Thursday, Christmas Eve, was our first full day back in Ankara (for Anna and me, that is). Larry stayed in Turkey while I was gone, as he still had classes to teach, and two trips to make to deliver lectures elsewhere in Turkey.

First on the agenda was to reintroduce Anna to downtown Ankara which she hadn’t seen since she was five years old. Since we needed to withdraw some money from our bank account anyway, it seemed the perfect opportunity to take her downtown. Aside: although banking is as sophisticated here as at home (okay, we can stop laughing now given the state of the U.S. economy at the moment), I must physically go to the bank to withdraw money. Unlike most banks here in the capital city, Fortis Bank, the one used by the Fulbright Commission, Larry’s employer, has few branches and none in our neighborhood or near the university. I do have an ATM card from the bank, but have yet to successfully use it. Since our “pay” from Fulbright is in dollars, but ATMs spit out Turkish lira, I must first “sell” my dollars on the ATM and “buy” lira, then deposit the lira amount in my lira account (as opposed to my dollar account), before actually withdrawing money. Even though I can do this in English at the ATM, the transactions may as well be in another language, as I cannot figure out how to do this.

At any rate, off we went to downtown. After the bank, we walked to Tempo Tur to check out tours offered during Anna’s visit (none, alas, that we hadn’t already taken), passing through Kugulu Park where Anna recognized the swans from our frequent visits fifteen years ago.

After a few more errands, we found the bookstore we were looking for to buy tickets to a dance performance that people told us we really shouldn’t miss. Our plan was to buy the cheapest tickets (40 TL, or about $27 each) for the Friday night performance. However, only 120 TL (about $80 each) tickets were available. So we debated buying tickets (60 TL, $40 each) for that very night, Thursday, instead of the next night as planned. The problem was we were exhausted from the trip from the States the day before; also, the price was higher than Larry and I had earlier discussed. Finally deciding to go for it, in retrospect, I’m very glad we did so. The performance was superb.

The evening performance was within walking distance of our apartment at an auditorium housed in a large, spacious tent. It was an unusual structure, in that the foyer had marble floors. So “tent” isn’t exactly the right description, but the walls and ceiling of the audience and performance area were made of thick plastic and soared to several pointed peaks. So “tent” is really the only way to describe the unusual structure.

The dance troupe, called Anadolu Atesi, or Fire of Anatolia, was performing a multi-country tour called “Troya,” which roughly told the story of the Trojan War. The troupe consists of 120 dancers, with specialties in three dance genres: ballet, modern, and traditional folk. With three choreographers and a host of other production specialists, as well as the large number of dancers, the troupe is one of the three largest in the world. Several people mentioned that they are compared to the better known (at least in the U.S.) troupe Riverdance. Personally, I think there is little comparison. Fire of Anatolia is far more interesting and varied in all aspects of production: the dances, the original music, the setting, the costumes, and the story. It was really more of a balletic opera, each stage of which was brilliantly executed.

“Troya” was truly amazing. The staging, animation, and effects were gorgeous and changed seamlessly between dances. The costumes were lush and colorful. The dramatic orchestral and choral music, composed for this production, was powerful (if a little too loud). And the dancers some of the best I’ve ever seen.
The first half introduced the origin of the war, and some of the principle characters, including the meddling gods. These were executed in dance, of course, with occasional wording projected on the back of the set, in both Turkish and English. Then followed an introduction to the various peoples of Anadolu (Anatolia) who joined the Trojan forces; for example, the Lycians, the Phrygians, the Lydians, and the Amazons, among others. Each group of 20 or more dancers, costumed to reflect the individual cultures, danced traditional folk dances from their respective regions. Some groups performed traditional line dances, others step dances, still others exquisite belly dancing. Warriors, on the other hand, depicted their martial prowess through wild twirlings, gesticulations, and brandishing of weapons.

A bit of trivia I picked up from the Web is that Fire of Anatolia is in the Guinness Book of World Records for the fastest stepping in their dances—200+ steps per minute. The most astonishing example was the ending of the first half of the program, when every dancer entered stage right, dancing in a line. As each dancer arrived on stage, none of those already there stepped out of the way to make room for the new arrivals. Instead, within a few minutes, all 120 dancers were strung along a single line at the front of the stage, somewhat squished against each other, while turning and gyrating, kicking and stepping rapidly – all in perfect synchronization. We were enthralled, and the audience erupted in loud cheers. Another Guinness record was audience size for a dance performance; apparently 400,000 people watched a single performance somewhere near the Black Sea.

If all this sounds a bit Busby Berkeleyesque, it was not. Well, I suppose, to some extent it was. But, nonetheless, it was superbly done. The second half was a little more operatic.

The second half highlighted battles, the Trojan Horse, the deaths of Hector and Achilles, and the grief felt by those who lost loved ones. A late peaceful message paid tribute to those who died in all wars, ending with recognition of the futility of war and a plea to avoid future battles.

The battles were depicted as choreographed sword and spear fights – the speed and intensity of the clashing swords caused repeated flashes of sparks from the metal weapons. Other dramas included Hector’s wife in an ethereal evocation of her love for her husband and, later, her agony over his death. The deaths of the main characters were not at all sugar coated. The drama was real, and the dancers unreal.

In some vignettes, the combination of ballet, modern dance, and folk dance was seamless. Of particular note were the rapid twirlings of the male dancers, followed by repeated landings on their knees. My knees ached in sympathy.

The ending was a series of encores, with the large audience clapping in unison, urging them to keep on dancing.

We thought the entire production was a brilliant interpretatiaon of the Trojan War, and we understand why two of Larry’s colleagues recommended we not miss this extraordinary performance.

This production, one of many in the troupe’s repertoire, will travel to several dozen locations in Germany, France, Bangkok and elsewhere throughout 2010. Their earlier performances included one in front of Egypt’s Great Pyramids. One web site indicates that they have performed “Troya” in 75 countries already. "Troya" is only one of the productions in their repertoire; I hope to see another one of their productions sometime in the U.S.

For information about Fire of Anatolia (their Turkish name is: Anadolu Atesi), Wikipedia gives an explanation about their origins and vision, although they list the wrong home website for the troupe. We were surprised that the dance group originated at Bilkent University, our old haunt. The troupe’s official web site is: http://www.fireofanatolia.be/home.php?lg=en The site specific to the “Troya” production is: http://www.fireofanatolia.be/ Some of their pieces can also be viewed on YouTube.

As this was Christmas Eve, Anna and I had bought some cheap Christmas ornaments on our way home from the afternoon’s shopping trip. They were just the right touch we needed to decorate one of our larger houseplants (see above) and add a tiny bit of festive atmosphere to our apartment.

December 9 - 23

From December 9 to December 23, I returned to the States for a brief visit with my mother and brother in L.A., to check on our house in Connecticut, and to bring our daughter, Anna, back to Turkey for her winter intersession.

Some highlights of the visit include:

Los Angeles – My mother’s health is stable, although we are unable to get her out much these days. Although she still has difficulty talking, it is a real treat when she is able to communicate. Richard, my brother, is on the Screen Actors Guild Awards nominating committee, so during my visit his life was consumed with movies, many of which had not been released yet; e.g, Up in the Air, and Young Victoria (which are now in the theaters). His other projects include two one-woman plays which he saw through the writing process, and then directed. I was lucky to catch the last performance of one of the plays (the other had already closed), called Carnival Knowledge, a very funny series of vignettes about a woman’s roller coaster ride finding “Mr. Right.” Both plays were very successful and enjoyed an extended run in their respective small theaters. One surreal aspect of the trip to L.A. was purchasing and decorating a Christmas tree for the apartment, with temperatures in the mid 50s, an experience later echoed in Ankara on Christmas Eve day.

Hampton House – My goodness, am I glad I was home for a little while. Our monitoring system, which alerts someone by phone if our electricity goes off for more than five minutes, was programmed in September, before the phone company changed local calls to include the area code. So, since early November, when the change went into effect, our house has not had this protection. Luckily we didn’t need it. So, I reprogrammed it to include the 860 area code and took care of other unanticipated winter issues, such as shoveling out our backup generator after a 16 inch overnight snowfall. Our house guardian took care of most of the rest of the snow clearance, although Anna and I did a lot of supplemental shoveling. While in Connecticut, I also got my H1N1 flu shot, arranged for Anna’s tax appointment in February, visited with friends and family, and crashed the ECSU annual Christmas party. I loved people’s expressions at the party when they first saw me, assuming I was still in Turkey!

Anna – While home, Anna received notice that she has been awarded University Scholar status, the highest honor given to UConn undergraduates, and one awarded to only 30 students per year. Congratulations, Anna!

Flights – Before typing this onto my blog, I had hand-written the saga of our various flights—particularly the one back to Turkey, which took us through JFK airport three days before Christmas. I decided, after all, to spare you the details; writing down the various indignities offered me the catharthis I needed, but you don't. Suffice it to say that it was not an experience I would care to repeat.

Our return – Arriving at the Ankara airport, we took a bus to the main bus terminal, then a subway ride to our neighborhood, followed by the walk to our apartment. Arriving 26 hours after leaving our Hampton home, we were happy to see Larry’s welcoming face, and our comfortable home away from home.

