Rhodiapolis, a well-kept secret

I stubbornly go hunting for the site of Rhodiapolis, not because the city is so important, but I want to pay tribute to my friend Opramoas. He was a great benefactor who contributed lavishly to the reconstruction of most Lycian cities after the devastating earthquake of 141 AD. He must have been terribly wealthy, for it seems that every single city mentions his name in thanks, and I feel I owe it to him to take a look in his native city.

Well, this day could make a good story for a movie! From what I had read, I knew the place would be hard to find. I got a few hints that after Kumluca, I should look for Haciviler with some roadside cafés, but I saw none of this. Yet I was very determined to get to Rhodiapolis, even if I had to spend the entire day looking for it!

I started asking at a gas station, where they told me I had to turn left and then right at the next opportunity. It seems rather obvious that I should find it after that. Well, not so. The road goes on and on in the gorgeous Lycian landscape, but I have no indication whatsoever about my destination. I have the feeling this is too far anyway, and I turn back. I stop to ask a family working in their fields as I see no road sign or any other clue. Even though my Turkish is as good as their English, I get the message that Rhodiapolis is just on the other side of the hill. I could either drive left or right, but it seems still too complicated to give me clear directions. So I drive back to the mosque, where I have to make a left turn. I figure that if I try every single road going uphill on the left-hand side, I should wind up finding the one leading to Rhodiapolis sooner or later. I drive on, hugging the hill as closely as possible, and I turn left at the first opportunity, but to my surprise it ends in the front yard of a private farmhouse! OK, that’s that.

As I’m backing up to return to my road, a middle-aged man, obviously the head of the house, steps outside and calls me in for tea. Well, after all, I have been driving around for an hour or so and a cup of tea is always welcome. Besides, he might be able to give me further information. So I venture into the house – nearly forgot to take off my shoes! Except for the red carpet, I’m being received like a princess. They put up a chair for me in the middle of the room, while the entire family gathers around on the benches along the walls. There are two brothers and their wives, the owner’s sister and her husband, their daughter and son-in-law, grandchildren, and even neighbors. I certainly am the event of the day! After all, this is Sunday; what else can they do but enjoy talking to a foreigner? So here I am, sitting on that high throne with everybody’s eyes on me. I introduce myself and explain my search for Rhodiapolis. Am I a teacher or an archaeologist (sure, why not)? Do I have a map or pictures of what I want to see? Of course, I have done my homework. They are having a lively discussion over this material while I am sipping my tea, and in the end, the pater familias decides that his son-in-law will take me to the site of Rhodiapolis. When I return, there will be a meal waiting for me. This is said in such a way that there is no room for discussion, and I accept the guide and the meal with a happy big smile – honestly, I am very pleased to be taken care of. Wonderful!

So we drive off. I have to admit that even with directions in plain English, I never could have found Rhodiapolis! There are several crossroads with four or five roads to choose from, and there is no way I could have figured this out! When at last the first road sign is pointing uphill, I am already so close that there is no chance of missing the dirt road leading through the pine forest! This track is steep, and when it turns into gravel I can feel my car losing its grip. Fiat is not such a good climber as I remember, and I gladly take advantage of the open space in front of a house still under construction to park it there. We are very close to the site anyway.

Lucky me. My guide climbs like a goat and takes me in his wake further to the top, avoiding the many cisterns – pitfalls if you are not careful. This is lovely grassland where the bees are having a ball buzzing among the white and purple clover, the yellow snapdragon, and the short-stemmed marguerites. What a beautiful spot!

I am receiving a private tour that I’ll never forget! He brings me straight to the Theater, and one can easily see how most of this building has been buried for centuries. The pure white stones give the impression that the Theater was built recently, while it was constructed between the 1st century BC and the 1st century AD. Of course, I climb all the way to the top row of seats, noticing the specific decoration at each end of the benches, an oval knob enhanced with an X-shaped cross. Like in Arykanda, and now that I know what to look for, I find the holes that held the beams supporting the sunshade. The skene looks rather damaged, with only four entrance gates in place.

Right behind it lies the imposing Monument of Opramoas in all its glory! Entirely made of the same bright white stones, it is covered with inscriptions of the glory of Opramoas’ deeds (he certainly was not a modest man!). It seems that the archaeologists have not figured out the original place of each and every block yet, so for now they are neatly piled up behind a fence. The pediment, on the contrary, has been pieced back together and stands on top of the Stoa wall of the lower terrace. For a while, this Stoa was mistakenly called Agora because of the three steps on the side of this Stoa. I feel like meeting Opramoas in person, overlooking this gorgeous valley that runs all the way to the Aegean Sea. He must have seen what I see now, most probably on a clear day and definitely without the plastic greenhouses spoiling the serenity.

