Unforgettable Antakya

 

On February 6, 2023, two powerful earthquakes, 7.8 and 7.7, struck southeast Turkey. Over 50,000 people died, countless more wounded or left homeless, in a large swath of Turkey and northwest Syria. Among the cities hardest hit was Antakya, ancient Antioch. Hundreds of buildings collapsed or were damaged beyond repair. A vibrant town with a rich history and a distinctive local culture, Antakya was one of my favorite places in Turkey.

I first visited Antakya 50 years ago, in October, 1974. Marie-Henriette was writing a PhD dissertation on the nearby site of Alalakh (Tell Atchana), on its Bronze Age settlements in the mid-second millennium BC. This ancient city had been excavated by the British archaeologist Sir Leonard Woolley from 1936-1939 and again after World War II, from 1946-1949. Although Woolley published a final report of his findings in 1955, gaps in his presentation invited further investigation - - which is what Marie-Henriette set out to do. As so often in the archaeological study of the Ancient Near East, ceramics were an important category of evidence, so she applied to the Turkish government for permission to examine pottery from Alalakh kept in the regional museum in the center of Antakya. Permission granted, off she went. I came, too, to help her draw and photograph potsherds from the periods she was investigating. We stayed in the one decent hotel, the Atahan, a ten-minute walk from the museum located on the other side of the Orontes River that flowed through the city. The work hours were 9 to 5, Monday through Friday, with a break for lunch. The work went slowly but Marie-Henriette was able to collect the information she needed.

The museum itself had been constructed in the 1930s by the French during the 20 years of their control of the city, from 1919-1938 (in the Sanjak of Alexandretta, part of the French Mandate of Syria). It would be replaced by a much larger museum in 2014. The old museum where we worked was an attractive building with a good sense of light and air, thanks to high ceilings in several rooms. The city was exotic for us, with its distinctive ethnic blend of Arabs and Turks, Muslims and Christians, and with its excellent food. We didn't speak much Turkish then, and no Arabic at all, but we managed. At one point came a religious holiday, the end of Ramadan. The museum was closed. What to do? Riding in a shared taxi, we went to Aleppo in northwest Syria, not far as the crow flies, but the Turkish-Syrian border had to be crossed – never a quick process. Aleppo, much larger than Antakya, was also a lively, handsome city with a rich culture. The holiday was celebrated there, too, but it was new and different and there was lots to see just walking around. Aleppo, too, has been ravaged in recent years, not by earthquakes but by people, in the strife that has ripped Syria apart since 2011.

During my years at the Kinet Höyük excavations, from 1993 until 2012, I made numerous trips to Antakya. Kinet Höyük is located in Hatay province, of which Antakya is the administrative capital. All finds from excavations in Turkey belong to the state. At the end of each excavation season, complete objects would be handed over to the provincial museum, in our case the Hatay Archaeological Museum. Fragmentary items were kept in a storeroom in the excavation house, locked and sealed under the supervision of the museum. Eventually, in 2005, a very nice display of Kinet finds would be installed in the old museum.

Other official administrative matters, such as obtaining residence permits for non-Turkish team members, were also handled in Antakya. As the project director, Marie-Henriette went frequently to Antakya. I would come from time to time, at least once each summer, for enjoyment of the city.

My last trip was in 2013, for a symposium on the archaeology of the province held at the local university, Mustafa Kemal University. The new museum was under construction. Its walls and roof were up, but exhibits had not yet been installed. We were able to go inside and get an idea of the space. The official opening of the new museum took place at the end of 2014. The 2023 earthquakes seriously damaged the museum. Repairs will be needed – and the Kinet Höyük display will have to be redone.

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Other memories of Antakya:

Soap. Antakya produced soap made from olive oil, often with laurel oil (from bay leaves) added. The higher the percentage of laurel, the better the soap. Which was the best soap? Opinions varied. I used to buy from a little shop on the main street in the west side of town because I enjoyed talking with the owner. But shops in the covered bazaar, on the east side of the river, had excellent soap, too.

