Antalya
For photos and more detailed explanations, see http://anatolianphotos.shutterfly.com/
under "Antalya, Perge, Alanya."
Last summer, some ECSU colleagues returned from a trip to Turkey, waxing poetic about how beautiful the city of Antalya was—despite the heat there at the time. My memory of Antalya from our 1990s visit was of large resort hotels, lots of noise, and, okay, the impressive Hadrian’s gate. That memory was ingrained in me from the brief stopovers in Antalya on our way to other places; e.g., Kemer, Alanya, and a boat ride to a pirate’s cave. But we never actually spent time in Antalya. So, when the Friends of ARIT (American Research Institute of Turkey) advertised a tour of Antalya, Perge and Alanya, led by a leading archaeologist of the area, we signed up.
This trip began with a one hour plane ride, rather than a nine hour bus trip. So we arrived in good time to have lunch and check into our hotel in the old, historic part of Antalya, called Kaleici (pronounced Kahlay eechee). What a difference from my original impressions of Antalya. This area is beautifully restored and/or kept as it has been for hundreds of years. Gorgeous Ottoman houses, many transformed into small hotels and pensions, are separated by nearly car-free cobblestoned alleys. It is a quiet, peaceful area, at least during this off-season, with excellent restaurants, interesting souvenir shops, and cafes, interspersed with the town’s ancient city walls.
From the vantage point of a seaside park on top of a cliff, we could see the curving shoreline west, emanating from the smaller harbor, now a yacht marina, with the cliffs rising from the sea, topped by housing and hotels. From one part of the cliffs spewed a waterfall. The small marina used to be the main entry into the town by boat. Because the Byzantines and later Ottomans weren’t inviting just anyone into their town, the small beach gave way to high walls protecting them from marauders. Only a steep stairway gave access to the city.
The morning rain gave way to just clouds, obscuring the view of the Taurus mountains surrounding the city. Scott Redford, our guide and an archaeologist, tried to describe how unusually dramatic the mountains were, but we couldn’t see any trace of them at all. The bottom picture above, though, shows what Scott was talking about; the next day they finally emerged from the clouds.
After a long history lesson by Scott, we wandered as a group along the inner city walls, where he further explained his interpretations of various Arabic inscriptions embedded high in the walls. Two years of research led him to an understanding of what he described as Seljuk political propaganda, wasted on the populace, in that the inscriptions were placed too high for people to actually read. The inscriptions, however, and additional ornamentations depicted, according to Scott, a surprising level of religious tolerance between the Muslim rulers and the local Muslim, Christian, and Jewish inhabitants.
Following one arm of the city gates, we encountered Hadrian’s gate, a three-arched gate constructed to honor the visit of Emperor Hadrian to the city. Fifteen years ago, I was able to get a good photograph of this historical structure. But, for some reason, I could not get a good photographic view this time. I suspect that the road behind me had been widened, preventing me from backing up sufficiently to take in the entire structure. The bottom of the middle arch is now covered with a glass walkway, to protect the stones below, deeply grooved by Roman carriages over many hundreds of years. This glass walkway is new and, to me, detracts from the beauty of the gate. Nonetheless, I understand the rationale behind protecting the stones from touristy feet, ours included.
Around four o’clock, we were scheduled to meet with another archaeologist, at the site of the ruins of a Byzantine Church, later a mosque, which is currently undergoing excavation and renovation. We waited for him to finish a lecture at a newly renovated museum, the Suna-Inan Kirac Kaleici museum and research center. The center included somewhat hokey, but interesting, wax figurines posing in Ottoman period costumes in reproduction Ottoman rooms. After his lecture, the Turkish archaeologist opened the gates to the archaeological church/mosque site, where we learned of the history of this building, called Kesik Minare, or Broken Minaret. (The minaret WAS broken). Originally constructed in the 2nd century as a Roman temple, it was converted to the Church of the Virgin Mary by the Byzantines in the 6th century, and later made into a mosque (around the 12th century?) The previous week had experienced torrential, deadly rains – people died in the floods not far from here – resulting in the collapse of one of the walls of the church. As such, we were limited to standing in the center of the ruins and advised not to wander too far near the walls. They certainly looked precarious.
After the church visit, we had some free time before dinner. So Larry and I wandered through the large, pretty park, where we watched the light fade as the sun set (couldn’t actually see the sun; it was still cloudy), and took some nighttime photos of the picturesque scene.
