Chris in front of the Trojan Horse from Brad Pitts movie, Troy. It is the closest Chris or I will ever be to Brad Pitt. This monumental horse is found in Canakkale, Turkey.

On the way to the site the clouds didn’t hold much hope for us as they blocked the sky and quickly made puddles in the street. The dolmus continued to bump and turn on the winding streets. Some other tourists spoke loudy in the front. We couldn’t understand them. We only knew it was taxing to be forced to listen.

The  clouds parted just as the dolmus stopped at the long walkway leading up the site of Troy. Wonderful, we thought.

30.00 Turkish Lira ($20.00  CAN) later we found ourselves standing at the base of another wooden horse. Unfortunately Brad Pitt never touched this one, but you can go inside! So of course being  me, I did. Chris on the other hand decided to climb the walls of Troy.

Chris climbing one of the major walls at Troy. Don’t worry this is as high as he went. The site is located 30-minutes away from Canakkale, Turkey.

For us, the road to Troy started at the Archaeological Museum in Istanbul. The museum contains artefacts from archaeological digs from all over Turkey. Almost one entire wing is dedicated to the artefacts found at Troy. The collection is sorted and displayed depending upon which Troy it came from.  The site was actually inhabited many times, leading to a succession of seven sites built on top of each other. Like most archaeological sites, not much remains except for the stone foundations of buildings and remaints of fortifying walls. The site has been excavated of all its treasures which are now housed in different countries. However, a very comprehensive collection of pottery, tools and elaborate jewelley can be seen at the Archaeological Museum in Istanbul. Many of the items on display were found by Heinrich Schliemann, otherwise known as the Father of Archaeology.

I found this humanized vase very amusing. Found in the Archaeological Museum in Istanbul.

According to the description of this artefact, this vase resembles a woman. I love the life and playfulness of it. Found in the Archaeological Museum in Istanbul.

Ear rings that resemble the ones worn by Heinrich Schliemann’s wife in photographs. Found in the Archaeological Museum in Istanbul.

The gold work of Troy, found by Schliemann. Found in the Archaeological Museum in Istanbul.

Unfortunately, being the Father of Archaeology doesn’t mean he had the perfect technique. It simply means that he was the first person who wasn’t purly a treasure hunter, but who actually had some curiousity and interest in the place, the people and the history.

We met a tourist who firmly believed seeing the site of Troy wasn’t worth it because it was just a pile of rocks and that there isn’t much there anyway. I find this attitude and statement can easily be applied to most, if not all, of the ancient sites in Turkey. Not only were rocks an ancient building material, they still are today and if you dig a hole in the soil you will get 85% rock. Rocks are everywhere (just like cats and roosters). It’s not about the rocks. It’s what people did with the rocks and how the rocks explain the human story. I won’t deny that visiting site after site takes more patience and energy each time. It becomes harder and harder to imagine the theatre bursting with entertainment or the house walls continuing to show elaborate frescos protected by a wood roof.  I think about the time and effort of the people who built it, who depended on it day after day. It’s the least I can do. When I was younger I never liked history. I think it was because I never imagined the people, doing everyday tasks and having human emotions. As a young teenager history meant memorizing dates, timelines and names. History didn’t have a heart or personality. It was like looking at a rock and expecting it to do something, instead of looking at the rock in relation to the objects around it and the placement of the rock. But alas, enough of my rock metaphor of history.

The very famous ramp found at Troy. This would have been the main gateway into the city. Imagine the walls continuing upward with huge wood doors and to the left of the gate, a temporary store constructed out of cloth and wood.

Look for the ramp and walls in this diagram and then examine the photo of what is actually left today.

Here you can see the outer wall and in the upper left-hand side of the photo, the foundations of a gate.

This diagram shows the complexity of the site. You can clearly see how one city was built on top of the last. Look closely for the Roman numerals assigned to the different layers. Then, look at the next photo of the actual site. Having a degree in Archaeology, and knowing a little about excavations, I don’t envy those who were responsible for analyzing it, especially with the magnitude of its world fame.

An excellent representation of the complexity of excavating the site of Troy.

