A few words about Syedra

Syedra was discovered as recently as 1994, but excavations only slowly exposed parts of this ancient port city, a good 20 kilometers south of modern Alanya on the coastal road to Anamur and Tarsus beyond. In antiquity, the city was either part of Cilicia or Pamphylia.
 

I read the name Syedra while visiting the Archaeological Museum of Alanya, before knowing where to look for it. I was struck by its mosaics, clearly Roman and belonging to the 3rd century AD.
 
Archaeological excavations have revealed standard elements of the town, but none show signs of in-depth study. The structures are listed as a street lined with columns, shops, several staircases, remains of a town hall (Odeon?), a temple, a theater, and several cisterns that provided water to the city.
 
On the upper terrace that holds the Acropolis stands a building tentatively identified as a Heroon. Its walls with traces of frescoes welcome the visitor at the end of the colonnaded street. It is not known to whom this shrine was dedicated.
 
Important sections of the city walls display the remains of entrance gates, for instance, on the southwest and western side; the latest being the strongest, which is recognized as the main access to the city.
 

[Picture from Daily Sabah]

Another interesting feature is the Roman Bathhouse, where a large floor mosaic depicts the Twelve Labors of Heracles with life-size human figures. It was excavated in late 2020 and dated to the 2^nd century AD. The rectangular mosaic with an apse-like recess at one end measures 21.95 x 7.92 meters, which would typically fit the layout of a Caldarium. 
 
The reports also mention a statue of Nike, the goddess of victory, that I have not seen at the Museum of Alanya at the time of my visit.
 
By the end of 2025, a huge Stadium from the 2nd or 3^rd century AD was discovered, when Syedra reached its height. It is about 190 meters long and 16 meters wide and can accommodate 2,000-3,000 people. Since it was cut into the solid rock, it remained hidden till now.
 
Researchers also mention some 40 inscriptions on Syedra’s walls providing information about sports and entertainment.
 

At the Museum of Alanya, I had noticed a large inscription in which Septimius Severus praised the city for its bravery and loyalty in resisting the pirates that constantly raided the eastern Mediterranean (see: Exploring Olympos, next to Chimera). In the text from 194 AD, the Roman Emperor underscores Syedra’s “goodwill towards the Romans”.
 
The city also has two Necropolises, one to the northwest and the other to the south, which one day may reveal more important information about its citizens and their burial practices.

Sadly, excavations have not been structured so far, and even the intrepid visitor will have a hard time imagining the layout and monuments that graced this commercial hub and bustling harbor during the twenty centuries of its existence. Syedra was founded in the 7^th century BC and remained inhabited until the 13^th century AD.

Visit ancient cities in Turkey by night

As of this year, 2025, major archaeological sites remain accessible until late in the evening, often after sunset. The idea is for tourists to avoid excessive daytime temperatures. These late opening hours, which will also apply to several museums, will apply until 1 October 2025. 

I can’t help wondering how safe such nighttime visits will be. Museums should not be a problem, but ancient sites are another issue. I can imagine admiring the temples, theaters, and statuary lit by floodlights, although with some cautiousness, but walking over uneven pavement may be quite hazardous. 

An excellent example is, for instance, Mount Nemrud, which will open already at 4 a.m. and close at 9 p.m. Watching the sunrise or sunset from up there is a unique and unforgettable experience. But climbing the high-stepped stairs to the monument is a challenge by daytime, so much more so by dawn or dwindling light! 

Anyway, for the brave ones or daredevils, I am sharing the sites and museums that offer extended variable visiting hours. 

Closing times for archaeological sites and museums in 2025:

Istanbul
Galata Tower – 11 p.m.
Hagia Sophia History and Experience Museum – 10 p.m.
Turkish and Islamic Arts Museum – 10 p.m.
Archaeology Museums (excluding closed sections) – 10 p.m.

Adiyaman
Nemrud – 4 a.m. to 9 a.m.

Ankara
Museum of Anatolian Civilizations – 9 p.m.
Ethnography Museum – 9 p.m.

Antalya
Antalya Museum – 10 p.m.
Alanya Museum – 10 p.m.
Aspendos – 10 p.m.
Patara – 10 p.m.
Side – 10 p.m.
Nekropol Museum – 10 p.m. 

Aydin

Didyma – 9 p.m.

