My heart is bleeding for Allianoi

With the change of weblogs, I somehow lost track of Allianoi till I was looking for it the other day and couldn’t find it. Luckily, I still had the original texts on my tablets, and although the news is “passé” by now, I feel that it is never too late to draw attention to what has happened there and is still happening elsewhere in Turkey’s frenzy to build ever more dams. 

It was in October 2010 when I first read that the gorgeous site of Allianoi would be flooded in spite of all the pleas and contacts with "authorities" over the past three years or so. I couldn't believe my eyes, for this is no way to treat our heritage. It is like throwing away the bones of our ancestors. How dare we?

[Picture from the Art Newspaper]

For those who hear the name Allianoi for the first time, I owe some further explanation. Allianoi is located to the northeast of ancient Pergamon, in the vicinity of Izmir, and right in the middle of the Yortanlı Dam Reservoir Area.

Because of its hot springs, the place was known already in antiquity, but the big boom occurred under Roman rule. In the 2nd century AD, Allianoi was one of the largest thermal baths in that part of the Empire that attracted crowds from the nearby Asclepion in Pergamon as well as from more distant areas. In Byzantine times, most of Allianoi was taken down and the materials were reused elsewhere in the city, but the thermal Baths and the Nymphaeum, i.e., the most important buildings, continued to be used as they were. The Ottomans renamed the settlement Paşa Ilıcası (The Thermal Baths of the Pasha), but after that, Allianoi slumbered into oblivion, although the use of the hot spring continued. The nearby Roman bridge was also still used until recently as a connection on the road from Bergama and İvrindi.

The Romans were master builders, as we know. They built the Bath Complex on both sides of the Ilya Creek, and in order to control its flow, they diverted the water to run through a vaulted tunnel. The hot spring has a nearly ideal temperature of about 45-50˚C. The Roman baths, like all other buildings on the site, date from the 2nd century AD. The brave archaeologists have discovered and uncovered many of them, only to be unfortunately buried again. Allianoi counted at least four insulae, a beautiful Nymphaeum much like the one dedicated to Herodes Atticus in Olympia, Greece, a Propylon, an unknown Cult Building, and a so-called Connection Building, along with several streets and the bridge over the creek I mentioned above. Also, remains of a Byzantine Basilica from the 9th century measuring no less than 19 x 21 meters have been located. And yet, all these jewels will disappear forever!

It is quite frustrating to find out that everything on this planet has to make way for politics and money. The average lifespan of any dam is 80 years, I learned, and this one is calculated to last only for 50 years. Is it really worth being built? What will we do fifty years from now? Dismantle the barrage and excavate Allianoi again, at huge costs once more? Haven’t we learned anything from our past dam building? The irrigated lands remain fertile for a short time only, seven to ten years maximum. After that, the soil is highly alkaline, and crops are hardly worth the effort of planting. As always, when it comes to politics, nobody listens to the environmentalists, and nobody takes their analysis seriously. In this case, nobody listens to the archaeologists either.

But that is only one aspect of building a dam. Here at Allianoi, we are voluntarily burying our heritage. Old stones have to make way for new concrete, yet we forget that our concrete will not survive 2,500 years like this old city did. One would expect that enough damage has been done already to other locations, for instance at Zeugma, Turkey, a unique site at the frontier of the Roman Empire on the banks of the Euphrates River. Archaeologists were able to save a handful of gorgeous mosaics and some wall frescos that have found shelter at the Museum of Gaziantep, but they are taken out of their context, and the proud city no longer awaits our embrace.

What will it take to stop this madness of building dams that, in the end, only scar and deplete the land? Water is vital to our life, I agree, but barrages are not the one and only solution, and their lifespan is not as eternal as governments all over the world want us to believe. What will happen in 50 or 100 years from now when this barrage and so many others give way? No water then, no crops, no dam, nobody to take responsibility, and sadly, no cities like Allianoi to be revived from underneath the sediments. 

Meanwhile, the site of Allianoi has been filled up with sand in an impossible dream that this measure will safeguard the precious remains of this two-thousand-year-old wealthy spa resort. The theory is that at the death of the dam, Allianoi can still be re-excavated, but what about the heavy layers of silt deposited on top of these remains? What damage will they have done?