Künefe. A favorite dessert in the city, made from kadayıf (which resembles that old American breakfast favorite, shredded wheat), but with fresh cheese, low in salt, as well as sugar syrup. It is served hot. A small plaza in the city center, on the east side of the river near the mosque, was lined with shops specialing in künefe. A little plateful of künefe and a glass of tea made a perfect afternoon treat.

Grilled chicken. The cuisine of Antakya was a delight, with dishes not found in Ankara or Istanbul, often showing the influence of nearby Syria. My favorite was simple: grilled chicken, spiced with a marinade that featured red pepper, cumin, oregano, and lemon juice. I first ate this in the 1977, at the Zümrüt Restaurant close to the Atahan Hotel. The term in Turkish for this marinade is “terbiyeli”. This word also means well-behaved, polite, or well-brought up. That was the meaning I had learned, so I was surprised that it could be applied to grilled chicken. But indeed “lemon spiced marinade” is another meaning of the word, nothing to do with behavior. As for “Zümrüt,” it means “emerald,” so I have always connected emeralds with peppered grilled chicken.

Orontes River. This river flows from south (beginning in Syria) to north, like the Nile, although curving to the southwest in Antakya as it heads toward the Mediterranean. This atypical direction is thought to explain its Turkish name, Ası, or “rebel.” In ancient times, the city could be reached from the sea, by boat. Not so in modern times. Whenever I saw it, the river was low, and looked feeble; sometimes garbage or even dead animals, a donkey for example, would be floating by. I knew, though, that the river still had power: from time to time it could rise and even overflow into the city. Despite its appearance, the Orontes retains a certain magic. I particularly like its representation in a famous ancient statue, the Tyche of Antioch, by the sculptor, Eutychides. A handsome woman, the goddess of Fortune, crowned by the city walls of Antioch, sits on rocks. Beneath her feet is a young man who is swimming; he personifies the Orontes River. Although the original statue of the early 3rd century BC is lost, its appearance survives in Roman copies and in images on the city's coins.

Car accident. I was driving our vintage 1984 Mercedes station wagon and somehow found myself in the thick of traffic at an intersection of narrow streets in the old part of town. To get out of the knot I was in, I had to maneuver back and forth, back and forth. On one “back” I hit another car. The damage wasn't much but oh, the commotion! The other driver was yelling at me and I couldn't say a thing. A policeman fortuitously standing nearby came over and calmed us down and helped us fill out the forms for reporting an accident. Nothing came of this, in terms of payments, but at the time, it seemed the end of the world.

Churches. Since Antakya did not become part of Turkey until 1939, its Christian residents were not subject to the exchange of population of 1923 – in which the Orthodox Christians of Turkey were compelled to migrate to Greece, the Muslims of Greece to Turkey. (Exceptions: The Orthodox living in Istanbul and some islands in the northeast Aegean, and the Muslims living in northeast Greece / western Thrace.). As a result, in Hatay province one still finds Christians of various sects – Greek Orthodox and Roman Catholic, notably. Along a principal shopping street in the old city stood an attractive Greek Orthodox church, built in the 1870s – after an earthquake had destroyed its predecessor – and very well maintained, with a big courtyard in front. A small Catholic church, also in good condition, was not far off. Both were destroyed in the 2023 earthquakes.

The main church of interest in Antakya is the so-called St. Peter's church, carved into a cliff. This has survived the earthquakes. The facade is carved; the interior is a good-sized empty room with a tall ceiling. Its date cannot be determined, but one must imagine it is old. Since Antakya has a special place in early Christian history – here, according to the New Testament, the followers of Jesus were first called Christians (Acts of the Apostles 11: 26) – any trace of early Christians would be important. At the moment, this cave church is the only candidate. Other churches of earlier centuries, mentioned in literary sources, have all disappeared, victims of the many earthquakes that have struck the city. The cave church is administered as a museum, under the jurisdiction of the Ministry of Tourism and Culture. But once a year, on June 29, the Feast of Sts. Peter and Paul, an ecumenical service is held, with leaders of the various Christian communities presiding. I attended once or twice; it was very moving to be there, in a large crowd gathered on the terrace in front of the church. Inside, on days without ceremony, I might visit, sitting in one of the folding chairs provided, breathing gently in and out, relaxing in this large empty space, absorbing the vibrations, and thinking of the many people who had come here, like me, for spiritual sustenance.

