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Posts Tagged ‘Nomads’

The ancient site of Persepolis is vast and incredibly addictive. I was unconsciously drawn from ruin to ruin; each palace, every stone-carved column with its own history causing me to stop and visualise what the site would have looked like in its heyday. Visions of Kings and courtiers, delegations from faraway lands arriving in hoards, the magnificent gifts of jewellery, stallions, golden bowls and sumptuous fabrics brought for the royalty flooded my imagination. Banquets and debates, stone masons and joiners working around the clock; Soldiers protecting the site whilst the workers scurried around making sure that all was running smoothly. By midday, not only was it getting to hot to walk around the great stones in the heat, but my mind needed a rest too.  I hope to return to Persepolis in due course as there was only so much I could take in from this first visit but we had so many other places to see before returning to our base in Esfahan the following day that we decided to head off to Naqsh-e Rostam closeby.

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As ever, I had no idea what to expect but was yet again amazed with what I saw . Naqsh-e Rostam is a Necropolis – City of the Dead-with burial chambers for the Achaemenid Kings built into the mountain side.  In addition to the chambers, bas-reliefs are carved into the rock under each tomb depicting scenes from Persian legends. It is a magnificent sight but it is difficult to convey the sheer size of the tombs in my photos.

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On the way into the site I had spotted a nomad and his camel. Dressed in traditional clothing, the nomad was offering rides on his camel to anyone who fancied a go. I have never ridden a camel and observing that “Toufan” (Farsi for Tempest) was actually pretty calm, I climbed up the ladder and took up the reins.  A sharp slap on the backside, Toufan’s not mine, and we were away. I soon adopted the back and forth rocking motion needed to stay aboard the beast and fell into a good rhythm. It was all going well until the nomad clearly thought it would be a laugh to speed things up. A couple more slaps and some verbal encouragement and Toufan broke into a camel-gallop. I held on for dear life and started shouting “Yavosh, Yavosh”…..”slow, slow”, but Toufan was obviously so confused by my Persian Esfahani accent that it made no difference and across the car park we went. By this time there was quite a crowd gathered to watch this weird Western lady atop a galloping camel shouting instructions to it in Farsi, probably hoping that I would make a compete fool of myself and slide off. I’m afraid that I disappointed them all and managed to return to base intact but a little shaky. Instead of letting me off however, Mr Nomad sent me off on a couple more trips around the car park firstly with Feri and secondly with an Iranian lady who held on to me like a limpet.

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At last I was allowed to disembark and after giving the nomad enough money to feed Toufan for a month we left for Shiraz.

Next instalment: Persians and their Poetry

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