A sad day for Allianoi. My heart is bleeding indeed…

Hopes may have been high still, but by March 2011, the dies were cast. A painful picture of a man sitting on the edge of the 2nd-century Roman bridge in the middle of a nearly flooded city publicized in the Christian Science Monitor says it all. In spite of the pleas and protests formulated by UNESCO, ICOMOS (International Council on Monuments and Sites), and Europa Nostra (the pan-European Federation for Cultural Heritage), it didn’t take long before the entire site disappeared to the bottom of the new reservoir at the foot of the irrigation dam, covered beneath nearly 100 feet of water and silt. The Yortanli Dam is part of another huge hydro-engineering program aiming to keep up with the country's rapid economic development – that is at least what the officials say. 

The positive news is that archaeologists have been able to salvage some 11,000 artifacts after uncovering only about 20 percent of the site that is now lost forever – a rather poor consolation if any. The beautiful mosaic floors of this ancient health center, believed to be one of the largest and best preserved in the world, have disappeared once again. The Turkish government doesn’t seem to care or not to care enough; the race to double their power output by 2020 prevails over the preservation of the country’s and the world’s history.

The site was first filled with sand in an attempt to protect the ruins, although archaeologists disagree. In the last days of 2010, the flooding was set in motion. The water, according to the latest news of early 2011, has risen approximately 6 feet but will eventually reach 100 feet. I am not aware of a more recent update on the site if any. I could only trace this picture of the flooded area taken in June 2012 (from Alberti's Window). Regretfully, we’ll never know the full meaning and extent of Allianoi. Sadly, this is only one example among so many others. How many more will follow?

Click here for the complete article Dams power Turkey’s future, but drown its rich history by Alexander Christie-Miller, which also maps other natural and culturally threatened areas all over Turkey. National Geographic offers some meaningful pictures on this link.

New theory about Alexander’s death

As we still don’t know for sure what caused Alexander’s untimely death at the age of 32, many theories are circulating, and from time to time, a new one appears.

This time, we hear from toxicologist Professor Leon Schep at the New Zealand National Poison Centre, who, based on the symptoms as described by Diodorus, concludes that the king’s death might be caused by drinking wine made of a poisonous plant called veratrum album or white false hellebore. This plant that grows all over the Eurasian continent was known by the Greeks as a medicine, for instance, to induce vomiting. It is, however, also one of the four classic poisons, along with deadly nightshade, hemlock, and aconite. Hellebore has been used for centuries in Europe for poisoning arrows and daggers.

Well, after poisoning by arsenic, pneumonia, excessive drinking of wine, fevers, malaria, we might as well add this theory to those circulating about the death of Alexander in Babylon. However, IF the Macedonian king, ruler of Asia, was indeed poisoned, the question that remains to be answered is: who administered the poison? This is more food for speculations about the culprit who has to be looked for among Alexander’s inner circle.

Of course, there is no 100% guarantee for any of the proposed theories, especially since events occurred 2,500 years ago. The Great Alexander died too young, and no speculation whatsoever can bring him back.

[Picture from commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/User:Tigerente]

Indo-Greek art or the influence of Hellenism on Buddhist art

When, in the frame of Europalia India, the exhibition The Body in Indian Art came to Brussels, I had the opportunity to go hunting for Greek elements in the Indian statues and friezes. The oldest sculptures, dating from the 2^nd century BC and the most recent with still Hellenistic traits, were from the fourth century AD, i.e., more or less with the latest influences in the West under the Romans. The attentive visitor will easily recognize Hellenistic influence in the facial expression, the positioning of the body resting on one leg, the execution of the robes, the border elements with palmettos and four-leaved flowers familiar from caissons in Greek buildings, or even in the active Cupid or Amor figures on narrow decorative stone bands. This collection was a unique opportunity since it seldom travels outside India.

After the spread of Hellenism, Buddha is depicted visually wearing a light toga-like himation, and the Bodhisattvas are merely bare-chested Indian princes. The surrounding buildings are set up in Greek style with remote Ionian and Indian-style Corinthian capitals. The figures are a mixture of Greek and Indian elements.