Denizli
Hierapolis – 11 p.m.

Erzurum

Erzurum Museum – 9 p.m.

Gaziantep
Zeugma Mosaic Museum – 9 p.m.

Izmir
Ephesos – 11 p.m. (Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday)
Museum Izmir Culture and Arts Factory – 9 p.m.

Mugla
Bodrum Museum of Underwater Archaeology – 10 p.m.

Nevsehir - Cappadocia
Zelve-Pasa Baglari – 9 p.m.
Derinkuyu Underground City – 9 p.m.
Kaymakli Underground City – 9 p.m.
Ozkonak Underground City – 9 p.m.

Samsun
Samsun Museum – 10 p.m.

Sanliurfa
SanliUrfa Museum – 9 p.m.
Haleplibahce Mosaic Museum – 9 p.m.

The concept of the caravanserai

It was in Turkey that I saw my very first caravanserai, probably the best example around, and it left an everlasting impression. It happened in the busy town of Kervansaray, halfway between Aksaray and Konya.

This was many years ago, and at the time, I was told that the Ottomans built hans (storage areas) and caravanserais (inns) to protect and accommodate the merchants moving on the busy caravan routes, like, for instance, the Silk Road. Large caravans of camels carrying silk and spices from China would make their way to Bursa, the then capital of the Ottoman Empire. These convenient stopovers were meant to stimulate business, of course. However, they also served as social gathering places and eventually led to further expansion of the Empire.

Later on, I discovered that these caravanserais could be found alongside the entire network of trade routes, mainly throughout southeastern Europe and Asia. Also, the very concept was not an Ottoman invention as I was led to believe initially, but existed already in Achaemenid Persia and even in Assyria.

All in all, I always found these caravanserais highly fascinating, but my encounter with the Sultan Han or Sultanhani in Kervansaray always remains my standard reference point. This quite impressive building covers a surface of 4,900 m2 and dates from 1226. It is much larger than a castle and is fortified similarly, with strong defense towers at the corners. It has a rectangular shape, much deeper than wide, with one single entrance gate to ensure security. This gate is decorated with lace brickwork, as seen on mosques, and gives access to a large open courtyard measuring 44 x 58 meters. At its center stands a square, two-story high kiosk-mosque, which is said to be the oldest example in Turkey.

Along the inner wall on the right runs a shady arcade in front of the merchants’ sleeping quarters. The opposite side is mainly occupied by a hamam where the tired traveler can relax. At the far end of this courtyard, there seems to be another gate, but this is the entrance to the area where the merchants could safely store their goods and shelter their horses, camels, and donkeys. This space with high vaults reminds me of a cathedral, ensuring warmth in winter and coolness in summer. High above the transept, a small octagonal windowed dome acts as a lantern, filtering the light. It strikes me as a comfortable, safe haven where the weary traveler could rest in peace. This important meeting point was also used to sell or swap their merchandise. This is so much more ingenious than one can imagine!

Another, very much commercialized caravanserai is the one in Ilhara in Cappadocia. This one has been heavily restored to be used for the entertainment of tourists.

A few years later, I visited the han of Alara-han on the road from Alanya to Antalya. This building is relatively small and measures only 34.5 x 45m. An inscription above the entrance gate tells us that it was built in 1231 by Alaeddin Keykubad I. It is said that it served the needs of the sultan when he traveled from Konya to his winter quarters in Alanya. Maybe that explains the size. Although this han is hailed for its construction technique, details, and proportions, I am not impressed. It has been converted into a true tourist attraction with the inevitable souvenir shops, restaurants, and gathering places of all kinds.

In Syria, I am confronted with the caravanserai of Qalaat al-Madiq, actually located at the foot of the ancient city of Apamea. This is a sizable building from the 16^th century displaying a fully paved courtyard. In the middle is a stairway that once led to the well, but it has now been sealed off. Overall, the caravanserai has not been tended with care, but interestingly, it houses a few select finds from Apamea. The best and most beautiful artifact is the Roman mosaic of Socrates and the Wise Men from the 3^rd century AD.  Unfortunately, I am not allowed to take pictures inside!

Iran, in turn, came with its own surprises of caravanserais. Here, they often stand in the middle of the desert, battered and withered by the wind and sand. Their lonely location is usually connected to the precious qanats that brought the much-needed water to the site (see: The qanats, one of the greatest inventions of mankind).

