Escape from Tehran: A Journey Home Amidst Chaos

While millions of Tehranis chose to stay in Iran’s capital, others left to seek refuge from Israeli bombing. The author is a dual national who travelled 1,150km, through Iran’s countryside and mountains, in his efforts to return home to London. He asked to write under the pen-name Rostam.

Three days into a visit from London to my elderly parents in Tehran, I woke to the sound of loud bangs. Jets seemed to be flying overhead. I could see buildings on fire — huge fires — in the distance. Iran had been attacked.

Throughout the day, thick smoke rose from the buildings. People were worried but to my surprise, many were saying: ‘this will be over soon, we’ve been through this several times before’.

My sense though was that things could deteriorate very quickly. I arranged for my parents to go to the countryside but after a tearful call from my daughter, I decided I had to get home to my wife and children, even though the thought of leaving my parents in those circumstances was horrible.

Initially, my aim was to go to Astara, the border town with Azerbaijan as it was the closest — 500km — from Tehran. However, the day before I was due to depart, I realised that the Azeri border crossings were limited to nationals with special permission.

The other option was Turkey, a far more arduous journey of 900km north-west. Reports were increasing of big queues at the Turkish border and there were rumours of it being closed periodically, with some travellers turned back.

I was beginning to feel trapped. But then a relative said a friend was leaving for Yerevan in Armenia the next day with a group of family and friends. When he said there was room for me, I felt a huge sense of relief.

The group met early the next morning at west Tehran’s main bus terminal, which seemed no busier than usual. We comprised several families, including children and elderly people.

Google maps put the 1,150km drive to Yerevan at 17 hours; we were to drive straight through, with no overnight stop, only short breaks. I braced myself. Thankfully, fuel wasn’t a problem — the bus set off with a full tank and did not refuel during the 800km drive to the Armenian border.

Traffic was fine initially but then we hit the motorway. The 90-minute journey to the first big city — Qazvin — took us five hours.

The going was so slow that some drivers had parked just off the motorway to picnic under trees or under a piece of fabric stretched over two parked cars for shade. There seemed to be no sense of panic.