Anatolian Journey

Eastern Anatolian Tour - Day 7 (June 12)

2010-09-01T15:14:00.005-04:00

For more photos, see: http://www.anatolianphotos.shutterfly.com/

Today we head back to Ankara. With a long bus ride to face, Onur planned to break up the ride with a visit to two very special places.

Malatya – Apricot Heaven

The town of Malatya and the surrounding countryside are famous for apricots ("kayisi" in Turkish). Although they are not quite ripe yet for the season, we can see the fruits hanging on the thousands and thousands of trees visible throughout the countryside.

We stopped in town, where Onur left us on our own for about an hour, after directing us to the Grape Must Bazaar. He planned on making some purchases himself and particularly recommended the chocolate covered apricot treats and the "atom," a tennis ball size confection made of dried apricots and nuts.

So off we went in search of the bazaar and the apricots, having no clear idea of where we were supposed to find them (Onur was a little vague in his directions). After a few false starts, we wandered into a shop full of hundreds of apricot gift and culinary choices. I found the famous chocolate covered apricots; while paying for them, the entire group of our fellow German travelers and Onur crowded into the shop, lending an carnival atmosphere to the shop as we ooo-ed and ahh-ed our way through the selections, and kept the shopkeepers extremely busy.

A colleague of Larry’s was planning a going away party for us in a few days, as was Ercan, Meldan’s brother. So we needed some gifts to carry back with us. After jockeying for space around our fellow tourists, we bought lots more chocolate apricots for Ercan (keeping the first package for ourselves and Anna), and some nicely packaged dried apricot confections for Barish and his wife. Then, when we selected one of those calorie-packed "atoms," the shopkeeper insisted we take it free of charge. Leaving the shop, we wandered through the streets sharing the "atom" and wishing we had bought more. Delicious!

With a good half hour left of our free time, we joined Gisela and her friend Doris for a cup of tea in an open-air second-story tea room. There we got to know these interesting women much better—sorry that we waited until our last day of travel together to do so.

Karatay Caravanserai (or Han)

Some hours later, we stopped at a 13th century caravanserai, which Onur tells us is really an inn, or "han." The information sign says "caravanserai," the web sites refer to it both ways, and our itinerary says "caravanserai. " I never did figure out the difference. "Karatay Han" translates to "The Black Foal Inn."

One distinction of this Seljuk structure, built to accommodate merchants traveling along this major portion of the Silk Road, the Malatya-Kayseri road, is the elaborate stonework on the walls. Most caravanserais (or hans) have an elaborately carved portal, but the walls are generally stark, unembellished cut stone. This building is full of examples of fine carvings, including a zodiac and the double-serpent symbol of medicine. The latter image was to alert travelers to the availability of a resident doctor.

Two other distinguishing features of this inn were the beautifully constructed stone private rooms for the merchants, and, inside a large covered refectory, a raised stone platform running the length of the huge arched room. We have no idea what purpose this platform served, only assuming it was where people ate their meals, which were provided free for up to three days for each traveler.

Alas, the beautiful caravanserai, the best preserved in central Anatolia, was the last stop on our amazing Eastern Anatolian Tour. Arriving home in Ankara around 10:00 p.m., we strolled through the busy, swinging 7 Cadde (7th Ave.) in our neighborhood, jostling amongst the Saturday night café crowd as we made our way to our apartment, agreeing that to a great extent, we will miss city life, and we will most certainly miss Turkey, our second "home."

Eastern Anatolian Tour - Day 6 (June 11)

2010-08-30T12:54:00.006-04:00

For more photos, see: http://www.anatolianphotos.shutterfly.com/

Nemrut Dag Crater Lake

Oh my gosh, today we walked around the inside of a 9,000 foot high volcanic crater, in the Nemrut Dag Crater Lake park. This is not the Nemrut Dag of the huge statues from an earlier trip. "Dag" means "mountain." "Nemrut" is a generic term used in ancient times to denote "evil ruler." But Wikipedia says that "Nemrut Dag" translates to "mountain spring." Go figure.

At any rate, in the early morning of this beautiful June day, we climbed the mountain in three minibuses (our big bus can’t make it up the switchbacks), then down into the volcanic crater. Yesterday’s Turkish/English newspaper web site (Aug. 24, 2010) states that this volcano is likely to erupt again, not having done so since the 15th century. I’m glad I didn’t know that when we were there. Nonetheless, it certainly showed no signs of volcanic threat, other than some hot steam coming out of a fumarole, and some hot spring water spilling into the large lake inside the crater.

We were here early because it can get extremely hot up here. Nevertheless, we saw snow on the rim right near our photo op stop. For us, though, the temperature was perfect, the air crystal clear, and the crater magnificently beautiful. The view of the surrounding countryside was also breathtaking, including the sight of the huge Lake Van, which was created millennia ago by this very mountain when an ancient eruption created a dam, causing water to back up into today’s alkaline lake.

This is a national park, so certain rules apply, such as not bringing one’s cattle or sheep inside the crater for grazing. Nonetheless, we saw not only grazing animals, but a shepherd’s shack constructed on the banks of the pretty lake. We peeked inside for signs of a tea shop and wouldn’t have been surprised to find one. But it was deserted.

This crater is huge. The dimensions that Onur, our guide, gave us are: circumference=10 km.; diameter=3 to 4 km.; area=40 km. I’m too lazy to do the math at the moment; any takers?

Bitlis – Ihlasiye Medresesi

After emerging from Nemrut Crater, we headed for Bitlis, where the Ihlasiye Medresesi, built in 1589, has been converted into a contemporary municipal office building. When used as a medrese, or educational center connected with a mosque, the building was divided in two. On one side, students learned secular studies; e.g., science, math, philosophy and so on. The other half was the theological school. I did not catch whether the same students attended both halves of the school.

When we entered the beautiful Seljuk era building, the civil servants and officials briefly stopped what they were doing to welcome us, although they soon went back to their work. We felt pretty awkward wandering around desks, filing cabinets, computers, and of course working people, as we gawked at the features of the building, including what turned out to be a spiritual isolation chamber, built earlier in 1216.

Outside the building, we visited a collection of "turbes," or tombs, also from Seljuk times. They were built in a wide variety of styles. One looked like a boat; one was a rectangle with arched openings; one had the more familiar (to me) pointed roof; while the largest had a huge arch, surrounded by what appeared to be steps leading to heaven. They were all within a few steps of each other, looking like a graveyard, but without any smaller gravestones.

Outside the entire complex, a rock music festival was entertaining the local school children – at 10:30 a.m.! One group of uniformed teenage girls was insistent on having their pictures taken with me; I was duly charmed into complying.

One thing that struck Larry and me was the excellent condition of all the buildings and the cleanliness in general in this town, sandwiched in a narrow valley between a mountain and a river.

Elazig, Harput

On the road to Elazig, another small eastern town, we passed a variety of snow tunnels constructed to protect vehicles from marching snow drifts. This area of the country has very harsh, very long winters.

On the bus, I sure wish I had my camera working; I will never forget Larry listening to two i-pods at once; a fellow traveler wished to introduce him to a specific type of Turkish music.

The first major site was Harput Castle, a compact fortress sitting on top of a very tall, sheer outcropping. The Urartians were the first to build a fortress here in the 8th century B.C.E. It was used, repaired, and extensively modified over the next several thousand years by succeeding civilizations, including Romans (much later, of course), Byzantines, Turkmen tribes, Seljuk Turks, and finally Ottomans. As always we climbed to the top and, as always, I could not get as close to the sheer edge as everyone else. What a wimp!

The view was terrific, the buildings in ruins, and the excavations, which began as recently as 2005, included some repair and safety features—although they can use a safety fence on top of that sheer drop.

The town of Harput included a variety of historical buildings, including the Ulu Camii (Great Mosque), which is one of the oldest in all of Anatolia. It is unusual for two key features. The inner courtyard, surrounded by brick arches, is like nothing we had ever seen before—very beautiful. And the minaret leans about as much as the Tower of Pisa, except that the top is perfectly level. The leaning apparently began during construction a thousand years ago, when the mosque was built in 1156 to 1157. For some reason, it was decided to keep the minaret as is.

There were several other buildings in Harput on our itinerary, mostly mosques. Onur asked us if it was okay to skip them, as we had seen an awful lot of mosques on this trip. We all agreed that we were mosque-ed out and it was okay to just point them out from the bus. Onur said that, by contract, he was obliged to show everything on our itinerary unless the decision to do otherwise was unanimous among the paying travelers. We were in total accord and headed back to our hotel, this time another 5-star one.

Arriving back in the town of Elazig, we stayed in a swanky hotel which turned out to be something of a disappointment. The music from a wedding celebration – outside everyone’s window – blasted on until 1:00 a.m. And the food was a big disappointment. But Onur was gracious as always and did his best to ensure we were comfortable, even if he couldn’t stop the music.
　

[Note: the first image is courtesty of the Image Science & Analysis Laboratory, NASA Johnson Space Center, ISS001-E-6354 NASA].
　

Eastern Anatolian Tour - Day 5 (June 10)

2010-08-24T13:47:00.007-04:00

For more photos, see: http://www.anatolianphotos.shutterfly.com/

Van Museum

Our first visit on this day is to the small Van Museum. We were astonished to see sculptures the likes of which we had never seen before. The Hakkari Stelae, thirteen flat sculptures mounted on a wall, were discovered by a farmer as recently as 1998 in the small town of Hakkari, in the farthest southeastern corner of Turkey. Estimated to be from the 15th to the 11th centuries B.C.E., they are thought to be from the kingdom of Hubushkia, another kingdom of which I had never heard, set among extremely rugged terrain. The reason we had never seen anything like this in Turkey is that no one else had either. They are unlike anything previously found in Anatolia up to this time. They may have been contemporary with the Urartians and the Assyians, about which I am reading these days, but show strong influences of art from the Eurasian steppe, farther to the East.

In the courtyard of this nice museum was another stele, about eight feet tall, representing one of the three principal Urartian gods, Teisheba, the god of war, standing atop a bull. This large piece had been accidentally blown out of a construction site and now is displayed in pieces, but it is still quite mpressive.

Urartu Carpets & Kilims

On our way to the next major site, we stopped for a brief visit at a large carpet shop and educational center.

But first, we visited a small cage in the yard of the carpet shop where we saw our first Van cat. These cats are bred only in this area and are distinguished by their silvery white coat and their mismatched eyes; one is green while the other is blue. I was told they are albinos but I don’t understand the biology of an entire breed of albinos. At any rate, they are quite unusual.

The carpet center itself was founded for the purpose of educating local and outlying village women in the finest techniques of traditional Turkish carpet creation. Sponsored by the European Union and the Turkish government, the organization assists these women in learning the art of making these spectacular carpets and kilims, while also paying them decent wages, which are deposited directly into bank accounts that only the women have access to. In this way, when the weavers later return to their villages to run their own workshop and/or train other women, their husbands or other male relatives cannot lay claim to the women’s hard-earned money.

Another goal of the organization, besides assisting in women’s economic independence, is to preserve the legacy of Turkish textiles, which are under threat from cheap Iranian and Chinese copies.

After serving us tea – wine was also offered, but it was still morning so we passed – we all sat on divans surrounding a large open space. The walls were covered with gorgeous carpets. The salesmen then proceeded to perform the standard ritual of flipping carpets onto the floor for our perusal, after giving them a practiced spin in midair. Larry and I decided to buy a small kilim, made in the Kurdish "sumak" style, with embroidered silk forming a pretty pattern on one side, but leaving crude threads hanging on the other side. The crude sides would have been hung on the outside of tents and were intended to keep critters outside nomadic homes. I doubt, though, that nomads would have used silk for their exterior tent flaps.

After making our decision, we discovered that neither of us remembered to bring our credit card with us. As we were nearing the end of our Eastern Anatlian tour, we were getting low on money and couldn’t afford to spend all our remaining cash on the kilim unless we planned on eating nothing on the long trip back. Since this shop does no bargaining – unlike most other carpet shops – we could not offer less. Nonetheless, the salesmen arranged for us to pay a small deposit, take the rug with us, then wire the remainder of what we owed to them when we returned to Ankara. We were shocked that they were so trusting. Perhaps they were aware that our tour company was a good one and they knew we could be trusted. At any rate, we have our pretty rug (sorry, Kadir Bey!), and it was duly paid for within a day of our return.

Akdamar Island & Tenth Century Cathedral Church of the Holy Cross

On our way to the beach of Lake Van, where we will be boarding our boat to the island, we stopped to place our order for lunch after the tour. We wondered why we had to make our lunch selection hours before eating, but, given that most entrees were fish, I suppose they needed to know how many to catch.

As we boarded the boat, who was coming down from the upper deck as they returned from the island? None other than Jane and David, waxing poetic about the island’s spectacular beauty! Alas, this is the last we will see of our Australian counterparts on this trip, and likely forever. Sigh.

Akdamar Island and its Church of the Holy Cross served as the center of Armenian Catholicism from the 12th to the late 19th century. This impressive structure, with gorgeous exterior reliefs carved by master masons, was restored by the Turkish government just a few years ago and reopened to the public as recently as 2007. We were fortunate to see it in its current excellent state. I just read that next month (September 2010), an Armenian mass will be held there for the first time in many decades. Armenians from Turkey and also from the motherland (Armenia) will be travelling by the thousands to attend the ceremony, although the latter will have to enter Turkey through the country of Georgia.

The reliefs on the exterior of this church are stunning. They represent a variety of biblical stories, the life of Jesus, and some representations of life at the time of their carving. There are warriors, clergymen, and saints, as well as an elaborately carved and decorated continuous vine encircling the entire structure. The interior frescoes, depicting the saints, apostles, and Christ, are not in as good condition as the outside reliefs, but, given their age, they could have been worse.

The church is all that is left of a once thriving monastery, castle, and larger Armenian community.

Returning from the island, we had lunch in a pavilion on the beach of Lake Van, along with hundreds of other visitors and tourists. No wonder we had to order in advance. This lunch was served like a military maneuver—very efficient! And also very good.

Old Ahlat City and Seljuk Graveyard

Another new sight for us is the Seljuk Graveyard in the old city of Ahlat. The standard gravestones are unusual in shape; they are tall flat stone, with a bend near the top, reminding me somewhat of a hooded figure. I doubt I would like to be here at night. There seem to be thousands of graves here, so old that most are askew and leaning every which way.

One large tomb complex is the final resting place of a king who chose to be buried with his horse. The multi-chambered structure (one for the king, one for the horse, and a few others attached), were covered with earth to form a small tumulus in the midst of the graveyard. I believe the king died before the horse; the poor animal, though, must have been sacrificed at the time of the king’s demise.

The large number of tombstones, dating from the 11th – 12th century Ahlatshah dynasty, are tentatively listed as a UNESCO World Heritage Site.

Refa Usta Cane Shop

Our last stop for the day was at this master carvers cane studio and shop. "Refa" is the carver’s name; "usta" means "master craftsman." We watched in amazement as wood carvers worked the finest details, including intricate lathing and inlay, into some very beautiful canes. The show room was full of polished finished canes for sale at a very reasonable price. Not knowing how I would carry a cane back on a plane, I did not purchase one, to my regret. I understand that Bill Clinton did when he was here on a presidential visit a few years ago. He had good taste, at least in canes.
　
　
　
　
　
　

Eastern Anatolian Tour – Day 4 (June 9)

2010-08-21T11:32:00.007-04:00

For more photos, see: http://www.anatolianphotos.shutterfly.com/

Today we visit the Ishak Pasa Palace and the city and citadel of Van.

Ishak Pasa Palace

This huge, empty palace and administrative center was second only to Topkapi in Istanbul in its grandeur and scope. Built by the regional governor and his heirs from 1685 to 1784, it is still massive and elaborate in scale, but much of its ornamentation has disappeared to plunderers, including Russian occupiers in the early part of the 20th century.

The word Pasa (pronounced "pasha") means military hero. Ishak was the name of the bey, or governor of the Kars/Dogubeyazit provinces, and ruled during Ottoman times. The 366 room palace has evidence of Ottoman, Persian, and Seljuk architectural styles. Because it is a relatively recent structure, in this area of thousands of years of history, it boasted a central heating system and indoor plumbing, including running water and a sewage system. Like Topkapi, it had a variety of structures within the main building, such as a turbe (tomb), library, mosque, medrese, and soup kitchen. Additionally, there are other buildings in the complex nearby.

Today the buildings are a museum complex, in the midst of ubiquitous renovation. The only visible structures in this remote, mountainous, beautiful countryside, are another small mosque and a few peasant huts.

On our way out of the harem rooms, who do we run into again—Jane, David, and other friends from the Australian tour. This is getting kind of fun, guessing where and when we are likely to run into this tour again. We are on different itineraries. For example, they had seen Ani the day before we did. But we are all visiting the major tourist sites in Eastern Turkey, so we were bound to run into one another; I just wouldn’t have thought we would see them as often. Jane accepted a slip of paper I had prepared in advance – just in case—with my email and blog address. I hope to hear from them after they complete their seven week (!) tour of Turkey.

On the road to Van

I am so excited about finally being able to visit the famous Lake Van, with its renowned Armenian church on an island in the middle of the lake. But first we have at least one more stop on the way.

While on the bus to Van, Erhan, the bus attendant served tea again. First he handed me a cup of scalding hot water, to be followed by a package with the tea bag, stirrer and sugar. While I was reaching for the bag, however, the bus began a fairly steep incline, knocking the water into my lap, scorching me and boiling the insides of my camera, which I had put on my while accepting the tea. Ouch! Although my clothes dried fairly quickly (after I briefly changed my seat), and there was no lasting harm to my legs, I tested my camera, only to find that it was working erratically. Sigh, wouldn’t you know after all these years of waiting to see Van, I would be unable to record it.

Sadly, I disembarked from the bus when we stopped for a tea house break (I hate tea today!) and a brief visit to the Muradiye Waterfall. I’m not sure which body of water flows down these falls, but they originate in the volcanic moonscape upriver. I was unable to get good photos of the landscape while I fooled with my camera. But I was eventually able to get pictures of both the falls and the scary suspension bridge that swayed precariously as we walked over the ravine and the river.

After that – kaput – my camera never worked again. Sad.

Rock of Van

When we reached the fortress of Van, on top of a huge outcropping, we first visited on one side of the rock a beautiful small mosque that had been designed by the famous Sinan in the 16th century, and renovated as recently as 2007. Since the gold leaf on the mihrab had been stolen, reportedly by local Kurds, the current gold was donated by nearby jewelers. The mihrab sparkles amid new tiles and carpets in the beautifully restored building.

At the base of the rock, we could see evidence of earlier homes which were destroyed by Russian supporters of Armenia in 1915.

Taking the bus to the other side of the huge outcropping, we split into two groups—those who wanted to climb to the top of the rock to visit the castle and other fortifications, and those who chose to stay behind at the teahouse. Since our new friend Gisela did not want to climb the rock, and since she knew about my camera’s demise, she entrusted me with her camera to take pictures for both of us. I was nervous about being responsible for her camera while I climbed some steep pathways, but I’m glad she trusted me. I was able to take some good pictures; her camera is great. After this visit, all pictures are from Gisela’s camera; after the Rock, though, she took them herself and graciously mailed a CD to me from Germany with her pictures. Thank you so much, Gisela.

As for the Rock and the castle:

As we climbed up the Rock of Van, the first adventure was to climb up, then down a scary looking metal stairway hugging the steep cliff, with a fence that looked like it should keep us from falling. The fence looked precarious to me, but then everything does at this height. To the side of us, on a flat surface of the cliff were long passages of text carved into the stone using a cuneiform script. These words , written in the Assyrian language, date from the kingdom of Urartu, my new reading interest, which dates from 1300 to 700 B.C. Inside an opening next to the script, we entered the burial tomb of one of the Urartian kings. I don’t remember which one was buried here (I think it was Sarduri), if in fact, he was, but I will fill in the blank as I continue my reading about that ancient kingdom. I do know that the Rock served as a fortification throughout successive civilizations as competition for land and plunder continued among clashing civilizations.

The entire rock and its various structures overlook the beautiful Lake Van, and the modern city of Van, which once served as the capital city of Urartu, called Tushpa at the time.
We continued our climb along the summit, to view other edifices constructed over the ages, most of which are made from bud brick and seem to jut out of the underlying stone as natural outcroppings. Some of the ruins are Urartian, some Roman, Assyrian, Byzantine, Seljuk, Ottoman, and so on through time. This is a very old place. Somewhere on the rock is even a tablet in cuneiform from the time of Xerxes the Great, which enabled modern scholars to crack the linguistic code of ancient Persian.

City of Van

Back in the city, a large group of us decided to take an after dinner stroll to a specialty silver shop where a local jeweler makes articles from ancient Urartian designs. As much as I am interested in Urartian art, I found the jewelry far too elaborate for my taste. So Larry (who was waiting patiently outside the crowded shop entrance) and I decided to explore the main street. We were greatly surprised by the large number of people with the same interest in promenading on this warm evening. Larry and I were not successful in finding a Migros grocery store, where we had hoped to purchase some soy milk for breakfast, but we did find a great sweet shop where we bought some dried fruit and nut treats, and the attendant gave me some free chocolate samples. Yum!
　
　
　

Eastern Anatolian Tour - Day 3 (June 8)

2010-08-16T20:44:00.005-04:00

For more photos, see: http://www.anatolianphotos.shutterfly.com/

Today was spent in a region of Turkey that shares a long, painful history with Armenia. The site of ancient wars of conquest, ethnic tensions, WW1 battles, and dramatic changes in religious perspective, this area has only recently been opened to visitors and is now considered safe for tourists like us. Most painful perhaps are memories of what is today being called the "Armenian genocide," which occurred in this area of the country. Likewise, there is evidence of displacement of villagers during the recent Kurdish resistance, manifested in new housing with tin roofs – an unusual architectural feature – in outlying areas, far from established villages and towns.

Subatan Village memorial

Our first stop after leaving Kars was at a monument to the village of Subatan, where Armenians destroyed the town and killed thousands of their fellow Turkish residents in 1918. Constructed as a propaganda tool by the Turks, the monument nonetheless pays silent witness to clashes between peoples and cultures that exist to this day, although there are signs that relations are warming.

Ani

This huge site was once the capital city of Armenia and home to more than 100,000 Armenians. The latter are said to be the first Christian nation in history. Now the site is located within the borders of Turkey and has been only recently opened to visitors. Prior to a few years ago, the entire area was off limits and monitored by both the Turkish and Armenian military, protecting the border between the two countries. Today it is full of ghosts of Armenians and Seljuks past, with gorgeous public buildings popping out of the poppy covered windswept fields and ravines.

We spent an entire morning in Ani, beginning about 9:30 a.m., before the bright sunshine became too hot for us. It was a gorgeous day, with a brilliant blue sky complementing the spring wildflowers. It looks as though we picked the perfect time to be here. Generally it is so dry in this area that the prevailing color is brown; but today the green grass, bright red poppies, yellow wildflowers and deep blue sky set off the deep brown buildings over the entire panorama. Beautiful!

Most of the more visible remaining buildings are Armenian churches dating from more than a thousand years ago. Interspersed are Seljuk mosques, baths, and commercial buildings. The most significant of the buildings we visited were the entry gates, the Church of St. Gregory, the Holy Virgin Cathedral and, after the Seljuk king, Arslan, captured the town, the very first Turkish mosque in all of Anatolia. All of these buildings have undergone, or are in the process of undergoing, renovations. Rather than repeat all the details of the buildings, I’ve put more information in the captions of my photographs, which can be found at the site mentioned above.

Many of our Turkey tours have emphasized historical buildings. What is so incredible about this site are not only the significant buildings, but the distance between thems, the stark beauty and immensity of the site, and the spectacular ravine separating the two contemporary countries. Additionally, this was a major stop on the famous Silk Road, with evidence still visible of the actual road traversed for thousands of years by merchants carrying their goods between East and West. This will be yet another of my more potent memories of Turkey.

Kars

Returning to Kars, we climbed a long, but not very difficult walkway toward another of the ubiquitous fortresses in nearly every major town. On the way up, we finally saw evidence of some of the places mentioned in Orhan Pamuk’s novel, Kar (Snow), which takes place in winter in this town. Previously we kept trying to picture the locations of the various political and religious intrigues that take place in the novel. Instead, all we saw was another nondescript town with multi-story cement structures, although interspersed with some impressive stone Russian and Armenian mansions, the latter mentioned in the novel. But nowhere could we envision the town as it was described in Pamuk’s book.

Finally, while climbing to the fortress, we looked down on an old bridge and nearby hamam that figured prominently in that story of a visiting poet. Finally!

Reaching the fortress, the more memorable artifact, something we hadn’t seen before, was a cannon inscribed with the tughra, or stylized signature of Sultan Murat III. His signature denotes the fact that the sultan was actually here on a visit from far away Istanbul.

Armenian Church of the Apostles

On the way back down the fortress hill, we stopped at yet another Armenian Church, called the Church of the Apostles, decorated with crude exterior reliefs of the twelve apostles. The history of this edifice is striking: First, an Armenian church, at a time when this city was part of Armenia. In 1579 it was converted to a mosque, after the Seljuks conquered this area. Next, the Russians, in 1918, converted it to a Russian Orthodox church. One year later, during the Turkish war of independence, it became a mosque again. Then briefly it was an Armenian church again (I’m not sure why), and finally in 1920, back to being a mosque.

The history of this area is beyond comprehension after such a brief tour!

Mount Ararat

Everyone knows that Mount Ararat is where Noah’s Ark was supposed to have landed many millennia ago. This huge mountain, which looms over the rest of the countryside, was once considered the tallest in the world. It certainly gives one the impression of being more massive than even some in higher ranges, the reason being that it is not in a mountain range itself. Its 17,000 feet of snow covered volcanic rock looms out alone over the much lower landscape, giving it the impression of being even taller than it is. One can see why this volcanic mountain figures so prominently in both history and myth. We did not see the Ark, nor has anyone else except those who want to believe that they did.

Dogubeyazit

Our resting place for the evening was Dogubeyazit (David, from Australia, pronounced it Dog Biscuit). This town is a center for the sale of goods smuggled from neighboring Iran. In our free time before checking into the hotel, we wandered among the countless shops selling cheap household goods, including some of the most garish gewgaws we’ve seen so far. Despite being advised about the excellent tea available in these shops, we discover that it is mostly Earl Grey tea! We bought nothing, but stopped to examine a statue of "justice," flanked by plaques of the 1948 U.N. Declaration of Human Rights, something we were not expecting here among a strong military presence and a history of violence between local Kurds and the authorities.
　
　

Eastern Anatolian Tour - Day 2 (June 7)

2010-08-05T12:46:00.007-04:00

For more photos, see: http://www.anatolianphotos.shutterfly.com/

Breakfast this morning at our five star hotel did not stand out in my mind, meaning that it was probably the typical Turkish hotel breakfast: bread, cheese, yucky looking processed meat slices, tomatoes, hard boiled eggs (not typical for Turks, but a concession to tourists),cereals (another concession to tourists), cukes, olives, various spreads for the bread (jam, butter, honey, etc.) tea, instant coffee, overly sweetened cherry juice and Tang-like orange juice. Given the terrific dinner the night before, it is possible that there were better choices, but I cannot remember, so probably not.

