Iranian Rappers And Persian Porn
Page 19
The gateway was called the Gate of All Nations and the bulls gracing it were apparently reminiscent of the statues of Assyria, not that I’d have known this, of course, but a few of the group seemed to be familiar and stated knowingly, “Oh, yes indeed.” In fact, they all seemed to know their stuff, as evidenced by the complex historical questions they kept asking the guide. One tiny woman in particular, who was straight out of a period drama, really knew what she was on about and gave a lengthy explanation to the group on the type of roof the palace would once have had.
“Of course, it was common practice to pop across to Lebanon and cut a good quantity of cedars for the roofing. Ideal tree—grows long and straight, of course.”
“Yes, quite so,” agreed one of the group.
The guide explained that the gate was inscribed in Persian, Babylonian, Elamite, and good old English—the latter being graffiti left by British soldiers stationed here in the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. For graffiti, though, it was pretty damn good and skillfully executed in beautiful script complete with the date, and in some instances a regimental badge. Some were so good they must have been done by a stonemason amongst the soldiers. The oldest English one I saw was from 1810 and had a skull and crossbones above the words OR GLORY, for a regiment called the 17th L.D. Other interesting ones were from a regiment called the Central India Horse and one by Colonel Malcolm J. Meade. Beneath Malc’s name he’d carved, or more likely got his manservant to carve for him, H.B.M CONSUL GENERAL 1898. Next to it was added by way of a footnote, & MRS. MEADE. I liked that. One horsy-looking woman in the group piped up in a cut glass accent, “I say, Malcolm Mead should have known better!”
The guide explained that the original, much older inscriptions read, as my guidebook confirmed, “I am Xerxes, Great King, King of Kings, King of Lands, king of many races . . . son of Darius the King, the Achaemenid. . . . Many other beautiful things were constructed in Persia. I constructed them and my father constructed them.”
We moved on through the gate toward two magnificent griffin-like statues. The guide explained that these had been discovered buried deep underground and that nobody knew for sure why they had been there. One theory was that they were buried near a hidden underground burial chamber, the other that they were simply of a shoddy quality and therefore buried out of sight by embarrassed craftsmen. They looked pretty damn good to me, so I had my doubts about the second theory.
As we moved on to the next section, I was approached by the horsy woman, who asked bluntly, “I say, you do realize this is a private tour?”
I lied through my teeth and turned on the silver spoon with an accent as poncy as hers. “I’m awfully sorry,” I said. “I had no idea. I thought it was simply an English tour and that the one behind was a French one.” I gestured to two French tourists walking behind us who clearly weren’t on a special tour, but what the hell.
“Would you like me to leave? I really am awfully sorry,” I said in the same stupid overblown prep school voice.
“No, of course not, I didn’t realize you were one of . . . erm . . . No, please, feel free to stay, but maybe stand at the back of the group.”
I wondered if I’d have received the same response had I put on the accent of a cockney “geezer” instead. Probably not. I got talking to Mrs. Horsy and asked her about the tour she and the rest of the group were on. She told me it was specifically for people with an interest in archaeology (and apparently a big wallet), and that it used to be affiliated with the British Museum but was now independent. I asked if she and the rest of the Jilly Cooper crowd were archaeologists.
“Well, not exactly, but Mrs. Fortescue-Cholmondley-Carruthers-Smithe-Rowel-Tomkinson is from the British Museum and an absolute expert.” She pointed to the tiny period drama lady. “As is our quaint little Iranian guide, but the rest of us do possess a good background knowledge,” she said—or words to that effect.
Our next stop was the “Palace of 100 Columns.” This was the biggest of the Persepolis palaces, and it was here that representatives of subject nations came to pledge their loyalty and pay tribute to the king and the Achaemenid Empire. This was done in ritual procession past special lamps placed in alcoves along the walls. All around here were massive gateways, stone carvings, exquisitely crafted bas-reliefs and the remains of the palace itself. We all marveled at these for a good while before heading on to our next stop and the highlight of Persepolis, the Apadana Staircase.
Its splendid bas-reliefs are among the greatest of Iran’s historical sights, and although it is over two thousand years old, many of the bas-reliefs looked brand new, such was their excellent condition. The staircase was in three sections—northern, central, and southern. The bas-reliefs of the northern section depicted Persians in long robes and feathered headgear along with Medes in round caps and shorter robes. Also shown were imperial guards with lances, and the horses of the Elamite king.
The staircase’s central panel was dedicated to symbols of the deity Ahura Mazda of the ancient Persian religion Zoroastrianism, and carried an inscription imploring God to protect the palace from famine, lies, and earthquakes. This panel also contained large dramatic bas-reliefs of a lion biting into the rump of a rather distressed-looking bull. This image is repeated all over Persepolis, owing to the bull being a symbol of worship during the festival of Noruz, or Iranian New Year, which was the specific time of year Persepolis is thought to have been used. At other times of year, the city is believed to have been deserted.
