Chabahar Day 7: Goodbye to the Lover Palm

March 25 (Farvardin 5):
By the time the sun climbed high, Ben and Hesam parted ways with us, leaving just me and my great travel companion once again. When I say great, I do not mean it as polite flattery. Hossein was truly the ideal travel buddy: zero complaining and zero drama. He was there by my side through everything, yet his presence was so effortless that it never felt crowded. Complicated to explain, right? Later on you will see that he was so wonderful to travel with, that once he left, I barely had the heart to keep going.

We packed our backpacks and headed toward the symbol of Darak Beach: the lone palm tree. It is nearly impossible to hear of Darak without knowing this tree. If you haven't heard of it yet, turn to our good friend Google right now to see its picture.

See it? Right after the surreal sight of rolling desert dunes crashing into the sea, this solitary palm tree standing all alone is the main reason Darak Beach became famous. People even call it the Lover Palm.

Desert and sea, just imagine walking barefoot under the blazing sun across desert dunes. The soles of your feet first meet the warm surface sand, then sink into the cooler layer underneath, all while an endless blue ocean sits right before your eyes and crashing waves kiss the sand dunes. We sat under the shade of that lone palm, completely soaking in the breathtaking view.

After lunch, lounging on the sand, and taking tons of photos, we stepped back into the welcoming arms of the open road. Have you noticed how on this trip we managed to master the art of picking the worst possible times to hitchhike? Right when everyone is heading in, we are heading out!

We started walking, but trying to cover 160 kilometers to Chabahar on foot was no joke. Past Darak village, a man on a motorbike pulled over for us. I still cannot believe the two of us managed to fit onto that bike with our massive backpacks.

He dropped us off a little further down the road, and we kept walking. The sun was drifting west from high noon, and anxiety began to kick in because Hossein had a flight back to Tehran in just a couple of hours.

Finally, a lovely family in a Renault Logan pulled over. As usual on our hitchhikes, we shared how we travel by catching rides with passersby, and somehow Hossein's flight time came up. The kind driver grew anxious for us, went way out of his way, and drove straight to the airport terminal doors! Hossein said his farewells and headed in, while I stayed with the family to ride all the way into Chabahar

I got dropped off at an intersection near Darya Koochak, and right at that exact moment, I saw Mehdi and his travel companion getting out of a ride! By now you must know the secret: hitchhikers have both a kind guardian angel and a very small world, or else how could you bump into a good friend out of the blue, 1,800 kilometers away from home? Honestly, I believe nothing in hitchhiking is purely random; everything feels arranged in advance to guide you to your destination.

All smiles, Mehdi and I made our way to my evening hangout: Makran Restaurant by Darya Bozorg. Once again, it was time for mastic hookah, hot milk tea, and live Baluchi music. The singer performed a Persian song with a lovely Baluchi accent. When we asked him to perform it once more and he noticed our heavy travel packs, he asked for mine and Mehdi's names and promised he would sing it.

A few moments later, his voice came over the speaker: "I dedicate this next song to BabaMohamad and Mehdi!" We were thrilled by the surprise, and it proved to me once again just how exceptionally hospitable these people are.

And what was the song? It was Ahmad Azad's melody:

"For a hundred years I traveled and never fell in love,

Yet in one single moment I saw you, and lost my mind."