Book "Unforgettable Iran". Chapter 5.2 Hitchhiking lessons in Iranian (Farsi)

25 December 2012 Travel time: with 01 July 2011 on 01 October 2011
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Hitchhiking lessons in Farsi (Iranian)

At dinner, I talked about how unsuccessfully I tried to hitchhike from Qom to Kashan, and how I ended up taking a bus. Due to not knowing the language, I could not talk to the drivers, so I asked them to write the proposed dialogue in Farsi.

- This is not at all necessary, - Reza answered, - look, Luka drove from Qom with this piece of paper.

I picked up the paper and read:

- Ma n mikha m be Kasha n bera m. Man pul nadora m. (I want to go to Kashan. I have no money).

“These phrases are quite enough, ” Luka confirmed.

But I insisted on special phrases. Opening the page of the Free Encyclopedia, I read the recommended dialogue with the Iranian driver. Reza listened to me and said that they don’t speak like that in Iran, and in general the phrases turned out to be impolite and even rude for the driver. Then I sat him at the table, and he began to compose polite phrases for me. I needed two:

The first phrase in order to leave the city.


I want to leave the city

to get to the main road - wa avale jade ye asli berava m

leading towards Shiraz - be sa mte Shira z

I want to leave the city to get on the main road leading towards Shiraz.

Man mikham be khareje shahr (pause) va avale jade ye asli beravam (pause) be samte Shiraz.

The second phrase for the driver stopped on the highway.

Hello Salam.

I want to go to Shiraz - Ma n mikha m be Shira z bera m.

You can give me a lift towards Shiraz – Mituni mano be sa mte Shira z bebari

as far as possible with you along the way - ta jayi ke vasa t mamkene.

I don't have enough money

pay the fare - ta bara y savari beda m.

Hello. I want to go to Shiraz. You can give me a ride towards Shiraz as far as possible with you along the way. I don't have enough money to pay the fare.

Salam. Man mikham be Shiraz beram.

Mituni mano be samte Shiraz bebari (pause) ta jayi ke vasat mamkene. Man pule kafi nadoram ta baray savari bedam.

I tried to read.

"You sound like an Afghan, " Reza laughed.

Even on the third attempt, I couldn’t read it correctly, so I wrote out the phrases on a separate sheet, which I later showed to the drivers. Later, I shortened the appeal a bit: “Ma n mikha m be Shira z bera m. Man pul nadora m "(I have no money). The last phrase helped the driver quickly make a decision: to drive for free or not. Then he either nodded down and said "sit down", or nodded up and left. To make sure that the driver understood me correctly, I often had to ask again: “majoni? "and to confirm that I am a foreigner, add something in English: " Ken yu giv mi e ride, pliz? (please give me a ride).

I chose places for hitchhiking, if possible, outside the city.


It is not difficult to find the exit to the highway; there is usually a terminal next to it, which can be reached by city bus. If the terminal is located in the city itself, then you do not need to navigate it. Read the first sentence to the bus driver or any passer-by, and he will tell you where the suburban buses depart from, which will take you to the highway. You may also find the following phrases useful:

- In jade be Shira z mi r e? (this road leads to Shiraz)

- Ying utubu s be terminal l mi r e? (this bus goes to the terminal)

- Code m utubu with be terminal l mi r e? (which bus goes to the terminal)

A hundred meters from the terminal there are "savari" - passing cars, the drivers of which are going to go to the neighboring city and at the same time earn money for the transportation of fellow travelers. There is also a line of people wishing to leave.

I always tried not to interfere with either passengers or drivers, so I walked along the highway about a hundred meters from the last savari and started to stop with an open palm. The logic of not interfering justified itself: if the driver left without having recruited the required number of people, he understood that he would not be able to earn more money until he reached the next “savari” parking lot, because it would never occur to anyone to stop a passing car outside the cities. Noticing me on the highway, many easily agreed to give me a free ride at least to the next passenger collection point. So one day the driver said that he would give me a lift only to the next city, where I got off at the Savari stop, and he picked up other “paid” passengers.

I remember well how quickly it gets dark in Iran - it seems like fifteen minutes pass, and complete darkness descends on the earth, and only a lonely burning lantern on a pole helps to distinguish one's own silhouettes.

For this reason, by six o'clock in the evening, hitchhiking becomes impossible.

The way out of this situation is the following. On the outskirts of the city, as well as on the border between the regions, there are roadblocks that are well lit at night, you can stop around them around the clock. Moreover, scheduled intercity buses stop at checkpoints for a short rest, so you can negotiate with the bus driver to travel for money, such a ticket, as a rule, will cost several times cheaper.


For example, a ticket from Mashhad to Tehran (1000 km) at the box office cost $17, and a ticket from a bus driver who stopped in Nishapur, the first major city 100 km from Mashhad, cost me only $6 after a tough bargain. Although the drivers of previous buses voiced different prices, from $9 to $12.

The police and the people around them treat hitchhikers with understanding, or rather, with misunderstanding, so if you say that there is no money, then in search of transport for you they will fuss more than you yourself, and this will put you in an awkward position. In Iran, I had only one case when I asked for help and a regular bus was stopped for me (see Bus stop to Bandar).

About savary. These are ordinary people who travel by car on business from one city to another. At certain places on the outskirts of the city, they stop and pick up passengers.

About a taxi. From the city, a large company orders a taxi "dar bast", in which there is physically no place for you. If you stop an empty yellow taxi, which, for example, is returning from an order, and say “bullets nadora” (no money), then most likely you will upset the driver very much, and he will leave without saying goodbye. Outside the city, the front passenger usually buckles up.

Several times it happened that the driver understood that “there is no money” (pul nadoram), he agreed to the request for a ride “for free” (majoni), and at the end he asked to pay for the fare.

