The Safest (and Most Dangerous) Neighborhoods in Bandar ‘Abbās? Let Me Tell You About My 3 a.m. Walk to the Port

i was scrolling through my phone trying to pick a place to crash in bandar ‘abbās after a long flight from istanbul. like, obviously i’m a digital nomad now, but man does it make you paranoid. do i book that fancy hotel in the central district where everyone says it’s ‘vibrant’ but also where the x at the end of the alley is 200m from my Airbnb? or do i gamble on that crappy hostel near the port where the internet cuts out at midnight and the bedsprings anis squeaky? either way, safety becomes a math equation you didn’t sign up for.

so here’s the deal: bandar ‘abbās is like a giant cross between a port town and a post-apocalyptic tweet. the data? i grabbed it from that random tripadvisor thread i joined to forget about my life. the cost of living here is wild. rent for a one-bedroom? somewhere between $200 and $500 a month, depending on if you’re renting from a guy who also runs a falafel stall or some lady who inherited the property from her dad in 1972. the job market? honestly, if you’re not a seafarer or someone with arabic hair, you’re screwed. but hey, at least the tomatoes cost less than a bottle of water?

*the ‘safe’ areas? the central district is rated okay. people there say it’s ‘like a sleepy european town,’ which is code for ‘we pretend crime doesn’t exist.’ i stayed there once. the wifi was spottier than my connection to my emotionally unavailable third cousin. and honestly, if you’re walking around at 2 a.m., you might as well be in a zombie apocalypse. the streets are empty, but the shopkeepers keep their doors locked. like, why? is there a code i don’t know about?

let me tell you about the port area. my friend mhd, a local who’s basically a one-man resistance against tourist nonsense, warned me about it. he said, ‘dude, the port is where the real danger is. not the gangsters, but the environmental danger. fish tanks everywhere, oil smell, and if you’re not careful, a stray donkey might step on your sandwich.’ i laughed. but then i saw a taxi driver map out his route avoiding the docks like it’s a horror movie. that’s when i realized this isn’t about crime rates. it’s about asking the right questions.

*the dangerous zones? the old neighborhood near the trade center. locals call it ‘the ghost street’ for a reason. i heard from a drunk at a dive bar once: ‘don’t go near the almond shops after dark. they sell expired spices and the owners ‘owe something to the feds.’ also, the electricity outages there are legendary. like, when the power goes out, it’s just… gone. no warning. no backup. just pitch black and a fridge full of expired yogurt. i survived by eating that yogurt. it was bitter.

but here’s the twist: the ‘dangerous’ stuff isn’t always shady. sometimes it’s real. like that time i tried to buy a used bike from a guy near the bus station. he asked for $10. i paid. then he drove away with my wallet. i swear, his face looked like a confused puppy. i found him later at the port, selling snacks. he had my wallet. still. or maybe i just wasn’t persuasive enough.

the weather? it’s like living in a sauna that forgot to turn on the air. nursery rhyme level heat. neighbors cope by walking around in mismatched socks and pretending it’s a fashion statement. i met one guy who lived in a cave (yes, a cave) under a bunker to escape the sun. he sold tea in there. it was great. the view of the sunset from the cave was, like, cosmic. but don’t tell him i said that. he’s sketchy.

overheard gossip? i overheard two women gossiping at a market: ‘don’t rent from ali in the central district. he almost set his place on fire last week.’ another guy mumbled to himself: ‘the seafood at the port market is poison. i got food poisoning and now i hear voices.’ is this cultural? is it a symptom of our collective trauma? who knows.

i asked a yoga instructor i met at a park: ‘what’s the safest place to live here?’ she said: ‘the new development by the university. but only if you’re willing to pay $600 for a studio. otherwise, just buy a goat and pretend you’re part of the ecosystem.’ she laughed. i laughed. then i stole her goat.

links? sure. go check out the bandar ‘abbās subreddit for existential dread. tripadvisor has a list of neighborhoods but 90% of the reviews are from people who vacation once and then give up. yelp has a food guide for the port market-don’t trust it. and if you’re brave, join iranlocalboards* to see if anyone’s talking about the new ai-powered scooter rental in the central district. i haven’t tried it. mostly because i’m too busy avoiding goats.

p.s. if you’re here, congrats. you’re either a fool or a visionary. take that to the bank.