Home in the States

From December 9 to December 23, I am home in Connecticut, and/or visiting my mother and brother in Los Angeles. Since this blog's subject is my "Anatolian Journey," I will not be entering anything of note until I return around Christmas time. Happy Holidays, everyone!

Mediterranean Trip - Part 4 (Nov. 30) - The Final Episode

For more photos, see: http://www.anatolianphotos.shutterfly.com/ "Mediterranean Trip - Part 4"

Xanthos

We arrived at the site of this ancient city’s ruins early in the morning of the last day of our Mediterranean adventure. We got an earlier than normal start (8:00 a.m.) because by 11:00 a.m. or so, we needed to head back to Ankara. We were scheduled to arrive in Ankara at 11:30 p.m. What is normally a nine-hour bus ride was promising to be longer, as thousands of others were likewise returning to the city from their long Bayram weekend.

By some accounts, Xanthos is considered the capital city of the Lycian League. But most reports I’ve looked at say Patara was the capital city. Whatever it was, Xanthos was a very large and prosperous city that had a more violent history than many of the other Lycian city-states. Twice in the town’s history, the populace was faced with overwhelmingly superior enemy forces. Rather than surrender, the Xanthians chose mass suicide – although what this likely meant is that the warriors chose to murder the women and children, then fight to the last warrior against the greater numbers of the enemy. During the first slaughter, 80 families were in the hills with their livestock and thus escaped to continue the town’s existence, only to end more decisively with another slaughter (although this was likely generations later).

What distinguishes the current archaeological site is the existence of unusually elaborate and tall Lycian pillar tombs, one from the 5th century B.C.E., and one from the 3rd or 4th B.C.E. Also, there are a number of reproductions of sculptures and reliefs on the site that had been carted off by archaeologist Charles Fellows, and now residing in the British Museum. Also of significance are the gorgeous remaining mosaic floors of what was once a Byzantine basilica, currently covered with gravel to preserve the floors from the elements. (Small sections are exposed for tourists like us). Finally, of particular interest is the "Xanthian obelisk," containing the largest known inscription in the Lycian tongue. This obelisk, containing the same wording in four languages, served as the "Rosetta Stone" of the Lycian language, finally enabling scholars to crack the code of that ancient tongue. (Unless the stone found at Letoon was the one enabling scholars to decipher the language; I forget which stone was the more significant).

In addition to all these unique features, Xanthos, which was a particularly large and important Lycian city, has typical later era ruins also found at other sites, which do not make them any less interesting: the Greco-Roman theater, the marble road (with a carved backgammon game on one stone), the necropolis, the acropolis, the agora, temples, and so on.

Saklikent Gorge

Our last stop on the Great Mediterranean Adventure was at Saklikent Gorge, a high, narrow canyon in the mountains of southwestern Turkey. The story is that this gorge, about 18 kilometers long and not very wide, is so steep that the sun cannot penetrate the bottom of the 600 or so foot sheer sides. Therefore, the water that flows on the bottom of the gorge stays perpetually cold. Scientifically, it’s been determined that the mountain on either side of the gorge split in two during some type of geologic cataclysm.

In 1988, a shepherd in the desolate, sparsely populated mountain expanse, lost one of his sheep. Following the audible "baahing" of his sheep, he "discovered" this remarkable geologic feature. It is now on the official tourist roster, and is quite something to behold.

After paying a small entrance fee, we walked along a wooden boardwalk attached to one side of the gorge. Near the entrance, the other side is only about twenty feet away. As we walked along the boardwalk, not far from the fast-moving water flowing at the bottom of the gorge, we kept looking up in awe at the soaring mountain on either side of us. My little camera was completely incapable of capturing the scale of those enormous cliffs. Because of recent rains, we were unable to travel more than a few hundred feet into the gorge. The plan was to have us trek a few miles into the canyon, but the swift waters made it too dangerous.

After leaving the gorge and wandering around a few concession stands selling Turkish trinkets and some treats, we boarded the bus for the long ride back to Ankara, arriving three hours ahead of schedule. This was because we had to abandon much of the Saklikent Gorge trek, and the traffic returning to Ankara was lighter than anticipated on the day everyone was returning home after the Bayram. One last impression while gazing out the bus window was the swift change from the lush mountain region we had been visiting, to the vast plain of Anatolia, with little vegetation, and miles and miles of rocky landscape. Only small towns and villages, and dozens of marble quarries, broke the ceaseless starkness of the Anatolian landscape, until we made a few rest stops in high-end highway shopping areas (with terrific, fresh lokum, or "Turkish delight.") After nine hours on the bus, we finally reached home in Ankara, and I’ve been trying to finish these blog posts ever since.
　
　
　

Mediterranean Trip - Part 3 (Nov. 29)

For more photographs, see: http://www.anatolianphotos.shutterfly.com/ (Mediterranean Trip - Part 3)

For our next adventure, we travel east of Kalkan. On our way to Demre, we pass by (and over) a small but spectacular beach hidden in a deep mountain gorge. Called Kaputas Beach, it sits at the bottom of the gorge; the narrow bridge traverses across the gorge partway up the mountain, and the gorge continues up for another few hundred feet or so. A long stairway is the only access to the beach other than by boat. Very pretty.

Demre (Myra)

First stop, after the photo-op at Kaputas Beach, is Demre, formerly called Myra. This time we are travelling east of Kalkan (we had previously been touring west of our home base). Today’s travels take us almost as far east as the furthest western point we had reached fifteen years ago. Combining the two trips, albeit fifteen years apart, we will have traversed nearly the entire semi –circular Teke peninsula – from Antalya to Fetihye -- perhaps one of the most beautiful regions of Mediterranean Turkey – or even all of Turkey.

The Demre region has perhaps the best concentrated collection of Lycian rock tombs carved into the rocky slopes of the Taurus mountains. Some are designed to look like temple facades, with stylized stone reliefs representing wooden ceiling beams. Some have elaborate lintels and pilasters, the latter suggesting columns supporting the structures. All have doors into which the deceased were laid to rest. None have remained untouched by looters and/or archaeologists, some of whom carted off the contents of these ancient tombs to foreign museums.

All day we have sighted Lycian rock tombs—some close to the ground, most very high in the hills and mountains. Those at Myra start at ground level and climb steeply for about 100 to 150 feet and are closely clustered one atop the other. These are the wall tombs generally featured in tour books and on postcards. Rightly so.

Also on the ground were several Lycian sarcophagi, from a later period in Lycian funeral practices, again, with the upper, removable portion shaped like an inverted boat keel. Some have elaborate reliefs depicting the life of the deceased; others have mythological creatures and/or wildlife—lions are particularly popular on some of the roofs.

Not far from the tombs is one of the most interesting Greco-Roman theaters we have seen so far on this trip. Beautiful, dramatic, carved theatrical masks are everywhere in these ruins; some still attached to walls, many just sitting on the ground. It is a wonder they are not sitting on pedestals in foreign museums—and a blessing. In their proper location and context, they lend authenticity to the site. One of the more dramatic masks decorates the top of this blog post.

St. Nicholas Basilica

A short bus ride down the road took us to the St. Nicholas basilica. Yes, THE St. Nicholas of Santa Claus fame. Renowned as one of the most famous and beloved bishops of the early Christian era, he was born in the 3rd century AD in Patara (where we were two days ago), and served as bishop of Myra. Long after his death in 343, this basilica was expanded in his honor and continued to be expanded repeatedly throughout the ages. Tsar Nicholas I even constructed a niche inside the basilica with a verse in honor of the bishop, after first financing extensive renovations. One of the Tsar’s renovations included the addition of a vaulted roof, which effectively blocks the sun from directly entering the basilica, thereby protecting the multiple colorful frescoes remaining on the church’s walls, many of which depict St. Nicholas assisting those in need.

St. Nicholas was believed to have been buried in the 4th century in a section of the remaining original structure. What is believed to have been his sarcophagus (now empty) is protected by a glass wall to save it from overzealous pilgrims – especially contemporary Russian tourists. As flash photography was prohibited near the sarcophagus (but nowhere else in the church—even near the frescoes!), and the building is quite dark, I do not have a picture of St. Nicholas’s final resting place. You can view it on the Wikipedia site for Saint Nicholas at: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Saint_Nicholas The tomb is empty because, in the 11th century, Italians raided the tomb and carted his remains to Bari, Italy, where a monument was constructed in his honor. The legend of St. Nicholas and his renowned generosity, combined at some point with Northern European mythology about Father Christmas to form the legend of today’s Santa Claus.

There is also a connection with St. John at this church, but his role here was lost to me in the Turkish translation.

Surrounding the basilica are tourist shops offering Russian icons (St. Nicholas was particularly loved by Orthodox Christians) and Santa Claus kitsch, among other souvenirs. We chose to eat lunch at a local neighborhood "deli," rather than the Baba Noel (Father Christmas) café. We did not stop at any of the tourist shops, but I did buy a fairly expensive glass of freshly squeezed combined pomegranate (nar) and orange (portacal) juice. Delicious! Both fruits are currently in season here and can be seen everywhere with ripe fruit abounding – even on downtown city streets.