Old houses. The old city was full of wonderful houses from the 19th and early 20th centuries, traditional Syrian in plan, built of the beautiful cream-colored stone of the region. I came to know a few, thanks to chance. Fran, our conservator at Kinet Höyük, had friends who were teaching English at a private high school. At first, they were renting a very large traditional house, single storey, with a paved courtyard surrounded by rooms, and a large garden beyond, in which pomelo trees grew. They performed small tasks of maintenance as part of their rental agreement. Stepping into this house was to enter another world. This couple would eventually leave this house for another, which they bought and fixed up very nicely. That, too, had great character. Fran followed suit, buying one half of an already divided house. It was definitely a fixer-upper. Bit by bit she made improvements, including installing a serious metal frame over the bed, in case of earthquake damage.

Eventually, though, the neighborhood changed character. It became trendy, this old part of the city, with restaurants, bars, and boutique hotels. With the trendiness came noise, particularly in the evenings well into the night. Finding this too much, Fran's friends sold their house and left for a quieter neighborhood. Fran herself realized that her life was taking her in other, unexpected directions; she wasn't spending time in Antakya, after all. So she sold her house, too. In the 2023 earthquake, Fran's house collapsed completely; her friends' house was seriously damaged.

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What else? Abdo's fabulous döner sandwiches; the beautiful restaurants in Harbiye (Defne), the suburb loved by the Romans; the bitter cold and air pollution (from coal and wood stoves) of the winter months; Woolley's excavation house at Tell Atchana/Alalakh, abandoned and falling apart; the noble architecture of the governor's mansion, never visited but admired through its gates . . .

Always more to remember, but for now, let this do.

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For the old houses of Antakya:

Ataman Demir. 1996. Çağlar içinde Antakya [English version: Through the Ages: Antakya]. Istanbul: Akbank.

For the history of Antakya:

Andrea U. De Giorgi & A. Asa Eger. 2021. Antioch, A History. London & New York: Routledge.

Chania, Rethymnon, and Heraklion. Crete without the Minoan Palaces, Part 3 (last part)

Driving west to Chania, the largest city in western Crete, was our next aim.  Our first stop: the Museum of Ancient Eleutherna, which we had been told was impressive.  Indeed it was!  Opened in 2016, this museum has beautiful and instructive displays.  Website: https://mae.uoc.gr

[Photo: www.ekathimerini.com]

Finding this museum was a challenge. Eleutherna, an important city from the Iron Age through the Roman imperial period, is located not on the coast but inland, in the foothills of Mt. Ida.  Turning off the highway, we headed for the modern town of Eleftherna.  The country roads went here and there and signage was poor.  The museum was not once indicated.  At one point we found ourselves high up in a remote area with large enclosures for sheep and goats.  We were completely lost!  An auto repair shop saved the day. My modern Greek is rudimentary but I can still say "Where is the road to ... ?"  Two men were heading toward Eleftherna, so we followed them and eventually reached the town.  But in the town, ruins, yes, but where was the museum? A shopkeeper solved the mystery: the museum lies a few kilometers beyond, in the middle of nowhere.  

Before continuing to the museum, we had a look at the ruins from a high vantage point where a site plan was posted. The ruins are scattered over a large area, on the tops of crests and in valleys.  It wasn't at all clear how the tourist would visit them.  I'd say a  knowledgeable guide is a must.

    Ruins of Eleftherna (photo: by Aeleftherios, from the internet) 

Beyond the museum, the road leads to the Arkadi Monastery.  From the outside, it looks grim, like a military fort or a prison. It didn't help that the weather was gray and rainy.

Inside the walled compound lies the main church, built in the later 16th century. Although it's an Orthodox church, the influence of Italian baroque architecture is very clear. Not a  surprise, since Venice controlled Crete at that time.

(Photo: from the internet, MoniArkadiou2, taken on a sunny day)

The monastery is known for a tragedy that took place in 1866. During an uprising against Ottoman rule, nearly 1,000 people, rebels but also many women and children, took refuge here. Rather than surrender, the rebels, deciding on collective suicide, lit the gunpowder stored in the monastery.