The real aficionados will find many magnificent examples of this unique style at the Musée Guimet in Paris, France. This museum has been entirely revamped and hosts an amazing collection of Asian Art. In the traces of Alexander the Great, Treasures from Afghanistan/Pakistan (roughly ancient Bactria and Sogdiana) and India have been gathered to be exhibited in an absolutely breathtaking collection. Besides major artifacts from Hada and Begram in today's Afghanistan, there are beautiful examples of Buddhas and Bodhisattvas among lovely genies from Gandhara worth the visit.

Cyrus the Great first extended the Persian Empire eastwards to include the areas around the Indus River. Gandhara in the Peshawar Valley of northern Pakistan fell under Achaemenid rule and was formally incorporated as the seventh satrapy, that of the Upper Indus.

When Alexander the Great arrived in Taxila in 326 BC, Buddhism had yet to appear in that region. Arrian, among others, mentions, however, that the king met members of the Indian sect of Wise Men who walk around naked. It is common knowledge that Alexander always kept an open mind to other religions, and these wise men must have intrigued him. One of them, going by the Greek name of Calanus, joined Alexander on his way back west, and we can only guess their topics of conversation. Calanus had many pupils and friends inside Alexander's circle. The only one mentioned by name is Lysimachos, who received the horse that the dying man was supposed to ride on his way to the sacrificial pyre arranged at his request by Alexander in person. 

The fact remains that the first statues representing Buddha are part of Alexander's legacy. Hellenism contributed to spreading art, culture, and knowledge and took root in Central Asia, where the Bactrian kings proudly showed off their close ties. In India, on the other hand, this influence was much slower, if only because the Mauryan kingdom imposed itself shortly after Alexander's passage, eliminating the Macedonians on their way.

It may not surprise that the first images of Buddha were created in Central Asia during the rule of Graeco-Bactrian kings. Before the spread of Hellenism, no artist was allowed to show Buddha in human form, and symbols such as a footprint, a wheel, a tree, a stupa, or some Sanskrit characters were used instead. By 180 BC, the Graeco-Bactrian King Demetrius invaded India, leading to the Indo-Greek kingdom that lasted until 10 AD. This was when the Gandharan Buddha was sculpted with a straight nose and brow, classical lips, and wavy hair – strong idealized and sensuous influences of Hellenism. A striking element was the introduction of the "diaphanous," a toga-like robe that Buddha wears instead of the expected loincloth. Yet the heavy eyelids, the elongated earlobes, and the oval-shaped faces are still very much Indian. In short, this art form became a potent melting pot of Eastern and Western traditions.

Chandragupta of the Mauryan Empire took advantage of the confusion following the death of Alexander to take possession of the former Macedonian satrapies of Parapamisade (Gandhara), Arachosia (Kandahar), and Gedrosia after fighting Seleucos, Alexander's successor in the east (305-303 BC). Only when King Demetrius defeated the Mauryas did the influence of Hellenism appear in India.

It is clear that Alexander's legacy through Hellenism was felt for many centuries, directly or indirectly, and visiting an exhibition even distantly related to the great conqueror is always gratifying.

The world’s first Parliament building - Patara

Only a few people will have heard about the opening of the first-ever Parliament building in the ancient city of Patara, Turkey.

First discovered in 1991, restoration works started in 2010, and it took two full years to complete the project, re-erecting and repairing inside and outside walls, gateways, and the entire seating area. When I visited Patara in 2007, the building was fenced off, but it now shines in full splendor. It may feel somewhat overdone, too well reconstructed, but, on the other hand, this is the closest one can get to tasting what it is like to sit inside a Council House – and this one is regarded as being the world’s first democratic Parliament (to use modern words).

[Picture from The Hurriyet Daily News]

The Lycian League, for which this Council House was built, has always fascinated me. The very idea matured in the early 2nd century BC after Lycia came under the control of Rhodes, with the influence of Rome. Yet Rhodes did not give the Lycians fair treatment, and after many complaints, Rome judged it only fair to grant them their freedom. Finally, the Lycian cities all agreed it was time to unite, and the Lycian League, as dreamed of by King  Pericles several centuries earlier, now became a reality. The six main cities: Xanthos, Pınara, Tlos, Patara, Myra, and Olympos were the administrative, judicial, military, financial, and religious centers, and each received three votes in the meetings of the League. Most of the other cities had one single vote each, while some very small cities shared one vote (for instance, Istlada, Apollonia, and Aperlai). Besides, some cities and small federal states were allowed to mint their own coins, provided they bore the inscription ΛΥΚΙΩΝ ΚΟΙΝΩΝ. This must have been an enormous boost to the Lycians’ pride and eventually to their prosperity.