Batik Sehir (the sunken city of Simena)

After lunch, we head to Ucagiz, to board a boat – actually two boats for our large group – to take us to the ancient city of Simena. This city once sat on two sides of a spit of Mediterranean water. One side is the island Kekova, the other side is now called Kalekoy, or Kale. The boat first stopped in a small bay of Kekova island, in sight of numerous Lycian sarcophagi. Here we sat with two other boats, contemplating whether or not to swim. (Another opportunity!). Not a single person entered the water. Again, although the sun was warm and the water not too bad, it was just chilly enough when the boat was moving to give us all pause. Besides, there was no clear indication as to where we were supposed to change in and out of our suits, other than one tiny room that could hold maybe one person at a time. Both Larry and I agreed that if even one more person decided to swim, we too would take the plunge. We just didn’t want to be the only ones, and therefore hold up all these people. I’ll bet others had the same thoughts; many were clutching bags with towels sticking out. So, we’ve spent three days on the beautiful, clear, Mediterranean and still haven’t gone swimming. Aaargh!

With no one choosing to enter the water, the Captains started moving – very slowly – over the Batik Sehir, or Sunken City, of Simena – the residential part of old Simena that was once a taller island. In the 2nd century, two very powerful earthquakes sank the island of Kekova as much as 18 feet. Our boat passed by ruins that spilled down to – and into – the water. We saw ghostly silhouettes of submerged structures, stone staircases leading from nowhere to, and into, the sea, and hints of the shapes of buildings long gone. What a grim spectacle and powerful reminder of the destructive power of Mediterranean earthquakes.

Across the water was the other half of Simena, currently named Kalekoy (or Kale for short), surmounted by the awesome spectacle of the fortress of the Knights of St. John, a particularly brutal bunch of medieval Crusaders. Landing at the base of the hill, we climbed steep stone steps, passing through a charming contemporary village, until we reached the walls and passed into the fortress, a national park (with entry fee). The fortress contains a small amphitheater overlooking the islands and the sea.

The mid-afternoon late November light made everything below us sparkle. After a lengthy explanation by our guide, in Turkish, of the castle’s role in the area’s history, we climbed to the summit, where the 360 degree view was breathtaking. Looking away from the sea, there was a different type of "sea," i.e., the ubiquitous, vast numbers of abutting greenhouses stretching as far as the eye could see, containing the next harvest of greenhouse tomatoes, cucumbers and flowers.

The ridge between the "real" sea and the man-made "sea" was dotted with yet more Lycian sarcophagi. The surrounding hills were likewise dotted with Lycian rock tombs. Descending the hill and boarding our boats to return to Ucagiz, where we had embarked, we passed by one submerged Lycian tomb, once again a popular view gracing tour books and postcards and, indeed, a poignant memory of this amazing site.

Kas

On the bus ride back to Kalkan, we stopped at the seaside town of Kas (pronounced Kosh). Nestled in a basin far down from the mountain road on which we had been travelling, Kas hugs the bottom of a valley and surrounds a small harbor. By the time we reached down to Kas, it was getting dark. We had one hour to wander this gorgeous little gem of a seaside—mountain surrounded—town. Larry and I sat in the central town square, not far from the water, to eat our chocolate bars and take in the "ambience." People were sitting at outside cafes, drinking tea (or raki?), teens were playing pool in an outdoor pool hall, restaurants were open all around the beautiful, flowering square. Narrow cobbled streets, perfectly clean and nicely lit, were lined with shops, galleries, pensions, restaurants and cafes, with hundreds of people milling around as the sun set. (I would guess thousands in the summer).

As we started up one hill, an elderly fellow traveler notified us of a Lycian monument a few blocks up the road. Sure enough, there was one of the best examples yet of a Lycian sarcophagus, called "The King’s tomb." It sat atop a large pedestal, making the entire structure about 15 – 20 feet tall. A nearby plaque explained that the entire monument, including the pedestal, the tomb, and the boat-shaped (upside down) cap, was cut from a single block of stone. The roof was decorated with four lion heads, looking like gargoyles to me. And – a rarity – on one side of the tomb was inscribed eight lines of wording in the Lycian language. I can’t believe our guide forgot to tell us about this monument! (He had mentioned it to everyone in Turkish, but his English translations simply reminded us to be back at the bus by 6:00 p.m.).

Across the bay was the island of Meis, less than a mile away. This is the farthest eastern boundary of Greece. The darkness and a sea wall, however, prevented us from actually seeing the island.

Larry and I really liked this town and talked about possibly coming back on our own for a more leisurely visit in the summer. We wished we could be staying here rather than in Kalkan, isolated in our "deluxe" hotel with no easy access to anywhere or anything. But, alas, Kankan was better located as a base for all the various sites we have been visiting – east and west – during this Mediterranean adventure.
　
　

Mediterranean Trip - Part 2 (Nov. 28)

Saturday, Nov. 28

To see more pictures of the second full day of our Mediterranean trip, see "Part 2) at: http://www.anatolianphotos.shutterfly.com/

Fethiye

After a somewhat sparse Turkish breakfast (no yogurt!), we headed down the dirt path from our hotel to our bus, which, due to road construction, was unable to approach the hotel. Then back we go to Fethiye to visit two historical ruins.

In old times, Fethiye was called Telmessos. More recently, until the 1930s, it was called Megri. At that time it was renamed Fethiye to honor Tay Yareci Fethi Bey, the first Turkish fighter pilot to be killed in World War 1. "Tay Yareci" is the old Ottoman Turkish phrase for "pilot." The name changes are reminders of the long history of this town which sits at the mouth of one of the larger valleys in this mountainous region. Sheltered by an inner bay, with another outer bay beyond the most visible island, it was the perfect place for settlement long ago.

Part of its history, of course, includes its city-state status among the Lycians. As with this entire region, there are two types of Lycian tombs and/or burial edifices. At last count, there are more than 1,000 tombs cut into the rock faces of the many mountains. Throughout our four day trip, we have seen dozens of these rock tombs looming high over the landscape. Later in Lycian history, sarcophagi were constructed to bury the dead – or at least those who could afford the impressive structures.

The first stop in Fethiye was to view one of the large sarcophagi around which the later town was built. Here, Onur (our guide) explained Lycian funerary beliefs, which explains, to some extent, the design of the sarcophagi. After death, one is carried by boat, piloted by Charon, across the River (Styx? – was it called Styx in Lycian times?) to the Elysian fields. Lycian sarcophagi were topped with a heavy stone cap designed to look like an inverted keel of a boat to assist in the passage across the river. Charon, of course, had to be paid. Coins were inserted into the deceased person’s mouth and also covered the eyes; these coins were to be used to pay Charon. In later excavations, coins were found in the skulls of the few skeletons found in the tombs. The existence of the coins and other valuable artifacts goes a long way in explaining why the vast majority of these tombs were ransacked centuries ago.

Around the corner from the Lycian sarcophagus, we visited yet another Greco-Roman theater, this one discovered as recently as the mid 1990s, around the time of the discovery of the Roman theater in Ankara. Still under excavation, it sits amidst neighborhood houses positioned above the theater. The supporting wall on one side of the theater is listing badly as a result of the recent removal of soil during the excavations. The archaeologists had better buttress this wall quickly before it collapses. Interestingly, Fethiye was flattened by a powerful earthquake as recently as 1958. That soil around the Roman theater likely preserved it from collapse. It takes modern archaeology, I guess, to hasten the demise of some of these monuments (or preserve them if properly excavated).

Kayakoy

Next stop is the ghost town of Kayakoy. This former Ottoman Greek village, consisting of approximately 2,000 stone homes, was abandoned in the 1920s after World War 1 and the Turkish War of Independence. The League of Nations coordinated a population exchange between Orthodox Christian Greeks living in Turkey and Muslim Turks living in Greece—returning the former to Greece and the latter to Turkey. Since there were more Greeks living in Turkey than there were Turks living in Greece, many abandoned homes in Turkey remained unoccupied, including the entire somewhat remote village of Kayakoy, where Greek inhabitants had lived for more than 1,000 years in the mountain town formerly named Levissi.

The abandoned houses here hug the mountains in an eerie display of stone. Wood and tiles having been removed by surrounding residents, all that is left are the walls, foundations, and stone chimneys of the entire empty town. Of particular note are the two Greek orthodox churches, the Upper (called Taxiarkis, on top of a hill) and Lower (called Kataponagia, on the bottom), with their beautiful black and white (and a few red) stone mosaics in the courtyards and the church floors. The lower church was more elaborately decorated, including tromp l’oeil windows and a small reproduction painting of DaVinci’s "last supper." One stone mosaic indicated that this church was built as recently as 1888. Another distinctive feature was the ossuary, where older bones were deposited to make room for more recent burials in the crowded cemetery.

We stopped for tea (cay) in a small restaurant near the waiting bus. Our guide said we could order some gozleme (flat bread stuffed with cheese and spinach, or meat if preferred). We did so. But, since they were made one at a time it was nearly an hour before we got our delicious gozleme. With a bus load of people (who’d gotten theirs before ours) waiting for us, we packed them up to eat later on the beach at Oludeniz.

