by Neil Middelton
What was once the ‘most hated city in the world’ is now an empty and silent ruin. As well as being the most hated of cities it was also one of the richest and most astounding, once famous for its wealth and beauty. Today Persepolis is an isolated ruin in the desert of Southern Iran. It stands empty not just because of its desert location but because it is deep in Iran, a country at once hospitable but seldom visited.
A journey to Persepolis will generally begin in the city of Shiraz. This small city, famous for gardens and poets, is worth a visit in itself. Its two famous features combine in the tomb of the 14th century poet Hafez. Set within a peaceful walled garden, surrounded by orange trees, the tomb is always crowded with adorers of the poet reciting his verses and laying hands on the marble slab of the grave. The desert city is brightened up by a plethora of blue onion-domed mosques and madrassas which dot the low skyline.
It takes about an hour by car to cross the 70 kilometers of straight desert road to get to Takht-e-Jamshid, Persepolis. A little way outside the site are the rock-cut tombs of Naksh-e-Rustam. High up on a flat rock face the idealised figures of several Achaemenid kings glare out from a set of royal tombs. Cut so high that they were only accessible with ropes, I have to crane my neck and strain my eyes to make out the images of several Persian kings, the builders of Persepolis. Below the tombs the later Sassanian dynasty also left a vivid reminder. In this image the Iranian king Shapur I, sits tall astride his war-horse whilst in front a Roman emperor bends a knee and begs the king for mercy. All these thousands of years later the tombs and images still retain their main purpose of demonstrating the power of the Persian kings.
Arriving at the ‘most hated city in the world’ I cross the empty car park, its modern drabness a poor preparation for the antique splendours beyond. I seem to be the only person here. Even the ticket sellers are invisible behind the dark kiosk windows. The jewel of Iranian heritage is just for me. This is one of the delights of Iran, a beautiful country full of riches yet devoid of tourists. In the complex itself just a few people slowly amble around, dwarfed by the size of the columns and gateways towering above them.
Over two thousand years ago people trekked into the Southern Iranian desert bearing tribute to the mighty Persian Empire whose king sat enthroned in the courtyards and spacious halls of Persepolis. This gave the grand city its reputation as the most hated in the world and ultimately caused its fiery destruction by Alexander the Great. It never recovered from this destruction and the hollowed out shade of the city was left abandoned to the desert for centuries.
The city was a complex of palaces sitting atop a terrace nestled beneath the low ‘Mountain of Mercy’. Construction began with Darius I at the end of the 6th century BC with much of the work being carried out by his successor, Xerxes I. The palaces served as the ceremonial centre of the vast empire and they were built to impress. Sadly all that remains are broken pieces. Columns and gateways rise up independently from each other and are surrounded by an empty void as if the rest of the palace has instantly disappeared. Still, these fragments are enough to give an idea of the grandeur of this city in the desert.
Once in the site, I came first to the impressive Gate of All Nations. The name referring to the subjects of the empire who would have had to pass through here. Above me loomed two huge human headed winged lions, their eroded bodies incised with the vertical and horizontal lines of three different languages which proclaim Xerxes I as their builder. The grand courtyard these beasts guard having long since vanished their intimidating bulk at least offers some protective shade. A little further on a finely carved capital of two bull’s heads lays flat on the ground. Unlike much else here they look fresh, pristine, as if just carved out of gleaming marble. It’s difficult to imagine that their huge weight could once have been hauled up to top a slender column.
Contrasting with the barren empty spaces the surviving walls are vividly sculptured. Many of them so fresh that the stripped ruin seems populated by the ghosts of its ancient inhabitants. As I walked around I came face to face with the soldiers who guarded the king and expanded his empire. Called Immortals by the Greeks, they stand in profile both hands clasping a long spear with a bow slung across the shoulder. Their faces framed by elaborately swirling beards and hair. The King sat enthroned high up, above all. Hovering protectively over his head was the disc of the god Ahuramazda, its two outstretched wings enveloping the seated King.
