Side didn’t put up any resistance to Alexander

The name Side means “pomegranate,” a well-known fertility symbol in antiquity that we also find on coins. The origin of Side itself is shrouded in mystery. Arrian tells us that the city was founded by people from Cyma, a town north of Smyrna (modern Izmir). However, if we believe Eusebius, the city was settled at least two hundred years before the Trojan War, i.e., about 1405 BC. For now, neither option can be proved.

In antiquity, however, Side occupied a special place because of the language spoken there, which did not resemble any other known language or dialect and didn’t sound like Greek. It was unique to Side if we believe Arrian (and why shouldn’t we believe him?). Inscriptions and coins use this unique language as far back as the 5th and 3rd centuries BC. In any case, it has been determined that it can only be of Anatolian origin, i.e., proper to Pamphylia, because it is unrelated to Sillyum or Aspendos's Greek dialects. Greek started to be used only after the conquest of Alexander the Great, which is sustained by an inscription from about 300 BC.

On his march through Pamphylia in the early spring of 333 BC, Alexander took possession of Side. Not much has been said about it, just that he left a garrison behind before moving on to Sillyum. After his death, his general Ptolemy ruled the city until the Seleucid Dynasty took over in the 2nd century BC. Later on, Side was included in the Pergamon Empire. However, the town was involved in the profitable piracy business, and the Cilicians used it as a pivotal base for their slave trading. When Emperor Pompey expelled the pirates in 67 BC, the people of Side hurriedly erected a statue in his honor. The city flourished under Roman occupation but weakened as soon as the empire fell apart. This is evidenced by the city walls built about the fourth century inside the once larger city limits.

However, there was a short revival in the fifth and sixth centuries. The theater was repaired, and a new Forum was built in honor of Arcadius (395-408), as well as several other buildings. But the Arab invasion of the 7th century caused its final decline, and by the end of the 10th century, the few remaining inhabitants moved to the newly founded Antalya. The last people who lived here were the Seljuks in the 12^th century. We have to wait till 1895 when Greek Muslims migrated from Crete and sought refuge among the ruins. The new village called Selimiye is consequently built on top of the old Side. Finding the ancient remains among today’s houses, gardens, and alleys takes some detective work. On the other hand, a large part of the antique city is still buried under drift sand, especially in the northeastern corner where the Roman city walls literally disappear in the dunes.

A parking lot has been built at the city entrance, and I’m glad I can leave my car there and don’t have to figure out the narrow street pattern. I am lucky to enter the city exactly where I wanted, meaning through the Hellenistic Gate (Megale Pyle) from the 2nd century BC with its two round towers, just like the ones in Perge but in much poorer condition. If I had not seen the Hellenistic Gate in Perge, I would have missed this one entirely, and it would have been complicated to imagine what the towers looked like.

The shocking picture here is the newly asphalted road, a coat smeared over and on top of the old Roman pavement – a barbarian crime, nothing less!

Behind me rise the impressive remains that belong to a large Nymphaeum, another mental link for me, this time with Sagalassos. I didn’t expect to find a fountain of this size in Side. The explanation panel is set up in Turkish, English, and German, with a drawing of the fountain’s reconstruction. This Nymphaeum dates from the 2nd and 3rd centuries, just like most of the ruins around here – i.e., the heydays of the Roman Empire.

The antique and now asphalted colonnaded street runs past elegant remains of a covered sidewalk with shops behind them. I can walk freely among these remains, which adds to the charm. I climb to the top of one of the sand dunes, hoping to spot the sea, and I do. In fact, my view reaches as far as Alanya to the east, while in the north, I’m stopped by the peninsula of Side. Inviting dark blue water splashes against the rocks and sunken ruins, creating a screen of thousands of sunlit stars.

I move on and climb to the next dune top, and from here, I clearly see the large Theatre, but that is for later as I’m close to the beach and decide to walk to the old port, which is now entirely sanded up. I pass impressive ruins with column stubs belonging to a Nymphaeum of which only the facade is still standing. The space in front was once occupied by the Agora, measuring the nearly standard 100 x 100 meters, but I miss the shops that usually surround it. Remains of columns and ceiling caissons lie everywhere, and I can’t help thinking that the sand surely will damage these carvings (a standard abrasive) – not the happiest way to preserve ancient stones.

The road now leads me to the center of today’s Selimiye, with a continuous row of restaurants and souvenir shops on either side. The merchants and waiters try all the tricks in the book to draw the attention of the tourists. Nothing has changed since antiquity.