After two hours with Troy practically to our selves Chris and I made our way back to Canakkale on the bumpy dolmus. It wove in and out of small towns, roosters and olive trees. Looking back over my shoulder I tried deparately to get one last glimps of the site. It quickly disappearred behind the surounding hills. All that I could spot was the  reflextion of the six clean, white 52-passenger Turkish tourist buses. Perfect timimg, I thought.

For those of you who haven’t been, Troy is worth visiting — if you don’t mind interpreting the rocks.

Related posts:

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3. Aya Sophia: up close and personal

The view from our cheap ($21.75 Canadian/night) room in Fethiye. We couldn’t ask for more, except for some beer to compliment the lovely sunset. A skip and a jump down the street was a store where we easily acquired some Efes (THE beer for Turkey).

The town is bustling and the mountains and water are so peaceful. Chris is in the process of shaving off most of his beard while I update you guys. I’ve got to admit, I’m excited. Ok, just for kicks, here’s a before shot of Chris with the beard he’s been growing since late December. He even grew out his hair! It’s longer than I’ve ever seen it.

The handsome bearded Chris. Course I think he’s handsome no matter what.

Once we’re both showered I think it’s date night on this gorgeous Friday evening. While we’re here, we have lots to update you on like the monuments at Ephesus, eating boar tongue for breakfast, our fabulous new friends Petrit and Gloria who we met in Selcuk, homemade dinner and drinks with friends from around the world (Australia, Italy, Turkey and Canada) and the unforgettable hike we did with Petrit and Gloria through a Turkish National Park where we came down the wrong side of the mountain and ended up 50 kilometers from our hotel. Lastly, check out the map, Chris updated it.

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Broadly speaking, we are making our way down the Aegean coast of Turkey. We ducked inland at places like Bergama and Pamukkale, but will be staying closer to the coast in the next few days (weeks?) as we head around the southeastern corner of the country and continue along the Mediterranean coast, before going inland again to visit Cappadocia and Eastern Turkey.

Bergama (site of ancient Pergamon)

We hiked 5km uphill to the akropolis of Pergamon. This was one of the views that rewarded us near the top. The ancient ruins are dramatically perched on the top of a mountain overlooking modern Bergama. We enjoyed the ruins and the modern city very much.

The gravity-defying theatre at Pergamon, with modern Bergama far below. You can see our hotel if you look closely. It’s the one with the red chimney... Okay, no you can’t. But still, it’s down there somewhere.

The neighbourhood we stayed in was a maze of streets like this one. It was charming, if a bit confusing to navigate.

Another street scene in Bergama.

And another. This time with Bonus Old Lady!

Pamukkale and Hierapolis

Pamukkale was like a bit of vacation from our vacation, as it were. Hot springs, walks in the Turkish agricultural heartland, being chased by an enormous barking sheepdog–with his taut muscles, big teeth, and eyes like  a rabid werewolf. Yeah, it was bliss.

Laura dips her feet at Pamukkale. We ducked inland to visit this site, where Roman ruins lie at the top of a magnificent ridge covered in built-up calcium deposits from thousands of years of natural hot spring activity. Yeah, it was as nice as it sounds.

One of the travertine pools on the Pamukkale ridge. Pamukkale translates as “cotton castle,” for reasons too obvious too explain.

The “Antique Pool” among the Hierapolis ruins of Pamukkale. Although it cost us about $15 CDN on top of the $15 we paid to get into the site, we had to swim in the naturally warm waters of the pool among the submerged stones and columns. These collapsed into the waters due to an earthquake about 1300 years ago (if I’m remembering correctly). Because we are traveling in the off-season, we had the pool to ourselves for a bit.

Laura dips her feet, AGAIN. Sheesh. She’s always taking breaks. The water was a pleasant 30 degrees or so. It was magic.

Some couple enjoys the view from the theatre at Hierapolis, above of the white travertine ridge. I like this shot.

We saw some tombs overlooking the valley. This one was the first mound tomb I’ve ever been in. Spooooky!

Tombs down low. Tombs up high. There were tombs all over the place. I think I may have more to say about tombs in another post.

The next day, we struck off blindly into the Turkish countryside for a bit of a hike. We saw several flocks of sheep and their shepherds. As we were walking through the barren scrub, we suddenly crossed a line and were in green, irrigated grass. I turned around and shot this in the direction from which we came.