Nongobade exhibits an entire series of such vital stopovers. Well-preserved is the caravanserai from the Seljuk era, 13th century, followed by another one from Safavid times, i.e., 17th century. The old city of Na’in at the edge of Iran’s Central Desert seems to have grown around its caravanserai and nearby cistern, whose water supply was guaranteed by qanats. The adjacent wind towers added to the comfort of the caravans.

In Isfahan, the capital created and built by Shah Abbas in 1598, the Abbasi Hotel is worth a visit since it was initially another important caravanserai. Unlike the “modernization” of the Alara-han, this conversion into a luxurious hotel is a success story. The large central courtyard has been transformed into a lush garden with fountains and pleasant alleys. Knowing the world-famous Maidan Square, the size of this construction is not surprising. For Shah Abbas, big was better, and that idea has spread all over his city. The story goes that he built 999 of these caravanserais. True or not, in any case, Abbas thought that people would believe that number rather than if he rounded it to one thousand. PR avant la lettre, yes?

Last but not least, I have to mention Uzbekistan in Central Asia. We are well aware that Bukhara and Samarkand stand on the Silk Road, and it is obvious to find caravanserais in those cities. I may not have noticed all of them, but in Bukhara, for instance, I visited the Sayfiddin Caravanserai from the 19^th century, which is now one of the places selling carpets and other handicrafts.

On the road from Bukhara to Samarkand, I passed the Barboti Malik caravanserai from the 11^th century. The place is pretty isolated, more in the middle of nowhere than alongside a major route. This caravanserai is in a pretty poor state; only the façade has been re-erected, while all the other outer and inner walls are only reconstructed to a height of approximately one meter. It is easy to imagine what a safe haven such a place must have been to the traveler, considering the surrounding hostile lands. On the other side of the road is the ever-required water reservoir, a Sardova from the 14^th century. This is an impressive vaulted construction that protects the water from dust and pollution while offering a clean spot to drink and water the animals. To me, it is evident that this entire construction covers an old well that has been used over the centuries by local sheep and cattle herders, as well as by the merchants on this busy east-west road.

The sheer number of these hans and caravanserais is inevitably linked to the Silk Road that crisscrossed Eurasia in general (see: The Silk Road, some historical aspects of this trade route). 

For me, of course, the diversity and presence of these caravanserais give an insight into the welcome stops Alexander may have encountered on his desert crossings. It is impossible that they served the entire Macedonian army, but the proximity of water must have been a precious asset.

After all, Alexander followed the old Persian Roads whenever possible, and these were strung with such relay posts every 30 or 40 kilometers or so. The posts certainly could not provide fresh horses for an army. However, I secretly think that the king himself may have “borrowed” an animal or two during his wild pursuit of Darius in northeast Persia. In any case, he must have welcomed whatever comfort they offered and, in these vast deserts, water was a major commodity.

Phaselis and its three harbors

Phaselis was colonized by the Greeks of Rhodes, and that was not without reason, for here, their navy could find a safe shelter in one of its three natural harbors to load the wood they needed from the Lycian hinterland to build their ships. When the Persians took Anatolia in 546 BC, they automatically became masters of Phaselis till Alexander the Great changed that in 333 BC. Ambassadors had met him already on his way from Xanthos, and as soon as he arrived in Phaselis, he was welcomed with a golden crown and other gifts as a gesture of friendship. His march through the rough country of Lycia, of which very little is known, must have been pretty heavy, and it is not surprising that Alexander decided to spend the winter of 334-333 BC in Phaselis to rest his troops. He received envoys from Pamphylia, which he planned to cross in the early spring before meeting up with Parmenion near Gordion with the other half of his army.

Meanwhile, the citizens of Phaselis tried to take advantage of their good understanding with Alexander to solve their own deep conflict with Marmara, whose people destroyed their crops regularly and even kidnapped their women. When it came to friendship, Alexander knew no half-measures, and the people of Marmara were well aware of that. The night before the battle, the men decided to send their women, children, and elderly to seek protection in the neighboring woods. The men defended Marmara to the last, and when the end was near, they set the entire city afire and perished themselves. A story for a book, no doubt.

