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.