I’m no Ansel Adams, but here’s another black and white landscape from our walk. For the photo nerds: the vignetting is from stacking an ND8 filter with my CPL.

Another landscape from that day. Believe it or not, these are all separate olive trees.

I’ve never been the greatest landscape photographer but I hope to get better. We found this cairn at the top of a long, gently sloping farmer’s field. We speculated whether it marks someone’s grave. I think it probably does. From here, we could see all the way across the valley, some 60 to 100km away. I can think of worse places to be buried.

Afrodisias

We took a daytrip from Pamukkale to visit an ancient city called Afrodisias. Named after the (Greek?) goddess of love, Aphrodite, the place holds the remains of a once great temple where all sorts of sordid orgies and whatnot went on. All in the name of religion, of course. The Christians converted it into a church in the first millennium sometime, and must have had a few sleepless nights purifying the place. Anyway, I’ll let Laura put up some of her pics from there of the ruins and whatnot. I was more interested in taking pictures of things like frogs and trees apparently.

In all honesty though, you can only find ancient ruins photographically inspiring for so long. Eventually they all start to blend together a bit. It is much more interesting to put the camera down and instead try to imagine what the place may have been like in ancient times.

We found these frogs in the flooded bottom of the Odeon. There were dozens of them swimming among the maple leaves.

Dozens, I say!

Another Ansel Adams wannabe shot.

And one last ancient ruin: The stadium of Afrodisias is certainly one of the best preserved Roman stadiums in the world. This thing is HUGE. Laura is the tiny black spec you can see just to the left of centre in the open green space.

Here’s a crop of the last picture to show you I’m not joking. The place is huge. Like, ‘it-could-seat-80,000-people’ huge. By the way, they held gladiator games here. Men and beasts competed on the field of battle for the glory and esteem of the people. Or maybe it was just gruesome entertainment. Either way, it was pretty badass.

That’s all for now. See you next time! We finally have enough experience (and photos) to put up a post about Turkish food. Mmmmmm.

(Also, we like comments. It’s really easy, just click below.)

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Every April 25 thousands of people participate in a memorial service for those who fought at Gallipoli with Anzac. At this particular location roughly 4,000 seats are set up for the ceremony.

If you were to turn around from facing the ocean and the Anzac sign you would see this landscape. To the left of Chris is a rock formation the Australians nicknamed the Sphinx because it somewhat resembled the Sphinx in Egypt where the men trained prior to their arrival in Turkey.

This is Anzac cove which at the time of the attack during the First World War was not known as that, but since then the Turkish government officially changed the name to honour the soldiers and the nine month battle. Today there is a road cutting through the middle of the hill thousands of Australians scrambled up in hopes of securing the high points of the Gallipoli area.

This is one of the many Commonwealth War Grave cemeteries in Gallipoli National Historic Park for the soldiers of Anzac. I was surprised to find the headstones are a different shape than all the other Commonwealth War Cemeteries I have visited in Canada, France, Belgium and the Netherlands. I am not sure why they are different.

In some areas of the battlefield the Anzac and Turkish trenches were only nine meters apart. One day, around this area, an Anzac soldier was wounded. He started yelling for help. He kept yelling. Neither side wanted to risk leaving his trench in fear of getting shot. Hours passed. The wounded soldier kept yelling. Then a Turkish soldier climbed out from the safety of his trench. He picked up the wounded man and carried him to the Anzac side before returning back to the Turkish side. Miraculously no one fired at the Turk. In a battle where millions of bullets were shot, so many that in the Gallipoli museum you can see two bullets that hit each other in the air, it is truly amazing that the two men commemorated in this statue were not hit. The possibility of two bullets hitting each other in the air is about a 1 in 160 million chance. It happened more than once. I see this Turkish mans actions as one of the rare occasions of what human kind could be, but unfortunately we are creatures who will never live without war.

The entrance to the the largest Turkish memorial and cemetery in the part of the Gallipoli National Park that we toured. It was very interesting to see the difference of the Turkish cemetery compared to Commonwealth War Grave cemeteries. The stone used to construct the memorial and walls is yellow painted cider blocks, the headstones are flat, and there is an out door prayer area with provided prayer rugs.

