Summer
school has ended and a major Muslim holiday, the Feast of the Sacrifice (Kurban
Bayramı), four days long, is about to begin.
The campus is quickly emptying.
Students have gone; staff is going.
Professors and their families, resident on campus, are away, too. Of course it’s mid-August, the height of the
holiday season. The urge To Go Somewhere
is strong! But why leave Ankara, where
the weather has been sunny, clear, and dry, with day time temperatures in the mid-80s
F (30 C), night time temperatures as low as 60 F (15 C)? The beaches –Mediterranean and Aegean coasts –
are crowded, the heat and humidity high.
Air conditioning is a must.
I
can defend a “staycation” in Ankara because we have already had our Aegean holiday. In early July, we spent a week in northeast
Greece, followed by four days near Assos / Behramkale, in northeast Turkey. The archaeological sites, museums, modern
towns, and scenery were wonderful. And
we were able to go swimming several times!
We
took a high speed train to Istanbul: 4+ hours to the Asian shore, then
transferred to a local train to go under the Bosporus. From Sirkeci Train
Station, we caught the tramway up the hill to the Sultanahmet stop.
Istanbul crowds are always huge but despite
our suitcases we managed.
After finding our hotel, downhill from the Sultan
Ahmet Mosque (Blue Mosque), we walked through the narrow streets to the
seashore, passing old houses, some reconverted into small hotels, restaurants,
some chic some not, simple markets, children playing ball, people sitting and
chatting. On the other side of the busy
coast road, on the boulder-lined shore men were fishing or swimming or sunning
themselves.
For
dinner we went to an Indian restaurant, Dubb, adored by two Bilkent friends,
one vegetarian, one not. We were seated on a lower floor and so didn’t profit
from the great view that our friends love, but that was OK, the food was excellent.
The
next day we left for Greece by bus, departing from the giant Esenler bus
station that lies beyond the medieval city walls. The bus, which goes from Istanbul to Thessaloniki,
is run jointly by Kamil Koç, a large Turkish bus company, and Crazy Holidays, a
Greek firm. It left at 10:00 am and,
after a brief rest stop and one hour spent crossing first the Turkish, then the
Greek border posts, dropped us off in Alexandroupolis (Dedeağaç, in Turkish),
on the other side of the border, at 3:30 pm. The bus was very comfortable and the ride was
a pleasure. I particularly enjoyed the
views of the Marmara Sea and the brilliant green rice paddies along the Turkish
side of the Meriç (Evros) River, which forms the boundary between the two
countries.
Most of our fellow
passengers were Turks of Greek nationality, living in the cities of Komotini or
Xanthi (Gömülcine and İskeçe, in Turkish).
In 1923, the Muslims of that region, Western Thrace, were not subjected
to the exchange of populations between Turkey and Greece (Orthodox people moved
from Turkey to Greece, Muslims from Greece to Turkey), a counterbalance to the
Orthodox allowed to remain in Istanbul and on the islands of Gökçeada (Imbros,
in Greek) and Bozcaada (Tenedos). Most of the Greeks of Istanbul have since left,
but the Turks of Western Thrace still remain in goodly numbers. In Greece they are officially identified as members
of the country’s Muslim minority, not as Turks (even if most are Turkish-speaking).
In
Alexandroupolis we stayed at a very nice, new boutique hotel, installed in an older
building that once served as the French Consulate. We met our two friends
coming from Athens, and strolled to the waterfront, where there is a long,
broad avenue lined with cafés, in the late afternoon all full with people of
all ages. I had my first frappé of the
trip = iced nescafé, which has become the Greek national summer beverage. I like it with milk, but without sugar.
Offshore
looms an imposing mountain. This is the
island of Samothrace, where we were heading the next day.
Marie-Henriette and I got up really early to
be at the ticket office at 7:00 am when it opened, because our friends had
experienced a long line the previous afternoon.