Passing a thick wall that may have been part of the aqueduct, I stare into the large Roman bath complex with its sturdy vaults on the lower terrace. It is hard to believe that these buildings were excavated, for they are very much overgrown with trees and bushes, and even from my vantage point it is hard to figure out what is what. I cannot see the floor even, although I suppose there must still be some mosaics there. I am impressed, however, by the many traces of paint on the walls; red seems to be a favorite. A little further, I find large cisterns with plastered walls, but here too I have to use my imagination in the lush vegetation.

Still walking in the footsteps of my guide, I suddenly see the apses of a Byzantine Basilica. I cannot see any walls or remains of columns, just the unmistakable curved apses. As we come nearer, I am amazed to find a rather deep square canal running right behind the apses, however still inside the Basilica! I look up and around and somehow figure out that this must be part of the aqueduct higher up the hill. Well, well!

The hillside is dotted with several rock graves and Lycian sarcophagi, but I don’t investigate them any further. My main goal and indeed the climax of my visit is the Monument of Opramoas, and I surely have seen that! How exciting!

We now drive back to the house where his pretty wife welcomes me with a handshake and a kiss with the usual “Hoş geldiniz”. Soon their two small children are all over me with their toys and schoolbooks, which I am interested in (it would be great to learn Turkish this way!). Dinner is served in Turkish style, of course. The tablecloth that has a big hole in it is spread out on the carpeted floor in the middle of the room, and we all gather around the big tray. Everybody pulls a corner of the sheet over his knees, and we dig in the goodies served with delicious Turkish bread and tea. It is a simple but very tasty meal of cheese, cooked onions, broccoli, melted cheese, and yekmek (it looks like tomato soup with lots of fresh peas, but they insist it is not soup). Well, I can assure you this is quite an experience for me. It is embarrassing that they don’t want to be paid for their service, not to mention their hospitality. Allah will reward them, they say. It goes without saying that I made up for their gracious welcome later on. Since I had taken pictures of the entire family earlier that day, I had a good excuse to ask for their address.

Useless to say that I am in heaven, for not only have I managed to find the site of Rhodiapolis today, but I enjoyed the entire experience around it! I’ve been singing for happiness, all the way back to the hotel.♫♪♪♪♫

For the latest update, please click here.

[Click here to view all the pictures of Rhodiapolis]

Lycia by Prof. Dr. Cevdet Bayburtluoğlu.

Lycia by Cevdet Bayburtluoğlu (ISBN-10: 9757078204).  The author is an archaeologist. He started working in the early 1970’s with excavations in Xanthos and later in Arykanda and Phaselis. It is clear that he fell in love with Lycia, a bulge in southwestern Turkey and since I shared this love, I could not find anyone better than him to be my guide - in book form that is.

The English translation is not the easiest to read and certainly not the best, but the clear and lively descriptions of the sites, their history and the directions to get there largely compensate for that shortcoming. I had visited several sites while on guided tours but when I decided to drive around Lycia by myself, this guidebook turned out to be a most wonderful travel companion. It is richly enhanced with many photographs and detailed maps of the excavated cities, done in such a way that you immediately recognize the spot you arrive there.

My highlight so far is Arykanda, where Cevdet Bayburtluoğlu spent many years of his life and it did not come as a surprise when I saw his map on a big billboard at the entrance. The place looked familiar to me even before I had entered it!

His book starts with an introduction stating his passion for Lycia and the progress archaeology has made over the years. Another chapter handles a very useful and comprehensive history of Lycia set against its geography for one needs to understand both to get the complete picture of that area. The front cover is folded in three and holds a summary map of Lycia where the ancient sites are marked in typical brown frames.

It goes without saying that I highly recommend this guide to anyone who wants to discover Lycia on his own or simply wants to know more about this beautiful region of Turkey. Just make sure that pages 280-288 are also translated into English for mine were inserted in Turkish by mistake.

From Antalya to Demre – Sunflower Guide

Antalya to Demre - ISBN 1856913279

Travelling on my own and using Finike as my base camp to explore the surrounding area of southeastern Lycia, I basically relied on two books: Lycia by Prof. Dr. Cevdet Bayburtluoglu and the Sunflower Guide to the Turkish Coast, specifically the one covering Antalya to Demre. Both books turned out to be very useful, each in its own way.

I already discussed the Lycia Guide on a previous occasion, so this time, I want to focus on the Sunflower Guide that I also mentioned in my stories about the Finike area. This book is more of a walking guide providing useful hints about food and lodging, but also about the signs to look for to get where you want to go. The sightseeing is arranged around several walks: Antalya and the larger Antalya area, Kemer, Olympos, Finike, and Demre, with a beautiful fold-out map of Lycia attached to the back cover and clear, detailed maps along the way.

Besides that, it contains an extensive introduction with all kinds of practical information, such as phone area codes, newspapers, buses, events, shopping, cafés, restaurants, nightlife, laundry services, police, entrance fees, and opening hours of the archaeological sites and parks, you name it. A comprehensive history of Turkey and a list of useful Turkish words make the guide complete.