What I do remember about that breakfast though is that once again I heard English being spoken nearby—Jane and David! We were obviously wrong about staying in different hotels. We also met Caroline and her husband, as well as a Japanese couple, also residing in Australia and traveling with the group. How nice to make these connections while traveling.

While yesterday was a day of touring historical buildings, today was one of appreciating the vastness and beauty of the surrounding countryside high in the hills of the farthest Eastern Anatolia.

Cobandede Bridge

Some sites claim this bridge, built in 1297-98, was built by the Mongolians; others say it was constructed by Seljuk Turks. A third site claims it is an Ottoman bridge. Like so many structures in Turkey, there is a succession of building, rebuilding, renovating, and so on, by successive civilizations. So I will call this a Mongolian bridge, knowing full well that the Seljuks, the Ottomans, and probably contemporary Turks all had a hand in the construction or re-construction of this massive structure. It spans the Aras River, which farther north forms the boundary between Turkey and Armenia.

On the road to Kars

Travelling to Kars, we follow the Aras River along a road that served for centuries as the main thoroughfare between Anatolia and Iran, and formed a piece of the famous Silk Road. The surrounding countryside is mountainous, stark, lacking in arable land, but sparsely populated by cow herders tending their herds over hundreds of miles of pasture. This is a beautiful, green country—at least now in late Spring. In winter, which is harsh at this high altitude, the country is generally snow covered; most other times it is brown. We are seeing this part of Turkey at its best—lush greenery, reminding us of Ireland, wild flowers, herds of cows and some flocks of sheep, an occasional nomad tent or tiny villages of sod covered huts —all surrounded by obsidian hills or snow-covered peaks. What an extraordinary place!

Sad place, too. During the first World War, in a battle plan between Ottoman forces and the Russian/Armenian army, General Enver (Pasha Enver) employed what had previously been a successful Napoleonic tactic of surprising a superior force with a focused army with a specific objective, in this case the Sarikamis Pass of the Allahuekber mountains. His plan was to surprise the Russians by traveling with 60,000 troops over the mountains in winter, when the Russian would least expect them. History says he would have been considered a genius if the plan succeeded. But it didn’t. As a consequence, he is considered more of a lunatic. His troops never reached the Russian enclave; instead 20,000 of the poorly equipped soldiers died of exposure, disease and starvation. A monument to these poor souls tells the sad story of these “sehitler,” or martyrs.

Continuing on the road to Kars, we begin to see more evidence of former Russian/Armenian control of this region. One very large stone house looms over the countryside—a summer home for Katarina, of the Romanov royalty, built around 1905. The surrounding countryside is also the sad location of what is often referred to as the “Armenian genocide.”

Cilder and Aktas lakes

As the clouds thicken and the road continues to climb toward the Caucusus mountains, we approach the second largest lake in Turkey, Cilder Lake. This portion of the farthest borders of Turkey approaches nearly 7,000 feet above sea level on average. The harsh winters and isolation, as well as the difficult soil make this a sparsely populated region. Although there are some agricultural products – only about 10% of the land is arable – most of what we see are cow herders. The few houses are made of mud brick, with sod roofs. Outside are small mounds of dried cow patties that will help the families get through the long winters.

The lake itself is huge and pristine. The cloud cover makes everything uniformly gray and somewhat forbidding. Most of the lake has no sign of people except for the occasional nomad tent. This lake, I believe, is a protected preserve.

Since by now it is raining and fairly cold, we spend only a short time at the lake and continue north to a smaller lake, Aktas Lake, which borders Turkey and Georgia. Our stop here is from a high vantage point, with a long view of the mountains, the two lakes, and Turkey’s northeast neighbor.

Seytan Kalesi (Devil’s Tower)

As the rain increases and we hear distant thunder approaching, our bus continues to climb, then stops along the road for no apparent reason. Our guide and attendant disembark and start running across the road; we follow, umbrellas over our heads.

Soon we reach the edge of a precipice, which opens up to the most spectacular view I have ever seen – anywhere. Our guide book says that even those who are “panorama-ed” out should not miss this unbelievable view. Devil’s Canyon cuts deeply into the Caucusus mountains; our view of the huge green canyon sweeps to both left and right. In the middle of the canyon, about 1,000 feet below us is a rocky promontory with a stone tower on the edge of one of its cliffs. Beyond the promontory, the canyon continues to drop another few thousand feet.

I am afraid of thunderstorms; I do not like lightning. Nonetheless, I stood there transfixed with the spectacular sight before me, feeling wet and cold and a little scared of the approaching storm. (We were very high and there were no trees in sight). But the book was right—this was not to be missed.

Onur, our archaeologist guide, admitted that nobody knows who exactly built this tower and when. Apparently there are no written documents available about the tower. He and others speculate that it is either a 3,000 year old Urartian edifice, or a 1,000 year old Armenian one. Because of the “boat-like” shape of the building, he is guessing Urartian.

This whole area, as well as Georgia, figures prominently in the history of the Urartian civilization, one I had never heard of before this year. Larry and I decided then and there that we need to learn more about these people and their history.

Once again, the weather shortened our stay, but that image will stay with me forever.

On to Kars, where our stay at a nondescript hotel left few memories . . . except a long talk with Jane and David and some other of our Australian friends.

Eastern Anatolian Tour - Day 1 (June 5/6)

2010-08-01T11:23:00.010-04:00

For more photos of today's travels, see: http://www.anatolianphotos.shutterfly.com/

Saturday, June 5, at 9:00 p.m. begins the long bus ride to the far Eastern end of Turkey, a place of extraordinary starkness and poverty, but one of immense beauty. This trip, another Tempo Tur trip, will keep us on a bus for about 3,500 kilometers, which translates to 2,175 miles. Gak! Luckily for us, the tour guide is our favorite Onur Erturk, the archaeologist and graduate of Bilkent University. Although the tour narrative is always in Turkish, Onur generally sits with Larry and me at lunch or dinner to explain in English what we saw during the day or what we are about to see. This time, unlike our Southeast Anatolian tour, we also remembered to bring our tour book.

Also, unlike the last trip, the other tourists are a mix of nationalities. We are the only two Americans. There is a large extended Turkish family (who caused some issues with our tour, always late for everything, and always smoking), and a group of ten or eleven German women. The latter group, with one exception, are, or were, all married to Turks and are still living in Turkey. One woman spoke excellent English, as did several other Turks, so we always knew what was going on with this tour. (E.g., do we have fifteen or fifty minutes for this rest stop?)

Waking up Sunday morning after a typically fitful "sleep" on the overnight bus, we breakfasted at a café in Erzincan, then continued east to visit the site of a mineral water park, where children were already playing and people were already picnicking around the warm natural mineral pools in the park called Eksisu. The town itself looked newly constructed to us, with streets following a grid pattern, something we seldom see in Turkey. It turns out that the original town was entirely destroyed by earthquake in 1979, necessitating rebuilding, but in a somewhat different location and away from the prevailing fault line. Despite the lack of charm of the new town, the surrounding snow capped peaks added a dimension of beauty it was otherwise lacking.

This was not anyone’s favorite stop; the park showed signs of neglect and the town was just a small town with little visible history, but nonetheless it broke up the day’s bus ride to Erzurum, our first day’s significant destination. A second stop on the way, though, was something of a surprise.

Tercan Mama Hatun Tomb and Caravanserai

Somewhere between the mineral park and Erzurum we stopped in the town of Tercan to visit the first tomb of the tour designed in the "kumbet" style, of Central Asian design. Other Seljuk or Ottoman tombs called "turbe," that we had seen on other tours, had the tomb and an area for worship on the same level. The kumbet tombs, in contrast, have an underground chamber for the sarcophagus of the deceased, and a prayer room on a second floor slightly above ground level. Even more significant about this particular tomb is that "Mama Hatun" was a female Turkish tribal leader who ruled for ten years from 1192-1202; her real name was Firdevs. Her rule was an anomaly representing the power of some women in early Islamic society, before the extreme patriarchy, still prevalent in Turkey, took complete hold. The nearby caranvansaray was locked on this day; it was being prepared for a wedding like the one we crashed in another caravansaray near Antakya on an earlier trip.

Erzurum

This stop was a repeat for Larry, where he had delivered a lecture in mid-winter just before a heavy snowfall. Erzurum is notable for its severe winters; the altitude increases dramatically from West to East in Turkey. Now late spring, the weather was terrific, and we were able to visit some of the sites Larry had already seen, but this time with flowers rather than snow. Erzurum is also a very conservative town. The restaurant where we ate was the first I’d been in that had two separate dining rooms—one for men only, and one for families. The other room was not designated for women only, since women were always expected to be with their husbands or close male family members, or with other women doing errands, not lounging around in restaurants.

While visiting the huge Cifte Minareli Madrasah, with its open courtyard and gorgeous, elaborate stonework, we saw another tour of English speaking tourists who featured in our remaining visit to the East. In the 13th century, when this building was constructed, medreses were centers of intellectual activity, not just religious instruction, as they became more recently; this one is the largest medrese in Anatolia. The kumbet, or tomb, attached to the rear of the building was also the largest tomb of the period. Notable about the building is the exquisite carved stonework which, in some places, remained unfinished due to the interruption of Mongol raids.

Next we visited the Congress Building, where the 1919 Congress of Erzurum, convened by Mustafa Kemal (later Ataturk), played a significant role in planning the War of Independence and the creation of today’s Turkish Republic.

Following this, we stepped into a Seljuk house/museum, a first on both our trips to Turkey. This large two story house was flat-topped, with windows flush with the outer walls, very different from Ottoman homes with their varying vertical planes. The lower floor was the "museum" area, decorated with copper and ceramic artifacts, mostly in the kitchen. The fireplace was huge and reflective of the architecture of the time. The biggest surprise was the ceiling in the kitchen. In the center of the otherwise flat ceiling rose a comb of interlocking wooden planks, reminding me in their design of a variation on my favorite "log cabin" quilt design, although instead of being square, the designs had multiple sides—maybe a dozen or so.

Not realizing that the upstairs was the living area of the young family who owned the building, Larry and I climbed the crooked, rickety stairs, to find a sleeping child in one of the rooms. Oops!

It has been nearly two months between the visit to Erzurum and the writing of today’s blog entry. On our itinerary two other sites are listed: the Tas Caravanserai, and Yakutiye Madrasah Museum. My pictures for the last few stops in Erzurum are confusing to me after all this time. There is obviously a citadel, with a former minaret converted to a bell tower by Russian occupiers and a view of the opposing Russian fortress. There is a beautiful mosque interior, and another building with a ceiling like the one we saw in the house. Which photos belong to which site (except for the citadel which is not actually listed on the itinerary) remains a mystery to me after all this time, reflecting not only my travel fatigue at the time, but also my faded memories since then. Sigh.

During a short period of free time at the end of the day, while Larry and I sat in an outdoor cafe drinking tea, we heard English being spoken at the table next to us. There were four people from the tour group we saw earlier. The tour was an Australian one, with kangaroo decals on their bus. Jane and David, who were on a seven week tour of the country, were particularly friendly. Before boarding our bus again, we determined that we were staying a different hotel from theirs, so we bid them "iyi yolculuklar," or "bon voyage."

Our hotel that evening was one of two five star hotels on our seven day tour. This one is a ski resort; Erzurum is a popular ski center in winter. The other hotels ranged from passable to nearly awful. But tonight, while I swim in a wonderful indoor pool, Larry uses the gym; it is too hot for either of us to consider the sauna. The dinner is great – our favorite, an open buffet -- and remains in our memory during the dinners of most of the remaining tour—meat, meat and more meat (meaning Larry ate a lot of rice and eggplant, and I ate more chicken in one week than I normally do in several months).

Despite our fatigue and the redundancy of the Erzurum visit for Larry, this was a good start to our long tour of the elusive far eastern end of Turkey, an area that was inaccessible fifteen years ago, but recently opened to tourists. We are very glad to have finally made it to this end of the country.
　

Eastern Turkey - Days 1 - 7

2010-06-14T09:59:00.006-04:00

Ha! Fooled you! There is nothing here yet because we have only two days after the end of our weeklong Eastern Turkey tour to pack and get ready to come home. Also, my camera broke halfway through our trip, so I must rely on the promises made by three other travelers to send me pictures from the last half. If even one of them remembers, I will be able to post pictures from the entire trip; otherwise, there will be no pictures from the 1200 year old Holy Cross Church on an island in Lake Van, among other beautiful places. Either way, it will be awhile before I post them.

Meanwhile, here are a few pictures to whet your appetite for more images of this amazing part of the country.

Next post will be from home in Hampton.

Gorusuruz!

Southeast Turkey - Day 6

2010-06-05T10:51:00.005-04:00

For more photos, see: http://www.anatolianphotos.shutterfly.com/

Today we head back to Ankara. But first we visit two museums in Gaziantap, where we stayed last night.

Hasan Suzer Ethnographic Museum – Hasan Suzer was a very wealthy businessman who bought a large house, built in 1905/06, and turned it into a museum. He never lived in the house, but had it fully renovated, furnishing the rooms in period pieces, with mannequins in regional garb. Having seen a lot of such restored Ottoman houses, we breezed through this one, impressive though it was in its own right. To me, the most interesting room was the arched cellar, which wouldn’t surprise me if it were a whole lot older than the house above it. In the rooms upstairs, I was impressed with the size and grandeur of the "Mother-in-Law Room." Ottoman families were extended families, all living in the same building, but with different quarters surrounding the central open courtyard. As for the artifacts within, the most interesting to me was Lawrence of Arabia’s motor bike, which he used when he worked as a spy. (I never made it through the entire movie, which I thought was colossally boring, so I don’t know who he was spying for).

Gaziantap Museum – After leaving the Hasan Suzer Museum, we wandered down a beautiful alleyway, renovated and cleaned up for the tourist trade. On either side were pretty cafes and shops, which I would have liked to wander through. However, we were on a mission to visit the Gaziantap Museum, with its treasure trove of mosaics taken from Zeugma in the last fifteen years or so.

I thought the mosaics in Antakya were spectacular. These are even better! They are huge, far more colorful, and by and large in excellent condition. One exception, although definitely huge and colorful, is the large mosaic entitled "The Marriage of Dionysos and Ariadne," which, as I mentioned in yesterday’s post, was partially looted the night it was discovered by archaeologists. It is mounted on the wall, next to a photograph of the previously intact mosaic, with a big question mark in the stolen gap, requesting information about its whereabouts and asking for its return.

One of the highlights of the large mosaic collection is a fairly small one entitled "Cingene Kizi" , or "Gypsy Girl." It is only a fragment of a larger piece but has quickly become an icon of the museum and of Turkey. We see it now in tourist brochures for the country and on advertisements, and its image was recently painted on the side of one of the Hacettepe academic buildings. It is called Gypsy Girl because of the type of scarf on her head and the large hoop earrings she wears. On the other hand, because of the part in the middle of her hair, some speculate that it depicts Alexander the Great (???). It sure looks like a woman to me, but then, I’m not an archaeologist or classical historian.

In the same room as the Gypsy Girl is a large collection of coins displayed in about a dozen cases. I arbitrarily looked at one case on the side of the room, when my eye fell on one coin that looked little different from the hundreds of others on display. Except it depicted a huyuk (flat hill), with a little temple on top! Can I have found this easily the very coin archaeologists used to determine the exact location of this temple at Zeugma? I called over our guide, Onur (also an archaeologist) and he said, "Yes, that’s it!" Wow.

Tonight we are catching a bus to the far eastern part of Turkey, even farther east than trip took us. And so, I will refrain from saying more about the incredible mosaics in this very special museum, other than to add that only 5% of those found in Zeugma are on display. A new museum is about to open (designed by the husband of one of Larry’s Hacettepe colleagues), enabling more of these treasures to go on view. And, once the Zeugma "in-situ" museum is completed, some of the mosaics will be reinstalled in the excavated villas under the museum’s roof.

One interesting bit of information I forgot to put in yesterday’s blog about Zeugma is that historical date for the site ends in the year 1048; that is more than 1,000 years ago when this city was last known to be a key metropolitan area in the region.

Cilician Gates – Back on the road to Ankara, we approached the Taurus Mountains, the chain of mountains separating the southeastern plains we have been visiting from the rest of Anatolia. After climbing into the mountain chain, we passed through the famous Cilician Gates, the only pass through these mountains, and one widened and fortified by various conquering or defending armies. Perhaps the most famous was Alexander himself, as well as the armies of the First Crusade. Equally famous, but carrying out a very different mission, was Paul of Tarsus (St. Paul), who passed through here on his way to the Galatians.

Southeast Turkey - Day 5

2010-06-04T09:00:00.008-04:00

For more photos, see: http://www.anatolianphotos.shutterfly.com/

Bald Ibis Sanctuary

Leaving Sanliurfa, we approached the Birecik Dam, another of the GAP dams, this one also on the Euphrates (Firat) River, like the larger Ataturk Dam of an earlier post. Stopping at the back of the dam, we visited a wildlife refuge constructed to protect and, increase the population of the nearly extinct Bald Ibis. Today, there are about 100 birds left in captivity, an increase from the 30 birds known only a few years ago. The hope is to increase the numbers to the point where they can be released and once again allowed to migrate to Africa for their winter habitation, in hopes that they will thrive and continue to return to this area in the warmer months. A few dozen nests attached to the back of the dam enabled us to get close enough to see the birds in, on, or approaching their temporary homes. One bird, sitting on top of the winter cage that prevents them from leaving during migration season, was close enough that we got a good look at its size and distinctive profile.

Rumkale – Traveling to the other side of the dam, where the water has accumulated into a large lake, we boarded a boat in the village of Halfeti. Cruising along the waters, we made a brief stop in front of an inundated village, where it is said that only three or four people continue to live. The village’s mosque roof can be seen just below the water’s surface; its minaret rises eerily out of the water.

The highlight of the boat trip was a longer stop at Rumkale, the Hellenist/Roman strategic fortress that looms over the waters and, before the dam project, over the mighty Euphrates River. Wikipedia says "the site was occupied by various Byzantine and Armenian warlords during the Middle Ages," which would explain the church ruins in some spots. The word "Rumkale" means "Roman fortress" although "Rum" generally refers to both Greeks and Romans.

We disembarked and climbed a fairly steep, winding path up to the fortress, where, looking down, we could see why this particular location was such an important strategic location during the area’s long history of clashes throughout its long history. It goes without saying that it also provides a gorgeous view.

Returning to Halfeti, we decided to have lunch on the boat, where I had some type of fish kebap, with a marinade that was terrific. But I forgot to ask the cook what was in the sauce, darn! I’ll have to experiment on my own when I get home.

Zeugma

The city of Zeugma (meaning "bridge passage" or "bridge of boats") was once a thriving city of 80,000, the largest easternmost city of the Roman Empire, and bigger than the city of Pompeii. Originally founded by an officer of Alexander the Great, it was located on the Euphrates at a point where merchants thrived from the movement of goods along the Silk Road between Antioch (Antakya) and China. Evidence of the wealth of some of the inhabitants includes ruins of villas spilling down a hillside to the Euphrates.

Alas, the GAP project, and specifically the construction of the Birecik Dam mentioned above, threatened the inundation of this historically important site. So, beginning as recently as 1992, an international group of archaeologists, led by a team from the Gaziantep Museum, began an emergency rescue project to excavate as much of the site as humanly possible before the rise of the dam’s waters. The excavation staff, worked feverishly, even under harsh conditions during the winter months, so as not to leave partially renovated finds to the mercy of looters. Several dozen large mosaics, even more spectacular than the ones we saw in Antakya, were removed to the museum before resumption of the dam construction project, which was temporarily halted to allow for the excavations.

One team found a very large, complex mosaic depicting the marriage of Dionysus. After covering the mosaic overnight, the excavation team returned the very next day only to find a large chunk of it had been stolen during the night. The remaining mosaic, displayed on a wall in the Gaziantep Museum, has a large question mark in the middle of it, with an appeal for the return of the missing chunk.

Today, we watched as construction workers erected supports that will ultimately create an "in-situ" museum, covering select villas that remain above water. The plan is to partially reconstruct the villas and reinstall some of the mosaics, so they can be viewed in their proper context. We’ll have to come back in a few years to see the finished museum.

Looming over the excavation is a very large "huyuk," on top of which can be seen a little bump of a hill. My photographs did not catch the "bump" on top. One of the Zeugma excavators, looking up, wondered if the huyuk, with its bump, was somehow related to a very old coin he had seen either onsite or elsewhere (I can’t remember where he saw the coin), depicting a hilltop temple to the god Tyche. Curious, he and a few others partially excavated the "bump" to find, to his amazement, that it was the very temple depicted on the ancient coin! Our guide said that he had seen the coin in the Gaziantep Museum, but it was among hundreds of others, so he was doubtful he would be able to find it again to show to us.

It is speculated that there are many more miles of ruins underground. But the area is inhabited today and covered by miles and miles of pistachio trees, some of the highest quality found in Turkey. Despite the loss of so much of Zeugma to the waters of the GAP project, there is likely much more to be done to revive the history of this formerly prosperous region.
　

Southeast Turkey - Day 4

2010-06-03T15:19:00.005-04:00

For more photos, see: http://www.anatolianphotos.shutterfly.com/

Harran

Leaving the caravansary hotel, our bags are loaded onto the bus by the two staff members on duty that morning. The claim is that they are the tallest (7 feet) and shortest (about 3 feet) busboys in the world. They make an unusual contrast.

Back on the road, we head west to Sanliurfa, then south to Harran, another open air museum. As we travel down the southern road, we pass by about ½ dozen "huyuks," or "tels," large, flat, barren hills conspicuously rising from the plains surrounding them. These are sites of thousands of years of civilizations. Many of these sites remain unexcavated, and await future generations of archaeologists to investigate the various layers within.

Reaching Harran, we pass by another "huyuk," dating from Chalcolithic (Copper Age) times, currently under excavation. The entire site spills beyond the central "huyuk" and includes more recent city walls, a castle, mosque, medrese, house and church foundations, and the remains of the first Islamic University in the world (or maybe just Turkey; I can’t remember which. Of course, this area was part of Syria once). At the time of its flourishing, the university was a center for the study of astronomy, mathematics, and other sciences. It is said that the instructors at this university taught more creatively than future universities in Anatolia; some of the world’s early scientific discoveries and theories came from this era. Our guide suggests, too, that this city is one of the oldest continuously inhabited sites in the world. The 8th century mosque ruins are the site of the first "standardized mosque," including a medrese, kitchen for the poor, bazaar, etc.

What sets Harran apart, though, from similar archaeological sites is the current village. Living among the ruins of the ancient city are people whose house-building technique goes back to the 3rd century BC. The current houses, about 200 years old, use tried and true technique of mud brick construction, built in the shape of cones; they are referred to as "beehive houses." Each cone is connected to another by an arched mud doorway. The shapes are stable, assisting in withstanding wind and the intense summer heat, and allow for efficient air circulation. They are quite extraordinary. The photographs I have of the interiors are from a large extended family home that has been converted into a retail shop for local crafts, none of which particularly interested me. But it was great to see the interior of such unique houses. The family lives in a somewhat more modern structure on the grounds. The people living in this village, unlike most other Turkish citizens, are Arabic; their first language is Arabic, the second, Turkish.

Our guide book (which I’m relying on more heavily than usual today because we have no electricity, hence no access to the Internet – again!) says that Harran is the location of Abraham’s sojourn. I will try to verify that if/when I can.

Sanliurfa – While traveling back north to SanliurfaBalikli , our guide explains that, until the 1980s, the town was called simply "Urfa." San (pronounced Shan) means "valorous." Sanli means "with valor." The sobriquet added to the town’s name refers to the valor shown by the townspeople during an early twentieth century battle, in which they repelled French attackers shortly after WWI.

Prophet Abraham's Birthplace?

Our first stop was to Lake Balikli (Lake with Fish) and the supposed site of Abraham’s birth. Our guide tells us that there is evidence that he was actually born in Ur (currently Iraq), but the legend lives on that he was born here and the site has become a pilgrimage destination.

The lake is actually a beautifully designed pool, full to bursting with fish that are considered somewhat sacred. It sits in the midst of one of the most beautiful urban parks we’ve seen in Turkey. There are actually two pools within the park, which sits at the foot of yet another spectacular promontory with a castle at the top. One of the most visible features of the castle are two tall columns overlooking the area.

Here is the story as to why this is such a sacred site and why the park is so beautifully designed and kept. Abraham, who was born in a cave in the hill (I have a photo of the cave), was feared by Nemrut, the king, because of the teachings of the great prophet. He ordered Abraham to be burned to death. But the fire created by the king’s soldiers was so intense that they could not get close enough to bring Abraham near it. Instead, they catapulted him from between the two columns on top of the hill into the fire below. Miraculously, though, the fire turned into a lake and the faggots in the fire turned into fish, the descendants of which we see today. Abraham emerged unscathed. Some versions of the story say he actually fell into a rose bush and thus survived. The King’s daughter, meanwhile, had fallen in love with the prophet and, thinking Abraham dead committed suicide by jumping off the same cliff. She, too, created a smaller lake where she landed, which still exists in the park.

Our guide, an archaeologist, points out that the two columns from which Abraham was catapulted were actually constructed many hundreds of years later, but the legend remains, as does the claim of his birthplace. Perhaps they simply represent a monument to the giant catapult of King Nemrut.

After visiting the sacred sites within the park, including a mosque with a very long, beautiful arched walkway, many of our fellow travelers requested free time to visit the large, convoluted old bazaar area. Larry and I preferred to stay in the heavily used park and take in its beauty and cool breezes. We took a brief detour, though, up the long stairs (in the hot sun) to the base of the castle, but did not go in, as we assumed the tour would resume there. But it didn’t. Instead, we headed to the hotel for dinner.

Our Turkish "Night Out" – After dinner, about half of our group walked to a local "Konuk," or mansion, which has been converted into a type of nightclub with folk songs, drums, and dancing, and servings of the local specialty: cif kofte, or raw meat balls. Yuk! We sat on large floor cushions, in a long, beautiful stone room, listening and clapping to the music. One drummer played the crowd down the center of the room, stopping to "encourage" the guests to stuff bills in the cables of his drum. This was fun.
　

Southeast Turkey - Day 3

2010-06-02T14:26:00.021-04:00

For more photos, see: http://www.anatolianphotos.shutterfly.com/

Hasankeyf – One of the oldest historical sites in Turkey and the entire world, for that matter, this unbelievable settlement, spanning more than 10,000 years of human habitation is in danger of inundation by waters of one of the GAP dams, scheduled for completion in 2013. Oh my gosh, the thought of the loss of a spectacular site such as this – an ancient city of caves, cliffs, fortresses, churches, mosques – one of the earliest settlements in the entire world – under water, is enough to break one’s heart.