One of the finest surviving elements of the site is the grand staircase which led to the Apadana Palace. The sides of the stairs contain some of the best surviving sculpture. It was here that the subject peoples would have to come bearing tribute. At the bottom of the staircase a lion grapples fiercely with a fleeing bull. This common piece of Persian iconography is still striking today. Climbing the staircase I was accompanied by the subject peoples. Greeks, Egyptians, Scythians, Afghans and a myriad others all processing up the steps to the palace at the top. The steps are cut deliberately shallow so you have to slow your pace and walk carefully before entering the presence of the King.
Reaching the top of the staircase little is left of the Apadana palace, a large square hall with high ceilings supported by an estimated 72 columns. Only around 13 of those columns are standing scattered around. The empty platform gives little hints of the spectacle this place would have presented. With roofs made of huge wooden beams held aloft by those towering columns and walls completely decorated, the palace would have been one of the great sights of the ancient world. In such a fine place the Persian kings gave their official audiences.
In between the Apadana and the low mountain sit the scant remains of a number of other smaller palaces, halls and buildings. Whilst many of them are little more than a line of column bases and wall foundations the few standing walls and gateways bare some more remarkable images. From them we get some hints of the cosmological view of the Persians as we see the Kings fighting and overcoming a variety of wild beasts and monsters. These images were meant to show the King as the upholder of order opposed to the chaos of disorder.
The fighting animals, strong soldiers and exotic subjects which lined the walls and the sheer opulence of the place must have made entering Persepolis an intimidating experience. Many from beyond Persia would only have come to Persepolis under compulsion. It is not surprising then that it was such a feared and hated place, the object of vengeful dreams for many people, despite its beauty. Once Alexander the Great defeated Persia and captured the city he had it burnt to the ground before leaving. As the architectural symbol of the Persian Empire, Alexander reckoned he could not leave it standing. The fire would have quickly rose and engulfed the wooden beams of the roof and brought them crashing down. Traces of this fiery end can still be seen across the site which was never rebuilt.
Passing by Persepolis some years later and looking on the charred ruins of the once opulent city he had destroyed, Alexander is said to have regretted his rash, youthful action. Looking at the exquisite traces isolated out in the desert today, we too can only have regret.
If You Go:
♦ Persepolis lays 70 kilometers outside of Shiraz, many hotels and travel agency can arrange transport and tickets for around $25
♦ Travel to Iran requires a pre-arranged visa which are organised by travel agencies such as www.iranianvisa.com
♦ Tour Persepolis with a Local Guide
About the author:
Neil Middleton is an archaeologist with a degree in Ancient History and Archaeology from the University of Manchester. As well as working on excavations in Greece, Cyprus and England he has travelled around historic sites in the Middle East and Central Asia and is now living in Athens, Greece.
All photos by Neil Middelton.
Rani our tour guide opened a door and ushered us out onto the grounds of Nazareth Village, a reconstruction of Jesus’ old neighbourhood. As he did so, I suddenly remembered that Rod Serling began every episode of the Twilight Zone with “you unlock this door with the key of imagination”. We knew that we had arrived in the past when we were almost bowled over by an oncoming shepherd and his five sheep. With very little effort he ushered his flock into a circular pen constructed of standing sticks. My second thought was to watch where I stepped, just in case.
A short distance away, seated outside the doorway of her stone house, a middle-aged woman sits and spins wool by means of a hand spindle. As some of the tour group found out, it is a great deal more difficult than it looks. Our guide outlines the steps required to process and dye the wool with natural colours from pomegranate and onion skin before it is woven into a garment.
he young Jesus would have also attended school. In those days, the local synagogue served as the community school. We entered the house of worship to find three tiers of benches lining the greyish-white walls; a wooden bench at the centre of the room held the Torah Scroll. This synagogue and all other building were reconstructed by referencing the best New Testament and archaeological sources available.