At the end of the next side street, the white marble columns of the Temple of Apollo appear, the standard picture in every travel guide that now becomes real. The effect of Carrara marble against the intense blue sky and sea is simply perfect. From between the arches of nearby Lima Basilica, I take my first pictures. At the same time, I marvel at the size of this Basilica from the 5th/6th century, which remained in use for many more centuries in a reduced size.

The longer I stare at those few slender columns of the Temple of Apollo, the more I see. The delicate, not entirely Corinthian capitals supporting a pediment decorated with numerous individual faces staring down at me. Somewhere between the broken marble on the floor, I find a piece of the pediment with one of those faces, finely decorated edges with lion heads; this temple must have been something extraordinary. Next to it, I should find its twin, a temple dedicated to Artemis, but I fail to see anything indicating the presence of a building. As always, the location has been chosen with perfection and is no less impressive than the location of Cape Sounion in Greece.

Back in the streets of Selimiye, I get terribly annoyed by the noise, the cars, and the tourists, but above all, by this idiotic asphalted street still lined with stubs of the original colonnade. I discovered the remains of the Romans Baths, the so-called Harbor Baths from the second century, but since modern houses have been built inside and against the old walls, it is difficult to get a clear overall picture. These baths must have been quite large, measuring 36 x 19 meters, but it is a pity to find them in such poor shape.

Finally, I arrive at the theater, which has been considerably propped up, and the many vaults are reinforced with iron beams. I wonder how safe it is to get inside. I always find a theater a fascinating place to visit, where the past remains so palpable simply because, over the centuries, thousands of people have walked through its open or vaulted corridors or chatted comfortably sitting on the stone benches. The entrance takes me immediately to the diazoma, the promenade halfway through the theater right in the middle. It is said to be one of the largest theaters in Pamphylia and should hold approximately as many people as the one in Aspendos. This is hard to judge because the scene is poorly preserved, and almost nothing is left from the backstage wall (paraskenia), either. From the coolness of the vaults, I admire its location amidst the sand-covered remains behind which the entire coastline unfolds towards Alanya.

The sides and upper parts of the theater are off-limits because of the danger of collapse, but most of the “safe” parts have been well restored. Like the city, this is clearly Roman, although there was originally a Greek theater on this spot. Meanwhile, I have stepped all the way down, and when I look back over my shoulder, I’m surprised by the height. Of the people at the entrance to the diazoma, I only see their heads. This was the first time in my life that I felt dwarfed in a theater, overwhelmed by the entire construction. I walk to both extremities of the semi-circle while admiring the decorated remains on the podium. It is said that the scene was completely overgrown with trees and bushes when it was first discovered, tearing the construction apart. Comparing the pictures George Bean took in the 1960s (see: Turkey’s Southern Shore) with today’s appearance, it is evident that a lot of work has been done. After a while, I climb back to the diazoma to find that the stairs to the upper seats start in the vaulted corridor – there was no outside access in this theater.

Back outside on the main street, I automatically reach the small Temple of Dionysus attached to the remains of the Arch of Vespasian. The cars must drive underneath the Arch, taking turns since the opening is not wide enough to enable two vehicles to pass together. When in the 6th and 7th centuries, the population of Side had shrunk considerably, this Arch became a city gate in the newly built protection wall. In a way that is still visible today because, beyond this point, the modern restaurants and shops stop, giving way to the ruins of the antique stores with walls reaching approx. 1 or 2 meters high. One of these stores is quite unique because the owner's living quarters were located behind the up-front store, and in one of the rooms, I even discovered the original mosaic floor still in place.

To the right of the Triumphal Arch of Vespasian are the remains of a Nymphaeum, squeezed between the street and the space that belongs to the Archaeological Museum. This museum has been set up inside the well-preserved Roman Baths. It is one of those rare occasions where I can have a real feel of what such baths must have looked like in spite of the modern concrete roofing that seems to blend in elegantly. Entering through two arched doorways, I access the frigidarium, the coldest part of the baths; next is the sweating room, and finally, I reach the largest room, the caldarium or hot room, where pipes of the floor-heating system are still visible in places; the last two rooms were the tepidarium or washing rooms. The marble floors and the walls of the basins are in excellent condition, and the spare natural light sources add to the genuine feeling. Among the statues and other artifacts of the collection, I cannot find many striking pieces, except for an inscription in the language of Side which I have never encountered before, and a Pamphylian sarcophagus from the 2nd century with high reliefs of dancing cupids under the sloping roof festooned with lion heads. The less important or broken pieces have found refuge in the adjacent garden but are undoubtedly worth a visit; also, the workshop where a richly decorated sarcophagus is being painstakingly puzzled back together.

All in all, I spent three and a half hours walking around in Old Side, purposely ignoring the modern tourist traps - lovely!

[Click here to see all the pictures of Side]