After Alexander’s death, Phaselis remained in the hands of the Ptolemies until 197 BC when the city, like all of Lycia, came under the rule of Rhodes. After 160 BC, the Lycian League collapsed, and with so many other regions around the Mediterranean, the city fell under the control of Rome. Then danger arose from an entirely different angle, piracy. Just like Olympos, Phaselis was under repeated attacks, and in the first century BC, both cities chose to join Zeniketes, the most powerful pirate of his time. Yet in 42 BC, the Romans took Phaselis back as they managed to abolish piracy. This peace didn’t last very long either, for the pirates were back in the third century. In the meantime, the entire region was struck by a series of powerful earthquakes, such as those that occurred in 141 and on the 5th of August, 240, causing widespread damage. When the Roman Empire was divided between East and West, Phaselis’ decline set in. Exporting timber from the hinterland was halted, which meant a significant blow to the city’s economy. The harbor slowly silted up, creating marshy lowlands where mosquitoes thrived and, in turn, caused health problems. Ports like Antalya, Side, and Alanya were on the rise, and by the 11th century, Phaselis was totally impoverished and had virtually disappeared. We had to wait till the 1970s when the first explorers could locate the site.

Today’s Phaselis is not the most exciting place to visit, but its location is quite idyllic. An advantageous approach is from the sheltered Southern Harbor, which is generally used by today’s tourists. The Northern Harbor, on the other hand, is privileged because it was and is accessible under all circumstances, either by southwesterly or northeasterly winds. The two islets near the harbor entrance are all that remains of the pier connected to the mainland with a lighthouse on its far end. It is difficult to imagine that this peaceful cobblestone beach was once a busy harbor, with its Naval Harbor, exceptionally well protected, now a field of waving reeds populated by loud croaking frogs.

Further inland, we find the remains of a Roman aqueduct that brought water from the 70-meter-high plateau down to the city.

From here, it is easy to find the 24-meter-wide Harbor Street, which was entirely paved. On either side runs a sidewalk that can be reached via three steps. Cevdet Bayburtluoğu (see: Lycia) has speculated that there might have been an extra wooden step since the first one is pretty high. Statues of important citizens lined up the street, duly resting on a pedestal engraved with their names or the reason for their presence. The pedestals were put back into place after the Byzantines had removed them to build the pier. Cevdet Bayburtluoğu recovered them from the harbor's depth and put them back in place. This is the reason why some of these stones look so much worn. Notably, this avenue is reserved for pedestrians as the three-step staircase on either end makes cart access impossible.

To the left are the latrines, after a small bath establishment, the Bath of the Theatre, probably built after the earthquake of 240, since recuperation material from earlier periods has been used. The sewage of both complexes went straight into the Naval Harbor, where traces of this system can still be seen. After these small baths, which functioned at least until the 8th century, one reaches the theater, the inevitable eye-catcher in any city. The old staircase to the entrance is still there, but is not very recommendable. Instead, a relatively comfortable wooden construction has been put in place. The theater is typically Hellenistic, although the skene is a pure Roman addition. The walls of the skene have been badly damaged, not so much because of age but because of a severe fire that caused many lintels made of porous stone to collapse. Such a shame for a building that withstood centuries. A theater always touches a soft spot in my soul, for this is a place where people gathered some 2,000 years ago, walked through its corridors, and climbed its steps, with echoes of voices and sounds from times past under the watchful eyes of the snow-capped Tahtali mountain.

The central square or Agora is somewhat puzzling because it is a shapeless space situated halfway the Harbor Street, which continues further along the Agora of Domitian to the Southern Harbor. This Agora is neatly paved, and opposite the theater are the remains of a Nymphaeum – another of those monuments that a trained eye recognizes immediately. There are two more such Nymphaeums on either side of the passageway to the Agora of Hadrian. The left and oldest one (mid-3rd century AD) is rather difficult to make out, as opposed to the one on the right, dating from the end of the 3rd and beginning of the 4th century. In the prolongation of Harbor Street, the stretch between the Agora and the Southern Harbor that also ends with three steps, we find the Gate of Domitian, the entrance to the Agora by the same name. For some obscure reason, the name of Domitian was erased from all official buildings after his death.

We find most of the shops in this part of the city, but since the streets were only accessible to pedestrians, the supplies had to be brought in from the parallel back streets.

