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.