Hitchhiking at Persepolis.
Hitchhiking gets a traveller into the heart of a country more easily than anything else. In the process, deep misconceptions are dispersed.
My mobile phone rings just as the ferry reaches port and the queue starts to move. I glance at the screen: it is an unknown number and I can’t ascertain the country code. I decide to answer, regardless of the passengers pushing from behind.
“Marco!” It is the only sound I understand before a legato of fast, foreign words fills the earpiece. After a moment of confusion, I manage to picture the man on the other end of the line. Hossein! He’s very far away, across half of the world.
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