Our hotel, Atelya Art Hotel, consists of three or four (I forget which) converted Ottoman houses. The "lobby" is actually in a beautiful outdoor courtyard, with oranges ripening on the trees. Our room was very large and decorated in typical Ottoman style—dark colors, old kilims, lace, copper tabletop, carved wooden ceiling, etc. One room, occupied by another couple in our group, was in the attic and extended the entire length of the building. I could live there; it was big enough, and beautiful enough. I’ve even included a picture of their room in my photos of this trip. Our room was accessed by exiting the courtyard, crossing an alleyway, entering the "main" door of another building, and walking through Ottoman sitting rooms, library, and hallways. Alas, because it is off season, and the hotel owners opened the buildings just for us, it was very cold and had a pervasive smell of moisture and mustiness. Ah well, it was worth it just for the experience of staying in such an unusually pretty space.
Dinner that night was at an elegant restaurant. The food was sculptured and delicious. The wine surrounding us on the walls, up to the ceilings, was good. The dessert was a choice of cheesecake or chocolate soufflé (Turkish?), served ala culinary school. Aha! I had forgotten that ARIT tourists are well fed.
Antalya Museum
The next day’s itinerary included a tour of the Greek/Roman/Byzantine ruins of the city of Perge. But first, we visited the Antalya Museum, which housed most of the gorgeous, huge sculptures taken for protection and display from Perge during excavations of the site.
This museum is in many ways as impressive and significant as the magnificent archaeological museum in Ankara, except that the Antalya building was nondescript, unlike the Ankara museum, a converted Ottoman era "han." In one part of the museum, artifacts found from early civilizations (Paleolithic, Calceolithic, Copper, Bronze, and Iron Ages, and so on) are displayed chronologically. But what distinguishes this museum from the one in Ankara, besides the building, is that another part of the museum displays artifacts from specific sites displayed together in one large case, but representing all the known civilizations that occupied the site. The items included ancient pottery, Roman jewelry, Byzantine objects, even 17th century ceramics. As part of these eclectic displays, each case prominently highlights the archaeologist responsible for excavations at the respective sites, with photos, research focus, and the institutions that supported them. I thought this was a particularly imaginative approach and gave credit to the profession responsible for salvaging so much of the rich history of this region. Kudos to this museum.
Nonetheless, the main reason we were visiting this museum was to see the Roman sculptures found in Perge. Oh my goodness, these sculptures are magnificent. One room of sculptures included various gods, as expected, such as Nemesis, the god of both good and bad "luck," and the city’s home god. In addition, though, were mass produced copies of well known sculptures of the gods; e.g., Aphrodite emerging from her bath. These workshop produced artifacts gave us a chance to see some of the techniques of the artisans in creating statues that could be shipped long distances without breakage. There is a reason, too, it turns out, that large statues of people or gods nearly always are leaning on something; e.g., a lion, a camel, or some heavy weaponry. Without the support of these secondary objects, the statues would topple before long.
The highlight of the museum, was a large room constructed to hold the statues and frieze reliefs from a single building – the theater – of Perge. I tried to take a photo of the entire room, it was so impressive. But, of course, without the ability to use a camera flash, the photo is inadequate. Even with a flash, I probably would not have succeeded in conveying the grandeur of this room. The gods were huge and leaning forward somewhat. This was so they could be adequately seen on their high niches in the tall wall of the theater, from the audience below. Interestingly, I was troubled by one huge statue of a warrior, whose head seemed oddly too small for his body. I asked another prominent archaeologist (Charles Gates) who was traveling with us, what he thought about this statue. He said he never noticed the odd size of the head and, yes, he believes it does not really belong to the rest of the statue. Another person in our group noticed another oddity, which I cannot remember at the moment. Maybe we should notify the museum of our findings; maybe they already know them and don’t need a bunch of tourists to tell them their job.
One last exhibition hall we perused highlighted what is called the "Treasure of the Century," including thousands of coins from the 5th century B.C.E. that were once spirited out of the country, then recently returned after ten years of litigation against a U.S. collector who insisted on keeping them. The coins were in mint condition and included, in addition to thousands of small ones, fourteen large commemorative coins called "decadrahmi," produced by the Athenians to commemorate Greece's defeat of the Persians. These 10-drachma coins were as big as medallions. There were only seven previously known "decadrahmi." The hoard returned to Antalya included an additional fourteen. When a few years ago they came back to Turkey (which, remember, was part of Greece at one point), there was a great deal of publicity, including large posters on the sides of buses proclaiming that the "Treasure" has returned.
Leaving the museum, we looked back over the city, where suddenly the clouds cleared enough to see the mountains. Still hazy, they looked like a Chinese silk painting. They were jagged, sharply defined, spectacularly beautiful, but muted in the haze, giving them an ethereal, almost unreal quality. We were so surprised and impressed that Scott had the driver pull over so that we could get some photographs before the clouds once again swallowed them up.
