At some point Ardi and Kamyar had gotten their hands on a January 4,
1990 edition of the German music magazine Bravo. Although the magazine
was in German, we had gone through it many times, trying to translate
whatever we could. The section that interested us most was a two-page
spread ranking of men and women’s artists. We were familiar with some of
the individuals but most of them were unknown to us. For those that we
knew amongst the men Michael Jackson and Phil Collins took third and
sixth place respectively. Of the women Sandra and Madonna occupied the
top two spots with Tina Turner coming in at fifth place and Nena at
ninth place. As a result of this top-ten ranking we gradually became
familiar with more individuals on the list such as Jason Donovan (first
place) and Prince (ninth place) for the men and Kylie Minogue (third
place), Paula Abdul (sixth place) and Martika (tenth place) for the
women. Kamyar would later comment how he actually had come to hate
Prince as he tried too hard to sound heavy metal.
The cover page pictured several artists and bands but most prominently a
duo with red and blue hair. It also contained smaller pictures
including Sandra, Madonna and Roxette. Ardi liked a picture of Jason
Donovan, particularly his ripped jeans. There was also a group photo of
New Kids on the Block which Kamyar claimed were now banned in most of
the western world due to them engaging in homosexual activities.
I eventually developed enough of an interest in the magazine to want to
buy it from them. I mentioned it to Ardi and Kamyar and began
negotiating. We eventually settled on a cash price, mainly going to
Ardi, in addition to one page of the magazine depicting Jason Donovan
and Sandra that Kamyar would keep. As I found some of the information on
that given page regarding other poll results useful, I suggested an
alternative. Rather than that single page I let Kamyar pick two other
pages, with one picturing Jason Donovan and the other Sandra.
"My parents, brother, and I left Iran in 1980, shortly after the revolution. After a brief stay in Italy, we packed all our belongings once again and headed west to the exotic and the unknown: Vancouver. We had recently been accepted as landed immigrants, meaning Canada graciously opened its doors and we gratefully accepted; we arrived at Vancouver International Airport on my 10th birthday, three suitcases and one sewing machine in tow. After respectful but intense questioning at immigration, we were dropped off at a hotel on Robson Street, which was then still a couple years shy of becoming the fashionable tourist hub it is today. We were jetlagged, culture shocked, and hungry, so that first night, my father and brother courageously ventured out into the wild in search of provisions. I fell asleep before they returned. The next morning, I woke up at 5 a.m. and ravenously feasted on a cold Quarter Pounder with cheese and limp French fries that had been left by my beds...
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