Each Turkish soldiers headstone in the First World War Gallipoli cemetery has the symbol of a cresent moon which symbolizes life, and the symbol of a star which symbolizes death. Together they symbolize that life will continue. The same symbols are featured on Turkeys flag. The headstone of the Turkish soldiers has the name of the town he was born, his first name, his fathers first name, the year he was born and the age he died. This particular soldier was from Gallipoli. His first name was Ismah. The “oglu” means, “son of”. His father’s first name was Ahmet. “Dogum”, means “born in”, and “Yasinda” means “years old”. Before 1934 Turkish people did not have sir names. This is why we only find the first name of the soldier and the first name of his father. This makes it incredibly hard for people today to find the graves of their relative. Standing in one spot in the cemetery our guide pointed to five graves of different soldiers all with the same first name, Mehmet. Imagine if more than one of them was from the same city or town and around the same age.

This statue is of the oldest First World War Turkish veteran and his great-great-granddaughter. According to Turkish belief, if you see your great-great-grandchild you are going straight to heaven. He was 110 years old when he passed away. When he was 109 years old he came to the Turkish memorial and cemetery to unveil this statue of himself.

This grave belongs to young man named John who climbed up and down the rugged hills with his trusty mule, during the Gallipoli battle, retrieving wounded or killed soldiers. With the help of his mule he saved the lives of some 300 soldiers. All the soldiers new about him weather they were allied soldiers or Turkish soldiers. One day, on May 19, 1915, some new Turkish recruits were on duty for their first time in the Gallipoli area. They saw John and his mule. Recognizing him as the enemy, they shot him. They didn’t know the story about John like all the seasoned veterans of the Gallipoli battlefield.

The view of the Aegean Sea from the First World War site, the Nek, one of the highest points in Gallipoli National Park.

This statue of Mustafa Kemal, more widely known as Ataturk, was erected beside the Commonwealth memorial on the highest point of the Gallipoli battlefields. Mustafa Kemal was the divisional commander for the Turks. Under his command, the Gallipoli battle which went from near disaster to unaquivical success. Following the war Mustafa Kemal traveled throughout Turkey gaining the support of the people and earning the name, Ataturk. Today, in every town, city, building, restaurant, hotel and park you can be sure to find either a statue or photo of Ataturk. One day on the battlefield while Ataturk stood probably very much like he is in the statue, binoculars around his neck, he was shot. Luckily the bullet was stopped by his pocket watch. On the statue you can make out the faint shape of a pocket watch in his breast pocket. Today Ataturk’s pocket watch can be found in Berlin, because as a plea for help he mailed it to the German commanding officer as a visual of the desperate times they were in.

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The second gate into Topkapi Palace. Today it is the main admission gate into the museum.

Topkapi Palace located in Istanbul, was the headquarters for the Ottamen Empire for more then 400 years. Today it is a museum. When we went it cost 20 Turkish Lira per person, and if we wanted to go into the Harem it would cost an additional 15 Turkish Lira per person. The ticket for entering the Harem has to be bought once you are inside the Topkapi Palace.

The palace is constructed around a series of courtyards, all of which are very beautiful and peaceful. The first courtyard is free of charge. In Ottoman days this courtyard was open to all, but in order to walk through the gate into the second courtyard you had to be some sort of dignitary (see the photo above of the second gate).

Only the sultan and his family could enter this gate. Through it were the private (i.e. circumcision room) and residential areas of the palace. The gate was used for special ceremonies, accession and to perform the funeral service of the sultan. Today tourists flock through it and attempt to take photos of kittens in front of it, like our infamous Chris, center stage.

Within this courtyard for dignitaries and officials is the courtroom where the men took care of the Empires official matters. Apparently the sultan use to sit behind a mesh screen and listen to the discussions and debates, pretending as if he was a fly on the wall and no one knew of his presence. However, it was known for him to sometimes speak up and completely overrule the decision of all those in the room. I found it quite comical to imagine it happening.

The gold, mesh rectangle in the center of this photo is the screen behind which the sultan would secretly listen to the discussions and debates of the Ottoman Empires officials.

aOne of the many detailed designs found on the ceiling of a room in Topkapi Palace.

The attention to detail in Topkapi Palace is remarkable.

This is the interior of a building called the Baghdad Kiosk, located in the residential area of the sultan. It is an excellent example of the famous blue Iznik tiles and mother-of-pearl inlay found throughout Ottoman architecture in Turkey.