One of the reasons we took this trip, besides climbing Mount Nemrut, was to see this incredible site before it is drowned by 200 feet of water. More than 20 civilizations have settled here, from early cave dwellers, through Assyrians, Romans, Byzantines, Artukids, Ayyubids, Seljuks, Arabs, Mongols, Ottomans, and contemporary Turks (not necessarily in that order; it is very complicated). There is speculation that even Marco Polo passed through this beautiful site. This is some of the earliest Mesopotamian history, on the banks of the beautiful Tigris (now called Dicle), which will be lost forever if that dam project is completed. We did our little bit by signing a petition on the site to halt construction of this hydroelectric project at the expense of one of the most spectacular historical/cultural sites in the world.

I am tongue tied as to how to describe the early bridge remains, cliff cave houses (a mini-Cappadocia), cliff top palace ruins, Byzantine churches – all overlooking from on high the Tigris River and surrounding Mesopotamian plains. So I will let a Smithsonian article do the descriptions for me. The address for the article is: http://www.smithsonianmag.com/travel/Endangered-Cultural-Treasures-The-City-of%20-Hasankeyf-Turkey.html

If you don’t have time to peruse the article, one sentence is particularly telling: "Hasankeyf and its surrounding limestone cliffs are home to thousands of human-made caves, 300 medieval monuments and a unique canyon ecosystem—all combining to create a beguiling open-air museum. But the city, along with the archaeological artifacts still buried beneath it, is slated to become a sunken treasure . . . despite widespread protests from local authorities, archaeologists, architects, preservationists and environmental groups . . . ." What a sad commentary on today’s illusion of "progress."

Midyat – We reluctantly left Hasankeyf, after an exhausting climb (for me) up, then back down the tallest promontory . Refreshed by a frothy cup of ayran (diluted yogurt and salt), we boarded the bus to the next big city: Mardin. But first we stopped briefly in the town of Midyat, where we walked through the first of the contemporary towns on our itinerary in what was formerly northern Syria. Here, flat roofed houses are closely built on either side of cobbled streets, with no trace of the "yards" we are accustomed to in the West. We visited one large mansion, called Konuk Evine of a 19th century merchant. It is now a museum. Not necessarily typical of other houses – the owner was obviously very rich – the beautiful multi-story house nonetheless reflected the local architectural style of multiple rooms surrounding a gated open air courtyard. The views from the balconies and terraces were terrific.

Deyrulzafaran Monastery - Back on the road toward Mardin, we stopped just outside the city at a hillside monastery, with a breathtaking view of the Syrian plain, formerly Mesopotamia. This entire area is archaeologically considered "Syria," despite politically belonging to Turkey. It is geologically and historically distinct from the rest of Turkey, so much of our remaining trip is considered a tour of ancient Syria (including Hasankeyf above).

The monastery itself is one of the earliest Christian sites, having been established by Syriac Assyrians, descendants of earlier Mesopotamian settlers, who fled Antakya after a series of Byzantine raids. The monastery, which is still in use by local Assyrians, was built on the site of a 3,000 year old temple to the sun. The most striking aspect of that temple, now in the "basement" of the monastery, is the huge stone blocks forming its ceiling. How the blocks stayed up for 3,000 years without falling on the heads of worshippers (and tourists) was briefly a mystery to us, until I noticed the slant of the cut blocks, which the guide later informed us was precisely why they stayed up. Later, reading about the monastery, I found out that it is also known for the number of scorpions inside the walls; I’m glad I didn’t know this in advance.

Medrese –Back on the road, but before reaching Mardin’s city cemter, we entered a 15th century medrese. Inside, we saw something that puzzled us: two huge photographs, about 15 feet in height, of a contemporary woman, holding her finger to her lips in the classic "shhh" pose. We forgot to ask our guide if this was a contemporary work of art or a not so subtle reminder that this is a school. Quiet please.

Mardin – During our visit, I often referred to the city of Mardin as a "stone city." It fills the preconceived image I have had of a medieval city spilling down a hillside, with narrow alleys, stone steps, and houses with flat roofs radiating one on top of the other in every conceivable direction. Departing from the bus on one of the busy roads accessible by car, we cut through the alleys, where most cars could not go (although a few were able to negotiate the tight squeeze). Stopping at some sights along the way, we proceeded down various alleys, around stone corners that had been sculpted to soften the sharp stone corners, dodging balls being kicked around by the neighborhood kids, and marveling at the elderly man carrying a refrigerator – motor and all – up the hill on his back. Aiieee! My back hurts just recalling that image.

Mardin is referred to as having "honey-colored" houses. This is an excellent description of the color of the stone everywhere around here. The houses even look like honey combs from a distance, with geometric forms clustered one next to the other and hugging the hillside. This is a very charming city.

Two of the places we stopped to see along our walk are: 1. The Post Office. This has to be one of the most beautiful post offices in the world. Formerly a large mansion, it has been turned into the local PTT, with, as with so many of these buildings, a view of the Mesopotamian/Syrian plain. 2. Medrese. Yet another theological school, this one constructed in the 12th century, containing a framed footprint said to be that of Muhammad, as well as the 12th century tomb of Artuklu Sultani, after which our hotel (see below) was named.

Artuklu Kervansarayi (our hotel in Mardin)

We ended our walking tour of the stone city at this evening’s hotel, a caravansaray, named Artuklu Kervansarayi, built in 1275 and lovingly restored as a large stone hotel. A plaque on one of the walls states that Prince Charles stayed here during renovations in 2004. I haven’t been saying much about the hotels we’ve stayed in during this trip, particularly the next several days’ hotels, because they are pretty much nondescript, albeit clean and functional. This hotel, though, deserves some mention. All other caravansarays we’ve seen throughout the country have been single story, with rooms surrounding an open courtyard where merchants kept their animals and merchandise they were transporting along multiple trade routes. All we’ve seen so far are also simply empty historical buildings. This caravansaray is multi-storied, although it is possible that some levels were added after the initial 1275 construction date, and is serving as a functioning hotel.

The lobby is very pretty – all stone and arched ceilings – with a curved stone stairway leading to the rooms upstairs. The narrow hallways are stone, carpeted with Turkish rugs and kilims, and lined with antique furniture. Our room, too, was stone and very charming.

After dinner, Larry, Onur and I explored the multi-level roofs of the hotel, where we had a terrific view of the stone city and the Syrian plain beyond. On one level was erected a rectangular tent like structure, with large cushions on the floor, round copper tables, and nargile, or water pipes, for the guests’ pleasure. The city at night was as beautiful as it was during the day, with the fortress on top of the hill above us lit up with floodlights. Our guide book says, "Everyone loves Mardin." We certainly wish we had more time here.

Southeast Turkey - Day 2

2010-05-31T04:43:00.010-04:00

For more photos, see http://anatolianphotos.shutterfly.com/

Today was a little disappointing. Perhaps we have been spoiled by the splendor of yesterday’s visit to Nemrut Dag, expecting today’s visits to dams, houses, churches and mosques to have the same awesome effect on us. Despite the slight letdown, these visits were beautiful, historical, and impressive in their own right. Perhaps on another day, we would have been more in awe.

Ataturk Dam (Ataturk Baraji) – This is the centerpiece of the Southeast Anatolian Project (GAP), a massive complex of dams that, when finished, will consist of 22 structures holding back the waters of the Euphrates and the Tigris rivers for the purpose of irrigation and hydroelectric power. Southeast Turkey is an arid land and one of the least developed in Turkey. The dam project is designed to increase agricultural production and will eventually generate 22% of the country’s electricity.

This $32 billion project does not come without social, cultural and environmental costs, of course. Whole villages have been inundated, with the populations displaced; significant historical sites now sit underwater; and there is reportedly a 10% increase in malaria cases. The countries downriver also complain that Turkey is taking more than its fair share of water from the two large rivers. I am not a huge fan of visiting dams, but this visit puts some of today’s contemporary issues in Turkey in perspective for me. It is also extremely impressive; the engineering is truly awesome. One particularly moving monument, which is the first thing one sees on entering the visitor’s platform, is a statue commemorating the workers who lost their lives building this dam. Sad.

Diyarbakir: This city has been at the center of the conflict between Kurds and the Turkish army for decades. Fifteen years ago, we were forbidden to travel to the entire Southeast region, but Diyarbakir, in particular, was nearly suicidal to visit then. Today, there are still tensions between the two factions, but it is now considered safe to travel here. Diyarbakir is 90% Kurdish, which one can see and hear on the streets; the people are swarthier, and we can hear, even with our rudimentary knowledge of the Turkish language, that people pronounce Turkish words differently. The Kurdish language was outlawed until recently. Although the local language is now legal, I don’t recall hearing words I did not recognize as Turkish.

"Diyar" means "land;" "bakir" means "copper." The city has a long history, at one point being a Hittite center, an Assyrian city, Persian, Roman, Seljuk, and so on. One thing I found fascinating was the statue in one of the city’s central squares: A giant watermelon sits atop a large structure in the central traffic rotary. Guess what Diyarbakir grows throughout the region? Alas, our appetites being whetted for the wonderful watermelon grown in this sunny, hot, arid region, we will have to wait longer; it is too early in the season for fully ripe melons.

Some of the sights we saw in Diyarbakir are:

Ataturk’s House – In nearly every city we’ve visited in Turkey, we’ve encountered a house called "Ataturk’s House." Apparently, each time the hero of the Turkish Republic stayed in a house while visiting, it became "his;" he was such a revered figure throughout the country that the towns gave the houses to him. This was true at least in Diyarbakir. After his death, these houses became a cultural and historical focus for each city. This one, with a beautiful view of the city and countryside, is constructed in a common style for the region, with alternating bands of black and white stone. The gardens surrounding the house are now a public park, with a terrific view of the historic city walls.

Diyarbakir City Walls – Two people have told us that the walls surrounding the old part of the city are second in size and condition only to the Great Wall of China. So we were prepared to be immensely impressed. Well, it turns out that this wall is "only" five kilometers in length—still impressive, but comparing it to the Chinese wall seems out of whack. At any rate, the black basalt stones used in constructing this Byzantine wall, the excellent condition of the remaining structure, and the multiple towers built into it are certainly awesome in their own right.

Mardin Gate – There are four main entrances through the wall. We visited one, the Mardin Gate, named so because it faces the city of Mardin, which we will visit on another day. The gate is huge, affording nice views of the city and walls from its roof. Inside the gate we visited an enormous cavernous building which was built on the site of a former temple to the sun. The current structure was originally a Byzantine church, later local Arabs made it into a mosque. On the day of our visit it was serving as an art gallery, with large photographs of Turkey and France on display, and tables set up to enjoy a cup of the ubiquitous Turkish tea.

Before we got off the bus to visit the Mardin Gate, we were advised to leave all our belongings on the bus, as pickpockets and petty thieves apparently wait for tourists near the gate. The driver and attendant stayed by the locked bus to keep an eye on it. This advice was a little surprising, in that we find the people of this country extremely generous, kind and honest. Trusting as I am (although I did leave my purse on the bus; I’m not stupid), I tried to look at all the young men idly hanging around the gate with respect while giving them the benefit of the doubt, but there certainly were a lot of them. I think the advice we were given was sound after all.

Chaldean Church – Because this area of Turkey hosted some of the earliest Christian and Muslim believers, there are a wide variety of religious buildings representing different faiths and cultures. We visited a modest sized Catholic church, built in the 4th to 5th centuries. Although currently under restoration, it is still in use by descendants of the Babylonians.

Ulu Mosque (Great Mosque) – My travel notes state that this is the first mosque in Turkey. It is old, made of huge blocks of stone, and elaborately decorated in stone carvings. Along the outside wall are carved passages from the Koran, written in Arabic. The courtyard is enormous, and contains an old sundial, the significance of which I forgot to ask Onur, our guide. His explanation was in Turkish. Normally he summarizes each site for us in English, but both of us forgot to ask for an English explanation of this sundial. The shape of the mosque itself represents a style of mosque no longer in vogue. It has a long, rectangular shape, with no domes on the roof. Later Seljuk mosques are square, with flat roofs. More recent mosques are also square, with domed roofs, the latter reputedly influenced by Christian church designs.

Cahil Sikti Ev Museum – This museum was formerly the home of Cahit Sitki Taranci, one of Turkey’s most famous twentieth century poets. While we poked our noses into the restored rooms of this beautiful house, typical of local architecture with its gorgeous enclosed courtyard surrounded by rooms, three schoolboys, smelling tourist money, started to recite in unison one of the writer’s poems. They were terrific, not missing a note. Naturally, we tourists were generous in offering money for their performance—well, truthfully, the others were generous, I was less so. Below is a brief video of part of their performance.

Southeast Turkey - Day 1

2010-05-30T14:49:00.010-04:00

Mount Nemrut National Park

For more photos, see http://www.anatolianphotos.shutterfly.com/

For much of the month of May, Larry and I have been working feverishly trying to edit his book manuscript about the history of the death penalty in Connecticut. With a June 15 deadline, imposed only a few weeks ago, we spent as many of our waking hours as possible working to answer hundreds of questions posed by the editor. Alas, the task became impossible to complete by the deadline, despite our best efforts. For one thing, only Larry’s notes, stored in boxes in Hampton, could answer dozens of the questions. But more importantly (to us), we had previously booked, and paid for, two week long tours of Eastern Turkey to end our sojourn on an exciting note before returning to the U.S. on June 15. Fortunately, the publisher extended our deadline, at Larry’s request, to July 15. SO, off we went, from May 22 to May 28 on the first of our long trips to the cradle of civilization—Southeast Turkey.

I will be posting separate entries for each of the days on our trip. This means that, if you are checking my blog next week or after, you will see the entries in reverse order, beginning with Day 6. Sorry! (Of course, that means you won’t see this note until too late).

On May 22 we joined 21 other people and a great tour guide on a Tempo Tur trip to the area of Turkey that had been off limits during our earlier visit to the country in 1994/95. There, and especially in the city of Diyarbakir, the Kurdish insurgency made travel to the area extremely dangerous. Today, it is safe and is being discovered particularly by Turkish tourists also eager to see a part of their country formerly inaccessible to them as well.

Located between the Tigris and Euphrates (sound familiar to all of you who vaguely remember your Western Civ. classes?), the countryside we visited was astonishing in the richness and complexity of its history. The earliest known settlements are here, dating back to 7000 BCE. Evidence is everywhere of dozens, possibly more, civilizations. For example, the road we travelled was often flanked by "huyuk," or "tel," huge flat hills that were sites of multiple layers of earlier settlements, some of which are still awaiting excavation!

Large sections of the area are now inundated with water dammed up from the two big rivers by a series of dams constructed over the past several years. The GAP project, building and maintaining these dams, has nearly completed the construction of all 22 projected dams, bringing (on the plus side) irrigation to this extremely dry region, and hydroelectric power to remote towns and villages. On the negative side, the waters are also the cause of an increase in malaria, the displacement of entire village populations, and the drowning of historically significant sites. I have also been told that Iraq and Syria, downriver, are none too happy about the decrease in the water that reaches their countries.

Our six day trip covered 2,374 kilometers by bus. That’s 1475 miles on a bus. Luckily for us, Turkish buses are very comfortable, clean and efficient. And our bus drivers were amazing.
After the long overnight, nearly sleepless trip from Ankara to Kahta, we checked into the Zeus hotel, which was the only one of five hotels where we truly enjoyed the food. All the others served some variation of meat kebap. Larry certainly got mighty tired of eggplant and cuke and tomato salad, with little other variety. I at least was able to eat some chicken and terrific fish. Otherwise, I too was not impressed with the food, so this will be the last mention of it. (But we will always be grateful for the Zeus hotel food).

This first day’s cultural visit was to the Mount Nemrut National Park, which included several sites from the time of the Commagene kingdom, a brief civilization dating from 162 BCE to about 72 AD.

Karakus Tumulus – Our first stop, after resting at the hotel (and a nice solo swim in the hotel pool for me) was the Karakus Tumulus, a large pile of rocks the size of a fist which was typical of other tumuli in the area. The graves of the women of the royal family of the Commagene kingdom are believed to lie under these rocks. Karakus means "black bird" and may refer to the eagle on top of one of the remaining columns surrounding the tumulus. Some consider this mound to be a smaller version of the one atop Nemrut Dag (below), where the king Antiochus himself is supposedly buried.

Cendere Bridge – In 210 AD, four Commagene cities built this single arch bridge over a tributary of the Euphrates River to honor the Roman emperor, Septemus Severus, his wife and his two sons. Four Corinthian columns formerly flanked the ends of the bridge; only three now remain. One of Severus’s sons, Caracalla, assuming the throne on the death of his father, murdered his brother, Geta, and removed the column representing his brother, along with any references to the latter throughout the Roman Empire. This bridge is the oldest remaining bridge in Turkey and one of the oldest in the world. At 1,800 years old, it is still in use, mostly by tourists, and is in excellent condition.

Arsemeia (today: Eskikale, or "Old Castle") – This city on top of a tall promontory was the ancient capital of the Commagene kingdom, and was founded by Mithridates I around 80 BC. The more recent capital, Yenikale ("New Castle") is now buried under the waters of the GAP dams. Climbing up a somewhat scary path along the side of the hill, we passed a stele depicting Mithras, the god of the sun (called Apollo in the West), and the god of a secret cult in ancient times. Later, we passed two tunnels carved into the stone, reputedly sites of secret rites of the cult. The openings of the tunnels are blocked; they extend about 500 feet down into the mountain, and the steep carved stairways are apparently very dangerous to descend. At the mouth of one of the caves is a relief of Antiochus I shaking hands with Hercules; above the opening is a long carved account in Greek of the founding of the city. Higher up the hill are the remains of the city itself; we did not, though, go any higher. The view was unbelievable!

Nemrut Dag (Mount Nemrut) - One of the key highlights of this trip ended this first day of sight seeing. After a harrowing ride on three minibuses, ours driven by a seeming daredevil, up mountain roads with, as usual, no guardrails, we arrived at the top of the 7,000 foot high Mount Nemrut (sometimes referred to as Nemrud), a UNESCO World Heritage site.

From the parking lot, we climbed the remaining 500 feet or so to the first of two terraces cut from stone at the top of the mountain. The very tip of the summit, between the two terraces is a 150 foot pyramid constructed of loose stone, reputedly containing the tombs of Antiochus 1, the Commagene ruler who oversaw the creation of this colossal site during his reign around the first century BCE.

Nobody knows for sure whether there is a tomb or any remains within the summit’s tumulus because it cannot be excavated (or looted) without the entire structure of loose stone collapsing atop any intruders. Clever. Interestingly, similar grandiose tombs and/or monuments in Egypt were engineered from more permanent materials; i.e., huge stone blocks. But their very strength enabled robbers to penetrate the pyramids and carry off treasures, unlike the tumulus atop Nemrut Dag, which remains intact.

From a distance, one can see the summit’s tumulus, which creates the illusion of a very pointy summit. The terraces on either side of the tumulus, though, are not visible from below the mountain, or from any distance for that matter. Only by climbing the mountain, or, in our case, the very top to the summit, can one see why Nemrut Dag is such an amazing site, which has recently become one of the symbols of Turkey and a popular tourist destination. So, donning our warm clothes (I had five layers, including a down vest and still felt cold), we braved the strong winds and cold and climbed to the top, passing up the opportunity to take a "taxi" (i.e., a donkey) up the steepest bit.

We first reached the Western terrace, where Antiochus, son of Mithridates, had constructed a temple, of which only the base remains. Facing due West, colossal statues of himself and various gods look out over the spectacular landscape below. Earthquakes, unfortunately, collapsed the statues such that all the heads fell to the ground. Recent renovations, however, stood the heads upright, at the base of their respective bodies. There are plans to one day hoist the heads back onto the bodies, but, frankly, I think the current configuration is fine as it is. The western terrace’s statues pay tribute to the Mesopotamian ancestry of Antiochus; the eastern terrace to his Persian ancestry.

Moving around the tumulus to the eastern terrace, we see many of the same type of statues, including Antiochus again, this time wearing a Persian style head covering. Also on view are reliefs depicting Antiochus shaking hands with several historical or mythical figures; e.g., Hercules, Zeus, and Apollo. The latter, Apollo, was also named Mithras by the Persians and was the center of a cult religion that supposedly practiced secret rites in caves throughout the region (see above).

By the time we were ready to depart, the sun was very low. We were planning to stay atop the mountain until sunset, but left early because clouds were beginning to form and some people had not worn enough warm clothing. As we descended the summit, I mentioned to Larry that the eleven hour bus trip was worth it just to see this site alone. Amazing!

Because there is so much more to describe about Nemrut Dag, including the specific gods and the rich history of the area, I will let the internet do so. Besides, it is all too confusing to make sense of the changes in civilizations, cultures, rulers, religions and so on, so I’ve given up trying. Here is a helpful web site: http://www.adiyamanli.org/mt_nemrut.htm
　

Tekirova, Native Americans, and early farewells

2010-05-22T10:35:00.005-04:00

For more photographs, see: http://www.anatolianphotos.shutterfly.com/

On Friday, May 14, Meldan hosted another party to bid us farewell. Although it is another three weeks before we head back to the States, this was the only date on which nearly everyone could come. One couple, the cultural affairs officer and his wife, both of whom are very nice, showed up the previous Friday, ready to party. When they saw Meldan’s look of shock on that earlier date, Rachel, the wife, turned to Tom and said "I thought it was next week." Anyway, we had a nice time and, as always, scads of food, all served very elegantly.

The very next morning, we headed to the bus station to board a bus to Tekirova, a resort community on the eastern part of the Teke Peninsula, west of Antalya. There, we met up with some of the people from the night before, including the Embassy’s public affairs officer. The purpose of the trip was for all the Fulbrighters to get together from all over the country for an "evaluation" meeting. Some of us think it was simply an all expenses paid vacation for the Fulbright Commissioners, including the U.S. Ambassador.

At the risk of sounding ungrateful for three days at a Mediterranean resort, at no expense to us, this was not a completely satisfying trip. For one thing, the meeting was nearly useless. Each Fulbright member was given about four minutes to sum up their year, and make recommendations to improve the program. That was pretty much it. Then we were on our own to do what we wanted for a day and a half.

Because the Fulbright Commission planned nothing, nor gave us any information about what was available, a lot of us floundered around trying to figure out how to get to some of the incredible sights nearby. The Commissioners, who had been here many times before, all took off on their own excursions, leaving those of us who’d never been there behind. (Some Fulbrighters knew the lay of the land and how to get around so they, too, took off). Some of us negotiated a full day’s boat ride, with a lunch on the boat, swimming, and trips to some historical sights, but the plans got extremely complicated, and ultimately fell through due to some stingy individuals and a few temper tantrums (not me, this time!) Just as the plans had finally jelled, about twelve hours after we started them, one Fulbright staff member informed us that she booked a boat for us for the afternoon—for free. A half hour earlier, she told me that nothing was planned. Aaargh! There went all our plans for the all day trip and the visits to historical sights. Our stingy companions jumped at the chance for the free boat ride, leaving the rest of us in the lurch. (We needed a minimum number of people for the all day trip).

So, off we all went on a two and a half hour ride along the coast. The bad part was missing those sights—Phaselis, where Alexander the Great summered during one of his campaigns; Olympus, with its ruins peeking out of jungle like growths; the Chimera, a mountain still spewing perpetual fires from gases escaping within, the fires of antiquity, where the myth of Pegasus takes place. And the mountains surrounding the resort went unexplored by all but the U.S. Ambassador and his wife, who knew how to get to the paths, but felt no compulsion to let anyone else know.

Were we irritated? Mightily. Was the boat trip a waste of time? NO! We got to swim in the Mediterranean, jumping off the boat that had stopped in a cove, within sight of a peculiar rock formation that looked exactly like the profile of a woman’s head. It is called "Cleopatra’s Rock." And the brief trip was very relaxing, the weather was gorgeous, and the Mediterranean very very blue. The only glitch was the uncertainty of the whereabouts of two Fulbright students who swam to shore, then disappeared for about an hour, as we all waited for them on the boat. (We had visions of Antonioni’s "L’Aventura," where a woman disappears from a Mediterranean island, never again to be found). Eventually they were rescued by the captain and a crew member who had to take a rowboat to another beach to find them. The students were bemused that they had been holding up a whole boat load of people, and didn’t seem at all remorseful.

As for the resort where we stayed for three days, it is not at all the type of place I would have chosen. A real "resort," with water sports, disco, four pools, all you can eat and drink (including alcohol, which was "free" the entire time), it catered to Russian tourists. Great, I thought, we’ll be among vodka swilling, disco dancing tourists, who will keep us awake all night. Not so! First of all, the resort was beautifully designed, with the rooms located far from the disco. The Russian tourists seemed to be all families. There were little kids all over the place, mostly very young, who were probably the most well behaved kids I’ve seen in a long time. Nobody drank in excess. The music stopped reasonably early. The water was great, the weather perfect, the scenery gorgeous. So, despite our frustrations with the Fulbright staff, we ended up having a good time. We even danced our last night away (until about 10:30 p.m.—we’re not all that young, and the music stopped anyway), choosing to forget all our irritations of the weekend. It’s still not the type of place I would normally choose. But, it was free to us, and ended up being a pleasant surprise.

Returning to Ankara, we had one more Native American group meeting, at the home of a woman named Ece, who is a documentary film maker for TRT, the official Turkish television station. She showed us one of the documentaries she had created about bears in Turkey. It was terrific, even if it has nothing to do with Native Americans. Interestingly, one of the people there we hadn’t seen since the meetings of fifteen years ago. I said to him, "I understand you are a doctor." His response was: "That is an insult; I am a surgeon." I avoided him for the rest of the evening, but had a good time otherwise.

On Friday, May 21, Hacettepe hosted a visit from the Seven Falls Indian Dancers, a family of a half dozen or so Native Americans who perform throughout the summer at various powwows and other venues. They incorporate traditional Native American dance with contemporary interpretations and costumes. During lunch, one of the dancers told me she has been to a powwow at Foxwoods in Connecticut, where I had once attended one of the gatherings. She is the world champion Southern Indian female dancer.

Above is a brief video clip I took of one of the dancers forming a traditional "grass dance." I hope you can open and view it easily.

This blog entry was written in haste, as we need to catch a bus to the Southeast in a few hours. If you are reading it before we return from our Southeast Turkey trip, forgive its rambling nature. If you are lucky enough to read it after I’ve had a chance to edit the entry, it may read more smoothly. (Of course, I will then have removed this paragraph). So, sorry about the "draft" nature, but I’ve got a bus to catch. Gorusuruz!
　

Cappadocia and Başdere tree planting

2010-05-14T04:48:00.008-04:00

April 30 - May 2

For more photographs see: http://www.anatolianphotos.shutterfly.com/

Cappadocia, about five hours’ drive east of Ankara, is as surreal as it gets. Several millennia of selective erosion of tuff from massive volcanic eruptions long ago, have created a landscape like no other in the world.

So soft is the tuff stone that early Christians, unable to practice their religion in peace during Roman rule, began to carve homes and churches into cliffs, hillsides and the “fairy chimneys” that dot the landscape of the central Anatolian plain. Over a period of seven hundred years, beginning in the 4th century B.C.E., more than 200 churches, thousands of cave homes, and several enormous underground cities created a maze of structures that simply defy the imagination. It is nearly impossible to adequately describe how unreal and spectacular this area of Turkey is.