Present day Nazareth is a bustling city of approximately 70,000 people, a far cry from the 400 or so people living here at the time of Jesus. Work your way north along traffic-clogged Paulus VI Street and be thankful that you are not driving. Your first destination is St. Gabriel’s Church, the most distant site.
Retracing your steps along Paulus VI Street, turn right onto Casa Nova Street and arrive at the Roman Catholic Basilica of the Annunciation – the largest church in the Middle East. This church was built over the Grotto of the Annunciation, an ancient cave dwelling, traditionally accepted as being Mary’s home when she was visited by the Angel Gabriel. I could find no scriptural reference suggesting Mary lived in such a structure however.
Above the grotto structure you find a large octagonal opening in the ceiling providing you with a view of the upper church. The dark brown cupola of the upper church roof is also visible, extending to a dizzying height of 60 meters. The ribs of the cupola represent the petals of an upside-down lily, symbolic of Mary’s purity. To visit the upper church, ascend the staircase just inside the doorway of the lower church.
Christian tradition dating to the 7th century CE has it that Joseph’s house and carpenter shop were located on the site of the present Church of St. Joseph. Inside, the bare stone crypt features several rock-hewn chambers, a cistern and several silos for storing grain. A mosaic floor dates from Byzantine times. The nearby side chapel marks the spot where Joseph was visited by an angel as he slept (Matthew 1:20).
The Mount of the Precipice, 297 meters high, is now a park. From a lookout at the summit, you have a panoramic view of the surrounding area including distant Mount Tabor – the traditional site of the Transfiguration. But that journey will have to wait for another day. Instead you may wish to enjoy a leisurely stroll along the gravel path at the cliff’s edge and contemplate the meaning of your daytrip. As you take in the scenery, the essence of Jesus seems closer even though almost 2000 years have passed since he resided in his hometown of Nazareth.
For millennia, this mediaeval promontory, one of the world’s oldest continuously inhabited locations, was a site of strategic military importance due to its commanding position on the trade route between Egypt and Syria. It is not surprising, therefore, that Acre’s history is a series of tumultuous invasions, defeats, victories and conquests that have played out over 1000’s of years by a multitude of conquering empires. Today, however, families of all nationalities and faiths live side by side in harmony in Acre, and the only shots heard over this UNESCO world heritage city come from cameras that belong to the army of tourists hungry to photograph this magnificent and intriguing historical site. Because even in this region of the world that teems with rich archaeological wonders, Akko stands out.
The tunnel, now restored and endowed with lighting, signage and a boardwalk alongside which rainwater flows freely to the sea, shrinks to just one meter in height before opening up to ground level at the resplendent Ottoman-built Pillar’s Inn (Khan Al-Umdan), a large multi-arched caravanserai, which was once the hub of international trade. From here, my explorations remain at ground level and lead me into the colorful Suk, the vibrant market street that forms the main thoroughfare of the Old City. It is midmorning and the market is crowded and bustling with activity as the locals attend to their shopping needs. Sweet stalls, vegetable stands, and shops selling clothing, ornaments, perfumes and other oriental artifacts, mix with bakeries, falafel shops, fishmongers and butchers stands, beneath which countless street cats make a healthy, if furtive, living. I amble slowly absorbing the sights and smells, and stop frequently to sample the delicious foods on offer.