The most magnificent things housed in Topkapi Palace are the jewels, like the worlds fifth largest diamond which was originally traded for three spoons giving it the nickname, Spoonmaker’s Diamond. The collection also has some of the worlds largest and most pristine emeralds found on the Topkapi Dagger which had a movie (1964) made about it called, Topkapi. But, as you can imagine, we were not aloud to take photos of such precious items.

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Chris and Laura in front of Aya Sophia.

Many shops like this one are scattered throughout the tourist area of Sultanahmet.

The Grand Bazaar’s shops are filled with jewellery, purses, lamps and other trinkets like apple tea, Turkish delight and shawls. Yet among this all, between the carpets and the lamps, was a small group of men enjoying a game of backgammon.

I can only imagine that participating in prayer in the Blue Mosque would be a very special moment. It is a glorious mosque.

Cats are everywhere in Turkey. This kitten found a nice napping spot on a shops display cushions. So cute.

Kebap. There are many different kinds of kebaps, and luckily so when daily it becomes our lunch and dinner.

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The Lonely Planet Turkey travel guide suggests the Cagaloglu Hamami, the Cemberlitas Hamami and the Yesildirek Hamami. The first two range from 80–100 Turkish Lira for the full Turkish bath experience, which is a steam room, a bathing and a massage. The third, Yesildirek Hamami, is a gay hamami which costs 30 Turkish Lira. A staff member at our hostel suggested we go to one called Sultanahmet Hamami which only costs 40 Turkish Lira for the full-deal. It’s also just up the main street from the Blue Mosque and Aya Sophia which is very close to our hostel.

The Turkish bath house called Sultanahmet Hamami in Istanbul, Turkey.

Only seconds after entering the door and seeing a white guy sitting in nothing more then two towels in the main foyer, Chris and I were ushered into a narrow change room, together. “Take off clothes. Hang there. Put on towel.” the man simply said has he pointed and then shook one of the thin, red plaid towels. We had both brought our bathing suits and towel not knowing what to expect. Leaving our swimming suits behind we proceeded to only wrap the thin towels around ourselves. But the Turkish bath towel was too small! So, I wrapped my own towel around my waist and their towel around my top. Perfect, problem solved.

We stepped out of the change room. Immediately a large serious looking man grunted in disapproval and one of the women started to shake her head and wave her hands. “No, no, no”, she said, as she tugged on my bottom towel. “Um, it’s too short.” I said. Within seconds I was taken to a closet full of more thin, plaid towels. My fingers had barely grasped it when a second lady ushered me towards a low wooden door. “Lady, come.” I followed her, glancing over my shoulder at Chris, not knowing what was happening or where he’d be taken.

I ducked through the door, through a little hall, then another door just in time to see my guide disappear behind a door that read, ‘MEN’. I hesitated. Being specifically told before coming to the bath that it was segregated, men and women, I wasn’t so sure I should follow. My guide stuck her head back out the door, “Lady, come.”

Just before my glasses completely fogged-up from the humidity, I managed to see there were no men in the room. In the center of the room was a large, flat marble slab about 2-feet high. She patted it at the same time the door swung open and Chris came in. We laid down, belly up, side-by-side on the warm marble. Relaxed, we looked up at the spiral-dome shaped ceiling and the many sinks within the room. Singing echoed through the bath. It grew louder until the door opened and like an ear drum clearing from a flight, the singing was loud and clear has the man walked around us. He ushered for Chris to sit on the floor by one of the sinks and started dumping water on Chris’s head with a bowl.

The door swung open, “Lady come.” After ducking through two low-framed doors she stopped, turned to me and tugged on my towel. “Oh sure,” I thought “Why the hell not?” I let her grab my towel, which left me butt naked in the humidity of the Turkish bath. We walked down a short tunnel-like hallway into a private chamber. In the center was a marble bed with two sinks behind it. She put my towel on the marble and mimed for me to lay belly down. She left the room and came back in nothing else then her black panties. “Um?”, I thought, “She’s a lot thinner and younger then the lady I remember when I went to a Turkish bath in 1999 when I visited Turkey with my parents and two friends. Only that time I wore my bathing suit and there were no private chambers.”

