Advertisement
Published: June 23rd 2007
Edit Blog Post
Poets Mausoleum, Tabriz
A tombstone marked far from the others, facing the school of religious studies next door. Wish I knew who this poet was... I doubted my ears when I first heard a 'Careless Whisper' ringtone go off in Iran. The owner of the phone was not a lovelorn western woman, but a local man who had this uncanny resemblance to Omar Sharif (plus 30 kilograms). During my few weeks in Iran, I would hear George Michael's famous tune (polyphonic and mono) ring accompanied by a grizzly 'Bale?/Yes?' of a 40+ unshaven local. I decided to look into this, as my curiosity spasmed knowing about the western music ban imposed in the country.
Was this a sony/samsung/motorola trend amongst all imported phones? No, a man happily responded it was of his own choice and he downloaded it when he went to Turkey.
Everyone knew it, to my shock. The carpet seller, the woman in the heavy chador and the gent smoking a waterpipe. An alleyway at the Tabriz bazaar burst into song. Unknown to the west, great classics such as the Eagles, Eric Clapton, Elvis and Sinatra are apparently still played at many private parties and even on the radio after revolutionary pop songs. A woman claimed that 'rev-pop' lacks the ouuumph-factor beat to dance to it, and so people have their relatives
Poets' Mausoleum at Tabriz
The underground chamber, a concoction of geometry... (living abroad) to ship CDs over in exchange for homeland pistachios, spices and tea.
At Tabriz Bazaar, it was a pain to walk alone as a young Asian woman because the kind local shoppers were too concerned - that is, they all thought that I was obviously lost and alone, foreign-looking searching for my husband. They would ask where my hotel was, and then a hoard of them would try and shove me onto a cab home despite my protests. So in haste, I would look, buy and run before anyone could come to my assistance.
Chewing on a piece of fresh bread in the courtyard as I smoked a cigarette alone, a chador-ed old woman came up to me and asked where I was from. After getting an answer, she pointed at my cigarette, the strands of hair coming out of my headscarf and bread to explain that I was an extremely immoral woman. The men clapped though, each time I would flick my cigarette butt a few metres into the distance.
A Tabrizi man (called Mehdi) had a little clothing factory and invited me to there near the bazaar, and although I look back at
Armenian Church, Tabriz
My privileged entry into the church that is usually closed! the sketchy experience with amazement upon my courage at the time, he did help me check out the sites of his city. He bought me a nice kebab meal from a stall nearby, and caught cabs with me. This kind gent also gave me a black top he'd just finished making - by no means a modest outfit, it is tight-fitting with a plunging neckline that seems like an article you can pick up at Zara. I suppose this is what women do wear at home.
There was also an Armenian Church i wanted to see, but i found out it was usually closed. But, several phone calls later, Mehdi and his friend got an irritated little Armenian gentleman to open the gates and unlock the door into the church. Several phrases later of mixed Turkish, Persian and German (???), the man accepted my thanks with a warm smile.
The Poets' Mausoleum is a huge modern architectural monument surrounded by a beautiful park, that looks like a cousin of Azadi Tower in Tehran. Over 50 famous Sufis and poets are buried here, as well as the famous contemporary poet Ostad Shahriar. Under the towering art form is a
Poets' mausoleum
The huge monument over the tombs large underground chamber designed with intricate blue tiles and ridiculously precise geometric patterns and motifs. This whole mausoleum is a playground for mathematics buffs, as geometry and accurate symmetry are the main themes of the design.
Next to it is a hilarious little 'museum' displaying wax models of food ranging from local dishes to pomegranate seeds. There are also a bunch of redonculous life-size figures portraying daily life in an Iranian home, looking like drag queens. The purpose of this museum is unknown to me...
Returning to the hotel, I was taken to the rooftop circular restaurant with all five-star amenities. A band played, you guessed it, 'Careless whisper' three times within an hour. It must be a national favorite. Tunes also included the Godfather theme, some Elvis ballads and other famous melodies I can't recall anymore.
Furthermore, I was alarmed by the buffet placed in the center of the restaurant...it mysteriously moved each time I got up for more. Salad bar? Ohhh, it's right behind me, how convenient. Dessert? Wait 10 minutes til it miraculously takes over the salad bar.
It turns out that this was a revolving restaurant that provided a 360 view of
Poets' mausoleum
walking through the monument, looks like something from a Japanese futuristic anime Tabriz at night, however unlike similar establishments in the west, it moves so slowly that one would never even notice the view changing outside the window.
Advertisement
Tot: 0.162s; Tpl: 0.012s; cc: 16; qc: 126; dbt: 0.1281s; 1; m:domysql w:travelblog (10.17.0.13); sld: 1;
; mem: 1.4mb
reggie
non-member comment
hahaha and the men all clapped, I find that humorous :) how you talk your way into these situations and experiences leaves me scratching my head :P