The market street snakes past the beautiful emerald-domed Al-Jezzar mosque and towards the main citadel complex where archaeological excavations allow the visitor to literally descend through the layers of history. At the modern, and mercifully well air-conditioned, visitor center, I rent an audio guide and embark on my own discovery of these fascinating ruins. I am guided aurally through the existing fortress building, an Ottoman fortification that was built on the foundations of the ruined Crusader citadel, and then down to the underground Prisoner’s Hall, where during the period of British mandate hundreds of members of Jewish resistance movements (Haganah, Irgun and Lehi) were held prisoner and even executed. The tour then descends further underground to the recently excavated Knights’ Hall comprising a series of long narrow chambers with ten meter high vaulted ceilings and massive dividing walls connected by great arched entrances. Also preserved in time are the remains of a dungeon, living quarters, and a mediaeval church. Tantalizingly, some of the rooms of this impressive feat of 13th century architecture remain roped off with teams of archaeologists and engineers busy with ongoing excavations: a promise of more exciting discoveries for future generations of tourists to behold.
Ascending from the cavernous subterranean ruins of the Knights Hall I find myself at the entrance to the Hamam al Basha, a traditional 18th century Turkish bathhouse that remained in use until the 1940’s. Today the bathhouse has been reinvented as a light and sound experience in which a moderately humorous but slightly lengthy video presentation attempts to portray everyday life in the bathhouse culture. Despite the cheesy audio-visuals, the expertly restored, beautifully ornate bathhouse is well worth a visit. The entrance is a superb, domed-roof, marble room decorated with exquisite traditional ceramic tiles. A large marble fountain takes pride of place in the center of the room. At the base of the tiled walls there are small cavities, lockers of the past, which would one day have held the shoes and belongings of bathers. I take my sandals off and the chill of the 200-year-old marble floor feels wonderful on my weary feet. I proceed barefoot through a narrow corridor of smaller rooms where some of the more refined aspects of personal grooming and hygiene would have occurred, and into the main steam room – the social heart of the hamam. Here the domed ceiling has been perforated with geometrically placed holes through which hundreds of shafts of light penetrate to the raised marble massage area below. The dappled light is soothing and serene. Sculpted bronze figures and other relics placed around the large octagonal steam room help to recreate the authentic renowned feeling of communal relaxation for which the Turkish hamams were famous.
The discovery of oil however has given the country an unprecedented economical boost and it is my very personal opinion that the wealthy past has determined that the billions of petro dollars have been put to brilliant use. There is absolutely nothing ‘nouveau riche’ about modern Muscat. The difference to nearby Dubai is striking. Muscat has only one high rise, the Hilton Hotel and that has only 14 stories. Otherwise the buildings have all been designed in traditional Omani style with round towers, huge walls, carved wooden doors and small windows to keep out the heat. The only colors in evidence are white and sand, no garish paint, no gold, no colorful tiles, no adornment other than stone arabesques carved into the mantels. The overall impression is of cool elegance and understated wealth. Very, very soothing on the eye and beautifully in harmony with the country.
Already in love with the serene beauty of modern Muscat, my friend and I decided to visit the Muttrah souk, one of the oldest souks in all of the Middle East. During Ramadan, the souk is only open at night and, as Eid was approaching, people were out in doves to shop for clothes, jewelry and gifts in preparation for the festivities marking the end of the holy month. Two things held our attention: the ever present scent of frankincense which burns in every doorway and is one of the most important items on offer and the beautifully carved roof, reflecting the age old art of Omani wood carvings. In fact, so important is frankincense to Oman that a huge burner, high up on a hill is one of the most famous landmarks of Muscat.
The next day we wanted to explore Muscat some more and also visit the part known as Old Muscat. To our disappointment, there is next to no public transport. We love to travel on local buses. But, at a price of 50cents for a liter of gas it doesn’t come as a surprise that everybody has at least one car. So, we took a taxi, passing by the modern, exquisite shopping complex in Ruwi on our way to the Sultan’s palace. It’s the only colorful building in blue and gold with nearly identical front and back which can be seen from the landside as well as from the water.
The first took us out to sea to watch dolphins at play, the second along the breath taking coastline with alternating rock formations in white marble and black granite with tiny sand beaches in between. Boat trip #3 was dedicated to experiencing the coastline bathed in the rays of the sinking sun on board a traditional Oman dhow.
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