TRAVEL WRITING COMPETITION RESULT
And the winner is…John Young from New Zealand. John came on our Alexander the Great tour in spring 2007. He wins a £50 book voucher and a wonderful exhibition book ‘The Turks’.

You can read his ‘A Turkish Travel Symphony: In the footsteps of Alexander the Great’ below.

A special mention also goes to John Onley from Exeter, UK, whose glorious poems from two gulet cruises with us, have given great delight to all. You’ll be able to read some of his ditties on our website shortly.

Many thanks to all of you who took the time and trouble to write about your archaeological tours with us in Turkey. We’re planning to create a special section on our website for your travel writing, so feel free to send in more of your poems, prose, or limericks.

A Turkish Travel Symphony: In the footsteps of Alexander the Great

This travel symphony, like a classical symphony, is in four movements or parts. It is based on our tour with Peter Sommer which followed Alexander the Great’s route through Anatolia in April and May of 2007. Only a very small part of the tour is covered in these four movements but they show some of the contrasts of a most rewarding experience. I could write many more Turkish travel symphonies.

Granicus
One of the first sites we visited was Granicus, the scene of Alexander’s first great battle and victory against the Persians. In the morning we departed Canakkale in the mini bus and plunged into the Turkish countryside. Soon we had left the modern sealed highway and were travelling on dirt and gravel roads similar to those at home in rural New Zealand. However the mosques with their distinctive minarets and the stork nests on farm buildings were a new feature for us.

After one or two detours we arrived at a bridge across a river. This, Peter told us, was the site of the battle.  It wasn’t a particularly big or impressive river.  Looking up and down the river from the bridge we saw a mixture of deep and shallow pools, gravel islands, short rapids and steep banks lined with a mixture of trees and grasses. The river flowed in a comparatively straight line at this point and it appeared a good place for a battle.

Peter led us down to the river, the less sure footed followed by sliding, and with readings from his well worn copy of Arian’s “Conquests of Alexander” enlightened us on the actual battle. You could close your eyes and imagine Alexander leading the charge across the river against the hapless Persians and their allies.  Peter also had a battle in his reading - a chorus of frogs that could have served in Aristophane’s comedy provided a steady comment on his account.

Rural areas often look deserted and for a time this part of Turkey appeared thus. But we were soon joined at the bridge by a handful of local farmers driving a collection of carts, tractors and trucks of varying make and vintage.  An animated conversation in Turkish took place between Peter, Cem, our Turkish tour manager and the locals. After about ten minutes the conversation ended, we all shook hands and the farmers drove off.

Peter told us that the locals were disputing the site of the battle. They maintained it was some kilometres downstream where there was an old Roman bridge. Peter said this was impossible because the Roman bridge site had two rivers and was too small to allow the deployment of the rival armies. We had no doubt that Peter was correct but I felt that for the farmers local myth would be stronger than academic history.

Xanthus
Four days after our exploration of Granicus we neared the site of the city of Xanthus capital of the ancient kingdom of Lycia in south west Turkey. As we approached Xanthus in the minibus it was early afternoon. A gentle rain had begun to fall, the only time it rained in our three weeks in Turkey, moistening the ground but it lasted less than an hour. We appeared to be entering Xanthus by the back door.

Peter pointed out a steep hill which he said held many Lycian tombs from Xanthus. He and Cem led the more sure footed of our group up this hill while the others continued in the minibus around the hill to the main site of the city. We clambered up the steep slope with its slope a mixture of scrub, stone and tombs.

It was my first experience of Lycian tombs. Pillar tombs with the coffin at the top of a pillar standing several metres high, cave like tombs in which there were benches that had once carried coffins. None were intact and some of the pillars were broken while others tilted at crazy angles. We reached the top of the hill and walked easily down the other side. The sights reflected the diversity and richness of Anatolian civilisations including a large theatre, agora and a basilica.

The other group members met us at the theatre. 
“Where” they asked Peter “is the Harpies’ tomb?”
Peter smiled and pointed out two tall pillars standing right beside us, above the ruins of the theatre, one of which had the Harpies’ tomb.  “You have to look up” he said.

Peter also told us that the original tomb and many other tombs and friezes had been taken by Charles Fellows to the British Museum in 1842.

On rare occasions a place you visit can give you an odd feeling that can send shivers up your spine. I felt like this in Xanthus. Although, like so many Turkish sites, several civilisations are represented by fine remains, for me the overwhelming impression of Xanthus was the tombs and death.

This feeling was powerfully strengthened when Peter told us a little story of the history of Xanthus and referred us to sources notably Herodotus, Appian and Plutarch. Herodotus writes how the Xanthians, rather than surrender to the invading Persians under Cyrus, gathered their wives, children, slaves and property into a citadel in the city, set fire to it and burnt it to the ground before killing themselves. Some of the citizens were away from the city at this time and they re-established it.