Larry and I have been to this region twice before, on our visit fifteen years ago. We had not planned on visiting Cappadocia again, as there are so many other places in Turkey we would still like to see. But when we were presented with the opportunity of joining one hundred or more Americans in planting trees in a Cappadocia village called Başdere, we signed up, and even made a modest contribution to the purchase of some saplings.

Ray and Barbara very generously offered to drive us, rather than taking a bus full of families with young kids.

This trip to Cappadocia differed from the previous two in many ways, including the hotel we booked. In Göreme, one of the major tourist towns in Cappadocia, we stayed in one of the more affordable “cave hotels.” For the equivalent of $40 per night, we had our very own cave room—cut into the tuff, with rough sides and ceiling, but a smooth, pretty wooden floor. The kilims hung on the wall made it look quite cozy and a little less “cave-y.” The room was comfortable if small. The bathroom was not so clean—mold was evidence that the moisture was not sufficiently vented. But the view was spectacular and the price was right. I’m sure that the pseudo (but beautiful) “cave” hotel a few yards down the hill would have been cleaner and more luxurious, if we had wanted to spend about $1000 per night. We were quite happy, thank you very much, with our little Sarihan Otel (trans.: “yellow caravansaray”).

After a somewhat overpriced lunch, we headed to the Göreme National Open Air Museum, a UNESCO World Heritage Site, with a large concentration of carved structures and a wide variety of churches. The earlier ones contained somewhat crude frescoes, in one color, red. As the centuries progressed, the frescoes and the structures themselves became more elaborate. One church, called Karanlık Kilise (“Dark, without light, church”) had so few window openings that the frescoes are as fresh and bright as the day they were painted. Frescoes in other churches show fading and wear, while still others have been damaged by iconoclasts many centuries ago.
Fifteen years ago, we walked throughout this park on paths that were tricky to navigate – they were simply tuff pathways, with some loose sand on slopes that ranged from a slight incline to quite steep. The intervening years saw the installation of cobbled walkways, stairways and observation platforms, easing the formerly difficult walk and/or climb to several of the churches, monasteries and homes. Turkey has made a real effort to ease the comfort of tourists, both domestic and international. Of course, the hefty entry fee helps.

The following day, we headed to Başdere, where we joined one hundred or more Americans and about two hundred villagers in the fourth annual Earth Day Tree Planting sponsored by the U.S. Embassy (and originated by the Embassy’s gardener, a native of the village), and local municipal leaders and organizations.

Unbelievably, we planted 1,500 trees in 2 ½ hours! Admittedly, I use the term “we” loosely; my short, square shovel being virtually useless on the rocky hillside, I mostly got in people’s way taking pictures. But I tried. Larry was given a proper shovel to use, and, with his unfulfilled desire (in Turkey) to dig in the dirt, he worked like crazy. Every now and then, I patted down the soil or carried some of the saplings to a new hole for planting--then took more pictures.

At lunchtime, the village women who had prepared a feast for all three hundred workers, served us a fine lunch in the village’s central park.

In four years, this program has planted an astounding 8,000 trees. As part of the country’s reforestation projects, the town has only about eight million more trees to go :-), but they’ve made a good start.

Afternoon being free, we continued our sight-seeing. First we visited a place called “Paşabaği,” where there is a beautiful concentration of fairy chimneys seemingly marching through the surreal valleys. Some looked like gigantic mushrooms. Others, especially those in the nearby “Love Valley” looked like – well, guess (see the photos if I’ve actually stumped you).

These stone monoliths were formed when a layer of hard rock, sitting on top of a deeper layer of tuff, channeled rain in such a way that the softer tuff was sculpted into tall cylinders, capped by a wider, but thinner, layer of darker, harder stone. It looks as though the huge cylinders have little “caps” on top, although the local populace (or just us tourists?) refer to the structures as “fairy chimneys.”

Later, we stopped at a roadside observation point where, looking down from the road, we saw some of the most amazing giant fairy chimneys. To me, it was a trip down memory lane. I have photographs of all of us, five year old Anna included, at this very spot fifteen years ago, when a student, Şaban, took us to many sights in Cappadocia and hosted us in his parents’ summer home in Kayseri.

Our last stop of the day was a town we had never heard of, called “Uçhisar,” meaning “Three Castles.” Two of the castles are actually in other towns. The one in Uçhisar was a gigantic outcropping, carved inside and out and forming a lookout “castle” that dominates the landscape in this part of Cappadocia. Larry and I toyed with the idea of climbing it from an inside stairway, but decided against it. We were tired and Ray and Barbara, even more tired, were waiting in the car. Besides, we had seen so many panoramic views by then that we had had enough for the day.

Climbing down from the hill at the base of the castle, I finally saw Mt. Erciyes! This is the mountain that sits next to Kayseri and made itself invisible during our entire Kayseri trip a few months ago. It is also one of the mountains that spewed all the ash – later tuff – that surrounded us.

In planning our trip to Cappadocia, we picked out a few other sights we had hoped to see, but were unable to. One was at least one of the several underground cities carved down into the stone, some of which extend up to fifteen or twenty stories deep. Capable of housing as many as 40,000 people for six months, these cities were the perfect hiding places for populations harassed by Roman troops. We had visited one of these cities fifteen years ago, but were game to climb down again.

Other sights we hoped to see again were the Ihlara Valley, and Mustafapaşa. The Valley is a rift, with, again, churches and homes built down into the sheer stone. The small town of Mustafapaşa had been the home of wealthy Greeks, with large, beautiful stone mansions left behind after the Greeks left Turkey. On our first trip to Cappadocia so many years ago, we visited Mustafapaşa briefly one evening. Not succeeding in finding a needed WC, I saw an open door, leading to another open door, with a facility beckoning me. Only after I emerged did I look more carefully, only to find that I had brazenly walked into somebody’s private house! (They never saw me--I think).

Anyway, we’ve got lots of memories of Cappadocia, some old and some new. Another example of the latter is the sight of dozens of hot air balloons floating above the city of Göreme in the early morning. I would estimate that it will take another three visits to see all I would still like to see – both for the first time, and as a repeat. It is an amazing place. Here is a web site that may help fill in where mere words, and even my photographs fail: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cappadocia and http://www.cappadociaturkey.net/

Antakya, April 22 - 25

2010-04-29T09:41:00.011-04:00

Antakya, April 22 - 25

For more photos, please see: http://www.anatolianphotos.shutterfly.com/

On the long holiday weekend of National Sovereignty and Children’s Day, we took a three-day Tempo Tur excursion to Antakya, the ancient city of Antioch, located on the Hatay, a centuries long disputed finger of land on the southern Turkey/Syria border. Antakya has a 3,000 year history. It was an important site in early Christianity and, later, Islam. It was located on a crossroads of the North/South as well as the East/West ancient trade routes. It served as an economically attractive region because of its location but also because of the extensive plain of extremely fertile soil between two mountain ranges. For all these reasons, it also had strategic significance for multiple covetous empires and nations. In 1939, due to Ataturk’s military, economic and cultural vision for the new Turkish Republic, the Hatay was freed from France’s control and annexed to the Turkish Republic shortly after his death.

Antioch-on-the-Orontes (the latter was the old name for the River Asi, which flows through the city) was once called the "Queen of the East," or "The Fair Crown of the Orient" due to its wealth, influence and its extraordinary beauty. You would never know it had been so beautiful. Today it looks like so many other run-down Turkish cities—lots of cement block apartment buildings, car dealerships and too many cars. However, archaeological digs continue to find exquisite examples of early ruins, including the long, pillared Roman road that lies beneath today’s main street, and wealthy villas of the ruling elite, most with beautiful mosaics now housed in the archaeology museum.

Two years ago, the Turkish government committed to vast improvements in the city, including infrastructure work, restoration of existing old buildings and neighborhoods, and promotion of the city as a tourist site. Some of the motivation behind these government subsidies is to relieve some of the pressure from other popular tourist destinations in Turkey; e.g., Ephesus, Istanbul, Cappadocia, Antalya, etc. And some of the rationale is economic—to increase even more tourist visits, bringing money into this part of the country. Additionally, Turkey is also expressing a sense of extraordinary pride in the beauty and rich history of the entire country, not just the more well known areas. And the few old neighborhoods of Antakya that survived seismic traumas are beautiful.

Here are some of the highlights of our trip:

Archaeology Museum

Because of the wealth of ancient Antioch’s merchants, old homes excavated in the 1930s, mostly in the suburb formerly called Daphne (see below), were found to have been decorated with huge, elaborate mosaics depicting classical themes. The museum was constructed to house and display some of the large numbers of mosaics recovered, although we saw in a documentary that the building is only large enough to house about one fifth of its holdings. Unfortunately, none of the houses themselves, nor virtually any other ancient buildings, survived a series of massive earthquakes over the centuries. The floors, however, remained intact or with enough surviving pieces to display the exquisite artistry used on these intricate designs. From not too far away, they look like paintings. The museum owns the second largest collection of classical mosaics in the world. I’m not sure where the largest collection is, but I suspect it is in Rome. Just yesterday, a colleague of Larry’s told me that the museum has recently received the go-ahead for expansion. Her husband is an architect and has designed museum buildings in Turkey; maybe he’ll be working on this one.

St. Peter’s Cave Church; St. Peter and Paul Orthodox Church; small Catholic Church; Habib-I Neccar Mosque

Antioch played a significant role in the history of the early Christian religion. Evidence can be found everywhere in the city, as well as in the hills surrounding it. The most extraordinary church was carved into the cliffs of Mount Staurin (Mount of the Cross), reputedly by St. Peter himself. This cave church was one of the earliest Christian prayer locations. The Crusaders built a wall at the cave entrance, but inside is the original first century church where the word "Christian" was first used. Because of the significance of this early church, a recent Pope named it a holy place, fit for visits by pilgrims. Each year there is a pilgrim ceremony attended by people from all over the world. Because at the time it was built Christianity was outlawed, there is an escape tunnel at the back of the church leading into the mountain. It’s pretty obvious, so I would think the Romans could easily follow the early Christians up the tunnel. But, perhaps someone on the lookout gave the worshippers warnings of approaching Roman soldiers. Places like this certainly spark the imagination and make the Western Civilization courses of our youth come very much alive.

Nearby is a huge earlier carved relief of Charon, guardian of the River Styx, carved into the mountain overlooking the city. It was constructed in ancient times in hopes of relieving a devastating outbreak of the plague, but, when the plague ended earlier than expected, the relief was never finished. We did not get to see this enormous statue, despite the fact that it was only about 100 feet above St. Peter’s cave church, because the guide thought that we old folks were not up to the climb. Darn! What we did see, however, were a large number of simple caves carved into the surrounding hills and inhabited by the earliest Christian hermits, thus beginning the tradition of hermitages.

Visits to other churches provided evidence of the wide variety of religions that coexisted throughout the history of this amazing city. It is possible that we visited more Christian churches than I would have expected because, not only is this the center of early Christianity, but the forty people on our tour were all Turkish (except us) and therefore, Muslim, although not all practicing Muslims. Most may never have been in a Christian Church before, so this may have been something new to them.

One impressive mosque, Habib-I Neccar Mosque, was actually named after an early devout Christian convert whose remains are reputed to be buried somewhere in the building.

Harbiye/Daphne

The Harbiye suburb of Antakya was once called Daphne, named after the nymph who, in answer to her prayers, was turned into a laurel tree to escape the amorous advances of the god Apollo. The canyon where this occurred is a gorgeous forested wonderland of multiple waterfalls, fresh breezes, lush vegetation and beautiful views. It was the location of the summer homes of Roman Emperors; again earthquakes destroyed the buildings, but the beauty of the area remains. Today it is the site of tourist trinket vendors and cafes, with waterfalls pouring into the sides of the latter. It’s a little tacky in places, and heavily populated with tourists, but is still quite beautiful.

St. Simeon Monastery

One early Christian monk, St. Simeon, spent forty years atop a column in the middle of a monastery built in the 6th century AD on a tall hill overlooking the valley and river below. Today’s ruins still show the base of the column, which had been carved from the mountain top, and the surrounding churches built around the octagonal center of the monastery. This monastery marks the beginning of the Christian monastic tradition, later exported to Italy. Today, we can view not only the city below from the ruins of this favorite pilgrimage site, but also a new windmill farm currently under construction to take advantage of the ever-present breezes. Antakya plans to use windmills to provide 100% of its power in the near future. Good for them, and shame on us in the U.S. for not following their lead.

Moses/Elijah? meet

On the shore of the eastern Akdeniz (Mediterranean), a large calcium stone sits inside a recently constructed structure in the town of Samandag. Here, our guide informed us that this is where Moses is said to have met the Prophet Elijah. However, when I looked up some information about the site, it turns out that it is the tomb of Hizir, or al-Khidr, an enigmatic figure is Islamic history, and not Elijah. But the story apparently is similar to one told in the Talmud about Elijah. In the Hizir/Moses story, Moses is tempted three times to break his vow of patience and trust, reminding one of many other "three temptation" stories; e.g., Jesus, among others. Today the site is a holy one, and the goal of pilgrims, who come to pray and pay homage to these early holy men.

There is a tradition of visitors circling the site three times before entering to pray (for good fortune?). So our bus driver, before letting us off, circled the small building three times, making me dizzy and all of us chuckle. I have not figured out what the large rock inside the building actually is; it is such a strange shape covered with calcium deposits, and doesn’t seem to belong here on the beach. But, the tour was conducted in Turkish, and I never got a good explanation, so it remains a mystery to me. My most vivid memory is likely to be the wad of gum I stepped on in my stockinged feet, after removing my sneakers before entering this very holy site. Yuck!

Seleucia Pieria and Tunnel

After the death of Alexander the Great, his empire was divided into three, one part of which was ruled by the Seleucids. Seleucia Pieria, built around 300 BCE, was the ancient port of Antioch. The city itself was destroyed by earthquakes in the sixth century. This port city was the point from which St. Paul set out on the first of his missions, around 45 AD. On the path climbing to the city and its tombs, we passed an exposed layer of soil and pebbles, reported to date from Neolithic (or did our guide say "Neandertal"?) times. It is possible that some of the lower cut tombs were used by these ancient peoples in their time. Higher up the hill, the tomb maze of the Seleucids, called Besikli Cave Tomb Monument ("Tomb of the King") reaches well into the hills. It contains 93 vaults and was constructed between the years 1 and 5 AD on the site of the earlier tomb carvings.

Of equal significance is the tunnel built into the mountain near the ancient town. This tunnel, one of history’s engineering marvels, was begun by the Emperor Vespasian, when this area was still part of Syria, and completed about one hundred and fifty years later during the reign of Titus. It was intended to divert a stream that had been silting up the harbor and threatening the town with floods. We passed by, and over, this deep tunnel many times in our climb to the Seleucid tombs, but still saw only a fraction of the long chasm, a section of which passed within the mountain itself.

Cevlik Beach and Doric Temple

Climbing another hill, this time by minibus, we found the remains of a Doric temple overlooking the long – about 14 kilometers – straight Cevlik Beach, with fine, brown sand, unusual in the Mediterranean, where the beaches are generally pebbly. At the far end of this beach looms Mt. Cassius, the home of Zeus, according to local legend. This temple, occupied at the moment by two cows and their owner, was also destroyed by earthquakes, but enough was left to visualize the extraordinary effect its location must have had on ancient worshippers of Zeus and, possibly, in the basement of the temple, Aphrodite.

Armenian Village

Prior to WWI, Turks and Armenians lived in relative harmony in the eastern half of Anatolia. With the Russian invasion of Anatolia, and their recruitment of Armenians as allies, tensions between the two ethnic groups erupted into horrendous bloodshed on both sides and the subsequent expulsion of Armenians from the area. These tensions still exist today. Nonetheless, Ataturk, in the 1930s, after annexing the Hatay to Turkey, offered Armenians the opportunity to return to their ancestral homes in some sections of Anatolia, including this village, called Vakiflik Koy. Apparently this is the only village that took him up on his offer and, therefore, is the only remaining Christian Armenian village in Turkey, where the 130 residents make a decent living from the surrounding orchards and sales of local crafts to tourists, most of whom are Turkish. I for one loved the crocheted doilies, but they were too expensive for the little amount of money I brought with me on this trip. Another temptation offered to us for sale was strawberry and pomegranate liquors, of which we were offered several free samples. Delicious! Alas, they are sold in glass bottles, and wouldn’t have made it home easily when we return to the States in June. This village is very pretty, with flowers blooming everywhere, and a great view from the hills to the Mediterranean. Alas, the residents are nearly all old, so its survival as an Armenian village remains in question.

Village wedding, and canyon tea house

On our bus ride back to the city and our hotel, we passed through a canyon village called Hidir Nebi, which was listed on our itinerary. What was not listed was the wedding celebration that we gleefully viewed from the sidelines. Above, if I did so correctly, I have imbedded a video of some of the music and dancing at this wedding celebration. Alas, I am not that familiar with taking videos with my camera, so, as I tried to figure out how to do so, I missed the traditional village line dance. But I did succeed in capturing some more contemporary dancing by some young men. A few women joined in, but it is mostly men who dance at these public celebrations. [Another "Alas." The video takes way too long to upload, and I don't have editing software that lets me shorten the video. So I won't be posting it after all, at least not for now. Sorry!]

A few miles down the road, we passed over an Ottoman bridge spanning the impressive Batayaz Canyon. Nearby, we put our feet up on the railing protecting us from falling into the canyon, and had tea while taking in the pretty hills and newly blossoming flora.

Iskenderun and Naval Museum

After leaving our hotel on the last day of our trip, we stopped at the city of Iskenderun, the largest city on the Hatay, and the home of a Turkish naval base. There was no beach here per se, but the sea walls and the sea itself sparkled in the early morning. This busy port seemed unusually clean and bright for such a busy shipping and naval spot. Unlike in Fethiye, farther to the west, we saw no litter or obvious pollution in either the water or the extensive park running along the seaside. The light was beautiful and reminded me why so many artists visit the Mediterranean to capture the special effects caused by this bright sunshine. Later we visited a naval museum, which had its charms (especially the beautiful building, which looked like an old mansion), but was otherwise pretty unremarkable.

Sokullu Complex and Payas Castle

Our last stop before the long bus ride home to Ankara was just north of Iskenderun. There, we visited the 16th century Sokullu Complex consisting of mosque, hamam, bazaar, medrese, soup kitchen, and caravansaray. At the time of most of its construction, the Ottoman Sultan and Grand Vezir were keen on promoting trade in Anatolia. They set out to construct such a center, expecially a caravansaray, to provide refuge for trade caravans all along the Silk Road and other trade routes. These rest stops were constructed every forty kilometers – about thirty miles, the length a typical camel could reasonably travel in one day – and provided safe places to rest, eat, pray, and refresh. This caravansaray was one of the biggest I’ve seen or heard of. Because the Hatay was located at the crossroads of so many trade routes, a larger than normal complex was needed. The travelers were charged no fee for three days worth of lodging and food. They slept in an arched–lined building, surrounding a huge courtyard where their animals and trade goods were kept, and where they could keep an eye on them. After three days, they were expected to pay for their lodgings and food, unless they were poor or having a hard time, in which case the fee was waived and they could stay as long as needed. Vendors in the attached bazaar were charged a fee to help subsidize the travelers.

A Crusader castle also forms part of this enormous complex.

The mosque within the complex was impressive, as usual. It was either designed by the famous architect, Sinan, or imitated his style; our guides were unclear on this account. One astonishing olive tree in the mosque’s entry courtyard is 2,000 years old and still producing olives.

While our guide was explaining some of this to our group, two men approached us and asked us to join the wedding party of 1,500 guests who were about to be served lunch in the long bazaar building. Wow, this was one gigantic wedding celebration! We waited for quite awhile before the food was served by an army of volunteers. As always, men were served first, then women and children. But our guides asked if we could be served early, as we needed to get on the road. I wouldn’t have had the nerve to ask this favor, but am very grateful. One thousand five hundred people take awhile to serve. Anyway, after a surprisingly tasty meal of pilav, yogurt/cuke/garlic soup, lamb (I decided to try a few mouthfuls for the first time in fifteen years), and a great Turkish dessert – we hit the road and headed back to Ankara. This time we rode in the daylight -- our trip to Antakya was overnight -- to view the spectacular countryside in a part of Turkey we had never before visited.

Beypazari and Other Adventures

2010-04-21T03:32:00.010-04:00

For more photos, see: http://www.anatolianphotos.shutterfly.com/

Since our return from Ireland, we have been staying in Ankara, again enjoying the company of friends, eating a lot, some exercising, and concert going. One exception is a trip to an outlying town, Beypazari, for sight seeing and shopping (although we would have preferred more sight seeing and less shopping). Another exception is a funeral: Mama Ayse passed away. Between activities, we made plans for trips in our remaining weeks here in Turkey, which, alas, are numbering only a few.

Here are some highlights:

Jazz concert gala – Hacettepe University’s main downtown campus has a music conservatory, where it is establishing the first academic jazz program in Turkey. To celebrate the new department, Meldan, as chairman of the Department of American Literature and Culture on the Beytepe campus, arranged for an opening reception and jazz concert, featuring a female jazz vocalist. I am not a fan of jazz vocals (with the exception of some Jazz Age women; e.g., Ella Fitzgerald and a few others), but this woman was superb. After singing for about ½ hour, accompanied by a few instruments, she ended her program with a jazzy rendition of a Swahili lullaby, which had been sung to her by her grandmother in her childhood. We all left the concert hall with more of a swing to our step than when we entered.

Bilkent concerts – Much of the same—lots of good music, with some great contemporary music I had never heard before and, as always, it seems, Tchaikovsky. (Many in the Bilkent orchestra are from Russia). The April 3 concert was packed, since it was one of several memorial concerts honoring the founder of Bilkent, Ihsan Dogramaci, who passed away several weeks ago.

[We interrupt this narrative] – Congratulations to the UConn Husky women’s basketball team for winning their second consecutive NCAA Division I national championship, and achieving their second consecutive undefeated season (78 wins in a row!).

Lunch in Kugulu Park – Becoming a "lady who lunches," I joined Barbara in a nice park restaurant overlooking the swans in Kugulu Park in downtown Ankara. We had the best seat on the outside terrace overlooking the park.

Haircut with Ibraham– Taking a chance in getting a haircut with someone I didn’t know, I joined Meldan at what turned out to be a "salon of the stars." Turns out that this hairdresser does the hair of one of Turkey’s most famous Vegas-type performers, someone I see on Turkish TV constantly, and whose performance I do not care for at all. Nor do I like her hairdos, so I’m glad I didn’t know this before hand. For seven months I have been carrying around a photograph of my head after a U.S. haircut that I particularly liked, in order to show a Turkish hairdresser what type of haircut I would like. Naturally, I lost the photo the day before my appointment! So I was at his mercy, which turned out to be great. I now have the shortest haircut I’ve ever had. And it’s a terrific one! Thank you Ibraham.

Cocinella – Michael, our friend in Germany, was in town again to visit his wife, Serpil. This time we were able to meet both of them for dinner, as well as a student of Serpil’s, who also teaches Italian and works for the U.N. We all had delicious noodles and vegetables at a cute little bistro, whose name means "Lady Bug." Naturally, there were ladybug decorations everywhere. Of note is a tentative plan for all five of us to visit Italy this summer, with the student leading us on a tour of three cities: Rome, Florence, and Venice. Will it ever happen? Probably not. Sigh.

Muslim Funeral - On Saturday morning, April 10, Meldan called to tell us that Gulriz’s mother, Mama Ayse, had passed away (she was 99 years old). The funeral would begin at 1:00 p.m. that day at Kocatepe Mosque, the huge mosque in downtown Ankara. On a lovely, sunny day, we stood outside the mosque to pay our respects. As is customary, there were several individuals in coffins outside the mosque, each with many dozens of people paying their respects. As at a wake, we talked softly among ourselves, until the imam arrived for brief prayers. At this point the men stood in lines before the imam, the women in back, as the prayers were recited. This was hard for me, the Westerner, to take, but it is the custom here. Eventually, the coffins were carried off, the flowers were taken by street vendors to dismantle and sell on the streets, collections were offered for civic and charitable organizations, and we all left for the burial.

Driving through sections of Ankara I didn’t know existed, we eventually reached the huge graveyard, but had missed the graveside ceremony. Mama Ayse was buried on top of her mother’s remains in a grave tightly packed among thousands of others, with only about six inches between them. Unlike our western-style graves, these are coffin size structures that extend about three to four feet above the ground.

Another ride through yet more sections of Ankara unfamiliar to me eventually led us to the home of Gulriz’s sister. She had not attended either the mosque nor the graveside ceremony. Instead she prepared to receive visitors, hire another imam, and prepare food for us all. After a brief consoling visit in yet another Architectural Digest-type luxurious apartment, we sat through beautifully sung funeral prayers with, again, men separated from women. Although I brought a head scarf with me, I gave it to Meldan, who had forgotten hers. This left me as the only woman without a scarf. But I was not the only tradition breaker in that a few men chose to sit with the women, Larry included.

During this visit, I discovered that Ayse is not Gulriz’s mother’s name at all. I cannot remember (nor could I pronounce) her real name. Gulriz had teasingly called her mother "Ayse" because the word means "nanny." When her mom was being particularly controlling, Gulriz would call her "Ayse." The name stuck, not only with Gulriz, but with others as well.

Iranian dinner – One of Larry’s older students, Zahra, the mother of two adult children, invited us to her home for a delicious Iranian dinner—some of the best food I’ve had since arriving here. Most of the time at her apartment was spent listening to her experiences in Iran, where she had been jailed for a year as a pro-democracy protester in the early 1980s. She is currently a refugee in Turkey, while her husband still lives in Iran, but is free to travel between the two countries (the husband, not Zahra).

Native American Group "meeting" – Fifteen years ago, we attended informal meetings of individuals – mostly academics, but not exclusively – interested in studying and discussing Native Americans. Those meetings were social, with lots of good food, but eventually centered on fairly extensive discussions of specific aspects of Native American culture and/or history. Over the years the meetings got less and less frequent. But, as Larry and I will be leaving the country before long, a meeting was called, to be held at the second home of Bercin, a Hacettepe English literature professor, and a friend and neighbor of ours. It was questionable whether Gulriz, who founded the Dept. of American Literature and Culture at Hacettepe, as well as the American Studies Association of Turkey, would attend. It was the day after her mother’s funeral. In addition, she was in the midst of a ten day stay in the hospital—ostensibly to find out what is wrong with her, but in reality, a plan by her doctor (Burcin’s husband) to teach her how to take care of herself. She is diabetic, something she would not admit previously, and has other major lifestyle issues that are seriously affecting her health. Anyway, we were happy to see her at the meeting. This is a good sign that she did not fall apart after her mother’s death, as she had predicted she would. And she is walking a little better.

