Amasra on the Black Sea

            I have seen the Black Sea at several places – in Russia (Taman peninsula), Georgia (Batumi), and the Turkish coast from Kilyos (near Istanbul) east to Trabzon, Rize, and Hopa – and it has always seemed uninviting, even menacing. True, I have never enjoyed a sandy beach in mid-summer, when the Black Sea must be a friendly, refreshing resource.

         In mid-October I went on a day trip to Amasra (ancient Amastris) with a group. I had been once before, with relatives, but that was 20 years ago and my memories were vague, although very positive: two little harbors separated by a peninsula with the ruins of medieval Genoese fortifications, a simple but clean hotel, a top-rate fish dinner, and a stop at a sandy beach not far away.  I looked forward to visiting the town again.  Although the sky was overcast, which gives the sea a dark, threatening air, I was in no way disappointed. The trip took longer than anticipated – it’s 300 km from Ankara, and after you turn off the Ankara-Istanbul highway, the drive slows down as you wend your way through the Pontic mountains. Vegetation increased, since the mountains catch the rain, with traces of autumn in the leaves, even if evergreens predominated, and the accumulations of cut logs indicating the importance of the timber business. Eventually Bartin is reached, today’s principal city in the region; from there, Amasra and the Black Sea are not far.

         Our first stop was Roman: Bird’s Rock (Kuşkaya), a large eagle carved on the cliff just above a narrow path the Romans had hewn out of the rock in order to descend down to the seacoast. An inscription gives the date and the circumstances: built by the regional governor, an on this fairly mild, not rainy Saturday in mid-October, so we had to wait a bit for the best photo opportunities. 

         After the sharp descent to Amasra, our bus parked in a lot by the western harbor and we walked by various cafés where people were drinking tea to our lunch stop, the Amasra Balık Evi, in the town center. The place settings in the restaurant were color photos of Amasra at sunset. The lunch was delicious: fish of various sorts (hamsi, mezgit, etc.) lightly fried in a corn meal batter (corn meal is a Black Sea staple), an “Amasra salad” (a copious mound of lettuce, other greens, tomatoes, pickles, etc., decorated with slices of large radishes with a small carrot roundel in the center – to look like daisies), and for dessert, yogurt from water buffalo milk with honey, and a paste of semolina and walnuts (cevizli helva), all served with great attentiveness, in the best Turkish manner. Tea, of course, before we got up to see the sights.

         That day was the anniversary of the Ottoman conquest of the city in 1460, so by the old city gates at the bridge lead to the island just across from the city center, young men dressed up in red or green Janissary costumes stood as sentries. 

We also saw a wedding party, with bride and groom, 

and a group of women enveloped in black, all part of the crowds enjoying this Saturday afternoon. A huge banner of Atatürk was hung from the walls, along with Turkish flags. 

 Atatürk says "Korkma!" ("Do not be afraid!")

 

Fahri, our guide, an expert on Ottoman archaeology, took us to see the remains of the Genoese fort.  The Genoese, prosperous late medieval merchants, had established business centers in Constantinople (the Galata Tower is theirs), here, and in the Crimea (13th-15th centuries). One can still see imposing bits of walls with Genoese crests in and around modern houses. 

This historic district looks pretty modest.  Turkish people today prefer modern construction – the idea of fixing up an 18th century house, for example, is very odd – which is a great pity for those of us who value historic preservation – so I imagine well-to-do Amasrans have long ago left the old city for the recently constructed suburbs. Who is left in the old sections? Old people have lived there their entire lives and and people of low income who can’t afford other options.   And some eccentrics. 

                      House decorations in the old city

For tourists, this neighborhood is fascinating.  In addition to the fortress, we admired two mosques, originally Byzantine churches, at least one of which was Catholic during the Genoese period. One we could enter – the Fatih Mosque.  In this mosque each Friday the imam still brandishes a sword while he gives his sermon, a tradition going back to the Ottoman conquest. Surely this couldn’t be possible!  But indeed, the caretaker unsheathed the sword, a real scimitar, and held it aloft for us to admire. Near the second church/mosque, a film crew was at work: lights being set up, setting outside a house being prepared, lots of people purposefully milling about. Down below, we could see the eastern harbor, with a long breakwater. Outside, the waves were huge, crashing onto the breakwater, and even breaking over it. An announcement on a loud speaker warned people from walking there, for a man had been swept away to his death earlier that very day. 

On the return to the bus, we had time for shopping. I bought some locally made jams at a big, open market and a loaf of local bread, a dark bread I haven’t seen in Ankara. I also bought a nutcracker, because our cleaning lady, herself from the Black Sea region (near Ordu), had given us a generous sack of unshelled hazelnuts (a Black Sea specialty). The shop where I bought it was devoted mostly to wood items – spoons, bowls, etc. – and an older man was in the back with his woodworking equipment, working away, sawdust, well, wood dust, flying everywhere.  His daughter had studied abroad, he told us, I forget now what, but he was clearly proud of her. I was mostly impressed by the contrast between their lives, and no matter how proud he felt, I’m sure he regretted the speed of change in our world that encouraged her to leave this beautiful little town in order to fulfill her potential.

Back in the bus, we went to inspect the remains of a Roman theater. The theater is filled with earth eroded from the hillsides and now contains the local cemetery. At the rear, embedded in the hillside, partly hidden behind heavy vegetation (“overgrown” is the operative word in Turkey’s Black Sea region), we saw massive arches and vaults, built of huge blocks beautifully cut and artfully laid, an indication of this city’s prosperity during the Roman Empire. In the modern cemetery, the largest grave monument belongs to Barış Akarsu, a pop singer from Amasra who died in a traffic accident in 2007, age 28. He is honored in the city center with a statue. I had never heard of him, but have now watched, with pleasure and with a certain sadness, YouTube clips of him singing “Islak, ıslak” (“Wet, wet”) and “Ruzgar” (“Wind”).

Our last stop was on the edge of town at a huge building, clearly Roman, a “covered market” that looks like a multi-storeyed warehouse. Its overall plan and appearance are hard to figure out, but the masonry, including sections of opus reticulatum, a favorite Roman wall facing of square stones set on their point, in a diamond pattern, is impressive.  

At this point it began to rain – another Black Sea staple – an appropriate time to get into our bus and head back to Ankara.

                        Amasra (the island) at sunset

After our dinner stop, the bus began to have problems.  Going up a hill, even a slight grade, was agony. The bus managed 20 km per hour, maximum.  Eventually we reached Ankara, but just after passing through the Şaşmaz auto repair district on our way to the Eskişehir road, the bus died.  Anticipating this, the driver had already called for help, so we didn’t have to wait long for a fresh bus.  We were lucky.  If a breakdown had to happen, it happened at the best possible place and time.