Oludeniz

The word "Oludeniz" translates to "Dead Sea." But, unlike the more well-known sea with that name, there is nothing "dead" about it. The name simply derives from the fact that there is a beautiful lagoon cut off from the rest of the Mediterranean—surrounded by soaring mountains, including the well known Baba Dag (Father Mountain). This national park recently won an award for environmental protection.

Oludeniz is famous for paragliding conditions, and, sure enough, we watched paragliders the entire time we ate our gozleme and wandered around this beautiful beach park. Being off season, the park was nearly deserted except for a few families and our tour group. Despite the lack of people, we were reminded that the chaise we were sitting on while eating lunch came with a price; if we wanted to continue using it, we need to pay 8 TL (about $5). Oops.

Once again, I left my bathing suit in the bus, as it was looking like nobody else was going to swim. I was wrong: two people from our tour changed into their suits and went into the clear, shallow water. I considered going back to the bus, but it was a fairly long walk, so I didn’t. Sigh. But then, when the two emerged shivering from the water (and the sun was getting low by now), I felt relieved that I didn’t take the plunge.

Instead of swimming, we continued to watch the paragliders, including what looked like a free fall of one. After floating aloft for quite a while (they can stay floating in the air for up to 45 minutes here), this paraglider suddenly dipped and started falling rapidly, rocking from side to side as s/he fell. We were alarmed and assumed the ambulance would be arriving soon. But, as it turned out, this was the landing technique for paragliders. This pilot was clearly a pro—landing gently right on the beach. Whew!

Kalkan

Back to our home base, Kalkan, this time the bus took us all the way down the steep hillside to the bay, where we had a chance to walk around for a half hour or so. Now I see why this is such an attractive tourist town. The part of town we were already a bit familiar with--the upper part, was full of hotels (like ours) and rows and rows of newly constructed summer homes. Except for the huge mountain overlooking everyone and everything, this area is pretty much lacking in charm. The lower town near the water, however, had been a Greek fishing village (before the Exchange), and had a tremendous amount of character—beautiful whitewashed buildings, with Ottoman style balconies overlooking the water, hanging bougainvillea everywhere, and narrow cobbled streets lined with shops and cafes. Very nice indeed; wish we had more time to wander around. But, the the price we would have to pay to stay here longer, instead of going back to the hotel on the bus (then the mini-buses to the hotel, because of the construction), was to climb that long steep hill to our hotel, trying to navigate through all that construction in the dark. We returned by bus to the hotel, to a delicious meal of the type of fish we saw for sale by a lone fisherman on the docks of Fethiye this morning.

After dinner, we joined several of our fellow travelers as well as the dining staff in the hotels’s common area to watch a Turkish soccer match on a large-screen HD TV. The leading Turkish team, Fenerbache (Goliath), was playing against a mediocre team whose name I forget (David). Fenerbache was being punished for rowdy behavior of some of its fans at a previous game, so there were no fans at all in the tens of thousands of seats surrounding the Isbanbul stadium where they played. Very strange to see (and not hear). The lack of fans may have had no bearing on the outcome of the game—BUT David did beat Goliath, 3-1, much to everyone’s surprise. This was fun to be a part of—even if only in front of the TV screen.

Mediterranean Trip - Part 1 (Nov. 26/27)

Nov. 26/27

For photos of the first day of our Mediterranean trip, see "Mediterranean trip – Part 1" at: http://www.anatolianphotos.shutterfly.com/

For more information about the Lycians of Turkey, see the web site: http://www.lycianturkey.com/index.htm

Kurban Bayram, the annual holiday, Feast of the Sacrifice, is celebrated this year in Turkey beginning Nov. 27. This is an important holiday, equivalent to Christmas at home. Banks and retail outlets close, and people travel all over for the four day holiday. So did we. But, rather than spending time first slaughtering a sheep for the feast, and sharing the meat with neighbors and the needy, as is customary during this holiday, we decided to head to the southwest Mediterranean coast of Turkey, to the Teke Peninsula. If you look on a map of southern Turkey, it is the bit of land bulging into the Mediterranean, between Fethiye (ancient Telmessos) and Antalya. (I.e., east of Fethiye and west of Antalya). This is the country of the ancient Lycians, a generally peaceful ancient people, whose republican Lycian League (or Federation, or Union) was mentioned in Hamilton’s and Madison’s Federalist Papers and became one of the inspirations for the founding of the U.S. Constitution and our republican form of government.

Lycians were one of the few non-Roman peoples not considered "barbarians" by that Empire, as they were a cultured, fiercely independent, group, who generally disdained empire building. This is not to say they were always peaceful, but battles were generally fought to preserve their way of life from onslaughts by other civilizations.

The Lycian League was formed in 168 B.C.E., and consisted of 23 autonomous city states. It was administered along democratic principles; each member state sent 2 or 3 representatives to the parliament, located in ancient Patara. The League was formed for purposes of common defense, trade, and other common matters of interest to the otherwise autonomous city states. Major cities of the League were Xanthos, Letoon, Patara, Pinara, Olympos, Myra, Tlos and Phaselis.

Above is a map of the Teke Peninsula.

Fifteen years ago, we visited the eastern part of the peninsula, basing our travels in the resort town of Kemer. From there we visited the Lycian town of Phaselis, and Mount Olympus, with its perpetual fires emanating from escaping gas in holes in the mountain—giving rise to the legend of the Chimera. (Ancient mariners used these fires to orient themselves when approaching land). This time we will visit most of the rest of the peninsula and many of the other important Lycian sites.

Recently, a footpath called the Lycian Way, about 500 km long, was marked in southwest Turkey and has become a popular trekking path. Much of the path travels through the Lycian cities we visited; it also winds up and down mountain passes to the Aegean and Mediterranean Seas. Our trip often crossed segments of the Lycian Way, as we traversed the area by bus. We had planned at some point to hike parts of this footpath, but it may be superfluous now that we have seen so much of this beautiful mountainous countryside, spilling down to the Akdeniz (meaning pure sea), the Turkish name for the Mediterranean.

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The bus taking us to this part of the world left Ankara at 11:30 p.m. on November 26—our Thanksgiving Day. Since our point of departure was a five minute walk from the apartment of our friends, the Nelsons, we decided to accept their invitation to join them and 20 or so other people for the Thanksgiving feast. We arrived with our luggage and two containers of potatoes oreganato we contributed to the meal, ate lots of terrific food, then left at 11:15 (after I changed my clothes into something more comfortable), and boarded the bus to the Mediterranean.

After some fitful dozing on the bus, we awoke in Fethiye, where we breakfasted at the Bogazici Restaurant, with tables on the boardwalk overlooking the Fethiye bay. Two white pelicans greeted us and the new day. The water in this bay is somewhat dirty, but it’s still the Mediterranean, so it didn’t discourage us from taking an after-breakfast stroll along the boardwalk, breathing in the fresh salt air, and identifying other fauna, including large schools of tiny fish (smelts?), one crab, and one – ugh! – swimming water rat (!!!). This doesn’t look promising for swimming.

This day (Friday) being the first day of Kurban Bayram we saw our first family walking its sacrificial sheep, presumably home for slaughter. My goodness, sheep are a lot bigger close up than they seem at the usual distance. Behind the restaurant, we also saw several men contemplating another sheep. Friday morning is the traditional day to slaughter the sheep—the rest of the four day holiday is just relaxing, eating, and for many, traveling. All day long thereafter, we saw various manifestations of the annual ritual of slaughtering: beheading, eviscerating, skinning, butchering and wrapping pieces of sheep (sometimes a cow, although we didn’t see any)—some of which are later cooked for the family’s Bayram feast, and some given away to neighbors and the needy. Not everyone slaughters an animal, only those heads of household who can afford to—or wish to. All of this is in commemoration of Ibraham’s willingness to sacrifice his son in Biblical times. As we saw all this – many times over – from the bus, I was unable to get a good photograph of any of the process. Thank heavens for small favors.

Letoon

Our first historical site was Letoon, the spiritual center of the Lycian League. Here are the remains of three temples, devoted to Leto and her two children, Apollo and Artemis. Leto was apparently mistress to Zeus, much to the displeasure of Zeus’s wife, Hera, who banished Leto to a life of roaming from country to country. Settling for long stretches in what later was called Letoon, Leto caused some consternation among the local populace, who feared retribution from Hera for hosting the goddess in their community. After they informed Leto of their fears and displeasure, the goddess, in a fit of anger, turned the people into frogs. Alas, the descendants of those frogs can still be seen in the nymphaeum, (a monument to nymphs) which is currently filled with water and makes for a comfortable abode for the descendants of those hapless Letooners. Imagine that.

Letoon remained an active town through the Greek, Roman, and early Christian period, up to Byzantine times. Each subsequent civilization added buildings, the ruins of which are still under excavation. Some of the ruins include evidence of a Christian church having been built on the site of the nymphaeum, as well as an impressive Greco/Roman amphitheater, among other buildings.