She pored hot water all over me, took something that looked like a giant pillowcase, swung it back and forth a few times and then squeezed it over top of me. Mounds of soft, white bubbles heaped on top of my body almost a foot high. After rubbing my legs and arms with her bare hands, she tied a scrub pad onto her hand and managed to remove all my dead skin, plus a couple of layers of live skin on my shoulders. The process continued to the other side ending with bowl after bowl of water being dumped on me before she gave my towel back and ushered me back into the men’s chamber. Chris and I looked at each other and back up at the spiral dome-shaped ceiling as we relaxed, yet again, on the hot marble floor.

The most difficult part of the Turkish bath experience was peeling ourselves off the marble to leave. The most enjoyable, besides absolute relaxation, was seeing the expressions and uneasiness of the fresh tourists entering the bath. I found their conservative body language interesting because outside the bath house they might view Turkey as conservative relative to their country, but inside the bath house they were the conservative ones. Lastly, just has a heads-up, it is common for bath houses to mix tourists instead of segregating them.

This is an experience that definitely should not be missed, and one that we fully intend on doing throughout Turkey.

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The cistern is supported by 336, 9-meter tall marble columns. Istanbul used the cistern to store as much as 100,000 tones of water. They most likely used the Roman aqueduct, as well as newer constructed aqueducts to transport the water the 19 kilometers from the Belgrad forest to the cistern.

The Basilica Cistern, Istanbul, Turkey

In fact, the cistern is featured in the James Bond movie “From Russia with Love”. When the movie was shot the cistern was not open to the public. However on September 9, 1987 after renovations, removal of 50,000 tons of mud and the construction of a wooden walkway for vistors to make their way through the cistern, it was open to all local and foreign visitors. Today there is even a small restaurant in the cistern with a small circular stage. It could be quite the wedding venue!

I had no idea what to expect upon entering the cistern. Even though Chris and I had just watched “From Russia with Love” about three months before, I had not made the connection. After paying 10 New Turkish Lira each (about $7.40 Canadian) we curved around the corner and found ourselves at the top of stairs overlooking a dark, open underground space. Columns reached off into the distance.

It isn’t very often you get to stand eye level with the Corinthian and Ionic tops of columns, but there I was parallel with them. I stood for a second, my mouth hanging open in awe, and then I descended the very staircase Chris believes was used for the shot in the James Bond movie.

You look out into the darkness, the columns highlighted with reddish-orange light shining on each of their bases. A sweet, but sorrow-felt music drifts in the air. The humidity softly touches your face. A drop of water pats onto your head. Fish, from 6 inches to 1.5 feet slowly undulate in the shallow water and you think to yourself, “Do they expect me to feed them? Do people feed them? Or, is that fish just taking a break?”

Ripples expand away from the columns, near and far from you.They are from the drops of water falling from the ceiling. Strangely, the ceiling looks dry. You find a calm area and notice the reflection of the columns in the shallow water.

One of two Medusa heads found in the cistern used as the base of a column. Istanbul, Turkey.

Two columns have Medusa heads for bases. One is upside down and one is on its right cheek. They would have been underwater when the cistern was in use and when they were placed there, so Chris and I hypothesize, they were put there for practical, functional reasons. They needed something to support the pillars, they had the two heads and they fit, so they used them. At the same time, it is possible the the workers did not put them upright because of superstition. Nonetheless, who wants to look Medusa in the face anyways?

Medusa head used for the base of a column in the cistern. Istanbul, Turkey.

The cistern is well worth the 10 New Turkish Lira. If you get the chance to visit, take your time and walk through the columns slowly and try to use all your senses in your observation of its uniqueness.

Laura and Chris trying out some self photography in the cistern.

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One day while a Turkish man ploughed his field, he found this and two other marble urns buried, but overflowing with gold. With that, he pronounced himself a sultan, and as a kind gesture to the current sultan he gave the urn seen above (empty of gold, I might add). Years after the urns were found, one was gifted to England and the other could be found in one of the Turkish baths.

Aya Sophia, Istanbul, Turkey

Aya Sophia’s main dome, Istanbul, Turkey

Aya Sophia, Istanbul, Turkey

Aya Sophia, Istanbul, Turkey

Aya Sophia, Istanbul, Turkey

Aya Sophia, Istanbul, Turkey

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