In 334/3 BC Xanthus opened its gates to Alexander but in 42 BC the process of destruction was repeated when the city resisted Brutus’ attempts to obtain tribute. Plutarch writes
“men and women alike sought only for the means to destroy themselves, so that even the little children with cries and shrieks leaped into the flames or flung themselves headlong from the walls or offered themselves up to their fathers’ swords, baring their throats and begging them to strike.”

Although the city was later rebuilt it never recovered its former importance and was gradually abandoned. We left Xanthus late in the afternoon and travelled through fields covered with tomato greenhouses towards Letoon.

A Gulet Rhapsody
While Xanthus forms a dark second movement to my travel symphony the voyage on the gulet Almira forms a sparkling contrast. A gulet is a traditional Turkish yacht built of local materials but the contemporary versions, such as the Almira, include all modern comforts.

We spent five nights and four days on the Almira and sailed round the Lycian Coast from Kalkan to Antalya. The weather was perfect for sailing with a gentle, steady breeze filling the sails which meant the motor was barely used. The coastline is spectacular with steep cliffs and a brooding Mt Olympos, home of the mythical chimaera, in the background.

On the second evening we anchored close to the hamlet of Kale, dominated by a steep ridge overlooked by a castle, flying the red Turkish flag. As we came to anchor small girls in a flimsy rowing boat with spade like oars offered local scarves for sale. We had already been approached by an eagle eyed local ice cream vendor in his boat.

We used the inflatable dinghy to reach shore and in the setting sun climbed up the narrow track through the village. The track, which could not take motor vehicles, soon petered out into a rocky path as we threaded our way through the castle walls. As we reached the top and stood on the battlements we were rewarded with a most spectacular view over the wine dark sea of Homer and Virgil, the rocky coast and islands. Also near the top was a rich variety of Hellenic, Roman, Byzantine Crusader and Ottoman remains. I was most impressed with the little theatre cut into the rock which showed that Greek drama was not just a feature of the big cities.

The climb worked up my appetite . Among the delicacies on the Almira’s table that night was freshly caught calamari - we had seen it caught by one of the crew. I am not normally a calamari fan having found it rubbery and tasteless when trying it at home in New Zealand but I ventured to try again. It was completely different, with a taste and texture to savour long after the food was eaten. This summed up my experience with the gulet, Turkish food and cooking - real Turkish Delight. 

Heart Of Turkey
Towards the end of our tour we travelled by minibus from the spectacular landforms of Goreme through the Taurus Mountains via the Cilician Gates. The historic “gates”, which are the main pass through the mountains, have seen many ancient armies including Alexander’s. Peter led us off the main highway down to the valley floor where inscribed rocks from some of these armies gave evidence of their movements. Today the Cilician Gates are dominated by a modern motorway but you can still imagine the passing of Alexander.

Leaving the “gates” we did not go immediately to the historic city of Tarsus. Instead Peter directed our driver on to a side road which snaked steeply back onto the Anatolian Plateau. We came to a flat, open landscape with no trees, stunted scrub and lots of white stones. Running across this barren vista was a Roman road stretching as far as the eye could see. About half a kilometre from us a large Roman arch, much eroded by the wear of centuries, bestrode the road. Peter gave us the chance to walk along the road under the Turkish sun which was very warm although it was still only spring.

The fittest strode purposefully along the road and through the arch. The less fit like Shona (my wife) and me walked at a slower pace. Shona is an enthusiastic scholar of Alexander but also likes to investigate the local flora and fauna. To our left were sheep grazing and we saw a vehicle that looked like a combination of a house truck and a covered wagon of the American West. It turned out to be the home, we are not sure how permanent, of a Turkish shepherd and his family.

Shona was fascinated but we spoke no Turkish and the shepherd and his family very little English. With the help of Serdar, our ever friendly and helpful driver a sort of dialogue was established.

We found out the shepherd had about three hundred sheep and six children including two young men who were helping him. A large, placid dog with a spiked collar to protect it against wolves sat under the wagon.

It was hard to guess how old the shepherd was- he had a dark brown weathered face, wore a little woolly cap and had a flashing smile. His wife, although wearing the traditional head scarf was also smiling. They brought out some thick felt material for us to sit on. Shona thought this material could also be used as a poncho like shepherd’s cloak that she had seen on her trip through Turkey some thirty five years previously. She had looked in vain for a similar garment on this tour including at the Ankara museum. Yes, it could be worn as a cloak as one of the sons demonstrated.

We were invited to tea with the family but could see Peter and the others hurrying back and knew we would have to decline the invitation if we were to reach Tarsus and Adana on time. Later one of the group told us that Peter, when he saw Shona engaging with the shepherd and the family said “Oh blow! They’ll invite her to tea which means we’ll be here all day.”

Later that night we sat in an open air restaurant at Adana enjoying Turkish food and Turkish raki.  The smile of the unknown shepherd lingered in my mind forming a sort of rondo for my Turkish travel symphony.

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