The building we see here in Patara was, however, built in the first century AD and served for five hundred years. It could seat 400 representatives coming from all the member cities of the Lycian League, squeezing inside the walls of this 43-meter-long and 30-meter-wide Council House. When the Lycian League was at last dissolved, the building was still used as a theater.

Like Patara’s theater, the Council House had been swallowed and hidden under the moving sand dunes for centuries, which, in a way, helped to preserve the stones, making them look like new.

A moment of reflection in Mieza

Instead of simply looking at a series of pictures, this YouTube presentation has nice music too.

 

It gives an extra flavor to Mieza, the location where Aristotle walked around followed by his pupils, the most famous of which was Alexander the Great of course. It still is an idyllic place where all you hear is the murmur of the fast running stream. 

It is so easy to turn the clock back two thousand five hundred years, don’t you think so?

Alexander’s Path by Freya Stark

Alexander’s Path (ISBN 0879513403) has been on my bookshelves for many years now. The first time I read it was in preparation for my wonderful trip with Peter Sommer, In the Footsteps of Alexander the Great, the full 21-day journey (now split up into two parts). Since then, I grabbed it repeatedly when exploring Pamphylia and Lycia on my own to get those little extra details that make a journey so much more worthwhile. In a surge of melancholy and enriched by my own experiences, I decided to read it once again, cover to cover, making it a most enjoyable mental travel experience. 

What threw me off, at first, is the fact that Freya Stark goes in the opposite direction of Alexander, starting with Alexandrette (Iskenderun) and the Battle of Issus, moving through Cilicia to the great cities of Pamphylia to finally reach Lycia. She travels in the early 1950s when the landscape is not spoiled yet by the crowds of coastal hotels and modern roads, still looking very much like Alexander’s days. Her means of transportation are random, simply adapted to the circumstances: car, jeep, horse, mule, donkey, and on foot. Hotels where she could enjoy a room of her own are rare, and she often simply accepted Turkish hospitality in whatever form and with whatever comfort that may or may not offer.

It is not a dreary recitation of facts or references from ancient authors about Alexander’s march through these lands. On the contrary, she knows how to enhance her story with simple daily realities of life as it evolves: her observation of life in the village, the sound of goats and herders in the hills, her own thoughts as the day passes and the road unwinds. She observes the land with an analytical eye, constantly wondering how an army could cross it and what Alexander’s goal was at that moment in time. 

In the end, she extensively crisscrosses the rugged lands of Lycia in search of Alexander’s path, which has not reached us from ancient literature. Even Arrian, otherwise rather detailed in his descriptions, simply mentioned that Alexander moved from Xanthos through Lycia to Phaselis. Freya Stark has spent several trips exploring every single road, pass, river, and trail of Lycia looking for the most plausible route. She concluded that the Macedonian King either took the coastal road (corresponding mostly to the modern motor road) or the higher ridge via Candyba and Kassaba to Myra and hence to Limyra with another possible deviation via Arykanda to Limyra, to end at Phoenice (modern Finike). Taking advantage of the old well-travelled stony paths and donkey trails, she manages to find the best-fitted passage for Alexander to take his army across the mountain backbone. It passes under Rhodiapolis, through Corydalla (now Kumluca), and over the Yazir Pass to descend on the eastern side to Phaselis. 

It may be hard to find, but Alexander’s Path not only is a fascinating and captivating book but also a faithful and precious travel companion.

Seleucia, a shrine among the pine trees

The road to Seleucia is now signposted and paved, no excuse for not going! Local villagers know the site by this very name, although some researchers suggest that its real name was Lyrbe and that Seleucia is to be located further east, halfway between Anamur and Mersin, under the modern name of Silifke at the mouth of the Göksu River (antique Calycadnus). The name Lyrbe, however, was deciphered on an inscription found on this very hill and may simply be the early name for Seleucia. 

Anyway, Seleucia has been traced back to Hellenistic times, which by itself is reason enough to set out exploring, although its origins seem to be much older, as confirmed by finds from the Classical period and inscriptions carrying the unique language of Side. 