The book is a high-standard teamwork of Michael Bussman and Gabriele Troger, with walks by Brian and Eileen Anderson and Dean Livesley. The seasoned traveller can even check their online update service at http://www.sunflowerbooks.co.uk/index2.htm to make sure he/she has the most recent information when planning a trip to Lycia.

The First Emperor, China’s Terracotta Army and Alexander the Great

After all I have heard, read, and watched on TV, I definitely wanted to see this exceptional army of terracotta soldiers for myself. Since this exhibition was announced many months ago and runs from September 2007 till April 2008, I wanted to plan a trip to London early this year. Nothing was less evident, for it became challenging to acquire a ticket. When I checked the Internet booking site in the first days of January, they appeared sold out for the entire exhibition duration! I just couldn't believe it, being as flexible as I was, yet finding no ticket. I decided to phone the British Museum and hear what they could offer me. It was my lucky day, for I could book for Sunday at 10.10 a.m. This meant that I would have to get up at five in the morning, but no sacrifice is too big when it comes to the arts, right?

As it turned out, the exhibition met my expectation, nothing less but nothing more either. I must admit that the British Museum and the BBC did a good job when making the documentary about the history of the site and the preparations for the exhibition. Well done, as usual – very complete. So, all in all, I am thrilled to have seen the soldiers and the other artifacts with my own eyes, and I warmly recommend this venue!

The First Emperor - BRITISH MUSEUM from newangle on Vimeo.

It is all about Ying Zheng, later called the First Emperor (Qin Shi Huangdi), who was born in 259 BC. When he was 13 years old, he became king of Qin (pronounced Chin), one of the seven greater kingdoms that rivaled each other in Eastern China. Thanks to his military strategy and sophisticated arms, he conquered the other warring states, thus unifying China for the first time in 221 BC. Considering that imperial China lasted until the fall of the Qing or Manchu Dynasty in 1912, we can understand the importance of this unification!

If you ask me, Qin ruled like a despot and a tyrant, for he literally went over dead bodies to achieve his goals. Of course, he had to organize his new empire, but at what cost! 

Among his most impressive accomplishments were the many standardizations. He instated one language and one writing; one currency, a circular copper coin with a square hole in the middle (to the Chinese, the earth was square, and the sky was a circle above it); standard weights and measures; same axle length for all carts to match the ruts in the roads; etc. He built 6,000 km of roads and many irrigation canals and erected a Great Wall on the northern frontier as protection against outside invaders (nothing to do with the Great Wall we talk about today). He forged his people into units of five to ten families, with a group responsible for the wrongdoings of any individual within the unit. In short, the human value was zero, and one dead more or less did not matter. He ruled by what is called a legalist form of government that involved rewards and punishments in keeping order. This was entirely the opposite of Confucius' preaching (551-479 BC), which focused on human morality and good-doings. Qin allowed the burning of academic books and buried hundreds of Confucians alive - not the happiest of worlds to live in, if you ask me!

Qin Shi Huangdi drank from jade cups and ate from golden plates, believing this would ensure his longevity (see the beakers and cups at the exhibition). This reminds me of the chinaware I saw at Topkapi Palace in Istanbul, which has the color of jade; the Ottoman Sultans believed that jade would neutralize the poison in their food – now I know where they got the idea! Qin went as far as drinking solutions containing mercury and other deadly brews to prolong his life; I guess he simply poisoned himself in the end. Ironically and despite his dire precautions, he died in 210 BC at the relatively young age of 49.

I must admit that Qin has led a hectic life, for besides all warfare and reforms, he exploited any manpower and resources he could to build his roads, walls, and palaces. Wishing to find the same luxury in the afterlife, he spent thirty years building a lavish tomb near the capital Xian yang, modern Xi'an. This burial site is vast and covers an area of 56 square kilometers. The actual burial mount is located in the very center, and in the vast space around it, several pits are slowly being found and excavated. The first discovery was made in 1974 when a local farmer dug a new well and found a terracotta head. Since then, three pits have exposed a total of 7,000 terracotta soldiers. It must be a magnificent and imposing view for those who visit the army in situ. In contrast, we have to use our imagination at the exhibition when we are among their selected delegates. They are waiting for me at the far end of the exhibition tour.

The collection shows a variety of objects, ranging from drinking vessels and terracotta roof tiles to copper coins and bronze ceremonial bells. Also, units of weights and fluid containers, the kind of standardization I expected to have come along with our metric system.

Next to a kneeled archer who still shows traces of paint on his armor, there is a reconstruction of a crossbow since all the wood has decayed over the years, a collection of arrowheads that originally were mounted on bamboo sticks that could easily be replaced when they broke, as well as a lance head and a chromed sword – fine examples of craftsmanship.