By the time we finished our visit to the monastery, it was late and we hadn't had lunch. The only place serving was a tourist shop, large but mostly empty of people.  The only enticing thing on the menu was yogurt with honey.  No complaints about that.

Down to the coast, this time on a good road. After a stop for coffee in the generic outskirts of Rethymnon, the largest city on the north coast between Heraklion and Chania, we continued westwards.  

This air photo of Chania (found on the internet) gives a great view of the old city and its harbor, on a sunny day. 

(Photo: by dronepicr, from the internet) 

Our first impression, after we parked our car, came from the solid Venetian city walls of the 16^th century (lower right, in the above photo).

We walked into the old city with its picturesque narrow streets and found our hotel. A building from Venetian times, the current owner's mother had bought it just after World War II and refurbished it as a hotel.

With its harbor, Chania was an important center in Minoan times, but because of continuous habitation over the centuries, the Minoan presence is not so easy to document. On the east side of the harbor, on Kastelli hill, Swedish and Greek archaeologists working from 1969 to 2014 found important traces of the Minoans. Their excavation trenches can still be seen, with a ground plan posted.

On our second evening, we had dinner in the eastern part of the harbor, beyond the Kastelli hill. On our way to the restaurant, we crossed a square with loud speakers being tested, banners and lights adjusted, and people milling about: much excitement because Kyriakos Mitsotakis, the prime minister, was coming that very evening for a rally.

Mitsotakis at a rally, somewhere in Greece, at some point before the elections (first round, May 21)

(Photo: from internet, www.cnbc.com)

Our main destination in Chania was the new archaeological museum. Located outside the city center, it was difficult to find – again, almost no signs. We stopped in a gas station for directions.

New Archaeological Museum, Chania (Photo: from the internet, www.archaeologicalmuseums.gr/en)

This museum is spacious and elegant. 

The "Master Impression," a Minoan seal impression in clay, from Chania, now in the Archaeological Museum, Chania

(Photo: from the internet, www.pinterest.com)

We particularly admired the state-of-the-art presentation of Minoan seal stones with stylized images carved on them. An enlarged photo of the tiny original is slowly overlaid with a reconstructed drawing, so the viewer can actually understand what the images represent.

We finished our visit with lunch at the museum's outdoor terrace café.

Eleftherios Venizelos (Photo: from the internet, www.deltanews.gr)

Chania's most famous modern son is Eleftherios Venizelos (1864-1936), a major figure of Greek politics in the early 20^th century. He is buried in a simple grave in a cemetery that overlooks the city. 

Tombs of Eleftherios Venizelos and his son, Sophocles Venizelos 

The surrounding park has other monuments, large and small, and admirers of all sorts.

After a visit to another monastery with Venetian influence in its architecture – Ayia Triada, which has a beautiful, well-kept garden --

we drove on to the Suda Bay War Cemetery to pay homage to John Pendlebury, a British archaeologist and Minoan specialist who was killed during the German invasion of the island in World War II. 

The cemetery is maintained in perfect condition by the Commonwealth War Graves Commission.

Our week on Crete was now coming to an end. After Chania, we turned east, this time to Heraklion, the main city of the island. On the way, we stopped in Aspera, an ancient Greek city. The wildflowers were gorgeous. 

Ancient theater, Aspera 

So, too, was the view over the entrance to Suda Bay.

We stopped for lunch in Rethymnon, in the center of the old town.

We parked at the foot of a Venetian castle – yes, another one – and walked across the city center, picturesque and quiet -- at least until we reached the eastern harbor lined with restaurants filled with tourists.

Harbor seen from the restaurants

 We backtracked to a less touristic square and had lunch there.

Our final stop was Heraklion. This, too, was a Venetian center, and has some impressive buildings from that period although scattered among much modern construction of little beauty. 

The Morosini Fountain, Heraklion 

 We stayed just outside the city center, to be assured of a quiet night.

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Our main goal in Heraklion was to visit the Archaeological Museum, famed for its displays of Minoan art.

 [https://www.heraklionmuseum.gr/en]

The museum (the ground floor, at least) was remodeled from 2006-2013. Having not been to Crete for such a long time, we were seeing it anew. 