Seleucos Nicator, undoubtedly inspired by Alexander before him, founded many cities, which he named after himself, the best known being Seleucia on the Tigris (later renamed by the Romans as Zeugma). So it is no surprise to find this Seleucia in Turkey, some 15 kilometers north of Manavgat. The old track from the village of Bucakşeyhler is now asphalted and meanders to the one and only access to the hilltop, which is otherwise inaccessible because of the sheer rock walls – a natural defense. 

This access road ends at the very city gate, a mere hole in the wall. A couple of wide steps invite the visitor inside, where whatever is left of Seleucia presents itself as a shrine amidst tall pine trees in a sacred silence. This makes the approach over the steps of the threshold feel very special. A board gives a nice layout of the Agora, very closely resembling the drawing made by George Bean (Turkey’s Southern Shore)half a century ago – proof that nothing much has been excavated since.

 

The centerpiece of the picture is filled by the Agora, the best preserved of Pamphylia, I’m told. Some trees have been cleared between the entrance and the agora, making the first glance one to never forget! On the left side, a wall shows a combination of different styles and reconstructions, apparently two separate façades, one of which was built with pilasters, where the open space was later on filled with plain square blocks. The basement of this façade has two doors giving access to the two corridors running along the Agora on two separate lower levels.

But the most striking element is to the right of the Agora, where the walls of the shops, two levels high,  nicely frame the square. The Granary of Hadrian in Andriake comes to my mind, but the shops behind these walls here are evidently not as big or as deep. Six shop entrances line up framed by a simple lintel resting on sparingly decorated posts, except for two arched thresholds above which run an entablature with triglyphs alternated with a flowered metope. The inside walls carry the square holes meant to support the floor beams for the upper level. One shop is entirely filled by a staircase strangely leading to a window in the back wall, and it is obvious that more research is required to figure out where it was once leading. The same remark applies to the Odeon at the end of the row of shops. This Odeon is accessed through four doors, but inside, no trace of seating has been found, and the theory goes that there may have been wooden benches. The curved back wall consists of some original square blocks mixed with all sorts of rougher stones, apparently used to fill up the gaps that may have appeared after earthquakes in the region. In front of these façades, the well-preserved Doric colonnade at the edge of the Agora is still standing, with at the corner one of those typical heart-shaped columns, a melting together of two columns facing the inside of the space. Along this colonnade runs the gutter, leading me to believe that the passage between the shops and the Agora must have been covered. 

At the far end of the Agora are the remains of an early church, which seems to have been modified repeatedly over the centuries. Maybe the vaulted entrance was part of it, or it may well have been an arched passage to exit the Agora, as suggested by George Bean (Turkey’s Southern Shore). More to the right, an entrance gate with a simple lintel is supported by one Ionian column and one plain pilaster, a late reconstruction of some kind, I think.

 

The meaning of the two corridors on the lower levels on the left is unclear – maybe they served as storage since vaulted niches run along both walls. Anyway, venturing to the right further uphill, there are two small temples. The first one seems to be dedicated to Apollo with the intact walls of the cella and arched niches along the inside walls, which are possibly where the temple’s treasury was kept, as traces of front grilles are present. The other temple is less well preserved, with only part of the entrance and the outside walls resting on the otherwise intact crepidoma.

Otherwise, the hillside is dotted with sturdy walls ready to collapse at any time, the purpose of which is anyone’s guess: a basilica, a church, a bath, etc. Two lone arches rise out from the forest soil; they seem to belong to a vaulted building connecting to the water system of Seleucia. Loose square-cut blocks, arches, and lower walls appear like ghosts among the shade of the pine trees. Looking back to the Agora from the road to the necropolis, a mere rubble of stones and slabs of all sizes and shapes, the hill carries the allure of a small acropolis.

The attentive visitor will notice loose pieces of fabric here and there, which are the edges of the mosaic covers – a well-known practice to protect these precious floors. However, some mosaics have been moved: one representing the Seven Wise Men of Antiquity and another of Orpheus are now at the Museum of Antalya. Later chance finds have been moved to the Museum of Side. Time to go back to update my mental records!

The half-standing building to the north is clearly Byzantine or, at least, a Byzantine reconstruction of a church. Beyond this last ruin lies the edge of Seleucia, offering a grandiose view towards the Manavgat River to the north, now a lake after the construction of a barrage, as so often done all over Turkey, and down to the shimmering sea on the southern horizon. What a strategic place to build a city!