The huge bronze basins I discover in the spotlights remind me of those I saw at Vergina as part of the tomb belonging to Philip II of Macedon, although a good two hundred years older. Many bronze bells in their typical Asiatic shape are heavily decorated and show the wear and tear where they were hit to make them ring (a different sound according to the spot). Also on display are decorative bronze pole ends that once wrapped around the square wooden beams conceived in such a way that they simply clicked together, a kind of prefab construction. That is amazing, for we like to believe that the prefab has appeared only last century.

The items are well presented and well labeled, especially for those who, like me, want to avoid taking a talking recorder. I always find this gadget distracting; it is like somebody talking in my ear while I try to read the labels anyway. I concentrate better by looking at the objects and registering the facts and figures at my own pace. But again, that is me. Most people prefer just listening rather than reading.

There are maps here and there to locate Qin's early conquests and the expansion of his empire; there is a short slide show presenting the soldiers in full armor while the peasants and convicts are at work building the great wall; and there is a silent black and white projection of soldiers and horses on the inner circle of this library room converted especially for the exhibition.

After the rows of showcases with mainly bronze items, I am approaching the piece de resistance, the terracotta soldiers, and horses. I can't wait to get closer, but with the visiting crowd, it is best to stay in line and move along at the pace of the queue.

As a teaser, they have set up a long display with clay figurines showing how the terracotta figures were made in miniature. This is an assembly line, nothing less. The clay arrived in lumps at the workshops where laborers and local craftsmen worked together to press it in their respective molds. The heads, arms, legs, and torsos were created separately and then assembled. Once assembled, the individual features, such as facial expressions and hairdo, were added. As each soldier shows his unique features, a connoisseur can tell, for instance, from which part of the country he is originating. Some have their hair tied in a knot, and others have it braided or wear a bonnet. Their dress also differs according to their role. So the charioteers have the most extensive harness reaching over their hands. Even the cavalry wears sleeveless protection, whereas the infantry and the archers wear short-skirted harnesses. The light infantry, the most mobile part of Qin's army, did not carry any protection to move around faster (I think they were the most likely to be killed too, right?).

Each workshop had to inscribe its name on the produced items to ensure quality control. After completion, the terracotta figures were placed in the pits in precise military formation according to rank and duty. Quite an affair! These burial pits are now part of the Museum of Terracotta Warriors in Xi'an.

The terracotta figures are very much lifelike and rather tall, considering the average Chinese in those days. They vary in height according to their rank, the tallest being the generals measuring approximately 190 cm. These generals also wear a specific headdress in the shape of a bird's tail, and I even notice that the toes of their shoes show an upwards curve. 

A span of four horses is placed in front of a roughly reconstructed chariot with the driver and accompanying soldiers on their spots. Yet I cannot figure out how these soldiers stood on the platform behind the charioteer, two on one side of the yoke and one behind the driver on the other. The chariot does not match reality here.

It is hard to imagine these terracotta figures painted in bright colors. A lacquer finish was applied on their faces and outfits, and the actual weapons they carried must have given them an incredibly realistic look. Most weapons were stolen shortly after the army was set into place, and their lavishly painted features faded. A few good examples on display still show traces of paint and glaze. To make things clear, a copy of the one archer shown near the entrance is reproduced at the end of the room in a full blast of colors. Quite shocking in a way, but very interesting! It is believed that the terracotta warriors were based on actual people – well, they look real enough and even more so when we imagine them in lifelike colors carrying their arches and swords! They speak of a workforce of 700,000 men to create this army for the afterlife alone. How many more must have suffered and died in Qin's other building projects and wars, I wonder.

It should be stressed that the actual Tomb of Qin Shi Huangdi still lies under an earthen pyramid 76 meters tall, covering nearly 350 square meters. It remains unopened as the archaeologists and experts are not sure what they can expect, and they are afraid they may destroy an important part of the treasures inside. Based on their measurements and probes, they believe it contains a scale replica of the universe, complete with gemmed ceilings representing the cosmos and flowing mercury representing the rivers and lakes. Pearls seem to ornate the tomb's ceiling to represent the stars, planets, etc. Recent scientific work has, however, shown high levels of mercury in the soil of Mount Lishan, as it is called today. Future technology may shed more light on this tomb one day.

Facing the terracotta army of soldiers, generals, and charioteers in this exhibition space stands a replica of a bronze travel carriage with four horses, whose original was too fragile to be moved. It is a reduced-size model and an outstanding piece of art. The horses look very alert, and it is strange how only two of them, i.e., the two middle ones, are hooked to the yoke while the horses on the outside are simply attached to the bridles and reins. To avoid any possible collision, the yoked horses have a cone attached to their side to keep the outside one at a safe distance. I've never seen anything like this! As to the carriage itself, it has windows made of perforated bronze plates to let the breeze blow through it. The entrance door in the back stands ajar, and I can see right through these so-called windows! I marvel that such refinement existed already in antiquity!

