Fishing remains the main source of income across the Persian Gulf islands, and people here maintain a traditional, humble lifestyle. The freshness of salt fused air, beauty of the sunsets and hypnotic rhythm of lapping waves can’t fail to create calmness. We couldn’t be further – physically or mentally – from the gridlock and pollution of Tehran. There are no roads on Hormuz Island, making tuk tuks ideal for chugging along the ferrous red tracks that wind through the colourful rock formations.
The weekend was approaching so business was brisk, with Iranians squeezing themselves and their belongings into tuk tuks and heading off to stay in local houses for a couple of nights.
Equally unexpected was the sound-clash of Iranian dance tunes as drivers competed for customers by showing off their on-board sound systems. I was the sole westerner among a hundred of so Iranians taking the thrice daily ferry to this hidden paradise, which at times seems to operate beyond the grasp of their regime.Ī homely surprise awaited as I was greeted from the pier by a parade of pimped-up Chinese tuk tuks, gently touting for business.
Their subliminal Islamic guidance, this time, is juxtaposed upon the palm fringed beaches of Hormuz – the ‘Rainbow Island’ – one of the southernmost outposts of Iran. Despite being five miles from the Iranian mainland the ubiquitous frowns of Khomeini and Khamenei – the Supreme Leaders – still bear down on us from a sign as we disembark the local ferry.