A Minoan snake goddess (or priestess) from Knossos, 

now in the Archaeological Museum, Heraklion

The displays are remarkable for the quantity of objects presented as well as for the quality, all well-exhibited with excellent labels and lighting.

The upstairs – less frequented by tourists – features the post-Bronze Age periods, with many interesting objects, too.

Oddly, little is presented about the archaeological sites themselves: the ancient architecture and urban contexts, and nothing about the history of exploration and excavation. Perhaps the designers of these displays assumed the visitors would be going to the major Minoan sites – such as Knossos, Phaistos, Mallia, and Kato Zakro – and would learn there about Minoan civilization. A shortcoming, I'd say, that needs to be remedied.

The Loggia, a 16th century Venetian building in Heraklion

The next morning, our last, we drove east of Heraklion beyond the airport in a search for the ruins of Amnisos, a Minoan port town known for a wall painting of lilies, now in Heraklions's Archaeological Museum.  The best candidate we found was overgrown with bushes and weeds, so we weren't sure we had come to the right place.

Then back to the airport, named for the Cretan writer, Nikos Kazantzakis, for the short flight to the Eleftherios Venizelos airport of Athens.  On the way, a great view of the volcanic island of Thera (aka Santorini)!  But this is a story for another time.

Crete without the Minoan Palaces. Part 2

 The next day, after a breakfast of cappuccino and bougatsa -- my favorite Greek breakfast -- we left the Bronze Age and instead visited a late medieval church near Kritsa; Lato, an ancient city located high in the mountains; and a Venetian fortress on a tiny island, Spinalonga. 

The church (13th-14th centuries) dedicated to Panagia Kera, the Virgin Mary, is famous for its wall paintings.  The church itself is small, but that's typical of churches from the Late Byzantine period.  You walk inside a small building, plain and ordinary from the outside, to be plunged immediately into another world. 

The religious imagery covering every available inch of surface, floor to ceiling, is overwhelming. 

Surprisingly in this Orthodox church, St. Francis of Assisi is here, too -- a sign of the Italian influence which was strong on Crete.

I don't know why the frescoes in this church have survived so well over the centuries.  Whatever the reason, it's a blessing.

Across from the church tourist shops abound. 

I love the giant lemons.

Our next stop was Lato, a ruined city up in the mountains that was inhabited notably during the Classical and Hellenistic periods, 5th-3rd centuries BC.  For defense, the site was great: a good view down to the seacoast, but discouragingly difficult for pirates to reach.  And the city controlled the passes from central to eastern Crete, allowing it to dominate the region. 

The ruins of stone buildings are spread over the hilltops.  It looks like a modest city, without huge religious or civic buildings. 

Daily life must have been a challenge: connecting with farm fields, transporting food and other items up & down, and conserving fresh water.  

Excavations were conducted by French archaeologists in 1899/1900 and again from 1967-1972.  I can imagine that the logistics of working here were difficult.

We were fascinated by an exotic flower, a  rather menacing purple bloom emerging from a large plant.  This, it turns out, is a Dragon arum (Dracunculus vulgaris).  As you can imagine, we weren't tempted to give the flower a sniff, but this turned out to be a missed opportunity.  We later learned later that it smells like rotting meat, to attract flies which will pollinate.  Had we only known . . . 

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After leaving Lato, we headed north toward Spinalonga.  We soon became hopelessly lost in a tangle of poorly marked country roads.  Eventually we emerged, finding the main east-west highway, and made it to Elounda, a small town north of Agios Nikolaos that has been developed for summer tourism.

I was determined to swim, even though I could feel a sore throat  coming on.  We parked  by the municipal beach.  In the back seat of our small car I managed to change into my bathing suit. In late April the water was bound to be cold and indeed, I was the only person out on the beach that afternoon.  But after the initial shock, the water was perfect and I felt great! The beach was supplied with showers, but they weren't yet turned on, so I dried myself off and accepted that a salty self was my lot for the rest of the day.

Our last stop was the Venetian fort on the small island of Spinalonga.  This was not on the tourist itinerary when I last visited Crete in 1989.  I was eager to see it.  The Venetians, who controlled Crete from 1205-1669, fortified Spinalonga in the late 16th century, part of their program to protect their Cretan possession against the threat of the Ottomans.  The Ottomans did not seize Spinalonga until 1715, well after they had taken over the rest of Crete.  

