There are films that you watch, and then there are films that you inhabit. Abbas Kiarostami’s 1997 masterpiece, Taste of Cherry, is profoundly the latter. It’s a film that seeps into your consciousness, not through dramatic plot twists or elaborate action, but through the quiet, meditative rhythm of a car driving along winding, dusty roads on the outskirts of a sprawling city. The film’s protagonist, Mr. Badii, is searching for someone to help him with a final, somber task. His journey, however, becomes secondary to the landscape itself—a character as central and as soul-searching as any human on screen. Those ochre hills, the skeletal trees, the vast, indifferent sky over Tehran—they are not mere backdrops. They are the visual soul of the film’s deep, existential questions about life, despair, and the simple, profound beauty of a cherry’s taste. To seek out these locations is not a typical tourist excursion; it is a pilgrimage. It’s an attempt to step inside the frame, to feel the sun that beat down on Mr. Badii’s Land Rover, to hear the wind that whispered through the solitary tree, and to understand, on a sensory level, the world that Kiarostami so deliberately and artfully crafted. This journey isn’t about finding exact spots on a map. It’s about finding a state of mind, a contemplative space carved out of the earth and the sky on the edge of one of the world’s most vibrant and complex metropolises.
This kind of cinematic pilgrimage to connect with a film’s essence is also beautifully explored in a journey through the filming locations of Rain Man.
The Soul of the Landscape: Understanding Kiarostami’s Canvas
To truly appreciate the pilgrimage to the world of Taste of Cherry, one must first grasp why these particular landscapes were selected. Kiarostami was a master of minimalism, a cinematic poet who discovered the universal within the specific. The outskirts of Tehran, with their raw, unfinished character, offered him the ideal canvas to explore complex human emotions. These are not the meticulously tended gardens of classical Persian poetry, nor the dazzling turquoise mosques that often symbolize Iran in popular imagination. Rather, this is a liminal space—a realm between urban and rural, between creation and decay, between life and its possible end. The hills are barren, stripped down to their essential shapes. Their colors form a muted palette of beige, ochre, soft brown, and pale gold, shifting subtly with the sun’s angle. This intentional absence of visual clutter compels the viewer—and the pilgrim—to look inward. Standing on one of these hills, the distractions of modern life fade away. Only the vast sky above and the undulating earth below remain. The constant, distant hum of the city reminds us of the world Mr. Badii is contemplating leaving behind, making the hills’ silence all the more profound.
The Winding Road as Metaphor
The film’s most significant visual element is the road. Mr. Badii’s journey is almost entirely confined to winding, unpaved tracks that snake through the hills. Roads in Kiarostami’s films are never merely roads; they symbolize life’s journey, filled with twists, turns, and uncertain destinations. Traveling these paths physically represents the protagonist’s internal, meandering search for meaning and closure. When visiting these areas, you’ll find the roads are very real—access tracks for quarries, construction sites, and remote farms. They are not meant for casual driving. Bumpy, dusty, and often precariously clinging to the sides of steep hills, traversing them evokes vulnerability and a direct connection to the film’s emotional core. The car, like Mr. Badii’s, acts as a protective shell, a mobile frame through which to view the stark beauty outside, yet also a space for reflection. The repetitive motion of the drive, with endless curves revealing yet another similar-looking hill, lulls one into a meditative state. Here, the line between watching a film and experiencing a place blurs beautifully.
The Color of Contemplation
Pay close attention to the light and color. The film was shot to highlight the harsh, unfiltered sunlight of the region, creating a high-contrast world of bright, sun-bleached earth and deep, dark shadows. Experiencing this in person, you’ll feel the sun’s intensity. It’s a powerful presence, warming the soil and casting long, dramatic shadows in the early morning and late afternoon. This is the “golden hour” cinematographers dream about, and here it seems to last for hours. Dust stirred by your car or the wind catches the light, generating a hazy, ethereal glow that softens the terrain’s harshness. The color palette consists of subtle, earthy tones—a study in brown, often linked to stability, reliability, and the earth itself. Kiarostami uses this to anchor his elevated philosophical themes. This is not a dreamscape; it is a real, palpable place. Profound existential questions unfold not in a grand temple, but on a dusty hill that could be anywhere and everywhere. This ordinariness is precisely what makes it so powerful. When there, take a moment to observe the thousands of shades of brown, beige, and tan. Notice how they shift as clouds pass overhead. Feel the texture of the dry soil. This sensory immersion is crucial to connecting with the film’s spirit.
