I went to Shiraz for a day but could have stayed for a century and still not appreciated every aspect of this beautiful and memorable place. We landed at the airport and took a car straight to Persepolis, or as Iranians call it - Takhteh Jamshid. It was built over 2500 years ago by the Achamenid King Darius I, and grew during the reigns of Xerxes I, Ataxerxes I, and Darius II. Alexander the Great's army pillaged the palace and burned it to the ground. What remains today is considered a wonder of the world. To see Persepolis is to marvel at what man can accomplish.
There were pillars of stone that weighed hundreds of tons with intricately carved statues of griffins and bulls. Thousands of delicate carvings graced the walls showing the 28 peoples that made up the Empire. Persepolis was used during the New Year as the palace where representatives for the various groups would come to bring gifts for the King. The carvings on the walls show 28 different people: some have curly hair, some have sandals, others are barefoot, there are different hats indicating different groups. They all carry different gifts for the King: goats, vases, cloths. The men hold hands. The Empire was united. At least in the pictures.
The sheer enormity of Persepolis impresses. How did they accomplish the construction of this stone leviathon? The men who built this palace were not slaves; they were paid, they were skilled, they had health insurance. Persepolis was not only an amazing architectural feat, but also an amazing display of social and economical practice.
Like everything in Iran, hints of the revolution and its penumbra's linger even in the world of Darius I. The last Shah of Iran held an infamous 2500 anniversary for Persepolis: one of the biggest and most decadent parties the country had ever seen. Heads of state from across the globe were invited, tents that rivaled mansions were created to house them, the food was done by Maxim's in Paris. The iron scaffolding that still stands remains a reminder of yet another straw that eventually broke the mullah's backs and lead to revolution.
I spent the rest of the day visiting Shiraz and eating Faludeh (a sweet Iranian desert, somewhat like ice cream). I kissed Hafez' tomb, wore a chador to see Shah Cheragh (an important mosque), and spoke to a man who didn't believe I was Iranian but insisted I was from Spain. There were beautiful and fragrant roses everywhere, fabrics woven by the Qashghayi nomads, palaces from the Qajar era, and a bazaar where I bought a ring with a prayer to Allah on it. I later had the ring made tightened by a jeweler in Tehran who had to dismantle the ring and underneath the brick-red stone there was a miniature prayer from the Quran written on a tiny piece of parchment - I still don't know what it says but I wear the ring every day and feel the mystical and magical beauty of Shiraz, of Iran, of being Persian.
There were pillars of stone that weighed hundreds of tons with intricately carved statues of griffins and bulls. Thousands of delicate carvings graced the walls showing the 28 peoples that made up the Empire. Persepolis was used during the New Year as the palace where representatives for the various groups would come to bring gifts for the King. The carvings on the walls show 28 different people: some have curly hair, some have sandals, others are barefoot, there are different hats indicating different groups. They all carry different gifts for the King: goats, vases, cloths. The men hold hands. The Empire was united. At least in the pictures.
The sheer enormity of Persepolis impresses. How did they accomplish the construction of this stone leviathon? The men who built this palace were not slaves; they were paid, they were skilled, they had health insurance. Persepolis was not only an amazing architectural feat, but also an amazing display of social and economical practice.
Like everything in Iran, hints of the revolution and its penumbra's linger even in the world of Darius I. The last Shah of Iran held an infamous 2500 anniversary for Persepolis: one of the biggest and most decadent parties the country had ever seen. Heads of state from across the globe were invited, tents that rivaled mansions were created to house them, the food was done by Maxim's in Paris. The iron scaffolding that still stands remains a reminder of yet another straw that eventually broke the mullah's backs and lead to revolution.
I spent the rest of the day visiting Shiraz and eating Faludeh (a sweet Iranian desert, somewhat like ice cream). I kissed Hafez' tomb, wore a chador to see Shah Cheragh (an important mosque), and spoke to a man who didn't believe I was Iranian but insisted I was from Spain. There were beautiful and fragrant roses everywhere, fabrics woven by the Qashghayi nomads, palaces from the Qajar era, and a bazaar where I bought a ring with a prayer to Allah on it. I later had the ring made tightened by a jeweler in Tehran who had to dismantle the ring and underneath the brick-red stone there was a miniature prayer from the Quran written on a tiny piece of parchment - I still don't know what it says but I wear the ring every day and feel the mystical and magical beauty of Shiraz, of Iran, of being Persian.
1 comment:
tara in iran na tehran :d
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