From 1903-1957, the island served as a leper colony, one of the last in Europe.  Eventually, as the touristic potential of the island became clear, renovations were carried out and the island was opened for visitors.

The town opposite is Plaka.  From here, a short boat ride brings you to the island. We caught the last boat of the day.

We had only 45 minutes to explore the island before the last boat returned to Plaka.  Not nearly enough time: at least 2 hours would be needed.  But we had no choice.

The fortress is imposing.  Massive construction survives everywhere

 but also the quiet and peace of silent ruins from ages long gone.

The paths go up through picturesque cactus and wildflowers.

The views are fabulous.

The temptations to swim, picnic, and take formal photographs are huge, as the tourist authorities recognize with this sign full of No's.  

All too soon it's time to leave.  Having raced up to the top, we now must quickly return to the dock for the boat back to Plaka.

Then back to Elounda and Agios Nikolaos for one more night. 

 

Crete without the Minoan Palaces. Part 1

I have moved to Paris, so have begun a new blog for anything concerning Paris, France, or western Europe. https://paris-montrougescribbler.blogspot.com.  Do have a look!

I will keep this blog going, though, for anything concerning Turkey, Greece, Cyprus, eastern Europe, the Levant, Egypt, the eastern Mediterranean, and southwest Asia.  

My next group of posts will deal with Crete.

Crete without the Minoan Palaces.  Part 1

One week in Crete, late April, after Orthodox Easter, our first time on the island since 1989 (me) or 1980 (M-H).  We do not want to visit Minoan palaces -- Knossos, Malia, Phaistos, or Kato Zakro.   They are familiar.  We have seen them already and taught them in classes. We want to see new sites, new places!

We arrive in Heraklion by plane, rent a car (Toyota Yaris), and drive east to Agios Nikolaos where we will stay three nights.  The parking lot below our little hotel has a dramatic but rather ugly sculpture of Europa and the bull.

First stop the next morning: Gournia.  An exception, for this Minoan site has a little palace, or palace-like mansion, on its hilltop.  We walk along its paved streets, from 2,500 years ago.

Gournia was excavated in the early 20th century by Harriet Boyd (later Hawes, after her marriage). An American, she was prohibited from taking part on American excavations in Greece -- for women, not allowed -- so she decided to do it herself.  With Edith Hall, she rode east from Heraklion on a donkey, and conducted scientific explorations in this region.  Uncovering most of this small Minoan village, Gournia, and soon after publishing a detailed account of her findings was a highlight of her work and a major achievement in the archaeology of this island. 

Harriet Boyd Hawes (1871-1945)

Other American archaeologists have been active in this corner of Crete, contemporaries of Boyd Hawes like Richard Seager, and in recent years, a generous cluster of active scholars, such as Philip Betancourt, Jeffrey Soles, Vance Watrous, Leslie Day, Geraldine Gesell, Donald Haggis, John Younger, and Angus Smith (who is based in Canada). [Forgive me if I have left you out.] Also located here is the INSTAP Study Center for East Crete, which offers state-of-the-art facilities for the study of the findings from their projects and from projects of Greek and other archaeologists. Here is the center's web site, for more information: https://instapstudycenter.net

(Photo from the web site of the Study Center)

The director since the opening of the Study Center in 1997 has been Thomas Brogan.  His great knowledge of the archaeology of Crete and his generosity and good cheer have been instrumental in the success of the center.  

With Tom we visit Mochlos, a Minoan town located on a small island just off the north coast. The weather is too windy for a boat to cross, and it's certainly too cold to swim, so we must settle for a look from the mainland. 

After a late lunch at Mochlos (on the mainland), Tom drives us  (4-wheel drive essential) up to Azoria, a site on a steep hilltop, where excavations have revealed exciting clues about social changes that led to the rise of cities in the early Iron Age. 

Aerial view of Azoria (photo from the Azoria Project web site. https://azoria.unc.edu)

We return in the early evening to Agios Nikolaos, for a tasty dinner and a good night's sleep.  

Parked near our hotel . . .