Thread by @rasmuselling, Isfahan is Half the World, the proverb goes. To me, its bigger. [...]

Rasmus Elling

rasmuselling

Isfahan is Half the World, the proverb goes. To me, its bigger. Although it was just half a year, my time there was formative for me as a budding scholar and as a person. Let this post be an #Isfahan appreciation station! #Iran https://twitter.com/apachcun/status/1357224434176819202

https://twitter.com/apachcun/status/1357224434176819202

I miss strolling Si-o-Se Pol, greeting the passersby, getting caught up in improvised music gatherings, smoking hookah, noticing the details of the beautiful bridge.

I miss endless nights in the qahvekhāneh cafes of Pārk Nāzhvnān, hanging out with friends, joking, laughing, driving home through winding roads listening to old Bandari tunes with Jonubi friends

I miss Jolfā, the Armenian quarter, where the church bell woke me up every morning; gossiping in the sandwich shop, getting lost in Vānk Cathedral, people watching the crowds on Thursday nights

I miss miss MISS the Maydān-e Naqsh-e Jahān, its rhythms and flows from dawn to dusk, the crowds and the silences, the absolutely majestic vibe (and my beloved crew at Nomad, mokhlesim

)

I miss miss MISS the Maydān-e Naqsh-e Jahān, its rhythms and flows from dawn to dusk, the crowds and the silences, the absolutely majestic vibe (and my beloved crew at Nomad, mokhlesim )

I miss early (/really/ early) Friday morning strolls up Kuh-e Soffeh to take in the views and chat with friends - and have a long well-deserved afternoon nap on a carpet and a poshti under a sunray afterwards. Chay with pulak.

I miss the rare occassion when I could afford to dine at Hotel Abbāsi. All the restaurants and street joints. Even the beriyānis and kallehpazis! But above all: the canteen where bāzāris would go for lunch (what was it called? On first floor inside bāzār, NE corner

)

I miss the rare occassion when I could afford to dine at Hotel Abbāsi. All the restaurants and street joints. Even the beriyānis and kallehpazis! But above all: the canteen where bāzāris would go for lunch (what was it called? On first floor inside bāzār, NE corner)

I miss the qannādis overflowing with cakes and sweets. The saffron ice cream and fāludeh (frozen rice noodles and rose water) and shirmoz (banana smoothies) and YES crazy-ass ma’jun shakes that could make up a whole meal in itself.