The Search Begins: Pinpointing the Hills of Tehran
One of the first questions any cinematic pilgrim asks is, “Where exactly was it filmed?” With Kiarostami, and particularly with Taste of Cherry, this question has no straightforward answer. The director was famously vague about specific locations, emphasizing that the universality of the landscape mattered more than its precise geographical coordinates. The film was shot in various spots on the northeastern and eastern outskirts of Tehran, areas that remain in constant flux due to urban expansion and industrial activity. Thus, the purpose of this pilgrimage is not to pinpoint a single, iconic viewpoint but to immerse oneself in the type of landscape that defines the film. The journey itself—the act of driving and observing—is the experience.
The Jajrud and Rud-e Hen River Valleys
Many sources and local accounts indicate the vast, arid landscapes surrounding the Jajrud and Rud-e Hen river valleys, east of Tehran. To get there, you would typically take the highway toward cities like Pardis or Bumehen. As you leave Tehran’s dense urban fabric behind, the scenery shifts dramatically. Towering apartment blocks give way to smaller settlements and then, quite suddenly, you find yourself in the open expanse of hills. This region perfectly embodies the film’s aesthetic. The topography matches beautifully: rolling, largely treeless hills intersected by countless dirt tracks. Quarries and sand mines scar the land, forming the man-made cliffs and earth mounds where Mr. Badii holds his conversations with the Afghan seminarian and the Turkish taxidermist. The presence of these industrial sites adds a surreal quality to the natural beauty. The distant roar of a truck or the sight of an excavator digging into a hillside serves as a reminder of the relentless human effort to tame and reshape the earth—a theme that resonates with Mr. Badii’s own plan to be buried by it. Exploring this area calls for a spirit of adventure. No signposts say “Taste of Cherry was filmed here.” Instead, you must rely on your visual memory of the film. Take a turn down a promising dirt road, drive to the top of a hill, and take in the panoramic view. You will find countless moments where the landscape before you perfectly mirrors a frame from the movie.
A Landscape in Motion: Construction and Change
The film unfolds against a backdrop of relentless construction. Earthmovers, cranes, and building sites are constant, symbolizing a world being built up while one man contemplates tearing his own down. This aspect of the filming location is even more pronounced today. The northeastern sprawl of Tehran is among the fastest-growing urban areas in the region. New towns, highways, and industrial parks steadily encroach on these once-empty hills. As a result, the landscape is a palimpsest. The exact hill from a particular scene may now host a housing development. A road Mr. Badii once drove could be a paved four-lane highway. But this should not disappoint—it is, in fact, a continuation of the film’s theme. Kiarostami captured a moment in a place defined by transition. To visit now is to witness the next chapter of that story. The contrast between the ancient, weathered hills and the skeletal frames of new buildings is visually striking and philosophically profound. It speaks to the impermanence at the core of Mr. Badii’s dilemma. Discovering these zones of construction lets you see the modern iteration of Kiarostami’s canvas and feel the restless energy of a city pushing its limits into the contemplative silence of the wilderness.
The Journey Itself: An Itinerary for the Cinephile Pilgrim
Embarking on this journey demands more logistical planning than a typical city tour, but the rewards are invaluable. It offers a chance to see a side of Iran that few tourists encounter and to engage with a work of art on a deeply personal level. The key is to approach the day not as a checklist of destinations, but as a performance of the film’s central theme: driving and reflecting.
