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.