Today's Chinese are understandably proud of Qin Shi Huangdi's achievements, considering him one of the greatest military leaders in history, but I can't help having my doubts. From the start of the exhibition, I couldn't help but compare him to Alexander the Great, who lived roughly one hundred years earlier. Why do I think Alexander was so great, while I can't find such merit in Emperor Qin's conquests? It was probably the more humane approach of Alexander; although it has been said he could be merciless, at least he did not exploit the people he conquered, often leaving their rulers and religions in place unless they had betrayed his confidence. This cannot be said of Qin, but it remains a fact that the caste system and hierarchy he initiated survived for more than two thousand years. By now, we all know the story told in the movie "The Last Emperor," where the outdated style of government had to make way for 20th-century practices. So yes, this was quite an achievement on the part of Qin.

I just wonder, however, what would have happened if he and Alexander the Great had met. Of course, this is an absurd and most speculative idea, for Qin was not even born at the time of Alexander's death, but just imagine the huge impact this would have had on today's world! Fascinating stuff!

So much for my impressions and my philosophy. For those living on the other side of the Atlantic, the good news is that some parallel exhibitions are running or will be soon:

The Midland Center for the Arts, Midland, Michigan, is organizing an exhibition, "1500 years of Ancient China," running from January 18uary8 to April 133, 2008.   

The Bowers Museum of the Arts, Santa Ana, Ca, is also planning "Terracotta Warriors: Guardians of the First Emperor" from May 188 till October 12ober2, 2008.

After premiering at the Bowers Museum, this exhibition is scheduled to travel to the Houston Museum of Natural Science May 188September 255, 2009) and the National Geographic Society Museum November 199, 2009March 311, 2010).

[Photo Source: The British Museum]

[Pictures from Wikipedia, except map, which is from History of Qi]

Farewell to the Lycian Coast 16

Today is set aside for sailing, swimming, and relaxing, and that is exactly what we do. After breakfast, I stroll around the gulet. Our captain is trying to get enough wind to hoist our sails, but we are not very lucky this morning. We stop for a swim in a private cove that makes me feel we are the first visitors ever, while on the other hand, it emanates that kind of old wisdom that so many have been here before us.

After lunch, we set out again in Fethiye Bay, and this time, the weather gods are with us. All the sails are out, the motor is silenced, and the comforting sounds of wind and water take over. I have nestled myself in a solitary spot at the bow, savoring my front row seating and panoramic view. The deep ink ink-blue sea is dotted with paper-like sailboats. On the port side, the mainland of Fethiye is shrouded in a haze, and I wonder if this is dust or pollution? It is an unforgettable sensation to be at the mercy of the winds, billowing the sails and pushing us towards our next and final destination, Göçek.

All too soon, the spell is broken. This is where it all ends. Our gulet is moored among hundreds of other boats. The town’s noises of music, people talking and laughing, and merchants selling their knick-knacks mingle with the smell of food. Our trip has come to an end. We all find it hard to return to reality, and we are glad that our poet has found the right words to summarize the impressions we all share. He wrote them down in the ship’s log, but he personally read them to us after our last dinner on board:

L Y C I A N    D A Y S

Warm thanks to the crew of Almira
And Peter, our eloquent guide,
And the skills of our undaunted drivers
On many a hair-raising drive.

We’ve trekked over pine-scented hillsides,
And swum in a wine-dark lagoon,
And relished fine dishes of mezes
Under a pale crescent moon.

We’ve visited hill towns and harbours,
Where the ancient Lycians arose,
Who buried their dead in stone boxes,
And sat in stone theatres for shows.

The oracle temple at Sura,
Where fishy predictions were granted,
And the Ottoman castle at Kale,
By the glow of the sunset enchanted.

The grand council hall at Patara,
New revealed by the deep-delving spade,
Sidyma, Tlos and Pinara –
Of these names are rich memories made.

John Onley October 2007

Click on the Label Lycian Coast to read my full travel story

Unexpected visit to Tlos - Lycian Coast 15

Because of the storm earlier on our trip (see: Sheltering for a storm like in antiquity), our entire program has been pulled one day forward. As a result, we wind up with an extra day at the end of our tour, and Peter is giving us a choice: either take a two-hour walk behind Fethiye or visit the archaeological site of Tlos. We all agree on Tlos, which makes me personally very happy indeed!

First, we go to Fethiye, which is after a quick dip in the sea for my companions. Our bus pulls up around 10.30 a.m. to take us there, as our boat will join us later on. We will have about 1 ½ hours in town for shopping, and I set off straight to the Archaeological Museum (where else?). It is a small museum, a little old-fashioned, but it shows a couple of items that make it worthwhile for me. For instance, this is where I can find the mosaic from the Temple of Apollo in Letoon (4th century BC) and the stele with the law inscription of Pixodarus, satrap of Caria, in Greek, Lycian, and Aramaic, dating back to the time of Artaxerxes – both originals that I have seen in Letoon earlier this Spring. A smaller stele from Tlos, unique in its way, mentions how its citizens paid for the city's repairs after being hit by an earthquake. There are, of course, the usual and more common items like glassware, pottery, coins from different times and in different metals, golden jewelry, and parts of statues, mostly Roman. As always, I’m happy to see these items with my own eyes. After this most pleasant visit, I have time left for a Turkish coffee, and I find a kind of Konditorei that serves it with pistachio baklava on the side, right on the main street. Great! Just what I needed!