Perge
After lunch – another feast of way too much food – we took the bus to the site of the excavations at Perge. This is being touted as another "Ephesus." We heard this claim a few months ago about Patara, not far from here. It seems that the success as a tourist draw has made Ephesus a model for other equally extensive ancient sites now being excavated. This phenomenon also serves as a reminder of the tremendous historical significance of so many places throughout Anatolia. I keep saying that we have to return in yet another fifteen years to see the results of all these excavations which, unfortunately, are moving somewhat slowly due to lack of funds. Perge has an interesting project currently in the works, whereby a donation of a certain amount of Turkish lira – I don’t remember how much, but it’s not a lot – enables yet one more column to be resurrected on the site of the agora, with the donor’s name inscribed on a small plaque at the base of the column. Clever, and so far reasonably successful. I even saw mention of the program, with an address to send donations, in the in-flight magazine in the airplane while returning to Turkey from the States in December.
Anyway, we began trekking along a path through tall weeds, with Roman ruins sticking up here and there. Scott’s intent was to start our tour "backwards," reversing the normal "tourist" route in order to give us a different perspective to the site. (I don’t remember what he said the difference was, except that it was "backward"). Unfortunately, the previous week’s floods were still in evidence; a huge puddle, about 50 meters long, prevented us from reaching Scott’s preferred starting point. That rain last week must have been fierce. (I had also noticed from the bus about a dozen large signs along the highway that had been snapped in half by the accompanying winds).
Like so many Greek/Roman/Byzantine sites we’ve seen, there were many of the typical buildings one associates with this type of location. What distinguishes Perge architecturally is the compactness of the locations of the significant buildings. The agora (shopping/meeting center), temple, cesme (fountain supplying water), baths, fortifications, entrance arch, theater, and stadium were all within fairly close proximity to each other. Access to the theater, from which the huge statues were taken, was prohibited because the building was structurally unsound. So, too, the long, impressive stadium, although Larry and I didn’t know about the prohibition at the stadium and wandered around on our own. No walls fell on us, thank goodness.
Another distinguishing feature is the main street. Romans were famous for their perfectly straight roads—particularly the main road connecting the most significant municipal buildings and plazas. Oddly, Perge’s main street had a bend in the middle. Scott suggests that this was due to there being an existing town, with a "crooked" long street, already in existence when the Romans arrived. The latter civilization, for some reason, chose to keep the bend in the road. Also distinguishing this road from others we’ve seen is the center "median," which is actually a water canal, bringing water from a cistern in the hills, via a cesme, or fountain, in the nymphaeum, at the end of the main road, serving as an anchor in the road’s design. The other anchor, at the opposite end of the road was once the main entrance to the city walls, later converted by the Romans to an entry "gallery" in honor of the donors of the structures. It is now referred to as the "Founders' Gallery." This section is currently under renovation, therefore covered in scaffolding.
After the Perge tour, we wrestled with sleep on the two hour bus trip to our next city, Alanya, and checked in at the Kaptan Hotel, a fancy, newish non-descript hotel on the harbor of the city, east of Antalya. The only thing I can say about the hotel per se is that my bed was incredibly uncomfortable; it tilted sideways so that I nearly fell out once during the night. The restaurant, though, was terrific. It was outside, across the street, with a view down to a pretty park skirting the harbor. Famous for its fish, the restaurant served sea bass that was out of this world. Some people had beef, and Larry and a few others were served vegetarian dishes. Again, too much food, but this time we were served sculptures of fresh, delicious fruit for dessert. Since the meal lasted until 10:30 p.m., we were glad for the light ending to the repast.
Alanya
Scott, our tour guide, had located us in rooms at the back of the Kaptan Otel in order not to have to listen to the ubiquitous disco music in the neighborhood. Luckily, I heard the thrum, thrum, thrum of the base for only about fifteen minutes before falling asleep. Others in our group were not so lucky. After a hotel breakfast, with lots of choices, Larry and I strolled around the park at the base of the hill, gazing out at the Mediterranean in the early morning. Pretty.
After checking out of the hotel, we began the long climb up the enormous rock jutting into the sea, crowned by an old citadel constructed, expanded and modified throughout successive empires. The "climb" was easy; we took our private bus.
The "rock" is said to be of the same geological construction, and as tall as, Gibraltar. It certainly is hard to miss, looming over the town below as Gibraltar does over southern Spain, although the latter rock is much longer and wider.
At the top, we first walked to the Sultan’s pavilion, a brick square, about 15 x 15 feet, jutting over a tall cliff and looking out into the sea. Legend has it that the sultan threw hapless people off this pavilion to the rocks and sea many hundreds of feet below. Scott says there is no truth to this legend as far as he knows. Since he spent twenty years working on this "rock," I’m inclined to believe him. We were protected from falling off the pavilion by a tall iron railing. Wondering why it was more than ten feet tall, Scott explained that there is another story that, from the pavilion, it is impossible to throw a stone out to the sea. Looking over the edge, the sea does look very close; the rocks below seem to extend out for only twenty feet or so. But, with generations of men bent on proving that they can throw a stone to the sea, and apparently all failing, the land behind the pavilion is now bereft of all loose stones. To protect the nearby walls and ramparts from being gradually stripped of pieces of stone and brickwork, the railing surrounding the platform was made taller than is ordinarily needed to prevent inadvertent (or otherwise) accidents.