The southern panel, considered to be the finest, showed twenty-three delegations bringing gifts to the Achaemenid king. Apart from being extremely beautiful, it is also a very important record of the nations of the time. It shows, amongst others, Indians, Ethiopians, Cappadocians, Thracians, Parthians, Medes, Elamites, and Arabs all coming to pay tribute to the all-powerful king. It was my favorite bit of the staircase by far. One of the depictions was of a small giraffe being led into the royal court, which caused quite a bit of discussion amongst the group. The Iranian guide said that he was unsure of the reasons why a giraffe would have been presented as a gift. The period drama lady from the British Museum interjected. “I think you’ll find it was a sign of status to have a zoological park, just like the Assyrians.”
“Quite so, quite so,” I concurred as if a professor of ancient history. The group now split in two, with the Iranian guide explaining a section of the staircase to half of them, and the woman from the British Museum doing the same with the others. I initially attached myself to the Iranian guide’s group.
“Why are some of the representatives allowed to carry swords inside the royal court?” asked someone pointing to the relevant bas-relief.
“A very good question,” responded the guide, whose explanation was that the people depicted were Persians who were not subjects of the king but had a treaty of peace with him and were therefore allowed to carry their weapons.
“Fair enough,” I thought and wandered back to the other group to see what they were discussing. A minute later and we had shuffled along to the same spot with the sword-wielding figures. I stood and marveled again at their exceptional designs, as well as at the spectacular nostril hair of Mr. Private Jet, who stood next to me. The woman from the British Museum was now asked the same question about the sword-wielding characters and gave a completely different explanation. She said they were not Persians but Assyrians and were lacking their normal bows and arrows, which wouldn’t have been allowed in the royal court and so had swords instead.
“Well, whoop-de-do,” I thought and wondered how much any of their assertions about the site were correct and how much they were just conjecture. I was about to have my moment of glory and correct Mrs. British Museum with, “I think you’ll find they are in fact Persians who aren’t actually subjects of the king but have a treaty of peace with him . . . ” etc., but before I got the chance they’d moved on to another section. I decided to stick to my guidebook, which was probably more reliable, and go it alone.
Although the city of Persepolis stood at the heart of the Achaemenid Empire, it features extremely rarely in foreign records, leading some archaeologists to believe that its existence and exact location were purposefully hidden from the wider world. The records that still exist focus instead on the other Achaemenid cities at Baghdad and Shush.
Persepolis had originally been called Parsa, but after its devastation by Alexander the Great’s army (or Alexander the Vandal, as he is known in Persian history), it became known by the Greek name Persepolis, which means “city of Parsa” (Persia) and “destroyer of cities.” Alexander’s mob had burned Persepolis to the ground when he came to visit in 330 BC, which many believe was retribution for Achaemenid King Xerxes’s ransacking of Athens some 150 years earlier.
Above the city, partially up a hill, were the spectacular tombs of Achaemenid kings Artaxerxes II and Artaxerxes III. I climbed up to get a better look at them. They were carved directly into the cliff and must have been a good forty to fifty feet high. Not only were the tombs themselves excellent, but the panoramic view of the rest of Persepolis from their hill was breathtaking. The tombs’ frontage consisted of a palatial doorway, large stylized rock face pillars, and grandiose carvings depicting Zoroastrian symbols, all of which were hewn out of the cliff.
The Iranian religion of Zoroastrianism probably dates back as far as 1500 BC when it was founded by the prophet Zoroaster who was born in either Iran or neighboring Afghanistan. Zoroastrianism is the first religion to embrace the concept of a single supreme God. Its theology has had a huge impact on Judaism, Christianity, and other later religions, in particular its beliefs surrounding God and the devil, heaven and hell, free will, the soul, resurrection, and the final judgment.
The main thrust of Zoroaster’s teaching was his emphasis on an individualized form of religion, and his belief that everybody has a personal responsibility to choose between good and evil. It is by how we use our free will that Zoroaster believed we would be judged in the next life. If your good exceeds your bad, you will enter heaven, and if your bad exceeds your good, you will go to hell.
The natural elements are seen as holy by Zoroastrians, and fire in particular is a sacred symbol to them and used in their temples where they maintain “eternal” fires burning. Zoroaster taught that God, known as Ahura Mazda, is the creator of all that is good, which includes mankind and all of the natural and spiritual worlds. Evil, on the other hand, comes from the violent spirit Angra Mainyu—which is where the English word “anger” is derived from. Angra Mainyu is seen as the creator of all that is bad, and has been in eternal opposition to God.
Zoroaster saw the world as a battlefield between the forces of good and evil, and believed that the earth and mankind had been created in order to assist in this fight between opposing forces. He taught that although the earth is generally a good and decent place, it has been corrupted by evil. Zoroaster believed that this fight against evil would one day reach a peak, at which time good would be victorious over evil, and once again the earth could revert to its intrinsic state of perfection. It would be then that we’d be judged. The evil would be cast into hell, and the virtuous would live with God in heaven forevermore.
Zoroaster was initially attacked for his teaching but finally won the support of the king. Zoroastrianism became the official state religion of a number of Persian empires until the seventh century, when the Arab conquest brought Islam to Persia. There are thought to be about 150,000 Zoroastrians today, of which roughly 30,000 live in the city of Yazd in Iran. India also has a large Zoroastrian community, which was established by refugees who were driven into exile from Persia when Islam arrived.