Fethiye stands on the site of the ancient Lycian city of Telmessus, whose remains include spectacular rock tombs and sarcophagi dating from the 5th-4th century BC. Other landmarks include the remains of a Byzantine fortress on top of a nearby hill, but somehow I missed noticing it. Much of the town is new, however, having been rebuilt after the terrible earthquake of 1958. There seems to be a Lycian sarcophagus well worth visiting, the so-called Tomb of Amyntas, dating from the 4th century BC, built in Doric style. So I’ll have to come back to Fethiye also.

Our meeting point is in front of the Roman Theater at the far end of the main road – easy to find, and I am there early enough to make my inspection tour. Fethiye’s theater was excavated from 1992 to 1995, but it still looks very confusing and overgrown. Built in the 2nd century AD, it was modified in Roman times and even converted into an arena with high walls around the orchestra to protect the audience from wild animals’ attacks. Part of the skene and proscenium has also survived, but it all looks very neglected. It provides, however, a sweeping view over the harbor, separated from the sea by a tranquil park where an oversized bronze pilot stares up at the sky. This is Fethi Bey, Turkey’s first aviation martyr, who crashed near Damascus in 1914 in an attempt to fly non-stop from Istanbul to Cairo. In honor of his heroic exploit, the city changed its original name from Meğri to Fethiye.

The Bay of Fethiye is very wide and large, and it seems to be a favorite spot for tourists and fishing boats alike. I spot the Almira with her green trimmings in the middle of the harbor, and moments later, I see our zodiac approaching with Peter on board. He carries our lunch for today, and it is about 1 p.m. when we set out for Tlos. This is a pleasant drive land inwards and I am all excited to enter the Xanthos Valley again, for this is Alexander territory.

Tlos, known as Tlava or Tlave in the Lycian language, goes back four thousand years, and it seems that even the Hittites referred to Tlos as Dalawa in the land of Luqqa. Tlos was one of the six cities that had three votes in the Lycian League, remember? The devastating earthquake of 141 AD hit the city severely, and once again, we have to thank our friend Opramoas of Rhodiapolis as well as Licinius Langus of Oenoanda, another rich Lycian, for the denarii they donated for the reconstruction. After being a diocese in Byzantine times, nothing major happened here until Ali Aga ruled over this region in the 19th century and built his stronghold right on top of the old Acropolis, where it still stands.

We park on a narrow local road and Peter and Ivşak carry our lunches into ancient Tlos, where we find the most exquisite picnic place: a series of blocks from the bathhouse that have been aligned in its shade with an eagle eye’s view over the historic valley below. We spread out the food on a table and helped ourselves. This is really something special, sitting here among those ruins, savoring the food in a place where Romans, Greeks, Lycians, and earlier civilizations lived centuries ago. The ancients must have spotted this place also and maybe savored their own snack while watching the scenery. It always makes me feel very privileged to sit in a place where people from times bygone have done so before. What were they seeing? What were they thinking? Whom did they talk to? This is beyond imagination, of course.

After clearing our tables, we take a closer look at this Roman Bath complex. We pass the Byzantine Basilica, which might be standing on top of an older temple; only time will tell.

Nearby is the theater. The original construction is definitely Greek and adapted to Roman needs in later times, as they did in Fethiye and in Patara. It will be interesting to return here in a couple of years to see the results of these excavations and restorations.

There is a group of Germans in the theater, and the guide is reciting the history of Lycia for the world to hear. We find this very disturbing and huddle together at one end of the seating rows, hoping that he’ll cut his oration short. He doesn’t and goes on and on about Chimaera and the Hittites and the Persians; where or when Tlos or this theater is fitting in his story remains an open question. Peter whispers a few facts and figures about this theater, and we are all very much relieved when the German group finally moves out. The poet in our group has decided it is time for a proper performance and treats us to some lines of Brutus from Shakespeare’s Julius Caesar. Wow! That is something else! We all watch and listen in awe. A lonely tourist taking detailed pictures stops in his tracks and watches him with respect. When, at the end, we all applaud, he shares our enthusiasm and claps with a broad smile on his face. Wonderful!

On the other side of the modern road, the Stadium has been unearthed, showing several rows of seats over the entire length, leaning against the Bouleuterion wall. 

The rocky hillside behind the Stadium was obviously a favorite spot for the Lycians to build their tombs. I'm very excited to discover one tomb that still has its sliding door in place! 