Charting Your Course: Leaving Tehran
Tehran’s vast metropolis can be daunting to navigate. While public transportation is extensive within the city, accessing the remote sites for this pilgrimage requires a private vehicle. The most effective and recommended approach is to hire a car with a local driver for the day. This solves several issues simultaneously. You avoid the notoriously chaotic Tehran traffic, benefit from a guide familiar with local roads (both paved and unpaved), and have a translator available if needed. You can arrange this via your hotel or a reputable local travel agency. Be explicit about your plans: you aim to explore the hilly, arid landscapes and construction zones east of Tehran for photographic and contemplative purposes. Use phrases such as “manāzer-e fil-m-e Ta’m-e Gilas” (the landscapes of the film Taste of Cherry) and show pictures from the movie. A good driver will grasp the aesthetic you seek. Alternatively, for the more adventurous, ride-hailing apps like Snapp (Iran’s equivalent of Uber) are widely used and affordable. You could technically take a Snapp to a starting point—such as the town of Bumehen—and then try to hire a local driver there for the off-road sections. However, for a full day of exploration, a pre-arranged driver offers greater freedom and reliability. Keep in mind you will spend long stretches in the car, much like Mr. Badii. This is part of the experience: use the time to watch the world pass by and witness the city’s edges fade into wilderness.
A Note on Safety and Preparation
From a woman’s perspective, traveling in Iran is generally safe, but sensible precautions are always advisable, especially when venturing into remote areas. Hiring a driver through a trusted source such as your hotel adds an extra layer of security. Always inform someone of your itinerary for the day. Ensure your phone is fully charged, and consider carrying a portable power bank, as you’ll likely rely on it for navigation and photos. Cellular service can be inconsistent in the hills, so download offline maps of the Tehran region ahead of time. Although Iranians are famously hospitable, remember you will be in isolated areas. It’s best to undertake this journey during daylight hours and plan to return to the city before dusk.
What to Pack, What to Wear: A Traveler’s Guide to the Iranian Landscape
Your comfort on this day trip depends greatly on being well-prepared for the environment. A bit of thoughtful planning, informed by my experience in apparel, can make all the difference. The climate is dry and can be extreme—hot in summer and surprisingly cold in winter. The best times to go are spring (April-May) and autumn (September-October), when temperatures are mild.
The Essential Wardrobe
No matter the season, dressing in layers is crucial. The sun can be intense, but a breeze on a hilltop can be chilly. For women, observing the local dress code (hijab) is mandatory. A light, breathable headscarf (a rousari) made from natural fabrics like cotton or viscose is far more comfortable than synthetic materials. Choose loose-fitting, long-sleeved tops or tunics made of linen or lightweight cotton. These respect local customs while also protecting your skin from the sun and keeping you cool. Comfortable, loose-fitting trousers or a long skirt are ideal. Regarding footwear, this is non-negotiable: wear sturdy, closed-toe walking shoes or hiking boots. You’ll be traversing uneven, rocky ground and need ankle support and protection. Leave sandals or fashionable sneakers behind; practicality is key in this terrain. Don’t forget a good pair of sunglasses to shield your eyes from bright glare and a wide-brimmed hat to wear outside the car for extra sun protection.
The Pilgrim’s Daypack
Your daypack should hold the essentials for a day away from urban convenience. Water is the most vital—bring more than you think you’ll need, at least two liters per person. Dehydration occurs quickly in dry air. Pack high-energy snacks such as nuts, dried fruit, and granola bars, since shops and restaurants are scarce in these areas. Sunscreen is essential; apply it generously before you leave and reapply throughout the day. A small first-aid kit with basics like bandages, antiseptic wipes, and pain relievers is always advisable. Lastly, bring your camera, but also make sure to set it aside sometimes. The most important images will be those you capture with your memory.
More Than a Location: Immersing in the ‘Taste of Cherry’ Atmosphere
Once you find yourself out in the hills, the pilgrimage transforms from a physical journey into an internal one. This is the moment to engage your senses and connect with the film on a deeper, more atmospheric level. The aim is to feel the place, not just to look at it.
The Sound of Silence and the Wind’s Monologue
One of the most memorable aspects of Taste of Cherry is its sound design. Kiarostami intentionally incorporates long stretches of silence, interrupted only by the natural sounds of the environment. When you’re there, try to recreate this experience. Turn off the car radio. Step outside and simply listen. At first, you might perceive silence, but soon your ears will adjust. You will hear the wind—a constant, whispering presence flowing over the hills. You’ll notice the crunch of dry earth beneath your feet. You might catch the distant bleating of a goat, the call of a bird, or the low rumble of a truck far away. This soundscape is the film’s true music. It is the sound of solitude, vastness, and nature’s indifference to human drama. The wind, especially, feels like a character. It’s the same wind that carried the soldier’s stories of his homeland, the same wind that rustled the leaves of the final tree. Standing on a ridge and letting that wind wash over you creates a profound moment of connection to the film’s essence.
