Darband

Until the 1920s the Tajrish and Shemran districts consisted of a collection of small villages in the foothills of the mountains above Tehran. Now they are very much part of the city. Darband used to be one of these villages. Its name literally means “door to the mountain.” During my student days we would go there to begin a hike up to the peak of Tochal Mountain at about 13,000 ft/4,000 m. Locals ran a few stalls where the hikers could get breakfast or a snack before starting up the mountain. But all that has changed. The stalls are now restaurants where Tehranis go on summer evenings for a meal or just to snack on street food and enjoy the theater of all the people there. On this trip, my cousins took me there. We clambered up the trail, lined with vendors’ stalls. They were selling hot steaming fava beans sprinkled with vinegar and Persian hogweed powder/golpar as well as red pepper flakes; and tempting whole roasted red beets that shone under the bright lights as if they were giant rubies. There was corn on the cob, roasted on wood charcoal. The corn sizzled as it was dropped into big jars of salted water before being handed to you. Another stall offered a variety of candied fruit. And for drinks there were stalls selling pomegranate juice that was freshly squeezed in front of you. My cousins and I sat on a carpeted raised platform-bed and enjoyed juicy chicken kababs marinated in saffron and lime, and tender lamb ribs marinated in yogurt and grilled on charcoal. After the meal, we drank tea, and a hookah was passed around. Around us, young Tehranis were all dressed up and talking on their cell phones. It suddenly dawned on me that Iran was mainly about a young generation no longer confronting modernity, but instead coming to terms with it.