To make a long story shorter, the meeting consisted of five hours of eating, laughing and talking (mostly in Turkish, so I just smiled politely and pretended I could understand), with about ten minutes devoted to the token "meeting." Enough English was spoken to make it fun for me; these are very nice people who like to party.

Larry in Izmir, Ellen on the U.S. military base – While Larry flew in an out of Izmir, on the Aegean Sea, to give a talk about early American national documents, I spent the day with two American friends, shopping on the U.S. military base for stuff I couldn’t get anywhere else – like peanut butter – or things that were otherwise too expensive here in Turkey, like oregano, and an additional flash drive for my computer.

Beypazari – Our one out-of-Ankara journey was a day trip to a town about an hour outside Ankara, Beypazari. The word means market place of the "bey," or leader. This tour was "organized" by the Turkish American Association in Ankara. The word "organized" is in quotation marks because it is probably the least organized tour I’ve ever been on – very frustrating. Nonetheless, there were some good things about it. The weather, for example, was gorgeous. The town itself has a 3,000 year old history, being situated at a strategic point in the middle of the country, along the lucrative Silk Road. Today’s municipal leaders and conservation experts have been leading a successful effort to restore the hundreds of Ottoman homes and revitalize the market centers to make it a tourist destination. They have been remarkably successful. This was evident when, after only a few hours in the town, we noticed the streets fill up with thousands of visitors eager to buy jewelry, egg noodles, and cloth from the hundreds of vendors lining the street. Most of these visitors, according to our guide, are from Istanbul and Ankara. Although we had not planned on spending most of the day among shops (we would have preferred more cultural stuff), I was successful in finally finding some of the scarves I have been looking for since September and – finally! – some small gifts for my little girls and boy back home.

Some highlights of the Beypazari trip include the following: The Living Museum. An old Ottoman house has been turned into a museum highlighting the life of an Ottoman family, Turkish crafts and culture. People dressed in old Ottoman costumes greeted us in beautifully decorated rooms or, in one case, told us folk stories. One woman in particular told, and acted, a folk story about marital relations; although reflecting the patriarchal society I find so stultifying, the story was very funny, and effectively told.

In other rooms, craftsmen and women worked on their respective crafts, selling some products but also teaching people in artistic techniques. I tried my hand at Ebru, the Turkish paper marbling technique, creating a somewhat amateurish, but pretty, painting of three tulips representing me, Larry and Anna. My role in the creation was to hold the tools, while the teacher guided my hand, so I couldn’t go wrong.

On display in the museum, of course, was the building itself, with very elaborate hand embroidered cloth found decorating nearly every surface. One interesting note about the building was the way in which beggars were dealt with. When a beggar knocked on one of the house’s four doors – the one used only by beggars – a kitchen worker would put food into a closed "lazy Susan," and swing it around for the beggar to receive. The transaction was conducted in a way that the house door was never opened and the beggar and kitchen worker never saw each other. Interesting custom.

Another Beypazari highlight was the state subsidized craft education center, where craftspeople were trained in local artistic specialties. Beypazari is known for its silver filigree jewelry. Here, people are trained in silver work (where we saw very little ventilation in the workshops, alas), embroidery, wool dying techniques, kilim production, leather work, and other crafts. The items produced in the school workshops are sold in their onsite shops, with the proceeds donated to the poor. Our guide suggested that we could get more variety of silver products in town, so we didn’t buy from the school shop. This was before we knew the proceeds were donated to the poor--darn! As it turned out, the items sold in town were far too garish for my tastes; I wish I had bought something in the school.

When we were hungry, we accidentally stumbled into a restaurant that apparently has been featured several times on Turkish TV, it is so good. Despite the excellence of the food, and the beautiful way the frothy ayran was served (a yogurt drink), our ample delicious meal amounted to only about $6 each. Oh, that’s right, we’re no longer in Dublin.

I should have mentioned this first: we had an early morning panoramic view of the city from a large rocky outcropping and former fortress. There we were able to see why this was such an important stop on the old Silk Road. The town is situated in a wide valley, surrounded by hills that were likely created by extensive earthquake activity. The central hills are referred to as "dinosaurs" because from the vantage point of the centrally located fortress hill, they look like a family of dinosaurs marching down the long valley. I think this is one image I will always remember from this part of Turkey.

Finally, when we were tired of shopping – again, we did not realize this was mostly a shopping trip; hence our disappointment – we sat in a pretty park café, drinking tea, as we awaited our guide and our bus to take us to the Inozu Valley and then home.

The Inozu Valley is one of steep cliffs, with homes and churches carved into the soft volcanic rock, a little like Cappadoccia, which we will be visiting next week. Earlier in the day, we had driven through the valley, planning to have lunch there and, perhaps, a little walking around. But, since there was little agreement about where exactly to have lunch (the guide left too many decisions to us clueless passengers), we quickly left the valley and headed back to town, without even a brief stop to take photos of this impressive valley. We were promised a return trip later in the day. However, as we sat waiting for the bus in that pretty park café, a huge black cloud approached from the west. (Was it the evil ash cloud from Iceland? No, just a thunderstorm after what had been a beautiful, warm, sunny day). So, we missed out on the Inozu Valley and headed east, back to Ankara, just ahead of the oncoming rain.

Walking tour of Early Republic Ankara – Degil - Scheduled for Sunday, the day after Beypazari – this tour of early Republic buildings, led by the terrific archaeologist that had led the earlier Roman Ankara tour, was held without us. That rainstorm caught up with Ankara and, although the tour was still on, we didn’t want to take it in the rain. Naturally, not long after we made our early morning decision, the sun came out after all, but by then it was too late for us to catch up with the tour. So we’ll continue visits to the early Republic buildings on our own, supplementing the visits we’ve already made to the first parliamentary buildings.

Next trip: Antakya next weekend. Can’t wait. 　

Dublin, Ireland

2010-04-12T03:58:00.007-04:00

For more photographs, see: http://anatolianphotos.shutterfly.com/

Apologies to friends and family members who have been looking forward to reading about our trip to Dublin. I have had my first major attack of writer’s block since arriving in Turkey in September. But I finally broke through the block. Thanks for your patience.

March 24 to 30 was spent in Dublin, Ireland, ostensibly to attend the 2010 conference of the European Association for American Studies, a joint effort between Trinity College, Dublin, and University College Dublin. The theme of the conference was: “Forever Young.” Larry was to deliver a paper on Saturday on the American painter, Thomas Cole, and his series of paintings depicting the rise and fall of empires as synonymous with youth, maturity and old age of man. Since we were paying for our visit -- no institutional support from UConn, Hacettepe, nor Fulbright -- we decided that we would spend six days in the Emerald Isle and do as much sight-seeing as possible between conference sessions.

First, a few words about the conference. Friday was registration day in the Art Building of Trinity College. I have organized meetings and attended many conferences over the years. So I was not prepared for the lack of signs directing people to the proper building and/or rooms. And Trinity College itself seems to have no interest in naming their buildings, at least not visibly. So finding the registration room was tricky. There were many, many other organizational problems with this conference. But the next one, in two years, will be held in Turkey. With Meldan serving as the newly elected Vice President of the European organization, we talked about the logistical problems of the Dublin conference, and the need to ensure that they are not repeated in Turkey.
Despite the organizational bloopers, the workshop session I attended was excellent and included Meldan’s paper, with which I had helped her in her preparatory research. She is a good speaker and the paper, dealing with Amy Tan and the literary canon, was very good. I didn’t attend Larry’s session, as I had read his paper twice already. It too was excellent. He attended more workshops than I did, and reported that they were generally very good, with at least one exception, where the speaker’s Irish brogue was so thick he was not understood by anyone in the room.

Which brings me to the two “keynote speakers” I heard. In all my conference attendances, I have always found keynote speakers to be good to excellent. This is generally why they are selected as “keynote.” The two I heard at this conference were horrible. Enough said.

Now for the fun part: sight seeing in Dublin, Ireland.

For those of you who know Ireland at all, you know it is a wet country. The forecast called for rain the entire time we were there. But we got lucky and had plenty of dry patches for most days. The wettest (and coldest) was on our last day of sight-seeing, when we were trekking through a national park and a small, charming Irish town, Kilkenny. Each day we were in Ireland the temperature dropped slightly from the previous day, until it snowed on the day we left.

Wednesday, March 24 - Gaining two hours on the flight West, we arrived late afternoon in some rain, which soon cleared up. On the bus from the airport, we found the bus driver to be one of the most helpful and friendliest drivers we’ve ever encountered. After six days, I found that he was pretty much the norm among Irish people, at least those whom tourists are likely to encounter. Once we found our hotel, with excellent directions from the driver, and checked in, we went off on our own to investigate the immediate vicinity of the hotel, which turned out to be centrally located and within walking distance of nearly everything we had hoped to see, including most of the conference sites. (One conference day was accessible though only by bus).

Walking to the hotel, we had already discovered Grafton Street, an Istiklal Caddesi look alike (in Istanbul). Another pedestrian walkway, it was a central shopping area, with lots of upscale shops, pubs and street entertainment. Nearby, we wandered through the beautiful St. Stephen’s Green, a central urban park that had formerly been private and accessible only to the wealthy inhabitants in the Georgian mansions nearby. Now a public space, it is still surrounded by a gate which is locked at sundown. The periphery of the park, just inside the gate, is full of trees and thick vegetation, rendering the surrounding traffic and buildings virtually invisible from inside the park. Within this circle of vegetation is a more manicured park, with two nice ponds (with swans and ducks, naturally), pretty park buildings, and lots of flower gardens, statues and open space.

After emerging from the opposite end of the park from where we entered, we followed signs to various national museums, all of which were about to close for the day, so we kept walking, only to find another pretty urban park, the Archbishop Ryan Park, another plot formerly open only to the local wealthy. This one has a nifty recently installed statue of an insouciant looking James Joyce reclining on a large granite rock. Another unusual feature of the park is a large, irregular grassy mound which, according to a nearby sign, is the entry way to a WWII underground air raid shelter, large enough to hold more than 1,000 of Dublin’s inhabitants during an air attack. Most beautiful in the park are the heather gardens, showcasing the ubiquitous plant that grows throughout the country.

Feeling hungry, we found one of the restaurants I had researched on the Internet that caters to vegetarians. Govinda has four restaurants in Dublin; the one we frequented was between the two parks and across from so many of the museums on our list. Great food at a reasonable price, partly because the server lowered the price when we requested from the buffet only the vegan choices. We came back here the next day, because nearly every other restaurant, and everything else in Dublin, is really expensive!

Our hotel, Camden Court Hotel, is a three star hotel. Most of the online reviews I had read in advance said it is too noisy and the beds are uncomfortable. We found it very quiet. And the bed, although unusual, was comfortable enough for us. Another Internet complaint was that it was too hot. It certainly was the first night, but then Larry figured out how to turn the heat down. Duh! What we really liked were the breakfasts – lots of choices, including lots of fruit, and Irish porridge, which was my favorite. Another favorite in the hotel was the pool/sauna/Jacuzzi/steam room/gym complex. Despite the price of 115 Euros per night, we really liked this hotel. Given that it was the cheapest conference hotel listed, we had been a bit wary.

Thursday, March 25 – The next day was a serious sight-seeing day for Larry and me, since the conference didn’t officially open until the next day, Friday.

Dublin Castle http://www.dublincastle.ie/index.html This does not look like your typical castle. That’s because it is fairly recent in its current manifestation. Built originally by the Vikings, it was rebuilt many times over the centuries, first by the Normans, then the English, later the Irish. When we asked a tipsy gentleman outside a pub how to find the castle, he pointed vaguely in the direction of where we should walk, but warned, “it doesn’t look like a castle.” He was right. Some of the exterior sections have even been painted bright, contrasting colors. Very odd. Several of the rooms are still used for ceremonial state functions. But mostly it is a tourist site. The best part of the tour was venturing underground to view part of the Viking city walls recently found under the castle.

Chester Beatty Library – http://www.cbl.ie/ On the Castle grounds, this library was the passion of Sir Alfred Chester Beatty, an American mining magnate, whose collecting specialty was the Book Arts, something of particular interest to me, the rare book librarian. Alas, the Books Arts gallery, which is what attracted me to the building, was taken over by a display of Chinese brush paintings from the 15th century to current times. Although I was disappointed to miss the Book Arts exhibit, the gorgeous Chinese paintings and calligraphy, on loan from the Shanghai Museum, were worth seeing. On another floor, a large display of artifacts collected by Beatty highlighted some of the world’s major religions: Christianity, Islam, and three Far Eastern religions: Buddhism, Hinduism, and Jainism. Here I was able to see some of the miniaturist paintings from the Qur’an, as well as (amazingly!) some fragments of the earliest known writings, on papyrus, of the four Christian apostles. Wow! Note: I wonder how the web site translates the 8 Euro admission price – each! – to “Admission Free.”

Christ Church Cathedral - http://cccdub.ie/ This is one of two Anglican cathedrals in Dublin, the other being St. Patrick’s. The older of the two, originally a Viking church constructed 1,000 years ago, this is now Cathedral of the Dublin Diocese, whereas St. Patrick’s is the national cathedral. There is a third, Catholic cathedral, St. Mary’s, that serves as a proxy; the Catholic church apparently also laying claim to Christ Church (I think; the history is long and confusing to this layperson). Christ Church is a gorgeous building, with centuries of changes and renovations, to the point where it is hard to distinguish the medieval from the more recent sections. One of the unique aspects of this cathedral is the huge, eerie, medieval crypt that occupies the basement of most of the structure. I took two photographs before realizing that photos were not allowed down there (they were, upstairs).

Connected to the cathedral by a pedestrian bridge constructed in the 19th century is a separate building that once served as an administrative center for the church. Now it hosts two exhibitions on the history of Dublin: Viking Dublin, and Medieval Dublin. Did you know that Dublin was originally a Viking town, then for many centuries an English town, the latter surrounded by “Irish tribes”? We didn’t. The exhibitions were playful and designed for both adults and children, with lots of wax figures representing individuals from Viking and medieval times. One Viking served as host to the earlier exhibition. He was a life size drawing of a Viking, with the face cut out, within which a hologram face talked to us. I don’t know about Larry, but it made me jump when he started talking to us.

St. Patrick’s Cathedral – http://www.stpatrickscathedral.ie/index.aspx was founded in 1190, making it the “younger” of the two cathedrals in Dublin. It serves as Ireland’s national Anglican cathedral, after a late 19th century agreement that settled once and for all the anomaly of having two cathedrals for one branch of Christianity in a single town. After centuries of upheaval and neglect, a mid-19th century renovation was subsidized by the local brewer, Benjamin Guinness. Unlike Christ Church, headed by an Archbishop, St. Patrick’s is headed by a Dean, the most famous of whom was Jonathan Swift, author of Gulliver's Travels. His grave and epitaph are found in the church. The church and surrounding park sit on the site of a holy well, where St. Patrick converted the local populace to Christianity in the 5th century.

National Gallery – We saw all the sights above in one day. Ouch! My aching feet! Nonetheless, we had noticed yesterday that the National Gallery, normally open until 5:00 p.m., would close later today, at 8:30 p.m. So, after another dinner at Govinda’s, off we went to see some art. To our feets’ relief, we arrived just in time for a free concert of Chopin pieces in a beautiful concert hall in the museum. After the concert, we exited to a fairly heavy rain, feeling grateful that it had held off during our sight-seeing marathon. NOTE: mid-day the next day (Friday), we were able to return to the gallery to see the paintings there, including Rembrandt, Vermeer and, of course, Irish paintings. Very nice art museum; good food, too, in the café, though a little pricey (as is everything in Dublin, we discovered).

Friday, March 26 - Trinity College and the Book of Kells - http://www.tcd.ie/Library/old-library/book-of-kells/ The next day, Larry and I went to Trinity College, one of the hosts of the conference, for the first time. After registering for the conference (Larry, that is, I got in for free – nobody challenged me and I wasn’t about to pay an additional 90 Euros), we headed for the Trinity Library and the famous Book of Kells. This book is the most famous illustrated Bible in the world and was transcribed by monks in approximately 800 AD. It is considered a masterpiece of calligraphy and manuscript illustration and is truly beautiful. The college did a spectacular job of creating a lengthy exhibition of illuminated manuscript techniques and discussions of the book itself, before we were finally able to see the tome itself. I had seen it once before when it was on loan to the Metropolitan Museum in New York City, but it was worth seeing again. It is considered to be Ireland’s finest treasure.

When I was new on the job as a Special Collections librarian – several decades ago at UConn -- one of the first requests to me from a patron was to see the Book of Kells. “We have the Book of Kells?” I stuttered. Turns out it was a reprint in our collection—very expensive in its own right. But what did I know then? (not much, obviously)

After exiting the exhibit, we walked through “The Long Room,” a huge vaulted library room, with 200,000 old, old books. As a rare book librarian, I was eager to take pictures, but, understandably, not allowed to.

The remainder of the day was spent at the National Gallery of art.

Saturday, March 27 - Bus Tour of Dublin – The next day, Saturday, Larry was to give his talk at one of the dozens of conference workshops, as well as attend some other talks. Since I had already read Larry’s talk about the painter, Thomas Cole (great talk!), I decided to go sight-seeing on my own. Hopping on a “hop on, hop off” tour bus, with a reduced rate for this senior citizen, I sat on the upper deck of the double-decker to view the sights and hear the guide’s comments about this pretty, if sometimes grim, city. My intention was to take the tour in total once, lasting about 90 minutes, then start a second time, this time “hopping off” to visit specific sights, then back on another tour bus to continue to another sight. But I got awfully cold up there in the fresh air. So, after passing by three particularly interesting tourist spots, Kilmainham Gaol, the Guinness factory, and Phoenix Park (about 2.5 times the size of New York City’s Central Park), I settled on the National Museum of Decorative Arts.

After disembarking from the bus, I found myself alone in a section of large old warehouse looking buildings. Following signs for the museum, I entered a forbidding courtyard surrounded by what looked like huge military buildings. Alas, they WERE huge military buildings, although no longer used by the military, and turned over to the National Museum, which consists of most of the major museums in the city, similar to the Smithsonian in Washington, D.C. This one is newly occupied – but only partially – by the Decorative Arts museum -- and was a big disappointment to me. The costume and fabric exhibitions, although very nice, were small. One section of the museum consisted of a temporary exhibition on Natural History, to compensate for the main Natural History museum being closed for many months for renovation.

Anyway, after leaving the museum the way I had come in (which turned out not to be the main entrance), I could not find the bus stop to “hop” back on another tour bus! A nice woman nearby, with a brogue so thick I understood almost nothing she said, likewise didn’t much understand me. And so she directed me to “hop on” the local tram, which seems to be free, at least I didn’t pay, where I disembarked somewhere near the center of the city, enabling me to get back on a tour bus. Unfortunately, between the museum and the place where I picked up the bus again, were several of the literary sights I had hoped to see. So I missed those too. I think I need to return to Dublin for another week or so.

The little I was able to see again that day included beautiful Georgian houses, with their colorful doors. The guide said that the residents were instructed (by whom, I didn’t hear) to paint their doors black out of respect (for whom, I didn’t hear). “But, Dubliners being Dubliners,” he said, “they painted them every color but.” Finally, a longer visit to the National Museum for Archaeology and History, which houses a huge collection of gold artifacts from the Bronze Age, extracted from Irish bogs. Also extracted from the bogs were mummified bodies that had been victims of ritual sacrifice or other murders and thrown into the bog where, due to a lack of oxygen, the bodies did not deteriorate. These poor people’s remains were very grim indeed.

Sunday, March 28 - Conference, shopping and more museums
The next day I decided to attend more of the conference. Specifically, I wanted to hear my friend Meldan’s talk about Amy Tan. I had earlier helped her locate materials in preparation for her talk, which was one of four in the workshop that focused on Asian American writers. She did an excellent job. Since Larry had more workshops he wished to attend, but I didn’t, I headed back to the National Gallery to see some more paintings. Then I had a few hours to go shopping on the famous Dublin shopping street, Grafton St. Finding some things I liked in Marks and Spencers, I decided against them (no room in my luggage) and headed back to the conference to find Larry and a colleague, Ozge. They wanted me to show them where the Archaeology and History museum was so they could see the bog artifacts and more on Vikings and Egyptians. Alas, it was closed, not because it was Sunday, but because of a labor action. We had been seeing picketers in various places, but we were never faced with having to decide not to cross a picket line (in any case, we wouldn’t have done so). So back we went to hear another keynote speaker.

We rewarded ourselves for having to sit through another dreadful keynote (although, as I said, the workshops were quite good in general), by heading for a restaurant for really good pizza, a surprise to us given that we were in Ireland, not known for pizza. Then we found an Irish pub where the three of us finally had a Guinness. It was surprisingly mild; either that or my tastes have changed—I used to think Guinness was bitter, and awful. Fittingly, the pub was called International Bar, where two Americans (us), a Turk (Ozge) and someone we met there from Spain mingled with local Dubliners waiting for the nightly comedy show to begin. We left before the show, being pretty tired by then.

Monday, March 29 - Tour of the Countryside: Glendalough & Kilkenny
Our final tourist day was spent on a bus tour of part of the Irish countryside. The entire Turkish delegation went on this tour, originating early in the morning and ending about 6:00 p.m.
Because we were outside all day, except when in the bus, naturally it was cold and rainy. It was Yedigoller revisited, in that the first stop was at the Glendalough portion of the Wicklow Mountains National Park, http://www.wicklowmountainsnationalpark.ie/ where we followed paths, umbrellas aloft, to a medieval monastic settlement. Of particular note was a 1,000+ year old bridge to the settlement,that had just been washed out from excessive rains. Sounds like New England this winter. We were able to approach the ancient cathedral and monastic grounds from an alternative route. Cold and wet, we took refuge in the park’s hotel restaurant, where Ozge was eager to try a scone, something she had never had before. She’ll have to keep waiting, though, as the rest of our group, about 28 people, ate all the scones before we could order any.

Next stop was the town of Kilkenny, http://www.virtourist.com/europe/kilkenny/index.html a beautiful little town, with a big castle (Kilkenny Castle) that is peculiar in that it is missing one of its four sides surrounding the central castle courtyard. Apparently blown out during one of several sieges, the wall was never replaced, because, during more recent renovations to the entire castle, it was decided that the view of the grounds from that angle was too pretty to block with another wall. We didn’t spend much time in the castle, as we didn’t have a whole lot of time in the town. This is a shame, since it is very pretty, and we would have liked to explore more on our own.

Our guide did take us to various churches, and also showed us a small structure that served as a soup kitchen during the Famine. Also, he pointed out one small street, with seven (!) charming pubs all in a row. And, pointing out an old inn, he told us a gruesome story of a woman accused of witchcraft after four husbands died, reminding us of our own New England history. After a brief lunch and a sample of Kilkenny beer, which Larry, Ozge and I preferred to Guinness, we had little time left to explore on our own.

Larry’s family at home has been at work recently constructing a family history of their somewhat convoluted heritage. It turns out that one of their ancestors is from Kilkenny! What a nice coincidence!

On returning to Dublin, we noticed that a movie theater near Trinity College was advertising Michael Moore’s new movie, “Capitalism, a Love Affair.” Instead of eating dinner, then, we decided on the movie. As usual, it was terrific; we are great fans of Michael Moore. By the time we got out of the movie, it was 9:00 p.m. and we were starving, especially since we had only soup in Kilkenny earlier. So we decided on an Indian restaurant nearby, where we paid way too much money for food that was so spicy hot it was barely edible. And we had ordered “2” level dishes, with “4” being the hottest. (We didn’t see any “1” level dishes that appealed to us). Lesson learned; we should have returned to our staple, Govinda’s.

Tuesday, March 30 - The following day we returned to Ankara, leaving Dublin in more cold rain and, before long, snow! The flights were uneventful. Turkish Air is a good airline, serving very good food—even vegan food, if we ordered in advance for Larry, which we didn’t, alas. The only comment about the flight was the crowded airport in Ankara, where hundreds of people, mostly women it seemed, were returning from the Hajj in Mecca. (There is actually another word for “Hajj” when people make their pilgrimage off season, as these people did, but I cannot remember the word). We were surrounded by a sea of headscarves and white clothing! Larry had experienced this in Erzurum, but this was a first for me.

Addendum: I have been selectively photographing foods while in Turkey, including some meals I have prepared, with the thought that I would write a separate “food” post for my blog. I thought people might be interested in the types of food we eat here. Alas, today’s New York Times (Apr. 7) has an article about the large number of people who photograph their food and post the photos on their web sites. Now I feel weird, so I’m not sure I’m going to go through with this. Damned NYT—they scooped me!

Of birthdays and culture (March 7 to 20)

2010-03-23T07:59:00.010-04:00

For more photos of our recent Ankara activities, see:

http://anatolianphotos.shutterfly.com/

One sad note to add to my previous post is our discovery, while in Kayseri, that Dr. İhsan Doğramacı, the founder of both Bilkent and Hacettepe Universities, passed away at age 94. We discovered this while eating beans and rice in a local café, where a TV behind us was broadcasting a biographical film about Dr. Doğramacı. This week, we were informed that the day after his death, his son, Dr. Ali Doğramacı, Rector of Bilkent, resigned his position. Later, the trustees renamed the University İhsan Doğramacı Bilkent University, although my guess is that it will continue to be referred to as simply Bilkent.

My most vivid memory of the elder Dr. Doğramacı was a discussion in 1995 about pre-husked pistaccio nuts, at his heavily guarded mansion on a hill above Bilkent, as he, Ali Bey and I awaited the arrival of Turkey’s Prime Minister for dinner. (She never came). But most of you have heard that story already, so I won’t repeat it here.

March 7 – Happy Birthday to me. At a Fulbright dinner a few nights ago, I let slip (heh, heh) the fact that today is my birthday. (I like birthdays—especially mine). Meldan looked stricken that she didn’t know, immediately making me feel guilty about mentioning it. Like so many people we’ve met in Turkey, she is very thoughtful and always does her best making people feel at home. So, today, Sunday, she called around 5:00 p.m. asking if she could come over for a visit.

Arriving bearing a nice gift, she also brought a delicious, gooey, chocolate cake, with a Happy Birthday sign that took the local baker a very long time to create. Thank you Meldan! I did succeed in finding out the date of her birthday—April 9. So I’m on the lookout for more chocolate cakes. I prefer not to try baking one. Even under the best of circumstances, I am not a good baker. Here in Turkey, where the flour and sugar are of a coarse consistency, and the altitude is higher than Connecticut, I am likely to fail miserably at the task, as I have before. Lucky for us we live within walking distance of at least a half dozen fancy bakeries.

March 11 – One of the main cultural buildings remaining to be visited was the Ankara Opera House. Ercan, Meldan’s brother, bought us tickets to a ballet performed there, called Harem. Dealing with the intrigues associated with the Seraglio (the Sultan’s mother stooping to murder to place her grandson in power, the chief Eunuch falling in love with a harem inhabitant, etc.), the ballet was terrific. As always, the set was beautiful and very effective, the costumes lush and beautiful (no tutus—yay!), and the dancing superb. The music was based on traditional Ottoman era folk music, very nice.