The Solitary Tree: Discovering Your Own Place of Contemplation
A key feature of the film is a solitary tree where Mr. Badii plans to end his journey. This tree, standing alone against the sky, symbolizes life, resilience, and hope. Finding the exact tree from the film is probably impossible—and misses the point. The strength of the image lies in its universality. As you explore the landscape, you will come across many such trees. They stand alone on hilltops or nestle in small hollows, their roots gripping the dry soil. These are the unsung heroes of the ecosystem, offering the only patches of green amid a sea of brown. I encourage you to find your own solitary tree. Make it your goal for the day. Walk to it. Sit beneath its sparse shade. Touch its bark. This transforms your journey from a passive sightseeing trip into an active, personal meditation. It offers a chance to reflect on the film’s themes in a place that embodies them. Look out from the tree’s perspective. What has it witnessed? The changing seasons, construction on the horizon, the endless flow of cars on distant highways. It’s a profound exercise in perspective, a moment to feel rooted in the very earth that Mr. Badii struggled with.
Conversations in Transit: Reverberations of the Film’s Narrative
Taste of Cherry is framed as a series of conversations that take place inside a car. Mr. Badii’s interactions with his potential helpers—the young, shy Kurdish soldier; the earnest, questioning Afghan seminarian; and the wise, life-affirming Turkish taxidermist—form the heart of the film. While you cannot recreate these encounters exactly, the spirit of conversation is deeply embedded in Iranian culture. Your driver will likely share incredible stories and insights. Ask about their life, their family, their city. Share your admiration for Kiarostami’s films. This exchange, a simple act of human connection within a shared journey, is a genuine real-world echo of the film’s narrative structure. It reminds us that even in a landscape of solitude, we are never truly alone. These conversations, set against the rolling hills, will become some of the most treasured memories of your pilgrimage, adding a layer of warmth and humanity to the starkness of the scenery.
Beyond the Hills: Kiarostami’s Tehran
While the main pilgrimage leads to the landscapes beyond the city, your time in Tehran itself can be enriched by experiencing it through a Kiarostamian perspective. His films often reveal the rhythm and reality of life in the capital, uncovering poetry in the ordinary.
The Museum of Cinema of Iran
For any cinephile, visiting the Museum of Cinema nestled in the beautiful Ferdows Garden is a must. Located in a stunning Qajar-era mansion, the museum presents a thorough overview of Iranian cinema history. Exhibits honor the country’s most renowned directors, including Abbas Kiarostami. Viewing posters, awards (such as a replica of the Palme d’Or for Taste of Cherry), and behind-the-scenes photographs offers a rich context for your journey. It’s a place to celebrate the artistic legacy you are exploring in a more tangible, physical form. The gardens around the museum provide a peaceful oasis, ideal for reflecting on your experiences.
The View from the Car Window
After a day spent in the film’s minimalist landscapes, you will perceive Tehran’s traffic differently. Kiarostami was a master of the “car film,” understanding the car as a unique cinematic space—a private bubble moving through a public world. As you navigate the city’s busy highways and crowded streets, observe the scenes unfolding outside your window. The interactions between drivers, pedestrians weaving through the traffic, and the constantly shifting urban scenery—all are part of the director’s cinematic universe. Simply being a passenger in Tehran becomes an extension of the film-watching experience, a recognition of the vibrant, chaotic, and deeply human world that Mr. Badii was eager to leave, and that the taxidermist gently encouraged him to reconsider.
To enter the world of Taste of Cherry is to embark on a pilgrimage of the soul. It is a slow, quiet, and intensely personal journey. There are no souvenir shops or guided tours to be found. Instead, you gain something far more precious: a direct, unfiltered connection to the spirit of a great work of art. You will sense the texture of the earth, the warmth of the sun, and the whisper of the wind that Kiarostami so masterfully captured on film. You will leave not with a collection of photographs of particular places, but with a profound sense of place, an understanding of how landscape shapes story, and a renewed appreciation for the simple, fragile, and enduring beauty of life—a beauty found in the taste of a cherry or in the silent grandeur of a dusty hill on the edge of Tehran.