Letoon constitutes, with Patara (see below), a joint UNESCO heritage site, for good reason. Both sites are still under excavation and represent an important legacy in the history of an early civilization—the Lycians. In fact, a stele found in the theater at Letoon (and presumably in a museum somewhere) had long inscriptions in three languages—Lycian, Greek and Arabaic-- enabling scholars to crack the code of the Lycian language – somewhat like the Rosetta Stone. [Actually, I may be mixing up the significance of this stone with one found in Xanthos; my memory of some details of this trip is already fading, alas].

Patara

The ancient city of Patara was the birthplace of two significant figures, Apollo (Leto must have spent time here as well as in Letoon) and St. Nicholas, the latter becoming a beloved bishop in the town of Myra, which we visited on a later day. Two other figures, Paul of Tarsus and Luke, figure into the history of the town, as they were known to have changed ships at the harbor here. (This seems to be a somewhat gratuitous bit of trivia given the otherwise rich history of Patara). Patara is mentioned by the historian Livy as the capital city of the Lycian League. However, others indicate that Xanthos (visited by us on another day) was the capital city. At any rate, it is clear that Patara was the government center, as the League’s parliament building was recently excavated.

The site at Patara has been under excavation for only a short time by Turkish archaeologists working in the summer months. Discovered in 1962, excavations began as recently as the mid 1990s. Despite the short duration, it is evident that Patara is a huge site. Immediately visible are a very large Greco-Roman amphitheater; the parliament building, with its smaller semi-circular theater for parliamentary debate and decision making (sometimes referred to an Odeon); a Roman bath complex; a temple; a three-arched triumphal arch; and a large portion of the main, columned street leading, presumably to the agora, or marketplace. Records indicate there is also a large circular pit that may have been used by an oracle, but we did not see this.

Plans are in the works to make this site, a UNESCO World Heritage Site, into another Ephesus, the latter being a more renowned and historically important archaeological site. Maybe in another fifteen years, we can visit again and see the results of additional excavations; current digs are visible all over the place.

One comment about the amphitheater: As with most theaters in this area, they were constructed by the Greeks for the production of plays. The Romans later enhanced these theaters, adding a separate stage area and enclosing what had previously been an open stage area with a view of the countryside. In addition, they built higher walls at the bottom of the seating area to protect spectators from the bloody gladiatorial combats often held between man and beast. The Greeks would not have approved, I am sure. Another feature of the theater was a carved inscription with tribute to the individual who put up the money for the construction of the theater. I’d not noticed this type of inscription before, other than in large churches; I’ll look out for them in future visits to Greco-Roman ruins.

Leaving the site of Patara to its current residents – cows and goats – our bus passed many tall peaks. On top of one, I saw what looked like a lighthouse. "Not likely," I thought, as there was no water in sight. A few miles down the road, the bus stopped at a beach on the Mediterranean, where our guide, Onur, explained that the water once reached to the shores of Patara, but silted up over the millennia. That "lighthouse" that I saw was real and is believed to be the oldest Roman lighthouse in existence!

The beach near Patara is unbelievable. Fourteen kilometers long and 50 meters wide, it is totally undeveloped, as it is a wildlife refuge, designated as such for the protection of sea turtles that nest here. All along the gorgeous beach, with incredibly fine gray sand, are posts marking the exact spots where the turtles lay their eggs. In summer, the beach is well populated by sunbathers and swimmers in the beautiful, clear (unlike Fethiye) waters. The only amenity is a single building with restrooms and a small fast-food café. There are claims that some organization designated this beach as one of the ten most beautiful beaches in the world. (I’ve heard this often in my travels, but I always believe the claims because the beaches are so beautiful). Alas, the water was still warm, the air balmy, the beach and sand gorgeous, and my bathing suit remained in a bag on the bus. Sigh.

Kalkan

Arriving mid afternoon at our hotel in Kalkan, a resort community in a sheltered harbor, we find we have a small one bedroom apartment, with living room, and a fully equipped kitchen. For lunch we were on our own, but nearly all restaurants and cafes were closed either for the season or for the Bayram. So we bought some humus and simit (the Turkish equivalent of a bagel), banana and juice for a light (late) lunch, planning to eat it in the kitchen. Instead, we found outdoor seating at a closed café and ate our lunch facing a rock face and parking lot. Kalkan, especially with all the construction going on, is not particularly impressive. I wonder why it is such a well known Mediterranean resort town. (We learn why on another day).

The town seems nearly deserted, not inconsistent with a summer resort during a key family holiday. Construction of a newly widened road makes our hotel difficult to access to and from the roads leading down to the harbor. Our bus cannot navigate the roads, so we have to take mini-buses or walk to where the bus can fit. We are grateful that it is not raining, as the walks in the mud would be difficult. There is an eerie quiet in the town: shops are closed, so too most hotels, swimming pools are empty, boats are moored. Our imagination tells us, though (and the numerous closed taverns confirm) that in summer this town is one noisy, rollicking party. And the number of new summer homes and the road construction lead me to believe that the future will be even noisier and rollickinger. For now though, we will enjoy the quiet atmosphere, and watch the sun set from our balcony overlooking the harbor and the offshore islands in this beautiful Mediterranean bay.
　

Tenth week - November (Kasim) 16 - 23

Rugs – Saturday, we met with Abdulkadir Bey, our rug seller, and his wife, Neslihan, to pay for and arrange for shipping our larger rug to the States. I will carry the smaller rug back with me on the plane in December. There are several alternatives to getting the somewhat large (@ 6’ by 8') and heavy hand-knotted rug home (in photo at left). Because it is so heavy, we had assumed our best bet was to have it shipped – either to my sister’s house in Mansfield, or, if we could be sure it would arrive while I was home this December, to our house in Hampton. Abdulkadir Bey, however, suggested that he give us a piece of luggage with wheels, to take the rug on the plane (as we had done fifteen years ago). We mentioned that we no longer have the excellent courier services of Bilkent University, but instead were on our own getting ourselves to the Ankara airport in June -- first a walk or taxi ride to the subway, then a subway ride to the bus station, then a bus ride to the airport, then the plane, then Customs in New York, all while lugging all our luggage in addition to the rug and gifts we plan to distribute. Abdulkadir’s response was to offer to drive us to the airport in June!

Meanwhile, the couple’s cook was preparing a sumptuous lunch for us in the rug shop’s kitchen. Serving about eight or nine mostly vegetarian dishes, we engaged in long conversations with our hosts and a young couple who also purchased rugs on a regular basis—shipping them home to a storage site in the States. During lunch, Abdulkadir and Neslihan mentioned that a year ago, the Vice President and his wife were here to purchase rugs and have lunch with them. "Joe Biden?" we foolishly asked. No, Dick Cheney. Oof, I nearly lost my lunch. Well, not really.

While paying for the rug, and further discussing shipping, the young couple, affiliated with the U.S. State Department, offered to ship our rug to our home via APO, or the diplomatic service. They said it would be delivered to our local Post Office within five working days—or possibly longer due to the holidays both here and in the States. (Kurban Bayram here, Thanksgiving at home). For $30-$40, including insurance, we have solved our shipping problem! Hooray!

The photo above is the larger of the two rugs we bought. The other one can be viewed on my Shutterfly photo site: http://www.anatolianphotos.shutterfly.com/, along with other photos from this week.

Native American Conference - Working backwards in time, the early part of the week was spent at a conference on Native Americans at Hacettepe. More of a seminar than a conference, it included five Native American speakers, and Larry. Students in Larry’s department, American Culture and Literature, were required to attend, so there were several hundred students, faculty, and some visitors, including Embassy staff and the staff of the Turkish Coalition of America (TCA). The latter organization, based in Washington, D.C., has as one of its missions a program to bring American students to Turkey to study. (Take note, my ECSU friends).

During the two day conference, each guest speaker spoke or performed twice, except for Larry, who spoke once. The conference title, Native American Voices: Languages of Survival, led me to believe it would be an uplifting analysis of Native American resilience. Well, eventually it was, but not until after some pretty grim discussions of the suffering of indigenous peoples in America. Despite the depressing beginning, eventually the speakers addressed contemporary programs, particularly in education and literature, that spoke to the survival of Native American culture. Of all the speakers, my two favorites were Stephen Fadden, a mesmerizing story teller, and Larry, whose talk received an enthusiastic response from everyone, even the Native American guests. Mr. Fadden was a huge hit with everyone, especially the students, as he played a tune on a hand carved flute, sang a powerful song, and told stories. Few story tellers I have heard could command the kind of attention and the audience participation that he did. Only someone of his caliber could have an auditorium full of faculty members and shy students imitating American bird calls, and shouting "Hi, Mom" to his mother while he videotaped our greeting to his Mom. His second talk was more serious, and dealt with broader issues of culture. Larry’s talk was on the Pequot massacre in Mystic in the 17th century, and the removal in recent years of the statue to the American leader of the massacre—John Mason. Larry’s talk was also very well received; the students like him a great deal.