Looking down, to the left, we viewed a long, narrow finger of rocky land jutting into the sea. On one of the "knuckles" of the peninsula is a pointy bit that looks like a sharp rock. Indeed, we are so high at this point, that it is hard to fathom that this little "point" was once a Byzantine monastery, long since abandoned.
The rest of our time on the rock, we walked down through numerous manifestations of the citadel, again reflecting the various empires that once used it as fortifications against barbarians, pirates, infidels, and so on, depending on the contemporary inhabitants. What is generally described as a "Seljuk" fortress, is really one built and modified by several empires. There is evidence of Roman construction—signified by huge stones forming the foundation for some of the walls that spill down the rock. Byzantine changes can be seen in the form of three small churches and many extensions to the walls. Seljuk modifications include more recent brickwork, and so on. We viewed soldiers’ barracks, fortified towers, cisterns, and long strings of various walls reaching down to the sea.
On the walk down, we could see the tall Red Tower at the base of the hill, a large Seljuk edifice, next to their ancient arsenal and shipyard, the best preserved medieval arsenal in the Mediterranean world. The latter three sites were on our itinerary, but we ran out of time to visit them. (Our flight back to Ankara was that afternoon). We satisfied ourselves by peering down on them from a height of about 650 feet, with the town below sparkling in the sunshine (finally!), and looking somewhat unreal, with the Taurus Mountains looming above, and the sea shining below. Great view!
On the way down we made two more stops. One was at a cliffside café, where about two thirds of the group rested and had tea. Scott led the rest of us to another vantage point, which required some courage to climb. Passing through a village and by some beautiful Ottoman summer homes, our path took us through more complex sections of the citadel, and up some fairly scary stairs, with no handrails. I made it just about five feet short of the top before my courage gave out. Larry and a few others made it to the top. About half of us did not. Nonetheless we had some spectacular views of the western view from the top of the rock, yet another manifestation of the beauty of this incredible spot.
By the time we reached the café again, a vendor had arrived, as arranged by Scott, bringing with her samples of hand woven raw silk scarves. I bought several as gifts for friends and family back home. (Spoiler alert!). She sold a lot of scarves that day. This specific type of scarf is available only in Alanya. I had bought one here fifteen years ago, but never wore it because it was too short. This time I was careful to make sure the length was sufficient to wear. (I bought myself one this time, too). Another memory of our last time here was buying a silk cacoon that we still have. This area is famous for its silk. Additionally, we once had a cup of tea inside one of the ancient cisterns, after climbing down a long stairway to the bottom of the tower. This experience is no longer allowed, darn.
The second stop on the descent was the McGhee Center, a large Ottoman building owned and used by Georgetown University for one of its study abroad programs. Scott was the director here for twenty years, until last year when he resigned to take a teaching post at a university in Istanbul. He told us he could no longer relate to students whose primary concern was the lack of broadband access, among other nuisances. It is hard to fathom living here for four months, in a cliffside Ottoman mansion, with multilevel gorgeous gardens, overlooking, from a height of about 600 feet, the beautiful Mediterranean Sea, and worrying about internet access. But, I, too, am no longer twenty years old. On the other hand, I can certainly relate to students wanting to instantly share their experiences with their friends and family back home. Proof: this blog.
At the bottom of the hill, we boarded the bus, stopped at another "boutique" Ottoman restaurant, ate another gourmet meal, and headed back to the airport for our flight back to Ankara.
In the airport, one of our companions, an employee of the U.S. State Dept. told us why he was on the phone so much as we walked down that impressive rock in Alanya. He had received an urgent message and was frantically trying to contact the appropriate people in Ankara to prevent a "person of interest" from boarding a plane there. He succeeded in stopping the bad guy from getting on the plane. Hooray!
Just one more comment about the people on our trip. With seventeen people and three guides, and lots and lots of time eating and socializing in restaurants, we got to know a lot of new people, and we got to know better those with whom we were already acquainted. What an interesting and kind group of people. One man even bought a red rose for each of the women on the tour for Valentine’s day. (He bought his wife a bouquet). We carried those roses with us everywhere, leaving them on the bus in water when we were touring sites. Thank you Ray! And the guides were terrific. Scott is a fountain of historical knowledge, although occasionally he forgot that we weren’t students. Yunis, the local guide, supplemented local historical stories. And Vicdan, the ARIT representative, kept us laughing. Thanks to any of my fellow travelers reading this blog for making this such a special experience.
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