On one such occasion, I repeated that there was no money, the driver patted me on the shoulder and wished me luck. I think that when he gave me a ride, he thought it was “taarof”, and therefore expected payment for the fare.

In another case, the driver was very offended by me and said that gasoline costs money, and I am doing bad things by refusing to pay the fare. Then I reminded him that I had warned him in advance that there was no money, said thank you and left the car.

Perhaps you will ask me if I am not lying when I say to drivers the phrase “pul nadoram” (no money). No, and here's why.


I abandoned the polite but stupid phrase “man pou le ka fi nodoram (I don’t have enough money), because, as a rule, this phrase is followed by the question of how much money I can pay, and the driver is ready to bargain with me if I think that the passage to his savari is expensive. So we both waste time in vain, “paid” passengers are nervous, and the driver himself does not understand why I refuse to bargain. And if you say “bullet nadoram” (no money), then in a second the driver will decide to take it for free or not.

Then the driver always asks why it happened that I am going far, but there is no money, and then I explain that I am trying to save money, and I ask the drivers to give me a lift for free, since a lot of money is spent on food, museums, housing. At the same time, I usually say: “man pule ka m daram” (I have little money). Then he asks what I will do in another city if I have little money.

I answer that in the next city I have a friend with whom I will live as a guest, and I won’t need a lot of money. From such a conversation, the driver will understand that you have money, but not enough. And most importantly, he must feel that he is not being deceived, then he will become your best friend.

What is "taarof"

The classic "taarof", which is described in LP, and which I myself observed: You ask a taxi driver how much the fare costs, and he answers "it costs nothing", using the following expressions (translation in brackets by meaning):

Gkhabeli nadar e - worth nothing, nothing

Gkhadame t ro cheshm is an honor for me

Ghorbane t bera m - I do it for you

Cheshmet t roshan - You deserve it.

The cases of "taarof" can be very diverse.

For example, a random passer-by took me to the bus station through the whole city, having also paid for a taxi, and when he found the right ticket office (I was driving far, and the ticket was not cheap), he said: “I will pay for the ticket. ” Or once visiting an Iranian with whom we recently met, I said that I liked his phone (he was brought an ultra-thin novelty from China), he replied: “I give it to you. ” For the sake of justice, I will mention that in both cases I refused.


Following tradition, the owner of the house is obliged to offer the guest any thing or service that he asks for. Sometimes the proposer cannot even imagine that you will immediately agree to his proposal, because according to etiquette, the guest must first refuse. Therefore, if a merchant at the bazaar gives you a souvenir you like for free and says: “This is a gift for you, ” do not rush to leave without paying.

It is best to refuse tempting offers out of politeness.

If they really want to give you something, invite you somewhere or provide a service, they will make an offer at least three times. Although I personally met the classic “taarof” quite rarely in Iran, most often if I was invited to visit, they took me tightly by the hand and dragged me home, and when they offered a gift, they almost forcibly shoved it into my backpack.

My first Irano stop

I had to return to Tehran to get a letter of recommendation from the embassy, ​ ​ but I did not apply for visas, hoping to quickly get them along the way at the consulates in Bandar al-Abbas, Zahedan or Mashhad.

The next day I left for Isfahan, having previously programmed myself to hitchhike. We had to exit the subway near the complex of Imam Khomeini, the founder of the Islamic Republic of Iran. This huge mausoleum is still under construction and grows every year, it did not take long to inspect it.

To find out where the main road to Isfahan (jade ye asli be sa mte Esfahan) is located, I turned to a taxi driver, and he told me that I need to take the subway and go to Tehran, find the terminal there and take the intercity bus. It was not possible to explain that I was driving a passing car. The highway to Isfahan turned out to be very close, I still walked a few hundred meters and ended up behind a police checkpoint, where a minute later I stopped a car with an open palm. I tried to read the hitchhiking phrase to the driver, but it was too hard to pronounce.

- Shoma koja miri? (Where are you going) I asked.

- Esfahan, - the driver answered, took the paper from me, read it and invited me into the car.

This was my first hitchhiking in Iran.


During our trip, the driver called his acquaintances, friends, brothers and someone else several times, constantly explaining to them that he was traveling with a tourist from Belarus who had no money. Once he handed me the phone to talk to his brother, who asked in broken English: “Money know? ”(No money? ) I answered “Money Veri Little” (very little money), but it seems that he did not understand me. “Maybe the driver wants me to pay the fare, ” I thought, and read: “I don’t have enough money to pay the fare. ”

The driver nodded but continued to call his friends. Every time I heard: “a tourist from Belarus, no money, ” I felt very embarrassed, if only because there was money.

I thought that it was possible to get the money out of my pocket and show it to him, but after so many calls from him, this would mean that I was deceiving from the very beginning, then my knowledge of the language would definitely not be enough for me to explain that this is a misunderstanding and what I wanted hitchhike.

Before reaching Isfahan, the driver gestured that he was going to the left, and I had to transfer to public transport. “Merci, merci, ” I murmured, delighted that I would no longer have to listen to his complaints about money. The driver stopped me and held out a thousand tomans, pointing at the bus. I looked at him inquiringly, it seemed to him that this was not enough, and he immediately offered me several thousand more. Now I understand why he called his friends and relatives - he was very worried about my lack of money and was looking for someone who could speak English with me and help. “Pul nemikha m!

”(I don’t need money) - I said, returned the money to him and hugged him tightly. He waved to me, and I got on the bus that brought me to Isfahan.

Author: Kozlovsky Alexander.

Book: "Unforgettable Iran". 159 days hitchhiking.

Translated automatically from Russian. View original
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