It is important to remember that Seleucia was not plundered in antiquity when it was customary to reuse stones from abandoned cities and buildings or strip their marble to be fed to the Byzantine limekilns. 

[Click here to see all pictures of Seleucia]

Our beautiful planet earth - or isn't it no longer?

Our planet is quite fascinating, especially if you can look at it through the pictures on this YouTube presentation.



This picture of the world is so very far from what Alexander imagined and knew what it was like. It makes me wonder what he would have made of this? 

I often wonder if he ever saw the beauty of the landscapes he was crossing. As far as I'm concerned, he must have for he moved at slow speed compared to our modern ways of transportation. He walked or rode on his beloved Bucephalus, but what would he actually be doing? Talking to his generals? Drawing imaginary plans? Listening to the problems of his soldiers? Contemplating new conquests? Discussing possible roads with local guides?  I simply cannot picture Alexander just sitting on his horse or walking doing nothing useful. Can you?

Volubilis in Morocco, hardly known

Unfortunately, most people visiting Aspendos leave immediately after seeing its unique theater and skip its aqueduct altogether. However, it is a true masterpiece of Roman architecture that can only compete with the Pont du Gard in France or the aqueduct of Volubilis in Morocco.

During a tour of Morocco, I stopped at Volubilis, and my hopes ran high when I first glanced at this vast city spread out over the gentle slopes of the overall green landscape. I fail to see why this location was chosen because the sea is too far away. I'm unaware of any neighboring commercial towns or crossroads networks. However, this city was once one of the largest in North Africa, together with Leptis Magna and Sabratha in Libya and Douga and El Jem in Tunisia. Time for some in-depth research.

The Volubilis I am discovering covers 42 ha. In the third century BC, it was a true Carthaginian city built on top of older prehistoric settlements. In 40 AD, Volubilis became part of the Roman Empire and the administrative center for the Roman province of Mauretania Tingitana. The fertile farmlands around the city produced rich wheat and olive oil crops, which were in high demand in Rome and contributed to local prosperity. This answers my initial question, but unfortunately, nobody informs me about the many buildings and mills dedicated to olive pressing. Only afterward did I hear that Volubilis counted 58 oil-pressing sites in as much they have been unearthed until now.

The poor ruins of Volubilis date in the majority from the 2nd-3rd century and are pretty disappointing, but that is because most of its remains were shaken mainly by the earthquake of 1755, which destroyed significant parts of Lisbon, Portugal. On top of that, the site was widely plundered and stripped of its marble in the 18th century to build nearby Meknes, which was supposed to become a second Versailles. It is madness considering today's standards, but on the other hand, nothing much has been done to restore any of the key buildings of this antique site, as is generally practiced nowadays. Moreover, most artifacts have been moved to the Archaeological Museum of Rabat. In 285, during the reign of Emperor Diocletian, the Romans suddenly left Mauretania Tingitana. Life returned only in 789 when Idris I, a descendant of Prophet Mohammed, settled here and renamed the town Walila.

In the distance, I discover remains of the city walls dating from 168-169 AD with a lonely arch, the Tingis Gate, one of the eight city gates. From there, the straight Decumanus runs down to the well-preserved Arch of Caracalla at the southern end, erected in his and his mother's honor in 217 AD. It is decorated with Corinthian columns and was originally topped with a bronze chariot as customary on triumphal arches. The inscription on the outside wall is still in situ and reads as follows:

IMPERATORI CAESARI MARCO AVRELLIO ANTONINO PIO FELICI AVGVSTO PARTHICO MAXIMO BRITTANICO MAXIMO GERMANICO MAXIMO

PONTIFICI MAXIMO TRIBVNITIA POTESTATE XX IMPERATORI IIII CONSVLI IIII PATRI PATRIAE PROCONSVLI ET IVLIAE AVGVSTAE PIAE FELICI MATRI
AVGVSTI ET CASTRORVM ET SENATVS ET PATRIAE RESPVBLICA VOLVBILITANORVM OB SINGVLAREM EIVS
ERGA VNIVERSOS ET NOVAM SVPRA OMNES RETRO PRINCIPES INDVLGENTIAM ARCVM
CVM SEIVGIBVS ET ORNAMENTIS OMNIBVS INCOHANTE ET DEDICANTE MARCO AVRELLIO

