It is the weekend of the Eid holiday, and half the country seems to be in Erbil for the festivities. At the foot of the Citadel, by the side of a road clogged with traffic, is a little carpet shop displaying the most extraordinary selection of rugs: fiercely mustachioed tribesmen in turbans, doe-eyed beauties of various persuasions, galloping horses – all in a dusty palette of red, green, brown and black.
We eventually make it up to the top of the tell to find rows of parked cars gleaming in the sun – an unexpected touch of brash modernity on such an ancient site. But there are no crowds – perhaps everyone is at midday prayers in the old mosque.
The Citadel is one of oldest continuously inhabited settlements in the world, and is one of Iraq's candidates for inclusion in UNESCO's World Heritage list. Under a vast flag of Iraqi Kurdistan, slowly unfurling in the breeze, I unfold a print-out of the description prepared by the High Commission for Erbil Citadel Revitalisation. 'To walk through its meandering pedestrian alleyways,' it reads, 'and experience the exhilarating visual and spatial qualities of its traditional architecture, the Citadel is truly a remarkable human achievement.' Unfortunately you can't, as most of the Citadel is off-limits to the public for restoration.
Still, I manage to wander down a narrow side street and stray into a small dusty courtyard. And there, amidst the dying weeds I stand in a moment of silent contemplation, surrounded by the stillness of the early afternoon.
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