March 12 – This Friday night concert at Bilkent University (everyone still uses the old name, and probably always will) featured two hours of trombone. Snore. Trombones, like tubas, are, in our opinion, terrific instruments that add depth to nearly any piece of music. But all trombones all the time are a bit of a bore. Only when they played pieces from Gerschwin and other early twentieth century jazz composers did we enjoy the music. No regrets though, we love going to concerts.

March 14 – A few weeks ago, Larry, Meldan and I joined Meldan’s brother, Ercan, for a trip to Kadir Bey’s rug shop to pick out a rug for his new apartment. Late this afternoon, we visited Ercan to see the carpet in place. Two blocks from us, his apartment is less than a year old. It was built on the site where Meldan had owned an apartment in a much smaller building. (She now lives in a different apartment near ours inherited from her parents). The new building and Ercan’s new apartment are beautiful. Outside, it looks like most of the apartments here, although slightly nicer – four or five stories high, cement construction, lots of balconies. Inside it is gorgeous. Ercan selected the top floor, which gives him an extra floor among the roof eaves. The two floors are joined by a floating walnut spiral staircase. This apartment is right out of Architectural Digest, it is so beautiful. Chock full of gorgeous rugs, artifacts collected from Ercan’s extensive travels, and pretty furniture, some inherited from their parents’ lives in Italy (they were diplomats, so Meldan and Ercan grew up in Italy and Lebanon), this large apartment – about eight rooms – is amazing. The building even has an elevator, a rarity in our neighborhood. After a snack of spinach borek (pastry) and chocolate mousse cake, we returned home with visions of beautiful rugs in our heads.

March 16 – With those visions still floating in my head, I returned the next day to Kadir Bey’s rug shop, Best Kolleksiyon, for a talk he was giving on kilims, the woven vs. tied rugs traditionally created in Turkish villages and especially by nomadic tribes. First he explained the difference between "good quality" kilims and not so good quality, between vegetable dyes used and chemical dyes (he is a chemist by profession), between hand woven and machine assisted. Rating kilims A, B, C, and C+ he had us feel and observe the differences. Alas, we were stumped many times. One kilim, an "A" kilim, in the same family as one we purchased a few months ago, took approximately four months for the weaver to create. Another kilim, equally beautiful, and three times as big, took one day! The latter was created using the "semi-automatic" method, in other words, a type of loom we are accustomed to in the States. The "traditional" Turkish nomadic loom has only one layer of warp; the weave is applied by hand only (no shuttle) and laboriously patted into place. When asked how Kadir Bey knows how to tell hand woven, high quality rugs from semi-automatic rugs, he admitted that even he can be fooled. In general, though, he knows which workshops and which countries use specific types of dyes and looms and has learned over decades of selling rugs how to distinguish them.

After showing us samples from his shop, he brought out selections from his private collection, which he keeps in a vault in his home. He and Neslihan, his wife, have been collecting both kilims and rugs for decades. Some of the kilims he showed us were two hundred years old and are currently worth about $100,000 each. Yikes! No wonder he doesn’t keep them in his shop, nor offer them for sale. His plan is to open a museum in the future, or perhaps donate or sell them to an existing museum. Alas, my camera batteries ran out of power and so I missed a lot of photos of some of the most beautiful examples from his collection. Darn.

March 17 – Lunch with Barbara at a Chinese restaurant. The food was very good, if a bit expensive. And they sold me three blocks of tofu! This is the first time I’ve been able to find tofu here. Barbara tells me that it is readily available at the Department of Defense Commissary (which surprised me), but otherwise, it has been elusive.

Later this evening, Larry and I attended a lecture at the American Research Institute (ARIT) by James Osborne, a Harvard PhD candidate in archaeology, titled: "Ancient Conceptions of Political Territory: A View from the Iron Age Kingdom of Patina." James’s presentation was brilliantly delivered, with an excellent slide show, using graphics that I wish I knew how to create. His sense of humor and poise helped him past some tough audience questions; he was in the midst of writing his dissertation, and some of his evidence about the structure of geopolitical entities a few thousand years ago seemed skimpy. But he sailed past the questions with flying colors. His talk inspired us to sign up for a trip to the Hatay, the little finger of land jutting out of the southeastern border of Turkey.

March 18 – The Fulbright Office purchased tickets for local Fulbrighters to attend a concert at the Presidential concert hall. Larry and I were the only American Fulbrighters to make it to the concert, but a lot of Turkish grantees and alumni met us there for a night of Latin-inspired music. First a Spanish piece, then a Nino Rota concerto, followed by a variety of Argentinian "tango" type pieces, accordion and all. Nice concert. Last week, at a Fulbright alumni dinner, we had met one of the violinists in the Presidential orchestra. It turns out she is the first violinist, at least for tonight’s concert.

March 19 –How lucky that the rain has finally stopped in time for a cookout at the U.S. Military base, to which we were invited by our friends Barbara and Ray. The base is located in the middle of the large Turkish base across the street from Kadir Bey’s rug shop. This made it easy for Kadir Bey to join us at the picnic. Ray is a guidance counselor at the school on the base, which has about 250 students ranging in grades from first to twelfth grade. The building originally had 2,500 students to accommodate the children of a lot more soldiers and staff formerly based here. The much reduced facilities now focus on support services for U.S. military personnel stationed elsewhere in Turkey. So now it consists of little more than the school, the Commissary, a chapel, a library, a gym, and some other support service buildings, but few active duty soldiers, other than Turkish soldiers surrounding the U.S. facility.

Outback Steakhouse, in a gesture to "Support Our Troops," donated hundreds of steaks to the base; hence the picnic. Since neither we nor Barbara and Ray eat red meat, we satisfied ourselves with the accompanying veggie ravioli, which was terrific, and salad. Then a tour of the school, which contained some Ottoman type furniture supplied by Kadir Bey, then the gym, where I challenged Kadir Bey to a quick basketball competition (we both were terrible), and home. Even though the air was cold, the sun stayed out the entire time. Yay!

The evening was spent with the Nelsons, where they threw yet another party in honor of visiting academic colleagues from southern Florida. Remember my mention of weight loss since arriving in Turkey? Well . . . no more. (see also below)

March 20 – Invited to yet another Saturday lunch at the rug shop, we joined several others for another of Ince Hanim’s delicious feasts. Larry admitted he is planning to run away with Ince, her cooking is so good. (But she doesn’t have tofu in the freezer, like I do!). We weren’t sure why we were invited on this particular day; normally there is a specific reason to invite us. We should have known better. One of Kadir Bey’s kilim suppliers brought a new shipment of kilims (grade B) to the shop and joined us for lunch. Guess who bought some more kilims?

Seslerle Anadolu, Kayseri, and a social/educational whirlwind

2010-03-08T06:48:00.013-05:00

February 25 - March 6

For photos of our trip to Kayseri, and some local cultural events, see: http://anatolianphotos.shutterfly.com/

Seslerle Anadolu

Ercan, Meldan’s brother, thought we would be interested in attending a Turkish production called Seslerle Anadolu, or "Voice of Anadolu" at the Painting and Sculpture Museum in downtown Ankara. This production features traditional songs, dances, and stories, with, as always, exquisite costumes. As it was introduced and performed in Turkish, I did not always understand the significance of each piece, but nonetheless, we thoroughly enjoyed the performances of the dozen or so troupe members.

Some favorite pieces include: two live dancers/actors depicting the duo Karagoz and Hacivat (see above). Dressed like the traditional story tellers, the actors/dancers moved exactly like the popular shadow puppets of the two characters. Traditional folk dances, with, it seemed, a contemporary modern dance interpretation, were intriguing. And songs sung by professionals were very moving. Again, since they were performed in Turkish, I did not understand their significance, but they were beautiful nonetheless. Throughout the performances, the "Greek chorus" on the side made comments and often sang along as well. Additionally, each performer was also projected on a large screen at the back of the stage, but in a very creative way. The anchor to all the performances was a traditional story teller, who commented, for example, that, before TV, the Internet, and other recent technological wonders, these performances represent the country’s traditional ways of entertaining the populace.

After the show, as we were crossing the street, a taxi nearly backed into us. Oddly, Meldan and Ercan got into the cab, leaving Larry and me little choice but to get into a cab that came close to knocking us down. We should have known better. The taxi ride home was wild. And I sure wish these taxis had functioning seat belts. They generally don’t.

Kayseri

Larry was invited to give another lecture, courtesy of the U.S. State Department, this time at Erciyes Univerity in Kayseri, about a five hour bus ride Southeast of Ankara. The topic was on the significance of Obama’s election as U.S. President, and his first year in office. His talk was excellent, and well received by the students and faculty in the audience.

The Hilton Hotel, where we stayed, is located smack in the middle of the old part of the city. Walking out the hotel door, we wandered among the largest group of Seljuk architecture we’ve seen so far. Chief among the remaining Seljuk buildings were many medreses, or theological seminaries, generally associated with a specific mosque. All were in excellent shape, although all but one of those we visited were no longer in use as religious educational centers. One is currently used for the sale of books and/or educational supplies. Another once housed retail stores; it looks as though it is currently being either renovated or dismantled, we couldn’t tell which. Two former medreses were later used as a hospital and medical center; they sit next to each other in a beautiful urban park. They are listed in our guide book as a medical museum, but, alas, it is closed for many more months of renovations.

As expected in a conservative town, we saw many working mosques, including one old Seljuk one. There, the local caretaker took Larry and me on a tour of the simple, elegant mosque. Then he opened up the adjoining, still functioning medrese, or theological seminary. Rugs adorned the side "classrooms," really just side rooms accessed through stone arches opening to the central stone courtyard—all very old. We saw for the first time a steep narrow stairway leading into the minaret. Our unofficial guide, when saying goodbye to us, was very gracious, but, after shaking Larry’s hand, he would not shake mine, but gave me a different type of courteous "goodbye." Yes, this part of the country is very conservative indeed.

It is also not associated with the tourism industry. Mostly it is a bustling industrial and retail city of 600,000; the Hilton guests were primarily businessmen. We stood out like sore thumbs, which made us targets for the local touts desiring to sell us their rugs. As we wandered around the spectacular central fortress, across the street from the Hilton, one young man started talking excellent English with us. Because he was so young (17 he said), and his English was so good, we didn’t brush him off all that quickly. He offered to take us to the covered bazaar, which we hadn’t yet located but wanted to visit. We agreed because we’ve gotten pretty good at saying "no" to more rugs, unless, of course, we are with Kadir Bey in Ankara.

As he led us through the old, impressive, covered bazaar, I saw piles of the exact kind of scarf I have been looking for during the five and a half months I’ve been here. "Slow down!" I asked him and Larry. But they were engrossed in conversation, so I kept up – the alleyways were complex here and I didn’t want to lose them – thinking we could backtrack later and I could pick out some scarves. Eventually we ended up in an even older bedestan, or many centuries old retail center, where (surprise!) his uncle has a rug shop. When we told both of them that we have enough rugs thank you, the uncle, looking a little cross, asked incredulously, "You don’t want any rugs?" and gave his nephew a disapproving look. We were probably the only tourists in a long time to make our way into this maze of old shops. But we didn’t want any rugs, or even to look at any, and found our way back to the Hilton with our young man’s help, who seemed as eager as we were to leave his uncle’s shop. I never did get my scarves.

The one thing I really wanted to see in Kayseri was the huge mountain, Mt. Erciyes (after which the university was named) that looms over the city like Mt. Rainier looms over Seattle. Mt. Erciyes is about the same height as Mt. Rainier (@ 12,000 feet high), and was one of two large volcanic mountains that blew their stacks thousands of years ago, resulting in today’s moonscape, wild landscape that is Cappadoccia, not far from Kayseri. You would think that in 48 hours in Kayseri, I would be able to catch a glimpse of this large mountain so close by. But, no, as with Antalya at first, the clouds effectively hid the mountain, revealing only the lower foothills which were impressive in their own right. But I wanted to see Mt. Erciyes. Sigh. I guess I’ll just have to keep my fifteen year old memory alive. We were here at the time and saw the mountain clearly enough; I just didn’t get a photograph at the time. I know, I know, just because I didn’t capture it on film (or pixels) doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist. But I’m still disappointed.

Returning by bus to Ankara from Kayseri, we had our first experience of being stopped by the national Jandarma (military police, I think that means), who gathered everybody’s I.D. and checked them for potential movement of Kurds from the Southeast. Photocopies of our passports were sufficient (we generally don’t travel with the originals, unless we need to board a plane), and were returned to us almost immediately. But all the other Turkish passengers had to wait fifteen or twenty minutes for the return of their I.D.s. Everywhere these days, there seems to be an increase in police and military presence. This is due, I believe, to recent arrests of military personnel for their alleged participation in takeover plans in 2003 (which came to light just recently), and also a long, bitter strike of some municipal workers in Ankara over privatization plans.

Social/educational whirlwind

Since returning from Kayseri, we have been on a whirlwind lecture/movie/reception/seminar /cooking class schedule. Here is a brief summary:

Sunday, Feb. 8 – a reception at the U.S. ambassador’s home, and lecture by Ozden Toker, daughter of Ismet Inonu, Ataturk’s right hand man, and second president of the Turkish republic. The 80 year old Mrs. Toker, who looks and sounds like she’s fifty years old, and beautiful, told us stories of growing up in the presence of the two most powerful men in the country, and of her mother’s transition from traditional Turkish women’s role to the modernization of women’s status in the new country. Fascinating. The U.S. Ambassador is a cold fish, just bordering on rude. But his wife is very gracious.

Monday, Mar. 1 – back to the U.S. Ambassador’s residence for the screening of the movie, "Split: a Divided America," a documentary montage of interviews dealing with the "Red State/Blue State" split in our country, and some of the more contentious issues of the day, including religion, campaign finance, and so on. The film was well made and quite interesting but somewhat superficial, failing to address the underlying causes of the deep divides in the U.S. The filmmaker, Kelly Nyks, is planning a sequel to this documentary. Our theory as to why this film is being shown throughout Turkey, with the filmmaker accompanying the showing, is that the tour is sponsored by the U.S. State Dept. and, thus, was selected for its non-controversial or "non-partisan" stance. Kelly Nyks is a superb filmmaker and speaker (and a nice person; we spent lots of time with him at the following reception), but he is no Michael Moore. The Ambassador was not there on this night, but his wife was as pleasant as ever.

Tuesday, Mar. 2 – I return to Hacettepe, Beytepe, for the first time in a long time to attend a morning seminar. The first speaker, Akiba Harper, from Spellman College, spoke on "Turning Jazz Into Literature." Focusing on Langston Hughes’s poetry, she performed, more than read, excerpts from the poet’s works and charmed everybody in the room with her excellent presentation and skill in reciting and even singing the works. She was very convincing in conveying Hughes’s verbal "music" based on the rhythm and form of jazz instruments and vocals.

The second speaker was Bercin Erol, a close friend of Meldan’s and one of our companions at various dinners and events. She gave "A Brief Overview of Black Turks in the Ottoman Empire and Turkey." Excellent! After a long, excellent lunch, the department met with the Spellman College speaker and two of her colleagues, to plan a potential collaboration with Middle East Technical University, Hacettepe, and Spellman, in creating a summer program for up to 20 Spellman students in Ankara in 2011. I was invited to participate in the planning meeting and shared the enthusiasm of nearly everyone in the room. Oddly, the department had been quite unreceptive to this idea as recently as three weeks ago. But now, after meeting the individuals from Spellman, hearing that excellent presentation on poetry and jazz, and sensing the contagious enthusiasm of the Spellman visitors, the department members are now quite happy with the summer project.

Today is Wednesday March 3, as I write this. Tonight we have another lecture (Urartian ivories); so too tomorrow night (the history of Gori, Georgia). Tomorrow I also participate for the first time in an English language conversation club. [editor’s note several days later. I think I have a new vocation, standup comic. The students loved my jokes. Hmmm. Or were they just being polite? Hmmm. Or were they lauging AT me?] The next night a concert at Bilkent. Saturday I attend a Turkish cooking lesson, then in the evening we have a fancy dinner to go to. Sunday, a farewell party for a U.S. embassy staffer [editor's note: we skipped this one--too tired]. Next week a ballet, then another party. Because of all the events to come, I decided to go ahead and describe what we’ve been up to for the past week, rather than waiting until all the events have come and gone. If I wait, I’m likely to get them all mixed up in my mind. Several weeks ago, I was feeling bored and homesick. Today I would welcome a little boredom. I think I’ll go read a little. I’m only on page 11 of the book I started a week ago!

Pamukkale, Hierapolis, camel wrestling - değil

2010-02-24T13:42:00.011-05:00

For more photographs, see: http://anatolianphotos.shutterfly.com/

There are many ways to indicate a negative in the Turkish language. “Hayir” means “no,” as in the case when you are asked if you would like some tea. “Hayir, teşekkürlar,” or “No, thanks,” you would reply. If you ask a vendor, “Do you have any apples?” (in Turkish, of course), he or she might respond, “Yok,” or “no, there are none.” The word “değil,” is a way of negating a word or phrase. “It is raining, isn’t it?” one might ask. If it is dry, the other speaker might respond: “Değil,” or “Yağmur değil.” In other words, “No, it is not raining."

I add a variation to the latter: "Yağmur, değil değil.” That is, it is not not raining. More simply: it is raining.

Where the Northeast U.S. is getting clobbered by snowstorm after snowstorm, winter in Ankara is mostly rain. This seems to be true as well with all of Turkey, except for the East of the country, where snow is the norm. Or on top of mountains which are everywhere in this large country. Even Ankara and Istanbul have had some snow so far. But mostly, we have seen lots of rain, and little sun. This is very unusual. Either it is normally dry, or normally snowy. Rain is not the norm.

The reason I go on like this about rain, is that the wet stuff turned our trip to Pamukkale, Hierapolis, and a camel wrestling match, into a “Pamukkale, Hierapolis, and camel wrestling – değil” excursion. We made the trip, but saw none of the three principle highlights. Sigh.

Nonetheless, there were many positives. Key among them was our intrepid rug dealer and guide, Kadir Bey. To make sure all his plans for our trip, and that of 26 others travelers, went smoothly, he drove from Antalya (where he was visiting his daughter and her children) to the sites of our visits, the hotel, and so on, then drove back to Ankara—all in a 13-hour marathon drive. He did this to make sure the hotel would be to our liking, the food would be good, and the roads were passable. He is an amazingly conscientious person and terrific host. If only he could control the weather.

At any rate, we headed to the rug shop to catch the bus early Friday afternoon. After a "snack" of vegetable spring rolls and raisin cookies, served by Kadir Bey’s cook, Ince, he asked us if we felt last night’s earthquake!!! The 4.1 earthquake struck at about 2:35 a.m., but I apparently slept through it. Larry heard some people talking loudly outside, but he hadn’t felt it either. Kadir Bey watched his chandelier sway, and worried that the shaking TV above his bed would fall.

Heading west on our eight-hour bus trip, we stopped at a state subsidized kilim workshop. Here, sheep’s wool is hand spun, hand dyed, using only vegetable dyes, and woven into magnificent kilims, utilizing traditional tribal motifs memorized by the women who weave them. Because Chinese imitations sold throughout Turkey are so much cheaper (they use chemical dyes and semi-mechanized weaving processes), these kilims would be prohibitively expensive if not subsidized by the Turkish government. Kadir Bey estimates that, with increased imports of cheap imitations, these and similar workshops will not last more than another five years.
I was sorely tempted to buy one of these gorgeous rugs, but, again, restrained myself. Our house in Connecticut just is not that big. And, as much as I love my friends and family members back home, these make for very expensive (and heavy to carry) gifts. Sorry!

After eight hours, we finally arrived at our hotel near Pamukkale – the Colossae Thermal Hotel and Spa, at around 9:00 p.m. If I weren’t so hungry by this time, I would have loved dipping into one of the hot spring pools both inside and outside the hotel. My nerves were on edge after eight hours of sitting directly in front of hyperactive, noisy (but not necessarily bad) kids, whose parents sat way in the back of the bus where they were blissfully unaware (or didn’t care) that their kids were driving us crazy! Ay, ay, ay!

Next day, we awoke early to test "the waters." These are the same springs that brought the ancient Romans to nearby Hierapolis for therapeutic dips into these wonderful, hot, relaxing waters. Actually, there are two types of water gushing from the nearby hills (or were they pumped up by the hotel from underground? We weren’t sure). Behind the hotel’s huge outdoor swimming pool – closed for the season – were four small pools, open all year long. One was very hot, around 40 degrees Celcius (110-ish Fahrenheit), and red from the high concentration of iron. This was the first we tried, since the air in the morning was cold. (It’s still winter). Ahhhhh! Then we immersed ourselves in the "calcium" pool—clear looking, cold water, which nonetheless left calcium deposits on the edges of the pool and overhanging ledge. Brrrr! Then we tried the lower, warm "red" pool – nah! This one’s for sissies (and kids). Finally the lower calcium pool. Eh—we’ll stick to the upper pools.

Then breakfast, and our first "adventure" of the day:
A one and a half hour bus trip to the town of Buldan, in the province of Denizli, took us to a collection of stores specializing in cloth products – table runners, Turkish (duh!) towels, bathrobes, tablecloths, curtains, scarves, and many other beautiful items. All of these items are made locally, generally using traditional fabric techniques. After several of us made some selections, Kadir Bey negotiated a lower price for us. He had suggested that we not do any bargaining on our own because some of the shop owners, if the price agreed on is too low, will reach under the table and package something of a lesser quality than you were expecting.

Next he led us to a fabric workshop where many of the products in the shops were prepared, or stored for distribution after being created by women working in their homes. I tried one of the embroidery machines on site, after watching an expert embroiderer. She and another assistant did their best to help me work the machine, but I was all thumbs.

Next was a stop at a small silk weaver’s shop, where a middle aged man created tightly woven pure silk scarves. Expensive by Turkish standards (even after he "reduced’ the price for me), it is nonetheless quite special to me. After getting it home, though, I had to air it out to eliminate the cigarette smell.

On the way back to the bus, we stopped at a small produce stand, where a nomadic couple who had been married 50 years, sold us lots of delicious dried figs, and threw in some regional raisins, made from local large grapes, with the seeds still in the raisins. Delicious! When asked why one of his fingers was missing a joint, the old man responded that it was a cutting accident. He went on to say, however, that his father was punished by the Greeks (before Turkish independence) by having two joints of two of his fingers cut off by them. Sad.

Next stop was at the town of Sarayköy, where the camel wrestling competition was to take place the next day. From the bus, we could see a few dozen men sitting in the central square of the town. As we alighted from the bus, a local band spontaneously greeted us with traditional music, played on traditional Turkish instruments – a long horn that sounded like a kazoo, another horn that droned an underlying note, and a drum. They played directly at us, as Kadir Bey gave them each a fair amount of money as a "thank you." (Hmmm. On second thought, did Kadir Bey arrange all this during his previous marathon drive?). The music brought more people to the square, as did, I think, the sight of all these foreigners emerging from a big, white bus. This is a very small town, outside the normal tourist route.

At one end of the square, a vendor was selling, and wearing, traditional orange plaid scarves, embroidered with the names of the towns that would be competing the next day, as well as a depiction of a camel. Most of us bought one or more of the scarves to tie around our shoulders during tomorrow’s match.

We made our way to the town hall, where Kadir Bey brought gifts from his workshop. His intent, I think, was to negotiate with town officials a special "box seat" in the mayor’s box during tomorrow’s camel competition. While he talked with one of the officials, we were seated in a large conference room and served delicious Turkish tea. Someone, looking out one of the windows, shouted "here come the camels." Crowding to the window, we viewed a small parade of elaborately "dressed" camels, led by their owners and/or handlers to the town square. We rushed down several flights of stairs to get a closer look at these huge creatures, where they stood in dignified display in a circle around the square.

A little about camel wrestling. This is an old village tradition that is now confined to Western Turkey, near the Aegean Sea. Held only once a year in each selected town, each match consists of two male camels, of comparable size and weight (they are bred to be large) competing for the female camel displayed to them at the beginning of the match. This time of year is mating season, which explains the infrequent occurrence of the matches. That and the distances traveled by the camels and their owners from various surrounding villages. Sarayköy’s one and only match this year was to occur the next day—Sunday.

After a female is displayed – generally arrayed in pink ornamentation – the two camels butt heads and/or wrap one leg around one of his opponent’s to try to upset the latter’s balance. The first camel to run away is the loser of the match. There is no real violence, and the competition is considered to be fairly "gentle." At least, this is what we have been told. We were warned, however, that the crowds, among which are several inebriated fans, can act a little less "gently." Apparently, the only other danger is if/when the losing camel, generally weighing around a ton, runs toward the crowd. This may be why Kadir Bey wants to arrange for a "box seat" for us.

These animals are huge and decorated with tribal rugs, camel bags, and ornamental "evil eye" tokens, to ward off bad luck.

Eventually, we returned to the conference room in the town hall, where a group of officials joined us, and addressed our group. First the governor of the district of Denizli welcomed us and told us a little about the town and its hopes for the future (more tourists). Kadir Bey translated for us. Then the town mayor welcomed us, with a beautiful smile, and ended with "I love you!" At that point, Larry was asked to address the delegation, much to his surprise, which he did with good grace, humor, and a little Turkish as well. Finally, another official handed out yet more of the orange scarves, all with the town’s name, Sarayköy, and an elaborately decorated camel. We now have three of these scarves.

Wearing our brightly covered scarves around our shoulders, we exited the building where a local photographer took a group picture of all of us surrounding the officials. I wish I could have seen the next day’s local newspaper! The little band struck up their traditional music again, as we danced with the officials, then headed down the street to our bus. By this time, a large crowd had gathered, and a spontaneous parade formed, led first by the musicians, then our group, then dozens of townspeople. All along the road, people came out of their homes and their shops to view and hear this unusual procession.

Riding back to the hotel, we saw many miles of beautiful vineyards, beyond which were small villages flanking rising mountains. Beautiful scenery!

By the time we returned to the hotel, to pick up the few people who stayed behind that day, it was getting late. The plan was to now visit the travertines called "Pamukkale," as well as the Roman ruins of the city of Hierapolis.

Pamukkale is a huge white calcium formation spilling down a mountainside in sparkling pools that had been created by thousands of years of calcium deposits from the flowing waters. It is such an unusual and beautiful formation, that it even figures occasionally in movies; there is a scene in a 1990s movie about Odysseus that features Pamukkale as the home of a wily goddess. The filmmakers, though, place the travertines in the middle of the Aegean Sea, rather than on the side of a mountain, where it is in reality. Fifteen years ago, we were able to take off our shoes and splash around in the warm white pools, but now people are restricted to a small area in order to protect the formations from the thousands of tourists who visit this amazing site each year. Note: the photo above of the white travertines was taken from a large mural in the hotel, if you're wondering what the bright lights in the photo are all about.