We climb higher up to the Acropolis, past a few typical, very weathered Lycian sarcophagi. The Acropolis itself has little to offer except the breathtaking view over the Xanthos Valley! We can easily locate the old cities we visited on earlier trips: Sidyma, Pınara, and Patara further south, with at the far horizon the glittering Mediterranean Sea. 

Well, so much for Tlos. We return to Fethiye, and at the foot of the Roman Theater, we say our goodbyes to Ivşak. Our poet has composed a short but warm thank-you poem, and Ivşak is rather moved by the entire event. I guess he did not expect such honor! Well, if you have a poem written especially for you and read to you in public, you would be moved too, wouldn’t you?

We return aboard the Almira and leave Fethiye harbor for a more remote and quieter anchor place, just a little further north. By the time we get there, darkness has already set in.

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In the heart of Butterfly Valley - Lycian Coast 14

Today’s walk will take us to the other side of Butterfly Valley, i.e. to the north. This will be our longest walk since the one to Phellos was canceled. It is a beautiful morning, ideal weather for walking, very pleasant indeed.

The climb starts right away, steadily widening our view over the Blue Lagoon. Early paragliders are hovering above us and in their descent I notice that one of them is close to hit the mast of our Almira – or is my perspective playing tricks on me? But at our next stop I see that the Almira has moved to the side of the bay, safely out of the way of these big toys. Thank God!

The weather is as clear as yesterday’s and we are so lucky to climb this side of the mountain entirely in the shade. It is even so cool that, after finishing our early lunch in a shady spot, we are glad to be moving into the sunshine. Peter and Ivşak carried a wonderful picnic from the boat: stuffed bellpeppers, şigara börek and beans in tomato sauce. Delicious pomegranates, apples and pears for desert, juicy and sweet. All I have to carry is water and believe me that is more than enough for me!

We proceed to the high tree line of the Baba Dağı, the Father Mountain. The whitish rock looks very friable, reminding me of the Sierra Nevada (California) or dead travertine deposits from Pamukkale. The paragliders with their colored canopies keep fascinating us. We hear them yell when they jump off in ecstasy somewhere behind the top or when they perform one of their twists and twirls, free as a bird, soaring through the clear air above us.

The trail now runs among huge boulders that have come down in earlier times, flash flooded river beds filled with debris and where tall pine trees have safely anchored their roots. Occasionally we see rows of beehives, neatly aligned on a ridge and we try to walk around them at a safe distance. In one of the clearings a beekeeper is sharing his picnic with his family and we get a plate filled with pure fresh honey. Basically I don’t fancy honey, but being here in the middle of nature with a treat of this nectar as fresh as can be, I feel I must at least try it. We spot a kind of table rock and with a few smaller stones we build a little shrine to receive the amber-colored plate holding our treat. We gather around and savor the honey dipping our bread in the nectar. What a relish!

And onwards we go! We pass another few rows of beehives where the beekeeper is dressed in his protective suit to gather the honey. He stops when he sees us coming nearer and we march by in a single file in as wide a circle as possible. Unfortunately the bees have been disturbed and buzz around us. All of the sudden we are in the middle of a mass attack! Everybody scrambles, jumps, waves and dances around in a futile effort to chase the bees away. Our guide, Ivşak is the first victim, and then it is my turn. I can’t get rid of the zooming bee, I think it is in my ear but I don’t feel it – just hear the zooming close by. I’m desperate and try to knock it off, running, turning, waving, smacking my hat in the air, but the bee is still buzzing like mad. I cry out for help when I realize that the nasty thing is entangled in my hair but I have no idea how or where. At last I run my fingers through my hair above my ear and eyeglasses and then the frightening sound is gone. My face is afire now. Is the sting still in there? I have no idea. It hurts like hell! When I look around again, our orderly marching line is in complete disarray. Everybody is gesticulating and talking erratically. One of my fellow travelers has been stung in her hair and another one has several stings in his arms.

Luckily Peter is prepared for any situation and he calmly takes the sting out using the small scissors from his emergency kit as tweezers. O good, that is that. The bees are still flocking around us and we all take a run to a safer distance in the shade of the trees to assert the damage. Some antiseptic gel should soothe my pain and after a while it does just that. Ivşak however develops a serious allergic reaction, his face is swelling and his throat feels dry. He is very worried. Out of nowhere, a bus comes riding up, like a being from another planet for we happen to be on the sole stretch of asphalt road for miles around. Strange how things work out at times. The bus stops at the head of our shattered group. We must have been quite a sight for any bystander! The driver and Ivşak exchange a few words and the latter accepts the ride. Peter makes sure we are all capable to continue our walk before the bus pursues his route to town. Later that afternoon we hear that Ivşak has made it to the hospital and got a serum shot. He is OK.