One of my most vivid memories of this conference, despite the interesting talks and the discussions with the guests, was the food. OMG, it seems that all we did was eat between sessions. Lunches were at the college’s faculty cafeteria (which is really a sit-down restaurant). Lots of good food. Dinner the first night was at a downtown tavern, or meyhane, specializing in fish. I had fried smelts for the first time in decades (my dad used to prepare them for us). Because one of the managers of the tavern is the husband of one of Larry’s colleagues, the restaurant went all out to feed us more than we could humanly consume. I even took a picture of the table full of meze, or "appetizers." By way of example, here are the desserts that were served one at a time: 1. Sliced fresh fruit; 2. Baked quince with walnuts & sugar sauce; 3. hot halve with cheese; 4. and some tasty slices of cake, with fresh pomegranate seeds sprinkled all over it, and clotted cream in the middle. The second night’s dinner was at the "White House," or Beyaz Ev, on the Hacettepe campus, where we’ve eaten several times. The food was surprisingly mediocre here. Maybe I’m getting spoiled. The third night was a private party at Meldan’s, just down the street from our apartment. The twenty five people (approx.) helped ourselves to enough food for about fifty more. The term "pot luck" seems to mean something a bit different here. My lentil dish (by request) was only one of about two dozen dishes—mostly beautifully displayed. A waiter served us drinks and took our plates and put the food out, then cleared it for the seven different desserts people brought—every one home made, and everyone amazing (tiramisu, "Turkish delight," which was nothing like the candy we see everywhere—really sponge cake and cream rolled in coconut and other great ingredients – pumpkin and walnuts, home made baklava, chocolate cake. Oy! I’m glad we walked home that night! There are so many new foods that we tried this week that I’ve begun a new chronicle of the foods I am discovering. I will post these at some point when I don’t have much else to add to this blog.

Anitkabir Spor Salonu – Larry and I ventured back to the area of the Anitkabir; i.e., Ataturk’s Mausoleum. During Cumhuriyet Bayram we had passed what looked like a large running track, so this week we wanted to see if it is open to the public. It is! In fact, it is open from 5:00 a.m. to midnight every day. We are amazed at how big it is and how many people use it. So twice now, we have used the facility, which is about a 20 minute walk from our home. In addition to the eight-lane track, which is beautifully kept up, there is an outdoor gym with about three times the number of machines we have available in our park across the street from our apartment. There are also chin up bars, stretch bars, wooden platforms for sit-ups and stretches, and free weights – all outside! Also, a basketball court, soccer field, rest rooms and, along the outside of the track, columns containing speakers playing music with an excellent walking beat. The music can only be heard as you pass the pillars; they do not broadcast throughout the park, so it is not at all annoying. Between the pillars, the rose bushes are still in bloom! We are delighted to have found this center, even though we will not be able to visit very often. It is a little too long a walk to use every day. If only it were closer. Now, if I can find an indoor pool, I will be very very happy. Which brings us to next week’s blog—summarizing our upcoming trip to the Mediterranean where, someone suggested it MAY be warm enough to swim. I doubt it, but I’ll bring my suit anyway.

Ninth week, November (Kasim) 10 - 15 - Rugs and Efes Blues Festival 20

For photos of the Efes Blues Festival, see: http://anatolianphotos.shutterfly.com/ To read the picture captions, click on "Slideshow." Or click on: "See all 22 pictures," then click and advance each picture.

I am shortening this week's post a bit. Monday November 16, begins a conference on Native Americans at Hacettepe, so, instead of beginning my blog on Tuesday, as I normally do, I will begin next week's blog on Monday instead. Besides, the week's activities of note nearly all happened on one day anyway--Saturday.

Rug Shopping Fifteen years ago, we purchased two Turkish rugs from a seller named Abdulkadir Ersoy. We refer to him as Kadir Bey, "Bey" being a term of respect for a man. His shop, where he sells hand-knotted rugs, kilims (small woven rugs), and some pottery, is called Best Koleksyon. Larry, with his remarkable memory, recognized the shop as we drove by on our epic bus ride to the Fulbright Orientation many weeks ago. In the meantime, our move to Bahcelievler put us within walking distance of the shop, albeit a long walk--about 50 minutes each way.

Kadir Bey, besides being a rug seller and chemist (he still teaches the occasional chemistry class at Middle East Technical University), also wrote several books about Turkish rugs, two of which we had purchased on our long ago visit. We found the shop with no trouble late Saturday morning and purchased two beautiful hand-knotted rugs, one of which is made from wool dyed with all vegetable dyes. Since the latter, a fairly large rug, was pretty expensive, we did not bring enough money with us. So next Saturday, we will join Kadir Bey and his family for lunch at the shop and pick up or arrange to have shipped our beautiful new larger rug. The smaller rug we've already paid for was light enough (sort of) to carry home with us in a large kilim bag given us by the remarkable Mr. Ersoy.

Our rug seller also discussed an annual tour he leads to nomadic tribes making many of the rugs he sells in his shop. Not only does his tour visit nomads, it also visits dye shops, knotting and weaving workshops, and some of the shepherds themselves. We requested that we be kept in mind for the next tour, which should happen sometime around Memorial Day.

The Efes Blues Festival 20 On Friday and Saturday night, the Bilkent Hotel hosted the 20th annual Efes Blues Festival. With Saturday night tickets in hand (purchased at a downtown bookstore that was remarkably easy to find, thank heavens), Larry and I joined two graduate students, and met up with many more, as well as some junior faculty members, for an evening of remarkable music, lots of noise, and plenty of Efes beer, on the East Campus of Bilkent University, our old haunt. I started to post a video clip to this post of one of the performers, Terry Evans. “Shake, rattle, and roll,” the content of the video, was not his best piece, but it is the only video I succeeded in capturing. However, while the video was loading, I remembered that doing so is probably illegal, so I canceled the upload. Oops. Sorry; looks like you'll just have to visit his web site (see below) to get a sense of his talent.

Arriving two hours before the beginning of the concert--in order to get a close parking spot--our student driver, Gozde, and her friend Kenan, spent time in the hotel pub, while Larry and I walked up to our former apartment complex on the Bilkent campus. Once again, my memory played tricks on me. I had completely forgotten how desolate the walk up that hill to the complex was. Walking up a partially lit (it was dark by then) crumbling sidewalk, along a heavily travelled road), to our left we saw unoccupied brushland, with a further spectacular view of nighttime Ankara. To our right was a forbidding fence surrounding the eastern part of the university. I do not remember that fence at all. Eventually we reached the apartment complex, after climbing a long steep hill. It is now fenced in as well, with a guard at the gate. (There was no fence around the apartments when we lived there). The buildings themselves are larger than both of us remembered--they each have about twelve apartments. What was particularly striking was the lovely landscaping, and cozy feel to the entire complex (after the desolate walk, that is). When we lived there, the buildings were less than a year old, and were surrounded mostly by mud. Plantings began fifteen years ago about one week before we left to come home to the U.S. Anna's kindergarten school, a mere 100 feet or so from our apartment, looked exactly the same as when she attended.

When we arrived back at the hotel, the crowds had begun to build, but we still had one hour before the beginning of the concert, so we joined our friends in the hotel bar and had a (very expensive) Efes beer. Once the concert began, Larry and I positioned ourselves in front of the stage. The venue was the large ballroom of the hotel; attending were thousands of mostly college students--all happily drinking Efes beer (I assume it was cheaper in the ballroom than in the pub) and cheering and dancing to the terrific music. Billed as a "blues" festival, there were three featured artists, each performing his/her separate set: Ray Shinnery (http://www.rayschinnery.net/html/about.php), Terry Evans (http://www.terryevansmusic.com/), and Shemekia Copeland (http://www.alligator.com/index.cfm?section=artists&artistid=41).

These American artists, who are not the "top tier" of blues performers, according to those in the know (not me--I don't know blues music much) were nonetheless terrific. They certainly knew how to play the crowd. Ray Shinnery, the first performer, was quiet at first, and had a terrific voice. As he progressed through his set, his songs and guitar increased in intensity. The crowd responded by singing along with "Ain't no sunshine since she's gone," with its repetitive, "I know, I know, I know, I know, etc." The end of his set erupted in exuberant cheers. Terry Evans, the second performer, reminded me somewhat of James Brown, but without the acrobatic moves. He, too, was terrific, and got a rousing reception by the more excitable crowd, who continued drinking the Efes constantly served by attendants adept at maneuvering through the gyrating and cheering crowd. By the time Shemekia Copeland began the evening's third set, we were all dancing and making lots of noise, with hands held high, clapping in rhythm. The excitement of the crowd somehow didn't fit into my concept of "The Blues," but who cares. (Later, people who know blues music better than I do said, "it wasn't REALLY blues music).

About halfway through the last set, as the crowd was having a rousing good time, our driver apologized profusely about having to leave early to avoid the after-concert rush. By then my feet were killing me anyway (we had already walked about 2 1/2 hours that day, and stood another 3 hours at the concert), so I was quite willing to leave early, even if the concert was still going strong. When I saw the number of cars parked along the roadway (seemed like thousands, but probably not), I was even happier to leave early. All this in one day!

The remaining days of this week were nearly uneventful, except for a second dinner party I hosted for Meldan and her brother, Ercan (Gulriz was ill and could not come). I served some of the same dishes as my previous dinner party, with the addition of pasta and my tomato sauce, and my version of the Turkish mercimek corbasi (red lentil soup), and a few other changes, cooked (again) over several days.