Hierapolis was founded by the ancients just above these pools. Used by Greeks, then Romans, as a "health spa," the inhabitants and visitors treated themselves to immersions in "the waters," or drank the healing liquid as the case may be. Hierapolis is particularly striking for its huge necropolis outside the city gates. Does this mean that "the waters" were not so healthful after all? Or, that those already near death migrated to this area in a last ditch effort to prolong life?We’ll never know.

At any rate, our plan to visit Pamukkale and Hierapolis after our Buldan and Sarayköy visits was altered. The two sites were about to close – they are national parks – and we would have little time to visit them. No problem; there’s always tomorrow, before the camel match. We’ll head back to the hotel’s thermal pools instead. And then some dinner, a soccer match on TV, and off to Murphyland (i.e., sleep).

That sleep, alas, was interrupted by heavy rain. The rain didn’t stop. It kept up all morning, and kept Kadir Bey awake since 3:00 a.m. wondering what to do about all these people who traveled, some with small children, to see camel wrestling, Pamukkale, and the famous Roman ruins.

Alas, the camel match was cancelled. The heavy rain and subsequent mud made it too dangerous for the animals to compete. They risked falling and breaking their legs. Wise decision. The visits to Pamukkale and Hierapolis were likewise cancelled. The mud and heavy rain made it too dangerous for people, who might slip and break their legs. I’m not sure this was such a wise decision, but reasonably understandable. One young woman in our group quipped, "This has been an awfully expensive shopping trip." Undeterred, she and three of her companions hired a cab to take them to Pamukkale, which they had never seen. We had been to both sites before, and elected to stay at the hotel (the bus wasn’t leaving until 11:00), to use the fitness center and try the indoor thermal pool. Besides, we wanted to stay with Kadir Bey.

Hence, the title, above, with one of the ways of saying "no." Our trip to the three sites didn’t happen. Well, the trip happened, but the three sites remained unexplored. Was it a waste? Not at all. There is always adventure to be found, and for me, visits to textile centers are always a treat. And, on the way back, the parents of the kids sat with them, so, even though some of the parents acted like kids (lots of wine and junk food), it was definitely a more enjoyable bus trip this time around.

Antalya, Perge, Alanya (Feb. 13 - 15)

2010-02-17T08:56:00.012-05:00

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.　

February (Subat) 1 to 12

2010-02-12T07:11:00.002-05:00

For a few more photographs (not many this week), see: http://anatolianphotos.shutterfly.com/ Feb. 1 to 12.

Another two fairly quiet weeks.

We continue with our attendance at the Bilkent Symphony Orchestra’s Friday night performances. On the 5th of February, the performance included Milhaud’s "Creation of the World," a Strauss solo piece, sung by Elena Brilova, entitled "Ariadne of Naxos," then Beethoven’s Symphony #1. Tonight we will see a Valentine’s Day special: excerpts from Tchaikovsky’s "Romeo and Juliet," Bernstein’s "West Side Story," and Prokofev’s "Romeo and Juliet." I wonder what the theme is?

Last night, we joined Meldan and her brother, Ercan, for a concert at Ankara’s central Concert Hall, home of the Presidential Symphony Orchestra. This is one of the oldest symphonies in the world, having been founded in the 1820s. The first conductor was Giuseppe Donizetti. Last night’s performance included a father-son rendition of Tchaikovsky’s Piano Concerto #1. The father conducted; the 28 year old son was the pianist. Great performance, but, alas, the piano was on occasion too loud. Larry thought so, too, so my suspicion that my hearing was at fault was put to rest. The tyranny of the audience’s synchronized hand clapping forced two encores from the pianist. The last half of the program was Gudonov’s "Four Seasons." This time, the conductor would have none of the audience’s insistence on another encore; I don’t blame him, we were shameless.

When not attending concerts, we were visiting the rug shop, Best Koleksyon. First, for a cocktail party (really another big meal, but this time in the evening, with wine), and orientation for our upcoming trip to the southwestern part of Turkey, led by our rug dealer, Kadir Bey. In a little more than a week, we will see camel wrestling, Pamukkale (I hope), and some other great sites.

Two days later, Meldan called to invite us back to Best Koleksyon, where her brother, Ercan, wanted to "just look" at some rugs. So back we went. I welcomed this visit so soon after our cocktail party, as I had lost an earring at the party and wanted to look for it in the shop and on the sidewalks outside. Alas, it is gone. Ercan had always said that he would never buy a rug made outside of Turkey. When, with our encouragement, he actually bought a beautiful Afghan rug, he justified his decision with the knowledge that the wool and specific dyes used on the wools were supplied by one of Kadir Bey’s workshops. At one point during our visit, Larry asked me, "We don’t have any red rugs, do we?" Oh no! We’re not going to buy another rug, are we? Whew! We let the temptation pass and went home empty handed.

In between concerts and visits to Best Koleksyon, I worked on finding information on Amy Tan and the literary canon for Meldan’s talk she will be giving in Dublin next month. I finally have a better sense of what Meldan is looking for than I did in September when I was so unsuccessful in helping her find information. Success! She now has lots of articles and book references. And I ordered a book for her from Amazon in hopes that it arrives in time for the conference in Dublin, where Larry will also be giving a talk. (I, of course, will tag along with them).

Because of the paucity of travel during the last several weeks, I had planned on spending time with photographs and some discussion of various new foods and drinks we have been exposed to so far. But I’ve run out of time before we head out on a new adventure tomorrow. Nonetheless, I have to mention a new food we discovered in a small shop called "Etsiz Cif Kofte." Cif kofte is an egg-shaped meatball made with raw meat and spices. "Etsiz" cif kofte is "meatless" raw meat meatballs. ??? For those of you who’ve eaten at our house, think "tofu meatballs." The "etsiz" version has bulghur as a base. We eat them by wrapping them in lettuce leaves, then in extremely thin bread that had been spread with a tiny amount of hot pepper sauce (aci biber salcasi). Yum!

Another new dish I actually made was inspired by Kadir Bey’s cook, who served "kirmisi mercimek koftesi" (red lentil balls) as one of the many dishes at last week’s cocktail party. Because I used the wrong kind of bulghur with the red lentils, I had to add more water than the recipe called for. This made the whole concoction too moist, so I couldn’t form the egg shaped balls. Instead, we just wrapped them in lettuce, then thin bread spread with a little hot pepper sauce . . . . Sound familiar?

I can’t wait to cook some of these new dishes for my friends and family back home.

Tomorrow we head back to the Mediterranean. Next week we go to see camel wrestling. The following week a trip to Kayseri, near Cappadocia, where Larry will deliver another talk, courtesy of the U.S. Embassy. Then we return to the Ambassador’s Residence to hear a talk by the daughter of the second president of the Turkish Republic.

So no more concerts or visits to rug shops for awhile. I’ll have lots of pictures and descriptions when we return!
　
　

January 16 to 31 - more Ankara explorations

2010-01-31T08:42:00.009-05:00

For more pictures of Ankara, please see: http://www.anatolianphotos.shutterfly.com/

Darn. Our trip to Cappadocia Jan 30/31 was canceled. Seems Larry and I were the only intrepid souls ready to travel to that wonderland in the winter. We had been to Cappadocia twice many years ago, but there were a lot of places there that we never got to see on our previous visits. Besides, we were advised that it is particularly beautiful, and not as crowded, in the winter. But the weather finally turned to winter in central Anatolia and nobody else wanted to go. In December, when Anna was visiting, we also tried to sign up for the same tour (different dates), but it, too, was cancelled. All that is available these days of organized tours by our favorite travel company, Tempo Tur, are ski trips, because there is plenty of snow around—except in Ankara. Alas, we don’t ski. We can, of course, visit Cappadocia on our own. But, since the area is mostly an outdoor museum, we don’t relish wandering around on our own in the cold, even if getting lost is often part of the fun of traveling. We’ll wait for the next guided tour, or for warmer weather—or both.

For nearly all of this winter so far, the temperature has hovered in the mid 40s. The sun seldom, although occasionally, makes an appearance. It is gloomy and cool. But, I keep reading about the horrible New England weather this winter and thank heavens for small favors. The weather has enabled us to make frequent visits to the Anittepe outdoor gym. A few days ago, though, the temperatures dipped into the low 20s, with single digits at night, thereby bringing a halt to our physical fitness program (and cancelling that Cappadocia trip). After the freeze, we also had some real snow—not a blizzard by any means, but a good three to five inches in Ankara. As in any city, snow removal was spotty and, eventually, it all turned to mush. But it reminded us that people meant it when they said, yes, Ankara has a real winter. This winter just turned out to be exceptionally mild. They say Turkish hospitality is second to none; even the weather has accommodated us for most of the winter.

With the change in the weather, and the cancellation of our planned trip this week, we decided to explore some more of what Ankara has to offer. One evening, our friend, Meldan, and her brother, Ercan, invited us to join them and a group of friends to a symphony concert at Bilkent University. When we lived there in the 1990s, we attended concerts in that beautiful hall on several occasions, once sitting a few rows behind, of all people, Mikhael Gorbachev. We recognized him at the time by the large birthmark on his head, as well as the armed guards everywhere.

The concert hall and foyer are as beautiful as ever—marble floors, light wood, polished brass railings, sparkling chandeliers. No armed guards this time, although, as with most cultural places in Ankara, we still had to go through security screens.

Ercan drove us there a bit early, so we went to the Mozart café for a bite to eat. I had forgotten about this café, but immediately recognized the long curved windows when I walked in. This brought back memories for both Larry and me of coming here with Anna when she was little and buying a very expensive cupcake! While eating our not so expensive, but awful, kebabs (this café has gone quasi American, but even in the U.S., we don’t DEEP-FRY our kebabs. Yuk!), we were approached by a woman and her son with whom we had hiked on our rainy trip to Yedigoller National Park. We see them now and then on the streets of Bahcelievler, as they too live in our neighborhood. Guzide (the mother) mentioned that the oboeist in tonight’s concert is her cousin. Little did we know that he would solo an entire three-movement concerto. I had never heard an oboe soloist before, at least not an entire solo piece. He was terrific, playing "Obua Koncertosu No. 1, Re minor." (Anyone know what "Re" is?) The rest of the program was the full Bilkent symphony’s rendition of selections from Tchaikovsky’s Sleeping Beauty, Swan Lake, and the Nutcracker Suite. They were terrific. Except, whenever the music got loud, it got muddy. I wondered whether this was an acoustics problem in the hall, or a problem of conducting.

Scanning the program, which was in Turkish, we discovered that these concerts, which are very inexpensive, about $8 each, occur every weekend during the academic year! Someone also translated for us a paragraph about a free service bus that takes people from downtown Ankara and from our neighborhood (!) to and from the concerts each week. So, the next week, I sought out a Biletex kiosk in a downtown Ankara bookstore, where a clerk helped me select tickets for the next concert (the instructions were in Turkish). Then Larry and I tried to figure out where to catch this free "concert bus." Anna and I had tried unsuccessfully to find other free Bilkent buses last month. This time, we were determined to figure out where to find the stop; it had moved from its normal location due to construction in front of the National Library, where most buses still stop. Seeking information on the Internet about Bilkent bus routes, I found a cute little animated map, which showed a bus travelling through the city, and stopping at specific places. This gave us an idea of where to go (behind the library, not in front of it). In addition, an online question form on Bilkent’s web site elicited an email giving us an exact address.

Success! We found the bus stop, boarded along with a dozen other music lovers, and got dropped off at the main entrance to the concert hall. Then, at the end of the concert, the bus brought us back to our neighborhood, where we walked the remaining fifteen minutes home. In a city with four million people, we feel very fortunate to have picked one of only three neighborhoods where the "concert bus" picks people up and drops them off.

The second concert featured works by Dvorak (Serenad, Re minor, Op. 44 and Senfoni No. 6 Re major, Op. 60), and a flute concert by C. Nielsen, featuring the famous flutist, Emmanuel Pahud, all conducted by Klaus Weise. The loud bits weren’t muddy at all this time. I still wonder what the problem was last week.

With concerts held every Friday, and free bus transportation, we now know what we’ll be doing nearly every weekend when there are no trips planned. Also, at the concert, a Bilkent acquaintance brought us a copy of the program for the Presidential Symphony Orchestra’s weekly (!) programs at the symphony hall in downtown Ankara—a fifteen minute subway ride every Thursday. I’m in classical music heaven here in Ankara. Our acquaintance, by the way, said that this is one of the oldest orchestras in the world; the first conductor was a close relative of Donatelli. Or did he say Donazetti; I’ll have to look that up.

Besides concerts, our other Ankara explorations this week included visits to some of the museums in this, the nation’s capital city. In search of the Ethnographic Museum, which we never found, on one of the days when it was too cold to go to the gym, we stumbled instead on the first two parliamentary buildings in the Turkish republic. Built during the first few years of the Republic in the 1920s, each served successively as the central administrative and legislative centers of the new country. Architecturally they are distinct and described appropriately as "early Republic," and are somewhat reminiscent of Ottoman design. Both serve now as museums: The First Turkish Grand National Assembly (The War of Independence Museum), and The Second Turkish Grand National Assembly (The Museum of the Republic). The displays are well done but, as usual, my favorite part was the buildings themselves.

To round out the cultural stuff we’ve been doing in lieu of traveling, we attended a lecture at the American Research Institute of Turkey: "The Institute of Nautical Archaeology in Turkey and Cyprus: 36 years of history" by Dr Matthew Harpster (Department of Archaeology and Art History, Eastern Mediterranean University). He was refreshingly funny, as well as informative.

The rest of the time since our trip to Istanbul, was filled with future travel plans, including an upcoming trip to the southwest to visit nomad carpet weavers and see a camel wrestling competition, with our rug friend, Kadir Bey. Finally, another nice dinner at the Nelsons, where we met a new Fulbrighter as well as a former one, the latter visiting the area for a while. I plan to arrange a visit with the women of this group to the hamam in Old Ankara, once my rib is healed enough to withstand the vigorous washing by the legendary hamam attendants. Should be fun—Insallah.
　

Istanbul, Jan. 12 - 15, 2010

2010-01-23T07:02:00.020-05:00

For photographs, see: http://www.anatolianphotos.shutterfly.com/ under "Istanbul."

With Anna’s three week visit with us coming to an end, we booked a visit to Istanbul to see the sights and to get her to the airport. In that way, she didn’t have to deal with changing planes and airlines (and terminals) in Istanbul—a somewhat lengthy, tricky process.

Since we found no reference to our former hotel, called the Park Hotel, where we had stayed several times in the past, either on the Internet or in our guide books, we decided to take the advice of Kadir Bey, our rug dealer friend, and stay at the Valide Sultan hotel. “Valide Sultan” means “Sultan’s mother.” This hotel is located in the Sultanamet district, the prime tourist area in Istanbul, and located between the walls of Topkapi Palace, and the boundary of the extensive archaeological dig unearthing part of a massive Byzantine palace. Behind the hotel are more boutique hotels, pensions, and pretty shops and cafes. It is a mere five minute walk to both the Aya Sofya and Topkapi Palace. The hotel is currently under renovation, but no work interfered with our quiet, comfortable stay. The room was big enough for the three of us, somewhat elegant, and very comfortable. Only the scaffolding covering the entire building made it look a bit peculiar. We have only two complaints about this otherwise very nice hotel: 1. It is expensive, although not outlandishly so during this off season, and 2. The staff are artificially friendly and more concerned with selling us rugs and/or tours than with making us feel comfortable. In fact, their friendliness was intrusive. But, all in all, we liked this hotel.

HOWEVER, on one of our evening walks, we found the Park Hotel, after all! Right across the street from the Four Seasons Hotel (formerly the famous prison in Midnight Express), the Park Hotel, like most of the neighborhood, has been upgraded. The Four Seasons rates being $400 to $4,000 (!) per night, the new clientele, I guess, affected an upgrade of the entire neighborhood. Even the formerly simple rug shop next to the Park Hotel is now swanky. So, we went into the Park to see if any changes have been made. When we stayed there many years ago, it was dirt cheap, which was warranted by the tiny, cold, wall-stained rooms, and shared hallway bathrooms. We had liked it then not only because of the price (although we didn’t particularly like the rooms) but because we genuinely liked the people running the hotel, as well as the other guests. There was a warm, cheerful feeling about the Park. Now, the rooms have been expanded. Two to three of the little rooms have been combined; each room has its own clean, marble bathroom (bigger than the one in our more expensive Valide Sultan room), and the heating system seems to work now. More importantly, there is still a cozy feel to the lobby, and the staff person there was very nice, and very helpful, without trying to sell us anything else. The price is quite a bit higher than it used to be, but still far less than the Valide Sultan. So, next visit to Istanbul, it will be our nostalgic Park Hotel. Yay!

After arriving at the hotel just after sunset, we scouted out the neighborhood and found a nice “buffet-style” café, our favorite kind of restaurant, called the Can Cafe. These are generally cheap and offer a large number of dishes to satisfy both vegetarians and meat and fish eaters. It was so good, we returned there several more times for both lunch and dinner over the next several days. Next door to Can Café (pronounced Jon café), we stopped at the Pudding Shop, Lale Restaurant, for some World Famous rice pudding and Larry’s favorite, asure, the latter made from a variety of fruits, grains and nuts. After locating all the main sights, closed for the evening, we returned to the hotel, where the concierge talked us into a half-day boat tour the next morning. We were game, despite the high price, as we had hoped to take this tour anyway, but didn’t know how to arrange it on our own. We would have figured it out, but these folks made it easy for us; the bus actually picked us up at the hotel in the morning.

Bosphorus Tour

At 8:30 we began our tour with about fifteen others in two buses. Our bus’s tour guide spoke first in English, then Spanish, another guide spoke German. I’m not sure about the other bus. I do know, though, that we were sorted by language when bus seats were assigned.

First we drove past the city’s land walls, constructed by Constantine to keep out invaders. The sea walls were meant to do the same. At one point, our guide pointed out the Bishopric of the Greek Orthodox Patriarch and Church of St. George, which is located just inside the walls. Alas, I never saw it. I looked for it where she told us to, but we whizzed by too quickly. All I saw were some ramshackle dwellings. A Google search reads that it is a “humble building.” Invisible, too, I would say.

Our first actual stop was at the Egyptian Spice Bazaar, where we had 35 minutes to sample some fresh Turkish Delight and wander among the beautifully displayed spices, candies, nuts, and other culinary treats. We didn’t buy anything because we didn’t want to carry stuff around with us on the boat. Instead, we visited the beautiful nearby “New Mosque.” “New” is relative, of course; the building was constructed in the 16th century, but was the last of the Sultanic mosques built in Istanbul; hence, the “new” designation. The tiles inside were gorgeous—probably Iznic tiles, the most prized tiles of the time.

Next, we headed to the Golden Horn, the wide river, shaped like a horn, that separates the European side of Istanbul into two --the “Old City” where our hotel is located -- and the “New City.” Today, the river was not so “golden.” It was gray, reflecting the clouds and the cold rain of the day. After our guide pointed out the two bridges connecting the Old and New cities, we headed toward the Bosphorus, the strait of water dividing Istanbul into the “European” and the “Asian” sides—the city being the only one in the world straddling two continents. The Bosphorus connects the Sea of Marmara to the Black Sea north of the city.

From the boat we viewed the Dolmabache (“stuffed gardens”) Palace, the 19th century palace of the last of the Sultans, built to emulate European tastes. The later sultans apparently felt that the centuries old Topkapi Palace, home and administrative center of previous sultans, was too primitive for their European aspirations.

As the windows steamed up on our boat, where we took refuge inside from the cold rain, we viewed recent residences, mostly cement block apartment buildings, spilling down from the hills of Istanbul on the European side, to the waters of the Bosphorus. We were getting a little bored, wondering why this boat trip was so highly recommended. Eventually, though, we reached the Rumeli Fortress, considered by some to be the most beautifully designed military building in the world. It certainly was impressive. Built by Ottoman Sultan Mehmed II between 1451 and 1452, it served as a base for the Ottoman conquest of Byzantine Constantinople the next year, 1453. In order to get a few good photographs, I had to join the other few intrepid picture takers on the deck of the boat in the rain. It was worth it.

After viewing the fortress from the boat (no opportunity to disembark and walk along the ramparts—darn!), we crossed the Bosphorus to return, this time hugging the Asian shore. On this side, we were able to view the legendary “wooden houses” built in the Ottoman style and used by the wealthy during the summer months. I must admit I was disappointed in those we saw. I thought I had at one time seen pictures of many many more such houses, clustered closer together, and forming a much more interesting collection of old Ottoman houses. Those we saw were simply large and pretentious. Maybe I’m thinking of the Venice neighborhood in Los Angeles (without the Ottoman architecture, though).

Returning to shore, we concluded that the boat trip was a big, expensive, disappointment. Nonetheless, we do not regret having taken it.

Topkapi Palace

Back at the hotel, we changed into dry socks, then headed out for lunch and a tour of Topkapi Palace. This was the highlight of our day. The palace, a sprawling collection of Ottoman buildings and courtyards, is located at the tip of the peninsula on the western side of the European section of the city. We had visited here before, but hadn’t given ourselves enough time to see everything. And, of coure, Anna was only five then and wanted to see it with a new set of eyes.

Alas, my favorite part of the complex was closed—the spectacular Ottoman kitchens, with their huge copper pans, ovens, and worktables, as well as enormous collection of Chinese porcelain. Someone had told us that the kitchen had housed 1,500 chefs and fed as many as 200,000 people at a time. I haven’t checked out these numbers; they sound like hyperbole to me. But those kitchens do take up a huge part of the palace. The entire palace is under renovation one section at a time; this time the kitchens are closed until their renovations are completed.

Instead, we visited the “treasury” rooms, which exhibited the decadent collection of jewels, ceremonial clothing, thrones, and various expensive gifts presented to the various sultans--such as the famous dagger featured in the movie "Topkapi." Then, a visit to the gardens and some ceremonial rooms, including the Sultans' imperial councial room and audience chamber. Finally, a walk through the Harem, a complex maze of courtyards, tiled sitting rooms and so on. This section, of which we saw only a fraction of its six stories and 300+ rooms, seemed oddly cold and grim to us, despite the elaborate decorations. Maybe all those stories of seraglio bloody intrigues worked to taint our picture of this complex. Or, maybe it was the rain and cold outside.

Despite all the gilded and bejewelled artifacts throughout the palace, it was the buildings and their rooms, as well as the grounds, that were the most interesting part of Topkapi. (The view of the Sea of Marmara and the Golden Horn wasn’t so bad either). Each interior ceiling was vaulted and elaborately painted or tiled. Some soared as tall as maybe 50 to 75 feet high. (No wonder it felt cold in there). The floors were tiled stone or marble, granite or travertine. The Sultan’s mother (Valide Sultan) had her own separate Turkish baths, with the calderium, tepidarium and frigidarium as well as a gilded gate within. One intersting note about the harem is that the tiles within were generally from Kutahya, rather than from Iznik. The latter adorn the majority of the significant buildings in Istanbul. But Kutahya tiles are my personal favorite.

As we were leaving, we thought we would quickly pop in to see a temporary exhibit titled: “Iran, 10,000 Years of Civilization.” Wow, what a happy accident; we didn’t know this was here until we saw the sign. This large exhibit featured artifacts from early Iranian civilizations to approximately the 19th century. My favorites were the gorgeous miniature paintings decorating earlier calligraphic codices—including beautifully decorated copies of the Koran, some encased in elaborately tooled and/or jewelled leather bindings. Additionally, the embroidered and woven fabrics, some from the 15th century, were pristine and beautifully displayed. Throughout the exhibit, the mounted explanatory panels – in both Turkish and English – were well written and gave just enough information about the history and arts of successive civilizations in ancient Persia, now Iran.

The Grand Bazaar

Because we hadn’t punished our feet enough this day, we decided to visit the Grand (Covered) Bazaar, with its 4,400 shops, today rather than the next day, as originally planned. Anna had one more gift she wanted to buy for a friend. What were the chances of our running into someone who works at our hotel? Pretty good, it turns out. The previous night, he had explained to us that he worked in a rug shop in the Bazaar (I think everybody does), owned by the hotel’s owners. He recognized us as we walked by. Naturally, we felt obligated to visit his shop and have tea while he showed us many of his rugs. Alas, we were rugged out from our three visits to Kakir Bey’s shop in Ankara, and had no intention of buying any more—much to our host’s disappointment. I was glad, though, for the warming tea and a chance to get off my feet. Plus, I love seeing new types of rugs; those he showed us were mostly Kurdish, a type we hadn’t seen before.

We continued our search for a copper item for Anna’s friend. We were at a loss (again) as to why there were so few copper shops; Turkey is supposedly famous for copper ware. Nonetheless, Anna stopped to look at a small copper peppermill. A salesman gave her a price of 10 TL (around $6.50). Anna hesitated, not because of the price, but because she wasn’t sure she wanted to buy it. He then lowered the price to 8 TL. But she still wasn’t sure, so we walked way. Meanwhile, Larry’s body language told us that he’d had quite enough of the Grand Bazaar and the vendors’ aggressive sales tactics. So Anna decided to go back for the peppermill. But we couldn’t find the original salesman. The new one gave her a price of 12 TL. We told him what the other had said, so he lowered it to 10. He seemed quite irritated when we repeated the 8 lira price. He consulted in a loud voice, seemingly quite angry, with several other vendors , but finally agreed to the 8 TL price. We survived the bargaining game, even though we hadn’t actually intended to bargain.

Aya Sofya

Our second full day of sight-seeing was colder, but generally dryer, with only occasional drizzles. Our first stop was the Aya Sofya, the former 6th century church turned mosque in the 15th century, and later a museum by order of Ataturk in the early 20th century. As always, the huge building renovations continue. This time, the paintings in the main dome were under repair. This means that an enormous block of scaffolding smack in the center of the building diminished the awe-inspiring scale of the huge open space. But that was just bad luck; the restoration work is important. At least this time we were able to see the section that was hidden by scaffolding fifteen years ago. We’ll have to return in another fifteen years to see the current improvements. [March update: we've been told that the scaffolding is down and the main dome is now visible].

One of the highlights of the Aya Sofya is the remaining mosaics from the time of its use as a Christian church. Although most of the mosaics are long gone, those remaining are truly spectacular. On the first balcony, where most of the mosaics are to be found, we first encountered an exhibition of very large photographs of the museum, including large close-ups of some of the better known mosaics. Since we hadn’t yet found the originals, and I wasn’t sure if I would be able to photograph them, I photographed the photos. Once I found the originals and found that non-flash photography was okay, I still decided to keep the photos of photos; they were closer views than I was able to take, and the photographer obviously had a better camera (and more skill) than I have.

Basilica Cistern

Our next stop was to be a visit to the Blue Mosque, or Sultanahmet Camii. But we arrived just before noon prayer services and were unable to get in. So instead we visited the Basilica Cistern, an enormous underground cistern from Roman times held together by 336 huge columns. Two of the columns sit on top of marble sculpted heads of Medusa, she of the serpentine hair. One of the heads is upside down while the other sits sideways. There is no explanation that I can find as to why the heads are not upright. Between columns, and eerily illuminated by small reddish/orange lights, were enormous carp and smaller goldfish swimming over offerings of coins on the cistern’s floor. We don’t understand what those fish have to eat.