SEBASTENO PROCVRATORE AVGVSTI DEVOTISSIMO NVMINI EIVS A SOLO FACIENDVM CVRAVIT

Translated by Wikipedia, it says:

For the emperor Caesar, Marcus Aurelius Antoninus [Caracalla], the pious, fortunate Augustus, greatest victor in Parthia, greatest victor in Britain, greatest victor in Germany, Pontifex Maximus, holding tribunician power for the twentieth time, Emperor for the fourth time, Consul for the fourth time, Father of the Country, Proconsul, and for Julia Augusta [Julia Domna], the pious, fortunate mother of the camp and the Senate and the country, because of his exceptional and new kindness towards all, which is greater than that of the principles that came before, the Republic of the Volubilitans took care to have this arch made from the ground up, including a chariot drawn by six horses and all the ornaments, with Marcus Aurelius Sebastenus, procurator, who is most deeply devoted to the divinity of Augustus, initiating and dedicating it.

Only a dozen columns have been re-erected along said Decumanus. A sharp eye will notice several public fountains (Nymphaeums) along the way with their worn-down edges, where so many water jars have been pulled up.

My guide (who was imposed on me) has no interest in these details. It is rather annoying to be herded from one mosaic to the next without explaining Volubilis' general layout or history. It feels like a tour of Pompeii in the 1970s when archaeology was approached differently. The mosaics are pleasant enough but rather crude and less refined, and the floors need a good cleaning and even restoration job. Despite the rush, I still can appreciate the peculiar round Atrium we are crossing, surrounded by twisted columns crowned with Pergamese capitals and the out-of-the-ordinary layout of the so-called North Baths. However, the overall picture remains pretty obscure.

Besides the Arch of Caracalla, only two other buildings stand out in all of Volubilis, and these belong to the Capitol Complex with the Basilica and the Forum. It is easy to mentally reconstruct the Basilica because the walls of the five wings are still intact. Opposite lies the Capitol from 217, dedicated to the Roman gods Jupiter, Juno, and Minerva, of which only the columns in the front are in place. The 1300 square meters between the Basilica and the Capitol constitute the paved Forum with the remains of an altar. And this is where my tour ends …

That leaves me with my most burning question: where is that famous aqueduct? Based on the maps, it is supposed to run on the east side of and more or less parallel to the Decumanus, but I see no trace. The Aspendos and Pont du Gard aqueducts are pretty easy to spot; you simply can't miss them – why not here in Volubilis? Maybe it is to be found out of view on the other side of the hill? The site has been put on the Unesco World Heritage List, but even in the literature, I cannot find any reference to this famous aqueduct… Any additional information is most welcome!

[Click here to see all the pictures of Volubilis]

La Route de la Soie, d’Alexandre le Grand à Marco Polo by J Dauxois.

Although the title “La Route de la Soie, d’Alexandre le Grand à Marco Polo” (ISBN 9782268064994) by Jacqueline Dauxois sounds very promising, the book is simply disappointing.

I expected to walk in the steps of Alexander to the east, who, for the greater part, followed what is later called the Silk Road, to be taken over by Marco Polo, who extended his voyage further east to China proper. Not so.

With all my respect for the author/teacher, all I discover is a very sketchy history that starts with Alexander the Great and ends with the Polo family returning to Venice, Italy, with just an occasional word about silk. From Alexander’s times, she jumps to China, to Rome, to Constantinople, the Mongols, the Vikings, and the origins of Russia, quoting events randomly and lingering extensively on the wars, atrocities, destruction, murders, and killings by the thousands and hundreds of thousands.

Obviously, the part about Alexander interests me most, but I am not rewarded. Jacqueline Dauxois lets her imagination run freely, giving details meant only to spice up the story and describing situations in a non-historic light.

The main subject, the Silk Road itself, is hardly mentioned, its route(s) are not mentioned (not even on a simple map), its importance is not explained, and its legacy is shrouded in mystery!

Maybe I should have considered this book more as a novel, in which case liberties are allowed, but the references the author gives with names and dates lead me to believe otherwise. Maybe this is typically French with their tendency to embellish their story (avec mes sincères excuses envers mes amis français). It’s up to the reader to decide.