So now begins the big week in Larry's department. A two day conference entitled: Native American Voices: Languages of Survival, with all classes cancelled in the department and student attendance mandatory. But I’ll save that for the next week’s blog.

Eighth week - November (Kasim) 3 - 9. Roman Ankara

The highlight of this week was a walking/bus tour of Roman Ankara (then called Ancyra), led by an excellent, enthusiastic tour guide, an archaeologist from Middle East Technical University here in Ankara. And it was in English, so I actually understood what she said.

For more photos, please see: http://anatolianphotos.shutterfly.com/ (Turkey, eighth week - Roman Ankara).

First stop—the Hisar, or citadel in Ulus again. Although the inner fortress on the tallest hill in Ankara was built by the Romans, the outer wall is Byzantine and dates from the 9th century. Our intent in visiting the outer wall was to view the various pieces of Roman architecture that were incorporated into the building of the later wall. Although most of the wall, with its 20 towers, is constructed of a pinkish stone found in the vicinity of Ankara (some day we’ll figure out what that stone is), everywhere one can see white marble fragments of Roman building blocks, elaborate key stones, mantels, inscribed plaques, and so on. I’m not sure why we did not visit the inner Roman wall on this trip; perhaps because there is not much of it left. But Larry and I (and Anna) visited many years ago; I hope to do so again. It is in the center of a fascinating city-within-a-city, with narrow, winding alleys, if I am remembering correctly.

While visiting mostly the wall, Professor Guven also explained a little of the history of the town within the wall—at least the later, Turkish Republic, history. Not far from the outside of the wall were the early Republic government buildings. So inside the wall, the governing class built their substantial houses, with gorgeous views of the rest of Ankara and the countryside around the city, with its many hills. Over time, and with the construction of government buildings and residences elsewhere in the city, the citadel houses became run down, and the entire section became the “poor” area of the 20th century city. These days, it is once again slowly being gentrified, with restaurants and tourist shops everywhere, and some of the houses themselves are being renovated.

The view from the wall tells another story: there are still gece condular! In one of my first posts, I mention that these “night houses” had been destroyed and replaced with high rise apartment houses. Not so the ones on the hill across from the citadel. I suspect that these gece condos may still be around because they are older and somewhat more substantial than those that had been built and subsequently destroyed near the airport. The remaining condos (in reality, houses hugging the hillside) also lend a picturesque view from the touristy citadel, although this may be somewhat cynical of me to say so.

Another view from the citadel is an overview of what was once Roman Ankara, which takes me back to the subject of this post.The next stop down the hill from the citadel is the newly excavated Roman Theater. Currently surrounded by a chain link fence, under which we had to stoop to enter the site, this is a work in progress. It was found fairly recently, but, as it sits in the middle of a section of housing, excavations have been slow. After some buildings were cleared, the site was neglected for a time, only to become a favorite nightly hangout of unsavory characters in addition to a local dump for the nearby residents. Eventually the authorities constructed the fence and cleaned up the site; I believe the excavations are ongoing. The statues found at this site have been moved to the Museum of Anatolian Civilizations, just up the hill within the outer wall of the Citadel. Our guide is in hopes that the excavations of the Theater will continue and the site becomes an important historical park in the city.

Our third stop was the spectacular Monumentum Ancyranum, or Temple of Augustus and Rome, the walls of which contain the only extant contemporary copy of the Res Gestae Divi Augusti, or Acts of Augustus, the first Roman Emperor. Fifteen years ago, we stumbled on this site, which was covered in scaffolding and sat in the middle of a residential/commercial area. After many years of work, and many delays I understand, the site is now an official historical center and is open to the public. It is quite amazing to see on the remaining walls an account of Augustus’s accomplishments, in both Latin and Greek, knowing that this is the only contemporary copy remaining. There is reference on the wall to the “original” in Rome, but that original has never been found by recent historians or archaeologists. Attached to the remaining walls of the temple is a mosque that is several hundred years old and still in use; in fact, there was a funeral about to be held there during our visit to the Roman site.

Continuing down the hill toward the center of Roman Ankara, we passed by the column of Julian, which reputedly was constructed in honor of Emperor Julian, the Apostate. (I am currently reading Gore Vidal's fictionalized version of this emperor's life, appropriately titled, Julian.) The column is topped with a large stork's nest; fifteen years ago, we actually saw the stork land on its nest! I'm not sure there is still a stork living there, but I believe there is. The column apparently had been moved several hundred feet when the early Turkish Republic's first parliament building and administrative offices were built around the circle where the column now resides. These early Republic buildings are quite beautiful, in my opinion.

Not far from Julian's column, we had a brief view of a recently uncovered section of a Roman road, still partially obscured by an outdoor cafe. The width of the road is such that it is believed to have been a pedestrian road, perhaps the central pavement of the agora. There is no evidence of wheel ruts, so it was likely not used by vehicles.

Next stop: The Roman Baths (or Roman Hamam). First we took an elevator to the ninth floor of a government building, to look down and across a busy street to the excavated site of the huge Roman bath complex. This is in a part of the Ulus neighborhood we have seldom visited, if ever. We had no idea this was here! Of course, from the ground level, it is behind a fence. But still . . . . Once on the ground and in the museum site, we had another excellent introduction to the concept of Roman baths by our super tour guide, Ms. Guven.

First walking through hundreds of marble Roman artifacts stored on site for the Museum of Anatolian Civilizations, which doesn’t have room for all these additional treasures, we reached the site of the foundation of the baths. It represents one of the larger combined gymnasium/bath complexes in the Roman Empire, this one built in the 3rd century to honor Asclepius, the God of Medicine. With an open area, called the palaestra, surrounded by additional exercise and massage rooms, this was a central part of the bath complex.

The attached baths, with the typical caldarium (hot room), tepidarium (warm room) and frigidarium (cold room), also had a large, oval wading pool, perhaps three feet deep, where people hung out to socialize (or conspire according to 20th century Roman epics). The caldarium was larger than normal to accommodate Ankara’s harsh winters. (Rome was warmer). When I look around the outskirts of the city, where there are few trees for hundreds of miles in either direction, I have some sense of where some of the ancient forests may have gone.

At the end of our trip, we were bussed to what is by reputation the best “kebab” restaurant in town. A beautiful restaurant, alas, it served nothing but two types of kebab: Uladag doner, and Iskender doner, both mostly sliced beef. Larry and I each had a miniscule salad, a piece of bread, and some dessert. My krem caramel turned out to be very tasty “flan.” Then we went home and raided our refrigerator.

Seventh week - October (Ekim) 27 - November (Kasim) 2

This week’s highlights include the Cumhurriyet Bayram, or Turkish Republic Day (the equivalent of our Fourth of July holiday), and a second trip to Yedigoller National Park, this time successfully accomplished. For photos of this week's events, please see: http://anatolianphotos.shutterfly.com/

Oct 29 marks the anniversary of the founding of the Turkish Republic in 1923, so this year’s celebration is the 86th anniversary of the country’s beginning, as envisioned by Ataturk.

We live in the country’s capital city, Ankara, in a neighborhood within walking distance of the Anatkabir, Ataturk’s Mausoleum. So, with the university and other institutions closed for the holiday (on Thursday this year), and the weather a beautiful, warm, 70 degrees or so, we decided to take the walk to the Mausoleum and see what’s up. We knew in advance that there would be a parade and a visit by the country’s president. The latter would lay a wreath at Ataturk’s tomb (something President Obama did just a few months ago). But, before we left, we saw – and heard – the military jets flying in closely timed formation over the Mausoleum, so we figured (correctly) that we missed the President’s ceremony.

On the walk to the Anitkabir, we noted the numerous Turkish flags draped outside buildings, including homes. The flags, some of which depicted portraits of Ataturk, on official buildings and other large institutional buildings, were enormous, often covering an entire side of a multiple story building. Approaching the Mausoleum, the crowds grew thicker, the vendors more numerous (selling flags, balloons, headbands, plaques, water bottles, and simit (the bagel type treat, covered with sesame seeds—yum!). At one point, we found ourselves standing in line, waiting to get into the complex and pass through security. This was clearly the place to be on Republic Day—possibly the most appropriate locale in the entire country to celebrate this particular holiday.

Inside the complex were lines of thousands of people waiting to get into the Mausoleum itself to pay respects to the country’s founder. We decided to wait to pay our respects on another day when it was not so crowded. (In fact, we had been here fifteen years ago). Instead, we did a lot of people watching; for example, we watched a mini-parade carrying a large portrait of Ataturk up the Mausoleum steps, then down through the crowds. Meanwhile, people sang numerous patriotic songs. At the end of the courtyard opposite the Mausoleum was the burial site of President Inonu, the second president of the Republic, and a person noted for his role in the War of Independence prior to the establishment of the country. Beneath the sarcophagus was a small museum of Inonu’s accomplishments. Surrounding the courtyard itself, and behind a large colonnade, is a museum celebrating Ataturk’s military prowess and the founding of the Republic. We perused some of these exhibits to escape the crowds.