Blue Mosque (Sultanahmet Camii)

After our standard lunch of mercemek corbasi (red lentil soup) and bread, we tried the Blue Mosque again. The "blue" designation is due, not to the exterior, which is uniformly gray, but to the extensive interior Iznik tiles, which are predominantly blue. Alas, we could not view most of them closely, as this is a working mosque, unlike Aya Sofya, which is a national museum. As such, visitors are confined to a smallish area in the back of the mosque, to leave sufficient room for worshipers. We also had to enter by a side door where tourists were directed; only worshipers could enter the main door. This makes sense during tourist season (i.e., warm weather), but, since we were the only "tourists" in sight, and there were very few people at the front door, we were a little put out. But it was still good to see this gorgeous building.

The gardens and park between Aya Sofya and the Blue Mosque remind me of the Mall in Washington, D.C., in that the view of both huge edifices from the park is spectacular. The mosque was designed by the architect Aga, student of the more famous Sinan, and was constructed on part of the site of the Byzantine palace, some of which is currently being excavated near Aya Sofya, and our hotel. One of its more unique aspects is the number of minarets surrounding the main building: six. This number was unheard of at the time, but was consistent with the Sultan’s (Ahmed) desire to rival Emperor Justinian’s Aya Sofya. Wikipedia’s page on the mosque is nicely done, and can be found at: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sultan_Ahmed_Mosque

Istanbul Archaeology Museums

With most of the afternoon remaining, and the temperature dropping, and the wind picking up, we abandoned the idea of more architectural visits. We had hoped to visit Kucuk Aya Sofya (Little Aya Sofya), designed after the original, but on a smaller scale. Instead, we opted for a warm museum—the Istanbul Archeology Museum. It is also an impressive building, or three buildings, actually, with the main museum sharing a courtyard with two others; i.e., the Museum of Islamic Art (Tile Kiosk) and the Museum of the Ancient Orient. They are located within the Topkapi Palace grounds and are part of the Palace complex.

We had time only for the main museum—or a part of it; it’s huge. After passing the imposing statue of the Roman god Bes facing visitors as they entered (my camera failed me; I have no image of Bes, alas!), we first viewed a temporary exhibit of ongoing Istanbul excavations. One is the recent find of 24 shipwrecks and other archaeological treasures found during current construction of a transportation tunnel in the harbor between European and Asian Istanbul. The excavation is an excellent collaboration between antiquities officials and municipal construction leaders. This makes for slow progress of construction of the new transportation tunnel, but few people are complaining (as far as I know). The find is one of the most important recent archaeological finds in the region.

Next was a visit to the elaborately carved sarcophagi found mostly in Sidon, an ancient city of Lebanon, and brought to the palace centuries ago. The main museum building was actually built to house principally these sarcophagi, the collection of which includes the famous "Alexander Sarcophagus." Although this sarcophagus is not the actual burial container of Alexander (I think Zahi Hawass in Egypt is still looking for that one), the carvings show some of the exploits of Alexander in an impressive display of deep relief sculptures.

After viewing dozens of equally elaborate sarcophagi, and a gallery full of imposing, impressive Roman statues from throughout the region (e.g., Ephesus, Bolu, Gaza, etc.), our feet and legs were mighty tired. The floors of this beautiful building are nearly all huge blocks of smooth marble, but there were no places to sit. Ouch!

To rest our weary legs, and warm up a bit as well, we left the museum and stopped in a pretty tea and pastry shop to order a few cups of tea (we each had two) and share two small plates of baklava. Our good moods from such a successful day was sorely tested when our bill came to the same price as we were accustomed to paying for dinner for the three of us. So, instead of going to a somewhat fancier restaurant that night, as planned, we headed back to our Pudding Shop, this time for both dinner and dessert.

The "World Famous" Pudding Shop, Lale Restaurant

By this, our third night here, the waiters recognized us and treated us really well, serving us extra "sides" that we weren’t expecting--on the house. While waiting (briefly) for our dishes, I read some of the newspaper articles posted on the walls, such as one highlighting Bill Clinton’s visit here. Another longer article highlighted some of the history of the shop. It turns out that this shop was also featured in the movie, "Midnight Express," representing the location of the drug deal that landed the protagonist of the movie in the infamous Turkish prison (now the expensive Four Seasons Hotel). Although the drug deal was fiction, the shop did serve as a focal point in the 1960s for hippie-type characters. And, although the owner, who helped various young, lost souls, forbade drug use or dealing in his shop, a lot of drugs were, I guess, consumed and/or sold by the "regulars," elsewhere in the neighborhood. Today, the Pudding Shop has a new owner (the son?) and is more of a family place. But the "world famous" claim seems to be real, at least in Hollywood terms.

Istiklal Caddesi (Istiklal Road)

Our final day in Istanbul was our departure day. First we brought Anna to the Ataturk airport to see her off (sniff!). Then we worked our way to Taksim Square in search of a service bus to take us to the Varan (our bus company) headquarters on the Asian side. After finding a Varan office, with many false starts, of course, we had time to kill before the bus arrived, so we wandered Istiklal Caddesi, along with thousands of others on a weekday, around mid-day. A pedestrian mall, the street used to figure prominently with the Orient Express crowd. The famed train used to ride down this street; now a tram has replaced it. Hundreds of shops, meyhanes (bars), and restaurants, along with famous buildings in the city’s history, line this very busy street. We were too tired to buy anything, but are glad to have experienced, if briefly, yet another of Istanbul’s many notable sites.

We missed by one day some elaborate celebrations opening a year of special cultural activities. The EU apparently named Istanbul and two other cities the 2010 Cultural City of Europe. We are not unhappy to have missed the next day's celebrations, as it apparently snowed all day. Nonetheless, it was quite an honor. We plan on returning yet again to this incredible city, perhaps catching some of the year's additional special cultural events. Even though we have now been there four times, we discover something new each time, or view previously visited places with a new sense of wonder. Maybe someday, we’ll even experience Istanbul during warm, sunny weather, something that has so far eluded us.

NOTE: One week later, we are watching news reports of a nasty snow/ice storm that seems to have hit everywhere in Turkey except our neighborhood. Istanbul is a mess today (Sun., Jan. 24); the Black Sea area is a disaster; parts of Ankara received about three or four inches of snow. But Larry and I were at the outdoor gym, exercising in the sun. Very odd.

January 2 to 10

2010-01-19T04:19:00.005-05:00

For photos, see: http://anatolianphotos.shutterfly.com "January 2 to 10."

Once Anna’s cold cleared up, and my sidewalk tumble became a memory, we were ready to do some traveling. Alas, one available tour was to Pamukkale and Aphrodias, where we had already been. The other possibility, a trip to Cappadocia, was canceled. We thought about heading there (to Cappadocia) on our own, but other plans, such as visits to shadow some doctors, and dinners with various people, were in the works. Besides, being mid-winter, a self-tour could be risky. So, instead, Anna and I explored more of Ankara while Larry continued teaching. And the three of us continued to socialize and explore even more of Old Ankara.

First was a walk Anna and I took to Anitkabir, the mausoleum of Ataturk, the founder of the Turkish Republic. Larry and I had been there in late October during the annual celebration of the founding of the Republic. Where there were many thousands of people in the main courtyard on that October day, on this later visit, there were Anna and me, two other people, and a handful of guards. That’s it. Because there were so few people around, we were able to pay tribute at Ataturk's sarcophagus, sitting atop the actual tomb. The actual tomb looks beautiful in photographs, but we never figured out how to get into the lower tomb area. Then we visited the museum portion of the complex, where there is a new section I’d never seen. In this historical area, in addition to many more artifacts and portraits, there are two long – about 100 to 150 feet – painted murals depicting two famous battles. The paintings of the siege at Gallipoli during World War I, as well as one of the key battles during the War of Independence in the early 1920s were breathtaking, if depressing. In front of the amazingly effective artwork were artifacts from the wars, incorporated into the background painting, creating a 3-D effect to the entire display. To complete the picture, we heard the sounds of battle, which were a little unnerving. The entire experience was very moving, and very disturbing.

Next on our agenda was a dinner with Meldan and her brother Ercan. Ercan, an officer in the Central Bank of Turkey (Merkez Bankasi) took us to the bank’s restaurant in Cankaya, one of the swankier sections of Ankara. He, like me, has a vivid memory of our being there fifteen years ago. At that time, there was live music, in English, mostly 1960s popular songs. Larry asked me to dance to one of the songs, which startled me at the time; Larry is normally not an eager dancer. What stayed in Ercan’s and my memory most was the fact that nobody else was dancing; this is not the type of place where people normally dance. But there we were—Larry and me—dancing away, to a waltz, no less—oblivious to the stares (and smiles) of everyone in the restaurant. Larry and Meldan have no memory of this. I am very glad Ercan remembers, as I was beginning to question my memory—again.

Next day, we headed back to the rug shop, Best Koleksiyon, to have lunch yet again with Kadir Bey and Neslihan Hamin. (Note: “Bey” is a form of respect for a man, “Hanim” for a woman). We were joined by a family from Kansas who were here to form some sort of educational partnership with educators in Turkey. After lunch, Kadir Bey took us to the Kocatepe Mosque, the huge new white mosque in the middle of Ankara which I had always wanted to visit. I finally saw the beautiful inside of this impressive structure, said to be the largest mosque—at least in terms of the number of people it can hold at once, 24,000—in all of the Islamic world. That number includes worshippers inside the mosque as well as in the adjoining courtyards.

The highlight of the day, though, was a visit to Kadir Bey’s boyhood neighborhood. This is the part of Old Ankara called Hacettepe. The university was named after this neighborhood because the main campus is located here. (Larry teaches in an outlying campus--Beytepe). Kadir Bey’s boyhood home was razed, along with hundreds of other Ottoman era houses, to make room for the construction of the university’s medical school. Local officials, however, recognizing the significance of the remaining seven hundred year old Ottoman houses, arranged for their renovation and have created a beautiful neighborhood next to the university. In addition to renovating these gorgeous houses, the planners repaved the streets with cobblestones, and planned parks and museums to supplement the houses, which are inhabited, recreating a once vibrant neighborhood.

Walking around with Kadir Bey was a delight, as he pointed out the hospital where he was born, the schools he attended and, to my astonishment, the hamam (Turkish Bath), where I had once bathed (15 years ago) and assumed I would never find again. Someone had led me there at the time without me knowing where we actually were. Kadir Bey also ran into some old school chums, one of whom treated us to soft drinks and kofte, a Turkish meatball. We politely declined the meatballs, but they smelled awfully good; the other family with us ate them instead.

The following weekend, Larry had lots of student papers to correct, so Anna and I went off on our own. First we visited Bilkent University where she had gone to kindergarten. I’d not yet figured out how to get there by bus, but I know that there is a student service bus leaving from our neighborhood, so we waited for a long time for that bus. Alas, it never came because, as we figured out later, Bilkent follows the American academic schedule and the students are on winter break! (Hacettepe, on the other hand, where Larry teaches now, is still in session until the end of January). So instead we hopped on a city bus and hoped for the best. It dropped us off at the bottom of the university’s campus, which meant we had a very long walk up a very steep hill to the part of campus where we used to live. But we were game. First, we visited the new shopping mall on campus, where Anna bought a pair of boots and we had lunch. Then we began the climb to Dogu Kampusu (East Campus), where our former apartment and Anna’s school were located. By the time we gasped into the apartment complex (well, I was the one who gasped; my side still hurt from last week’s fall), I was hungry and thirsty again. So we stopped at our old “bakkal,” the tiny store – a shack really -- where we used to buy our daily loaf of bread and our newspaper. Refreshing ourselves with bread sticks and juice and water, we made friends with a local cat, who kept warm on our laps. After photographing Anna’s former kindergarten and our apartment building, we headed downhill to figure out how to get home. We lucked out when we saw a student bus after all (??!??), which dropped us off right in our Bache neighborhood. That was lucky.

Next day, Anna and I tried another adventure—visiting the more touristy part of Old Ankara, inside the Hisar, or fortress. A few months ago, Larry and I had joined a tour of Roman Ankara, when we visited the outer walls of the fortress, which had incorporated some Roman ruins into the construction of the walls. This time, we wanted to see the inner walls and the community that still exists within. We took the subway to Ulus, at the base of the large hill where the fortress is located. From there we took a taxi to the top of the hill, and entered the Hisar through the Clock Tower gate. Immediately we saw exactly the type of souvenir shop we have been looking for for Anna to purchase some gifts for friends back home. Beyond the shops is an old old old neighborhood. Some of the buildings, including an old han, or commercial center from centuries ago, are being or have been renovated. There are many nice restaurants and shops. And several houses have been renovated and are occupied by somewhat wealthy individuals. But by and large, this is a very poor community, with an almost impenetrable maze of alleyways, steep stone steps, and deteriorating houses centuries old. We did not get very far into the fortress for fear of getting hopelessly lost and/or falling off one of the ramparts. But it was great fun nonetheless.

Leaving the hisar, we went down the hill a bit to the Museum of Anatolian Civilizations, where, once again, I viewed many thousands of years of the history of Anatolia, or Anadolu, as it was once called. Lunch was at the same beautiful restaurant we had been to a few times before, with the gorgeous panorama of the city. Unfortunately, it was a grey, gloomy day, so the view wasn’t that great. But the lunch was good, and I’ve gotten over my reluctance to ask for a doggie bag, so we ate terrific bread with our dinner that night.

Leaving the hisar, we headed for “copper alley” in hopes of finding yet one more gift for one of Anna’s friends, preferably something in copper. Alas, we found only a few copper shops, not finding the entire street of copper makers I remembered from so long ago. Anna decided to wait until our trip to Istanbul and the Grand Bazaar to select a copper gift. More on that later. Heading down the long steep hill, I took a wrong turn and we were hopelessly lost. Finally having to ask where to find the Ulus subway station, too young men instead kindly led us to the Sihhiye station, a long but flat walk, where I was finally able to get close enough to a statue I have always wanted to photograph. This statue is a huge bronze reproduction of a small Hittite statue found in the Museum of Anatolian Civilizations. It depicts a ram and the Hittite Sun, and served as the symbol of Ankara until the symbol was changed just a few years ago. Now the official city symbol is a stylized mosque and some stars.

More on the Holidays, Dec. 26 to Jan. 2

2010-01-06T02:36:00.005-05:00

Two days after arriving at Ankara, our rug dealer, Kadir Bey, called to wish us Merry Christmas. He remembered that Anna was coming and that we had planned to buy her a small rug as a Christmas present. Rather than picking one out for her, however, we thought she would like to see the shop and pick one out for herself. So, after Kadir’s phone call, we planned on another lunch at the rug shop for the next day.

When we first arrived, Kadir and his wife, Neslihan, had a gift prepared for Anna—a small hand knotted rug depicting the Kocatepe Mosque in downtown Ankara. Very thoughtful. After Anna picked out a rug for her future apartment (she may be moving into one in her senior year), she asked to see a few small kilims to pick one out for her boyfriend. Larry and I had discussed buying one more small rug for our house. But—when we saw the kilims being brought out, we were hooked once again. We bought a gorgeous Usak kilim, woven with vegetable dyed wool, depicting wheat and other agricultural motifs, and used as a “rain carpet;” i.e., for prayers seeking rain during a dry spell. Thinking that the kilim was sufficient, rather than the small rug we had intended to buy, we nonetheless also bought a Hereke rug, similar to the one we purchased fifteen years ago, but much smaller. Anna did not select any of the kilims shown because she really wanted a very small one. Nonetheless, when she commented on how beautiful one was, Kadir Bey insisted that she take it as another gift. After finally selecting a very tiny kilim as the wanted gift, once again, Kadir Bey would not take money for it. He certainly is a very generous person. I wonder if he is trying to rid himself of some of his hundreds of rugs and kilims. He and his wife are trying to sell the shop in order to retire to Antalya (he is Larry’s age—i.e., 65).

After the rug transactions, Kadir Bey showed us more of his shop than we had previously seen. The downstairs was used to sell reproduction furniture from one of his workshops. But, more interestingly, the entire space was constructed to reproduce many of the artifacts and architectural flourishes of the old area of Ankara called Hacettepe, where he was born and raised. (Hacettepe University was named after the neighborhood, where the main campus—the medical school—is located). Next week, we will join Kadir Bey for a tour of his old neighborhood. This, according to him, is far more authentic than the area of Ulus, below the fortress (or Kale), which is more of a tourist area.

That evening, we had yet another event in the form of a dinner at one of Larry’s Hacettepe colleague’s apartment. Virtually the entire department was there for the Saturday night dinner party, during which Anna met the wife of one of Larry’s colleagues, who is a practicing physician (the wife, that is); she invited Anna to join her on duty at the hospital emergency room. The dinner was entirely vegetarian in honor of Larry’s food preferences. These are very thoughtful people, indeed.

The following Wednesday, we attended yet another departmental holiday party—this one a joint American Studies Department/English Department potluck held in the former’s large meeting room/library. Unlike the workplace parties I am accustomed to—at least the recent ones, that is—this one went on for hours, with lots of food and wine consumed and eventually dancing and (would you believe?) musical chairs! These folks sure know how to party. One wonders what the students thought as they passed through the department’s hallways, seeing their professors act so silly.

After all the partying of this week, I was somewhat surprised to find our family home alone on New Year’s Eve. Nonetheless, we made plans to wander Yedi Caddesi (7th Ave.), the swinging and very busy street just two blocks from our apartment, to see for ourselves how people in the neighborhood celebrate the holiday. But first, we had some afternoon grocery shopping to do. Yedi Caddesi just had the sidewalks replaced, easing the walk along the busy street. The previous sidewalk was uneven in the extreme, with blocks missing, curbs dropping off unexpectedly, driveways dipping unevenly, and so on. Walking down that busy street, with its heavy traffic and challenging sidewalks has been quite a challenge. But, with the new sidewalks, one can actually look around while walking rather than staring at one’s feet. With the new sidewalks, alas, came complacency. After turning the corner off Yedi Caddesi toward our apartment, I had forgotten that the other streets in our neighborhood still have their old, erractic, sidewalks. Sure enough, walking at a rapid clip, I hit an imperfection with my toe and went careening forward to end up sprawled on the dusty sidewalk. Either my instincts have slowed or I was slowed by the container of yogurt I was carrying home in a bag. Whatever the reason, I did not break my fall with my hands, as most mammals would have done. Instead I landed on my forehead, hitting the sidewalk hard. Being a wearer of glasses, of course, meant that they intervened between my forehead and the sidewalk and cut me fairly well. The blow to the head dazed me for quite some time, meaning I lay immobile on the sidewalk long enough to attract a crowd. So, I provided the early street entertainment on New Year’s Eve. Eventually, someone brought a towel to clean me up (my forehead bled), give me water, then tea, then a bandaid, then lots of advice. The local merchants would not let us leave until they were convinced I was okay. (They were so nice!). As I write this, six days later, the goose egg on my forehead is diminishing, the cut healing, and my mangled glasses frames more or less fixed by a local optician and now wearable after two days without them. (Luckily, the lenses did not break). My side, where I landed on the yogurt container, still hurts though. Always an adventure when one goes out walking with EEE.

Needless to say, I did not join Larry and Anna on their sojourn to Yedi Caddesi that evening. Instead I nursed my wounds and read a novel. Later, after they returned, we watched a BBC special — stand up comedians – for hours, interrupting the show briefly at midnight to watch fireworks outside our window, and channel surfing to see some of the festivities elsewhere in the world. So our New Year’s Eve was salvaged by the Tube after all.

New Year’s Day was spent much like our Christmas Day—at the outdoor gym. Although I joined Larry and Anna on the track, I walked stiffly and did not use any of the exercise equipment. Tomorrow, (January 2), we will pay New Year’s respects to Gulriz, along with two other of her friends and colleagues, Meldan and Bercin. More on that later.

In the evening, three fire engines and various other emergency vehicles drove slowly down our road with lights flashing and horns honking, stopping only a few buildings from our apartment. Anna and I investigated, but saw no fire, and smelled no smoke. There was, however, lots of water on the road. The next day, I noticed “no parking” signs on one side of our street for the first time. There were also several announcements during the day emanating from slowly passing police cars, with an officer announcing something via mounted bullhorn – in Turkish, of course, so we didn’t understand it at the time.

The next night, more flashing lights. This time it was five tow trucks hauling off all the cars on one side of the road – the one with “no parking” signs. Apparently the fire trucks were not happy with their slow progress down our road the previous evening. The method of towing a car is quick and little nerve wracking. A giant claw is lowered over a car, cables attached to the claw fixed on the four corners of a car, then the car lifted, swinging precariously, to the bed of the tow truck. Very quick, and fascinating!

Although ours is in theory a two way street, only one lane is ever open due to parking on both sides of the narrow roadway. Each evening during rush hour, we witness our early evening entertainment as two lines of traffic face each other in gridlock, horns honking, people shouting, always ending with many cars backing up into side streets and driveways to make way for oncoming traffic. It’s great fun to watch. However, with fire engines unable to get down the street in a timely manner, public safety is at stake. Frankly, I am glad to see traffic police finally enforcing the parking laws. But now we need a new form of early evening entertainment – short of tripping over uneven sidewalks, that is.

On Sunday, Anna, Larry, Meldan and I headed to our old neighborhood in Umitkoy to pay a New Year’s visit to Gulriz and her Mama Ayse. The latter is still in the nursing home, paralyzed and unable to speak from a stroke suffered last May. But first we met another of Larry’s colleagues, Bercin, at a fish restaurant near Gulriz’s home where we had a wide variety of fish appetizers (called mezes here) and an entrée of various kinds of fish. This is the first time during this year’s visit that we experienced a type of restaurant service that is common here in fish restaurants. After selecting a table and hanging up one’s coat, we visited the kitchen, where the mezes were displayed on a refrigerated shelf. Mezes are almost always served cold. The bottom shelf displayed the fresh fish from which we choose our entrée, rather than simply consulting a menu. After selecting the mezes and type of fish we want, we choose “fried” or “grilled.” That’s it. No menu, just selections by sight. Then they are cooked to our specifications and duly served.

One of the changes I’ve noticed since our visit here fifteen years ago is portion sizes served at restaurants. For all these years I have remembered being served reasonably small portions when we ate out. Either my memory is faulty, or things have changed, or maybe we just visited cheaper restaurants when we were last here. At any rate, this time we are generally served far more at restaurants than I am comfortable eating. And I think that “doggie bags” are not common; the only person I’ve ever seen ask for one was Gulriz, which she did on this day, but only after I forced myself to eat all on my plate. After we paid the bill, we sat for awhile talking, while, to our surprise, the waiters brought us tea and two types of dessert—unasked for and “on the house.” One was a type of warm, crumbly spice cake which, we discovered after breaking into it, surrounded a large scoop of cold vanilla ice cream, Yum! The other was corn bread which none of us even attempted to try, we were so full. Gulriz brought them home.

A quick visit to Mama Ayse at the nursing home, to drop off a small gift—she was asleep, alas. Then a long visit at Gulriz’s apartment, which was elaborately decorated for Christmas. After some work-related discussions (it was a working visit for the American Studies people), Bercin and Anna made plans for Anna to shadow various doctors at the hospital where Bercin’s husband is a cardiologist and administrator, and also president of Turkey’s cardiologist association. This visit will be the first of several Anna will make with medical people while here in the medical center of the country.

Larry's solo travels - December 2009

2010-01-02T03:40:00.004-05:00

Erzurum

While I headed back to the States in December, Larry traveled to two Turkish cities to deliver lectures, courtesy of the U.S. State Department.

The first of his travels involved a plane trip to Erzurum, in the eastern mountainous region of Turkey. As this was a December trip, and winter there essentially begins in October, he was expecting snow, and was not disappointed. Erzurum is a well known ski area for Turkish and European winter sports people.

Ataturk University was the site of his first lecture, entitled “The Meaning and Challenge of the Declaration of Independence.” One of the graduate students attending his lecture later emailed Larry, informing him that she and her colleagues refer to Larry as the “cool man.”

After his lecture, Larry was able to visit two historical sites in the old city, which was the location of Ataturk’s 1919 rallying cry for Turkish Independence. Photos of the two medrese (theological seminaries) can be located at: www.anatolianphotos.shutterfly.com under “Larry’s solo travels.”

The first medrese, Cifti Minareli Medrese (Twin Minaret Seminary) dates from the 13th century and served as an Islamic theological seminary. It is an example of symmetrical Seljuk architecture, with minarets decorated in elaborate small blue tiles, an open courtyard, large central dome, and multiple arches.

The second medrese, Yakutiye, is somewhat more recent, dating from 1310, and served as a Mongol theological seminary. Its tiled minaret, also blue, is a fine example of early elaborate tile work.

After his visit, Larry watched the sky as it turned steely gray, fully expecting to have some unwanted adventures in this cold, mountainous area. Having just finished Orhan Pamuk’s book, Kar (Snow), in which a journalist gets stranded for several days in a blizzard in Kars, a city not that far from Erzurum, I understood Larry’s concern. As there was, in fact, a snow-related delay at the airport, Larry settled down to some people watching, observing that the large number of conservatively dressed people (including some women in shadoor) seemed to be grouped in large families, or “clans.” They were praying, drinking holy water, and otherwise seeming to observe religious and close family rituals as they, too, waited at the airport. As it turned out, large groups of people had come to greet family members returning from the Hajj, or religious pilgrimage to Mecca.

Bursa

Not long after his return from Erzurum, Larry headed by bus to Bursa, the first capital city of the Ottoman Empire (before Edirne and Constantinople). Larry, Anna and I had visited Bursa on our last trip to Turkey in 1995. It is particularly known as a central resting/meeting/trading spot on the Silk Road. Today, it is still a textile center for the country, one I am sorry to have missed this time around.

My memory of Bursa, beside the snow and the cold (it was winter then too), is of elaborate tombs of early Sultans, as well as an ancient silk trading center, the Koza Han, still home to small shops selling colorful silk scarves and other textiles. In ancient times, the Koza Han was a bustling center particularly for the purchase of silk cocoons. A “han” serves not only as a commercial center, but as a resting place for merchants and their pack animals traveling along the Silk Road. They were constructed within one day’s camel trip of each other.

Outside the Han, the city center is particularly beautiful, with cobbled walkways and elegant fountains. The year we were last there, the center had recently won a national award for renovation of a city municipal center. At some point, I would like to visit again on a warm, sunny day.

Larry, alas, had little time for sightseeing on this trip. Instead, he focused on his talk at Uludag University (named after the looming mountain nearby), entitled, “The Meaning of Barack Obama’s Election.” Larry was particularly impressed with the depth of the students’ questions after the talk.

2009-12-28T04:14:00.005-05:00

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

2009-12-26T03:02:00.003-05:00

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

2009-12-13T10:44:00.002-05:00

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

2009-12-08T04:01:00.009-05:00

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)

2009-12-07T09:49:00.014-05:00

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)

2009-12-05T10:26:00.007-05:00

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)

2009-12-04T05:28:00.016-05:00

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

2009-11-23T14:32:00.005-05:00

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

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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.