towel hanger

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Another day with the car. I was going to go to a small village in the mountains. It was called Lahij.

But on the way there, I stopped at this mausoleum:

Diri Baba Turbesi

It was from the early 15th century. There was a stairway to the roof:

Diri Baba Turbesi from the roof

I found a few little ribbons in some shrubs, just like the ones I had found near Almaty two years earlier:

ribbons in the trees

The inside of this place called Diri Baba Turbesi was simple and elegant:

stairway of Diri Baba Turbesi

There were some ornaments, though not many:

inside Diri Baba Turbesi

There was a little resting area:

resting area in Diri Baba Turbesi

And of course the coffin:

coffin in Diri Baba Turbesi

One thing that I thought was particularly interesting were the graffiti. People had come more than half a century ago, and they had made inscriptions on the walls:

old graffito in Diri Baba Turbesi

I remember visiting the Coliseum in Rome a long time ago, marveling at the graffiti from travelers that had come there two centuries before me.

The question was this:

1940 graffito in Diri Baba Turbesi

At what point do individual acts of vandalism become part of our cultural heritage?

Lahij turned out to be very far.

I took the car through a forest:

the car

When I got to Lahij, the sun was still up, and the place was bustling with tourists:

street in Lahij

I walked around for a while:


Found some kids playing in front of a mosque:

mosque in Lahij

Found some laundry hung out to dry:

laundry in Lahij

This gentleman invited me into his house to look around:

house owner

He showed me a towel hanger, which, he said, his uncle had brought back from Germany, or rather, to be more precise: from Berlin, or rather, to be even more precise: from Hitler’s house. In other words, this was Hitler’s towel hanger:

Hitler’s towel hanger?

“Of course I don’t know if that is true”, he said, smiling.

And then the sun set over Lahij:

sunset in Lahij

The little village emptied out:

Lahij going to sleep

And there was only the occasional sound of a car passing through:

Lahij at night

Which reminded me of the long drive back.

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