Zoroastrianism is also referred to as Mazdaism, relating to the Zoroastrian name for God, Ahura Mazda. It is also known as Magism, which is derived from the name for its priests, the magi—which is where the English word “magic” comes from. The magi played a significant role in spreading the religion, and were a priestly tribe who accompanied state delegations on both diplomatic and military assignments. As a result, they traveled widely and resided in settlements spread out across many parts of the Persian Empire. They are the same magi mentioned in the Christian Gospel of Matthew, who refers to magi (wise men) journeying to visit the newborn Jesus. The subsequent assertion that they were kings is incorrect. Although generally considered to be three magi, the Gospel makes no reference to their number, mentioning instead the three different types of gifts that were presented to the infant Jesus. This led to the general presumption that there was one magus for every type of gift given, but there is no historical certainty on this, with some traditions favoring more, or even less, magi. The earliest Christian art is inconclusive also, some depicts two, some three, others four, and a vase in the Kircher Museum shows eight magi.
I left the Zoroastrian tombs and went down to the main site again. I spent a further couple of hours exploring at my leisure, then headed out, thoroughly satisfied, to the taxis. I struck an excellent deal with a driver who agreed to take me all the way back to Shiraz via two other historical sites nearby.
The two sites that were thrown into the taxi driver’s deal were Naqsh-e Rajab and Naqsh-e Rostam. The first of these was only a couple of miles away and consisted of an enclosed rocky area where yet more amazing bas-reliefs had been hewn out of the rocks. These depicted various scenes, including two coronations where the Zoroastrian God, Ahura Mazda, was shown handing over the ring of kingship to the monarch. They were all beautiful and merited a good investment of time, but my taxi driver was impatient to get moving, so it ended up being a stop of no more than five minutes. We drove onto our next site, which dominated the surroundings and came into view long before we arrived there.
Cut into a dramatic sprawling rock face high above ground level were a number of huge cross-shaped Zoroastrian tombs. They were magnificent and brought to mind the pictures I’d seen of the famous rock temple at Petra in Jordan. We pulled up and I got out to go and explore, whilst the taxi driver stayed in his car. There were lots of other tourists here, nearly all of them Iranians from a couple of coach parties. In some respects, I found these temples even more impressive than Persepolis. Their condition was so excellent, you didn’t have to picture in your mind’s eye what they would have once looked like, as you do with Persepolis.
Although no one knows for sure, the tombs are thought to be the resting place for the bones of Achaemenid kings Darius I, Xerxes I, Artaxerxes I, and Darius II. I say “bones” as opposed to remains, because the Zoroastrian tradition was to place the dead on “towers of silence” where vultures would devour the flesh. The reason behind this seemingly macabre practice is that Zoroastrians consider the earth and the elements sacred and so do not wish to pollute them. A burial is seen as polluting the earth and a cremation as polluting the sky. The tradition was for the bodies to be arranged in a seated posture on top of an open-roofed tower and to be accompanied by a magus who would sit nearby and observe which eye was plucked out first by the birds. It was said that if the right eye was the first to go then all was well for the lucky soul and no doubt a land of milk and honey awaited. However, if the left eye was gobbled first then things weren’t so rosy. The practice has now all but died out, with modern day followers of the faith preferring a burial in a concrete enclosed grave, which is seen as not polluting the earth.
I had a good look around the site, which also included more stunning bas-reliefs and a fire temple, before giving in to my taxi driver who came looking for me. We arrived back in Shiraz in the late afternoon.
Back at my hotel, I found a note on my door addressed
to “The World’s Best Dad.” It was from Verity, who I’d previously shown my Iranian pocket watch to, and who, according to the note, was staying in a room down the hallway. I popped down the hall to say a quick hello. Being in her room, Verity wasn’t wearing her hijab, which shouldn’t have surprised me, but seeing any woman in Iran without one on took a bit of getting used to and just seemed a bit strange.
We both filled each other in on what we’d been doing, which in Verity’s case consisted mainly of sitting on a cramped bus all day. I was very pleased that I’d flown and saved so much time. Verity had arrived earlier in the afternoon and was staying in Shiraz for the next few days before going on to the city of Yazd, which was also my next destination. She was keen for a bite to eat, and since I could force down a bit more food, we decided to go out somewhere together and consulted her guidebook for a suitable place. We selected a restaurant called the Shiraz Eram Hotel and headed out in search of it.
It took us forever to find the place, but when we finally did, it was well worth the wait as the food was excellent—or more accurately, my food was excellent. I went for a succulent chicken schnitzel with all the trimmings. Verity opted instead for a reverse macrobiotic, unleaded, candida-free, detoxifying anti-Atkins option, or something like that, which consisted of a few limp green leaves and a dribble of salad dressing. It didn’t look up to much, but Verity seemed quite content to nibble away like a rabbit and was adamant it was “good for a detox”—it looked good for a compost heap!
Over her feast, she told me a funny story about an Iranian guy who had been talking to her in Esfahan, and to impress upon her that his intentions were honorable had said with utter sincerity, “I no want to make cock with you.”