All is under control now and we can continue on our Lycian Way. Are we still on it? Yes, of course we are! Although the walk is longer than yesterday’s it does not feel like it. Maybe the weather is just perfect, maybe I am getting used to the pace, or maybe the terrain simply becomes more familiar – who knows? We now reach the downhill part and realize that Ivşak took off with our food. So we “borrow” a pomegranate here and a bunch of sweet grapes there, doing very well overall. Rather suddenly we have reached the end of our trail, where our bus is waiting for us. Great! It takes us for a short drive to what is called George Restaurant, a plain clean place serving tea and beer overlooking Butterfly Valley, with floors made of broken slabs of marble. Two simple wooden cabins provide lodging for an occasional traveler at the incredible rate of 25 YTL/day, including breakfast and dinner.

We stroll to the very edge of Butterfly Valley, a steep abyss that resonates with the sound of water, somewhere in a hidden downfall. It may be the quietness of the place, or the golden light of the late afternoon sun, but it comes to me like a corner of paradise, a pristine world hidden away from 21st century’s intruders. We are very privileged to witness this!

The drive to the boat takes us over the same road as yesterday, just a little earlier in the evening and we miss the sunset altogether as the magic orange glow disappears behind one of the smaller islands. Time for a good hot shower and another delicious Turkish meal that Fatuşa has put together. Yes, I am hungry!

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Exploring the Butterfly Valley - Lycian Coast 13

The engines are started shortly after 7 a.m. to take advantage of the favorable winds, heading for Kabak, way up north along Lycia’s coastline. The sea is still very choppy and exceptionally breakfast is served inside. We move closely together around the long wooden table across from Fatuşa’s kitchen. It takes some juggling with plates and trays but it is fun for a change.

DOLPHINS! We all jump up to have a look overboard. This time, the graceful flippers swim quite a while alongside the gulet, diving and jumping like I have seen in movies, but this is real. There are two of them, larger than I expected and ash gray rather than silvery. We all enjoy their fast swimming as they try to stay ahead of the boat, keeping us company, and playing hide and seek. My camera is downstairs and I hesitate to run for it. I may miss the show, you see? But as the dolphins play their act over and over, I decide to make a dash for my camera. I managed to take two quick shots, not the best ones, however. Well, I clearly saw the dolphins this time and I have the proof in the pictures! So there!

It is about 10.30 a.m. when we anchor next to the Blue Lagoon in the Ölüdeniz area and Peter unfolds the plans for today. In fact we are back on schedule, just one day ahead of the initial program. We’ll have an early lunch and leave around 1 p.m. for our 4 ½ hour walk to Butterfly Valley, a steep canyon of about 350 – 400 meters deep with a small triangular valley floor. It is located at the base of the Baba Dağı (1970 m), a zone that is protected by the World Heritage Foundation because of its abundance of unique butterfly species.

We get ready with our walking stick, camera, sunscreen, hat, water and more water and the zodiac brings us in two trips to what seems our private gravel beach under the empty eyes of a lonely wooden shack. It is not easy to jump on dry land without wetting our feet in the long thin waves but we calculate our coup well and we all manage.

We start straight uphill over a rather rocky path winding among the pine trees. The air is filled with the familiar smell of warm pines and cool sea breeze. We stop at regular intervals to catch our breath and enjoy the view back to the waterfront where our Almira is faithfully waiting for us. As we climb higher the view gets wider. Near the top of the ridge, we stop at a wonderful oasis, the Olive Garden. We enjoy a glass of pure fruit juice in the shade of wooden roofing which the owner has built here between two square terraces arranged in Ottoman style overlooking the valley and the sea below. He made a work of art of his flower and vegetable gardens too and even built three wooden houses for any traveler crossing his road and wishing to spend the night here. To judge by the toilets, the place is kept extremely clean. Peter explains that in Turkey, no permit is required for building any wooden structure and this is why these guesthouses and terrace sittings are made of wood rather than brick or stone. After this lovely refreshing stop, we move on to the very top of the shoulder.

The panorama up here is absolutely superb and the saying “on a clear day you can see forever” is definitely true here. We can see both promontories holding Fethiye in the foreground (Dokubasi and Kurtoglu), the long headland of Bozburun under Marmaris with the small bump of Simi Island right behind it and even the clear outlines of Rhodes. It comes to me like an aerial view or walking on top of the world. Even Peter is all excited about it; he never saw it as clearly as today - that is how fortunate we are!

Our path twists and turns with more viewpoints, where we keep recognizing new contours of the lands in the west under a soft blue sky. Gradually our road is descending towards the gorge of Butterfly Valley and the paragliders we spotted earlier today are swirling over and around us to finally touch ground near the red marker on the beach below. Our bus is waiting at the edge of the gorge and we move on right away to take advantage of the last daylight on this tricky twisting narrow road down to Sun City. Good timing, for as we reach sea level, so has the sun and the last bright red blob sinks behind the horizon. Fascinating! By the time the dinghies have us safely back on board, night has fallen.

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