At the end of this paved road, next to the steps leading to the harbor, several marble blocks indicate where the large Triumphal Arch for Hadrian once stood. It was built in all its splendor after his second visit to Phaselis in 131 AD, when the city reached its climax. It consisted of one large vault resting on two square pillars decorated with lion paws. The busts of Faustina and Sabina have since long disappeared from the niches, and we can only find blocks with reliefs of fancy vines and drinking vessels.

It is nice to meet my friend Opramoas of Rhodiapolis again, in stone, that is. As mentioned earlier, he is the benefactor who contributed to the reconstruction of Phaselis after the terrible earthquake of 141 AD. In thankful remembrance, the citizens erected a monument in his honor not too far from the Agora of Hadrian. A small part of the accompanying inscription is still visible on the lintel above the gate.

The Southern Harbor, where today’s tourists anchor their boats, is a pleasant green oasis along the dark blue waters crowned by the snow-capped Tahtali Mountain in the background – a picture-perfect setting! According to Cevdet Bayburtluoğu, this is where we should look for the Greek city. No serious excavations were ever carried out in these parts, and the fencing is pretty random. Turkey has too many ruins and areas that require thorough research, making it extremely difficult to set priorities. If this is indeed the site of the original Greek city, which will have to be confirmed by future excavations, we may have a chance to recover the remains of the Temple of Athena, where Achilles’ lance was kept.

This being said, these parts of Phaselis have been recently (2008) threatened by a building project. The owner of the Rixos Hotels intended to build a new hotel, “Dream of Phaselis,” right on top of the ancient city. It was a hard fight, but environmentalists and archaeologists, for once, did win this battle, and in 2015, the project was abandoned!

Walking back, it is worth investigating the remains of the Large Baths and the Gymnasium along Harbor Street, both from the 2nd century AD. A few mosaic floors from Byzantine times are still there, as well as the piles of fireproof bricks that once supported the floors of the Caldarium and the Tepidarium. On the opposite side, several temples stood next to each other, but the remains were vague, and the thickets covered most of the walls from view. This is, however, the place to look for the Temple of Zeus with the inscription Dios Boulaios from the days of Nero and Antoninus Pius, and a little further, one should be able to find the two temples dedicated to Leto’s children, the twins Artemis and Apollo who were highly revered by the Lycians.

The intrepid visitor may still find the energy to scramble uphill to the necropolis, nothing more than broken and crumbled sarcophagi, some of them submerged downhill. About three-quarters of the necropolis seems to lie outside the fenced area and has yet to be excavated. There are imposing remains of a large mausoleum which at first was labeled as a temple because of the stumps of columns, but it is more likely that this was the tomb of a wealthy family from Phaselis.

Once again, it will be interesting to return here at some point in the future and see what new excavations will reveal and what additional information will become available.

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' Greek dialects. Greek started to be used only after the conquest of Alexander the Great, which is supported 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 drifting 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 silted 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 nearly the 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, which 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 support 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 Roman 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 approximately one or two 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 pieced back together.

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

Alexander and Turkey

As you’ll know by now, I like to follow the latest archaeological news in the Hurriyet Daily News. When the news is about Alexander the Great, it has my undivided attention.

Last summer (July 2011), they published an article written by Frank White, Professor Emeritus at City University of New York, under the title “Alexander and the land that became Turkey”. I was, as can be expected, very much intrigued by what he could be revealing about the role of today’s Turkey in Alexander’s conquests. After all, the king of Macedonia spent only a good year crossing this country from the Hellespont (today’s Dardanelles) to the Syrian border. Still, he fought two major battles against the Persians, one at the Granicus River and the other at Issus. In both cases, he was evidently victorious.

But I found this article very disappointing. There were no new facts or revelations, no accent on any part of Alexander’s campaigns, sieges, or routes, while Turkey certainly can provide a wealth of information on these matters. Yet all I read is a speedy list of successive countries, cities, and territories which Alexander crossed over during the twelve years of his conquest of Asia, and I entirely fail to understand the relation between the title and the contents. I would have expected more from a university professor, especially since he lives in Alanya part of the year and should be familiar with Alexander’s traces in Turkey.

In any case, the article will make good reading for whoever wants to have a compact text about the life and conquests of Alexander the Great. You are free to fill the gaps where and whether you want.