| Visa | Most Western nationalities require a visa — apply in advance through the Iranian embassy or on arrival at major airports (not available to US, UK, or Canadian passport holders, who must join an organised tour). Check current entry requirements carefully before travel as the situation changes frequently. |
| Notes | Iran is one of the most hospitable countries on earth — the gap between what the news reports and what independent travellers experience is vast. Travel there requires determination: standard booking platforms, international bank cards, and Google Maps work unreliably or not at all. The Lut Desert (UNESCO) is best explored with a local fixer. Persepolis, Naqsh-e Jahan Square in Isfahan, and the Tabriz Bazaar (the world's largest covered bazaar) are among the most extraordinary sites in the world. The current political situation means tourism has effectively stopped — this piece was written from a 2018 visit. |
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