Leaving the Anatkabir complex, we exited from a different direction, walking (again with thousands of others) along the “Lion Walk,” a long, wide boulevard flanked by dozens of stone lions. This walk in particular, and much of the complex, were strongly reminiscent of Egyptian temple complexes, but without reference to religious matters. The lion walk ended with two towers—Freedom and Independence-- each containing additional artifacts and historical information (in Turkish and English). Our visit to Anatkabir fifteen years ago was with an organized tour. This time we went solo, enabling us to spend a very leisurely visit at one of Turkey’s most revered sites.

Two day later, we headed again to downtown Ankara’s Tempo Tur location, to board a bus for another attempt at reaching the Yedigoller Mille Parki (Seven Lakes National Park). This two-day trip was similar to the one that ended so abruptly two weeks before, except that the itinerary for the first day was entirely different. How lucky for us that we didn’t have to repeat the first day’s visit from the previous tour! How unlucky for us that it rained the entire weekend. (The previous tour had warm, sunny weather). The first day’s rain was light and intermittent. The second day, when we were higher in the mountains we had light rain at first, then snow (!!!!), followed by heavier, steadier rain. Sheesh!

1st day itinerary: First we stopped at Abant, a lake resort, with several large hotels and restaurants surrounding a large lake. We had two hours to wander around the lake, following a paved road, a new boardwalk through a pretty swamp, and paved pathways surrounding parts of the lake. Larry and I, who headed out on our own (this time it was okay), ate our bagged lunch sitting on a covered swing, trying to stay dry. On several occasions, I tried to take photographs of the horse-drawn decorated carriages that carried people around the lake—those who preferred not to walk, that is. Alas, they were just too fast for me to get my camera ready. We considered walking the entire distance around the lake, which was pretty big, but decided it was not worth risking missing the bus. I think we would have needed three hours to complete the circuit, not the two hours that we had.

Next stop: Golkoy Dam Lake. Driving through several villages, we stopped at a coffee shop (closed, though) on the lake, which we think may be a reservoir. As with last week, the tour was conducted in Turkish, so we don’t know the story about this lake. (We eventually found at least six people among the twenty who speak English). There was no chance, though, that we could walk around here, as the rain increased and the beach was muddy and slippery. Instead, we resigned ourselves to a less than thrilling first day.

HOWEVER, we did not read our itinerary correctly. The best was yet to come! Climbing up (in the bus) a mountain road, we caught a glimpse of a large white cliff higher up the mountain. Where we were expecting to visit a cave, it turned out that the word we were misinterpreting was “traverten,” which means, roughly, calcium formation. We were headed up the mountain to visit a mini-Pamukkale. (For information and photos of the latter, please see: http://www.turizm.net/cities/pamukkale/index.html )

First stop at the Travertens was the Cesme (fountain), where two fountains spill out warm (although not hot) mineral water. Despite my bout with food poisoning two weeks earlier, and my vow not to eat or drink anything outside, I decided to take the chance and drink some of the salty mineral water. We all partook, so I figured this time, if I got sick, everyone else would too. Our driver – everyone called him “Captain” – brought two huge water bottles to fill from the fountain to take home with him. (Of course this meant that he and our guide had to carry them back uphill to the bus, a heavy undertaking).

After we drank our fill and took our photos, we headed back uphill to the actual “Traverten,” the cascading mineral deposits formed by the dissolution of minerals in the rock by the warm waters flowing down the side of the mountain. Not as spectacular as Pamukkale, farther west in Turkey, it is nonetheless very impressive. Somebody, however, decided that this formation may prove to be more of a tourist draw if it were made to resemble Pamukkale more than it does. So (and this is my interpretation), the waters were channeled through constructed cement troughs to spill in a controlled flow to create the scalloped pools so prevalent at Pamukkale. If you check my photos on the Shutterly site (Turkey – seventh week), you will see that several decades of this controlled flow is beginning to take effect. Unfortunately, the scalloped pools are all in a row, and look very artificial. Above the travertine was also constructed a large pool and what looks like the beginning of a tourist area. Unfortunately, something intervened (the current global financial crisis? or maybe other events) to prevent the completion of a serviced tourist area, and it all looks somewhat abandoned. Nonetheless, we enjoyed it immensely. Despite my fear of heights, I mustered up the courage to walk down a small walk on the edge of the mountain to take some photos. No one, though, had the nerve to go down the stone steps leading even closer to the travertine; it was just too wet (still raining) and scary looking.

Next stop: the Koroglu Hotel. Our itinerary has this hotel listed, much to my relief. At least I won’t be eating the same food that (maybe) got me sick last time. Plus, the Prestige Hotel, where we last stayed, was awfully noisy. After a long, winding drive through the narrow streets of Bolu, the Captain (who got lost a few times) finally found the hotel – The Prestige Hotel—the same one as last time! Ack! What are we doing here? Turns out our itinerary was wrong—eveyone else’s said Prestige Hotel. Naturally, and to my great embarrassment, the hotel staff recognized us and asked how I was feeling. Turns out that we had a smaller, but better located, room, so the noise was not so much an issue this time. Besides, there were fewer people staying there this time, so the live entertainment did not continue as late. The entertainment that was there was also of a quieter nature this time—Turkish folk music. And the food was still excellent, even though I avoided most of the uncooked dishes. So, the Prestige Hotel has vindicated itself in my view. If only, now, it were in a more interesting part of town. We tried walking around the neighborhood, but it wasn’t very attractive; and it was raining. (I had left my umbrella by mistake in the bus, and the Captain was nowhere to be found).

Next day: Yedigoller!

After a light hotel breakfast, we headed out of Bolu to Yedigoller National Park. The clouds had thickened from the day before, but we all had our jackets and/or umbrellas and were ready for the long-awaited adventure.

Three hours of driving were necessary to get us to the park. About one half, maybe two thirds, of the journey took us over some very scary mountain roads. Although the park was not all that far away – maybe twenty miles? – I would guess the Captain drove no faster than five or ten miles per hour on those roads.

Sitting at a left window seat, I basically had one of the scariest views. Hugging the mountain side on the right, the bus’s left wheels (and my head) were no more than two feet or so from the edge of the unpaved, one lane road, with no guardrails. What was beyond those two feet put my heart in my throat – a drop of maybe one thousand feet or so down the mountainside. We’re not talking vertical cliff per se. But it was an immediate drop at an angle I estimate to be about 20 degrees. (or 160 degrees, depending on how one is looking at the angle; I forget my geometry here). Whatever the angle, it was ALMOST straight down. I kept looking at the trees growing on the slope (so it couldn’t be THAT steep, right?), determining whether they were strong enough to stop a cascading bus.

Then, as we climbed higher and the rain continued, it turned to snow! Aiieeee! Now we’re on an unpaved mountain road in the snow! I want to go home! The Captain stopped at the top of the highest mountain we traversed; it was sort of a rest stop, except I wasn’t sure there was a rest room anywhere. A small building sat at the summit, atop lots of stone steps. No one went up those steps; I would guess the building wasn’t open. Next to the bus, though, was a series of three small shacks, with a woman selling a variety of goods, such as large mushrooms she likely picked herself, and small bunches of dried yellow flowers. I was too cold to search for money to buy any of the flowers (forget wild mushrooms!). A small table seemingly ready for tea remained unused. We wondered how on earth this solo woman got up here, as we saw no houses anywhere on our trek up the mountain. We did see a man and some cows on the side of the road earlier; likewise we wondered how (and why) he was there. Just another mystery we will continue to ponder.

The descent on the other side of the mountain wasn’t quite as scary, but I was greatly relieved when we finally approached the park. Before entering, though, we made two stops to hike up some trails. With the rain continuing, we assumed that the wet, steep trails would be slippery, but they were not, much to our relief. In New England, these trails would have been impossible to traverse in the rain—very slippery. But I am thankful for small favors. The first trail led to a photo-op platform. Our view would likely have been spectacular if the mountains hadn’t been sitting in thick clouds, some of which were still spilling their contents on us. The second trail led to a gorgeous 500-year old black pine tree holding court at the top of a tall hill. We loved it. Both trail walks took about ½ hour each. I felt badly for the people who were not up to climbing and had to wait in the cold bus for us (about 10 – 12 of us) to return.

Once we got in the park, the rain got heavier. We hiked around a few of the lakes, while we women kept our eyes peeled for a WC, or rest room. After we succeeded, we were able to enjoy the remaining lakes and waterfalls. The park was really very pretty, but nothing as impressive as that road that led to it. I have a feeling that the approach itself is very much part of the park experience. Anyway, we saw more pretty lakes, the significance of which is that they are all on different levels and spill into each other with waterfalls. We were told that all seven lakes were once joined as one, then separated. I don’t quite get it, but I’m sure there is some geological explanation for this phenomenon.

Before tackling the last lake, we decided we were too hungry to do so. So, while the Captain cooked kofte (like little hamburgers), sausages, and tavuk (marinated chicken), we – too hungry to wait – made cheese and veggie sandwiches, and wolfed them down with relish. All while hovering next to the barbecue pits, covered with a leaking roof that fit only a few people under it at a time. The rain kept getting more insistent, and we all started to shiver from the cold. Any wonder, then, that by consensus, we decided to cut the day short and skip the last lake hike? Off we went, back to Ankara, with one rest stop at a place where I could have spent a fortune on locally packaged treats.

And no food poisoning! Yay!