Good-bye Turkey, Hello Eastern Europe

Before we left Selçuk, we had to get an oil change, something we’d been postponing for too long. Vellis, the hotel owner, led us across town on his scooter, to the garage of his relative (related on his mother’s side through her grandfather and on his father’s side through his father’s brother, he told us as reassurance of the good character of his cousin). We knew that gas was very expensive in Turkey, especially diesel, but when we went to the store to buy the oil, we were still shocked by the cost, which came to almost $90 for the oil and filter. The mechanic had probably not worked on a car like ours before, as it took a long time to figure out how to remove the filter, but he was very careful, and in the end we paid him extra for the extra time, although he did not ask for it.
Then we were off to Pamukkale, which is a town renowned for it’s travertine flow, but also with fine ruins. When we pulled into town, a man on a motorcycle pulled out of a side street, waving a brochure with the name of our hotel. “That’s where we’re going!” I said, and he said to follow him so we did, ending at a lovely little hotel with a garden, pool fed by the travertine springs and patio for meals. After checking into our room, we headed up to the site. We had seen the travertines as a huge white slash across the base of a hill, and had thought it was a quarry, but as we came into town realized that it was, in fact, the site itself. To enter from town, you have to take off your shoes and socks and make your way barefoot up the travertine flow, which forms when calcium rich springs reach the surface, and calcium carbonate precipitates out. When the flow had completely covered everything, the surface was just rough enough to keep from slipping as you climb the hill, but where the flow had not covered pebbles and other sharp little objects, it was “Ouch, ooch, eech.”

The travertines were dazzling -- they used to be algae ridden and not very attractive, but there is a plan now to divert the flow periodically to allow the travertine to dry and bleach in the sun, so they are stunningly bright and beautiful. We climbed to the top, and began to explore the extensive ruins of the town that sprang up around the warm springs and therapeutic waters. A thunderstorm was moving in over the distant mountain range, making the scenery all the more dramatic.

But as if the travertines were not enough, the site had been for 1000 years a site of healing because of the mineral rich waters. There also was an oracle, similar to the Oracle of Delphi. As in many of the ruins we’ve seen, there was a theater, and as all the ruins claim, rightly, this one was “one of the best preserved theaters.” Deane said, pun intended, “This is getting old.” The necropolis for the city was quite remarkable for size and degree of preservation. Here is one of the tombs, entrapped in travertine from standing in the flow at some point in its history.

Using Pamukkale as a base, we took a day trip to Aphrodisias, about an hour away. This site has been excavated, reconstructed and studied by a group from NYU, originally led by Professor Kenan Erim, who is now buried on the site, and who set the standard for what is now very fine reconstruction and an excellent museum. In the museum are preserved sculptures and panels from the Sebastion, where there were two stories of bas relief sculptures: on one story the chronicle of conquests of Rome and the emperors, and on the other story, depictions of mythological gods and heroes. It was a fascinating glimpse at the consciousness of a culture and a time. I was particularly struck by the statue and panel depicting Achilles in battle with the Amazon queen. As he dealt her a lethal blow, their eyes met and he realized that he was in love with her. Whew! Now that's a love story with teeth!

Pamukkale was as far as we could go in Turkey; it was time to turn back. We drove to Bergama, site of Ancient Pergamum, for the night. Aydin, our host for the night, said we could walk to the Acropolis from the hotel. So we walked through the alleyways up to the road to the site, and then began to climb and climb. An hour later, we arrived wind-whipped at the entrance to the site, only to find that the entrance fee had doubled since the Lonely Planet guidebook was published. It was late in the afternoon, and the site was vast. For the first time, Deane decided against spending the money, and suggested we walk back down and enjoy the ruins we could see from the road. So that’s what we did, and I didn’t mind at all, because besides the ruins above us, the scenery overlooking the valley was breathtaking.

We left Bergama the next day after an almost overwhelming breakfast, pictured here.

We drove to the ruins of Ancient Troy, or at least what is now called that, although no one really knows for sure. I have to say that these were the most underwhelming ruins of the trip. As if to compensate, the site had the best signage. Everything of value had been carted off to Berlin by the man who did the original excavations in the late 1800s; there was not even enough left to put up a single column. There was a replica of the Trojan horse, with windows in the side so people could photograph each other. The best part of the experience was that Deane was so thrilled to be there, having dreamed about visiting this place since he was a boy.

I also got my closest look at one of the Turkish herding dogs, often seen with shepherds and their flocks. They have disproportionately long legs and a heavy body, black on the face, and they wear a seriously spiked collar.

We spent one more night in Eceabat, then left in the morning for Bulgaria. We came to the border crossing, and stood in line to get our passport stamped, then in line to show our car registration, from where we were sent to find the customs officer, a search which took us in and out of the various buildings at the checkpoint. Finally, we found the officer, who asked us, “Do you have anything to declare?” I was all ready to answer, “No,” when Deane asked, “What do you mean?” “Uh-oh,” I thought. But the officer looked at me and asked, “Personal things?” “Yes, just personal things,” I replied, and he said, “Okay, good-bye,” and we were done. Except for the Bulgarian border, where they glanced at our passports, but took our car registration off to puzzle over for 20 minutes before they let us pass.

The border between Turkey and Bulgaria was beautiful soft mountain country, with forests just coming into leaf that reminded me of home. We drove up to the resort town of Ravda, just south of Nesebur, and eventually found our hotel, where our room had another ocean view. We were the only ones in the hotel, and the manager, who was professional and kind, took care of us as if we were royalty. We set out to walk on the beach, which turned out to be about 200 meters long, so we walked it very slowly. Then we went to the restaurant the manager had recommended and had a wonderful and inexpensive dinner. The menu translations were hilarious, and I wished I had brought my little notebook. The ones I remember are “Smocked Salmon,” “Special Filet of the Chef,” “Breaded Tribe,” and “Lamb Oddments.” I had a Bulgarian stew with pork, egg and mushrooms that came in a little crock.

The next day, we left for Romania. Bulgaria along the coast had much more undeveloped land than I would have expected, with beautiful forests and lilacs in bloom along the roadside. The border with Romania had booths for checkpoints, but no one was there, so we went right through. We drove to the coastal town of Constanta to spend the night. The town was not very lively, and many of the old buildings were literally falling down, inhabited by pigeons and full of garbage. There was an historical and archaeological museum near us, so we went there, and what a treat that was. The archaeological sites in the area seem to have remained relatively undisturbed, so that the artifacts were quite extraordinary. We met the Thracian horseman, the dominant god on the Black Sea coast during ancient times, and morphed into St. George later on. We also saw these two extraordinary clay figurines, “The Thinkers of Hamangia,” from the Neolithic period -- amazingly expressive and quite unlike anything we’ve seen before.

From Constanta, we drove to Brasov, where we will stay for two nights while we explore the Unitarian villages and churches in the area. It was a long day of driving, and our hotel owner recommended a nearby restaurant that turned out to be really good, so we splurged a little. I had venison with hazelnut sauce (or, “Bambi’s sister,” as the waiter called it).

From the restaurant, we walked to find our first Romanian Unitarian Church, which was right down the street. I had seen a picture beforehand, so I was prepared for the sight, but I have to say that this church is not more attractive in seeing it in person. I guess it’s what happens inside that counts! Tomorrow we’ll start out to find some of the 160 other Unitarian churches and villages around this area.