We didn’t have to wait long, though, and so were able to return downtown
for a leisurely breakfast at a café that featured Illy coffee. A local specialty is bougatsa, a breakfast
treat of flaky pastry filled with cheese (salty white) or cream (with semolina
and sugar), dusted with powdered sugar and cinnamon. We had one of each, plus cappuccinos. They were delicious.
Bougatsa is surely the same word as Turkish poğaça (pronounced “po-ah-cha”) -- not
to mention Italian focaccia -- but the two are entirely different. A poğaça is an oval-shaped savory breakfast
roll, typically filled with a small amount of white cheese. A glass of tea (the Turkish national drink) +
a poğaça make a tasty breakfast if you are in a Turkish café and in something
of a hurry.
The
ferry left at 9:00 am. At 11:30 am, we
arrived at Kamariotissa, the small port of Samothrace.
Because the mountain is essentially the
island, the population of the island is small.
Because there are almost no sand beaches, tourism has not overwhelmed
the place. Nonetheless, we were part of
a goodly number of tourists, especially Bulgarians and Romanians, for whom Western
Thrace is easy to reach.
I
had arranged beforehand for a car rental; our friend Bob had telephoned to
confirm. I hadn’t had to give credit
card details, though. We found the
place, with a line of motorbikes out in front.
“How much did you agree to pay?” I was asked. I remembered, and quoted the price. I got out my credit card.
"Cash only!"
Fortunately I had enough.
“Your license?” I showed my Turkish license. He filled out the rental form, with only my
first two names (misspelled) and “Turkey” for the driver’s license, the model
& license plate of the car, and the price.
Gas? Bring it back at the same
level (3/8 full). Insurance? In the hands of the gods. That was it, and we were off.
For lunch, we drove
up from Kamariotissa to Chora, the main town of the island. Located inland and up, the town can barely be
seen from the sea – good protection against marauders over the centuries.
Houses are of stone, the streets narrow, and
the main square, pretty small, had a fine restaurant. I saw for the first time in my life a car with a license plate from San Marino.
Our
hotel was not far off, an low-key attractive place by the seashore. The beach was rocky, but we had our special
shoes for rocky beaches and so went swimming without agony.
The water was delightful, clear and cool here
in the north Aegean, and the hotel had a nice set-up with chaises longues and
umbrellas and a bar. I had another
frappé.
The
next day we visited the Sanctuary of the Great Gods – the main reason why an
archaeologist would visit Samothrace.
Here, in this religious center favored by the Macedonian royal family of
the 4th century BC, Philip II, his son Alexander the Great, and their generals
who set up kingdoms after Alexander’s death, New York University has been
conducting excavations since just before World War II.
Even before NYU, in 1863 Charles Champoiseau,
the French consul in Adrianople (today’s Edirne), discovered here the Winged
Victory (= Nike), one of the most famous of Hellenistic Greek statues.
The island
then belonged to the Ottoman Empire, but somehow the statue made its way to
Paris, where it is dramatically
displayed in the Louvre.
The
sanctuary is beautifully set alongside ravines on the lower slope of the
mountain.
Trees are everywhere. The ruined buildings stand on many different
levels, so this is one of those 3-D sites that you really have to visit in
order to appreciate the layout.
It’s
clear that in ancient times, taking part in the mystery cults featured here
would have been an overwhelming experience.
Excavations (surveying) in progress
An on-site museum is
being restored, its roof having suffered severe rain damage some years before.
Having driven on the
west side of the island the day before, until the road came to an end, we
decided to do the same on the east side. We stopped for lunch in a small town
developed around thermal springs. I had
black-eyed peas, the others chickpeas or salads; we passed up the goat
offerings, even though we knew they were island specialties.
Again, the Sanctuary of the Great Gods
The road eventually
ended in some massive cliffs. So back we
turned, to Kamariotissa and the funny car rental place and the evening ferry to
Alexandroupolis.
