Today was ancient Rome, a tour of the Colosseum, Palatine Hill, Forum and Capitoline Hill. The weather was absolutely perfect. We had a slightly overcast day with a chill breeze which made walking through the ruins pretty grand! We walked in the footsteps of Cato, Sulla, and Caesar. We wandered through the Capitoline museum and explored the Colosseum.

These sites are historically pregnant and, even though it takes some imagination to make the ruins come alive, there are so many stories to be told. Here the layers of history present themselves well: when the Tiber would flood it left layers if silt and the Romans (as others) built up. They are still working hard on the excavations with some buildings under wraps.

There was a special exhibition we saw in the Curia, but I would have to say the most serendipitous moment happened right after lunch. We were sitting in a grassy area outside of the Colosseum eating our sandwiches with fruit and cheese when we saw people rushing to line up the streets. We joined in and saw a parade of the ancient Roman army! Men dressed as soldiers and centurions, women dancing behind and even children in costume running about underfoot. It was so much fun!

Here we are! Dad and I made it to Rome yesterday and met Uncle David and Aunt Debbie who had arrived the day before that. We met the group at the Rome airport. I would like to have a few words with whomever is in charge of noting which flights exited where because the poor Kenneys came out own another side of the airport and between the groups it took an hour to join as one.

But join we did and here we are! We took the Leonardo train into the city at the Termini station and from there took the metro and walked to our hotel. We are staying at Les Chambres d’Or and while the rooms are not impressive (the lobby didn’t even have a sign – it is just a small room by a bar not connected to the rooms), we are literally next door to Vatican City. I could probably spit over the walls if I were an especially irreverent Gaston from Beauty and the Beast!

After a quick check in to our rooms we jumped back on the metro to head to the Galleria Borghese. It was a beautiful Saturday, sunny and fresh with a refreshing breeze, and everyone else in the city apparently decided this was the day to be out and about. The streets and metro were positively packed. Dave and Debbie went ahead of us to the museum grounds and prepared a picnic lunch for us by a shaded fountain. Fresh fruit, various meats and cheeses, bread, olives, candy bars … Dad thanked his brother and sister-in-law for ruining the group for the rest of the trip. How do you top that?

We had two hours in the Borghese, just enough time to be completely overwhelmed. Some of the best statuary, paintings, murals, even hand-painted walls in the entire world. Words cannot express. No photos may be taken inside so I can give you no other keys but this: it was … Awesome?

After the Borghese we walked through the city, past the Spanish Steps, by the Trevi Fountain, and got to walk around the Pantheon. After a dinner of various pastas, bruschetta, seafood, meat, fried olives and breads we got gelato and finished our evening by walking through the Vatican courtyard on the way to the hotel. A wonderful day blessed with wonderful Rome and perfect weather.

Greetings!

It’s about 1:00am and I’m sitting in a coffee shop at the Istanbul airport, waiting for my flight to Athens later this morning. It’s been an interesting day.

I left Bergama (ancient Pergamum) about 9:30 this morning (technically yesterday morning!). (I got so wet in the rain trying to find my hotel in Bergama that I wake this morning with a doozy of a cold!) Had quite a bit of driving to do. It’s about 1000 kilometers (approx 700 miles) from Bodrum (where I started) to Istanbul and I still had about half of that left to do today (yesterday? I’m tired. You get it.).

I drove north through lands rich in history. Went past Magnesia (where the great Themistocles met his end–a story I’ll reserve for another time). Spent about 1.5 hours on the site of ancient Troy. Not a great deal to see (mostly foundations–much like Mycene). But being in Priam’s city, thinking of Homer’s story, was a great thrill for me. You could almost hear the armor clanking and the swords ringing and the shouts of both the Hellenes and the soldiers of Ilium.

I love the story of Heinrich Schliemann, the wealthy entrepreneur turned amateur archaeologist. Scholars at the end of the 19th century were in the midst of a radical reappraisal of the past and–in particular–ancient documents purporting to report that past. The Old Testament was under critical attack–none of it could be trusted! But Homer was also subjected to the critics’ knife. Homer was not a solitary poet but a stitched-together pastiche of sources (sound familiar?). His story was myth and fable with no historical basis (again, familiar?). He was a fun read, but his references to characters, incidents, geography and culture were poetical fancy.

Schliemann–unschooled in such matters and, as a result, unspoiled–took Homer seriously. Pouring over the Iliad, noting geographic references to rivers, mountains, distances, and seasons, he traveled to Turkey and decided that a modern mound named Haserlik was in fact ancient Troy. He started digging. He learned archaeology as he dug. He made monumental mistakes and monumental discoveries. Critics blasted his techniques and reports (never mind that those same critics had assured anyone who would listen that there was no Troy!). They called him all sorts of names. But Schliemann–for all his failings–at least had the satisfaction of believing Homer and, in the end, proving the accuracy of his story. There was a Troy. And it took a passionate amateur to discover it, not the ivory-towered intellectuals more in love with their theories than with the sources. (Once again, sound familiar?)

Leaving Troy, I kept going north looking for the ferry crossing spanning the Bosphorus, linking Asia and Europe. I was expecting to find the ferry at Canakale (pronounced ChaNAkale), but the only road sign was towards the black hole of the “central market”–an invitation to enter the labyrinth from which escape is difficult and fender-bender is likely. So I kept going, noting an the map a fragile blue-dotted line between Lapseki (about 30 kilometers north) and Galibouli (English=Galipoli of WWI fame). Lo and behold, a sign! A ferry icon and the word “Galibouli”!

(The Turks make no allowance for non-Turkish speakers. None of their signs have English translations for words like “Ferry” or “Exit” or “Life-threatening-road-conditions-ahead”. And very few of the people I’ve encountered in Turkey speak English. I don’t know if this is due to poor data-sampling or a poor educational system–the latter I think.)

A left-hand turn and there it was, a big beautiful ferry. I parked, found someone who spoke English, asked the appropriate questions, put the car in line, paid my 25 Lira, and drove onto the ferry. A quick 30 minute crossing and I was headed north again.

This section of Turkey is some of the prettiest I’ve seen. Rolling agricultural landscapes. Vast coastal vistas with ships plying between the Black Sea and the Aegean. Shepherds and flocks of sheep dotting the hillsides and crowding the road.

I had intended to stop about an hour out of Istanbul and find a hotel. But the closer I got, the more nervous I got: about the unknowns of getting to the airport … about toll roads for which I had no tokens (they do things differently here!) … nightmares about getting lost in Istanbul with its 13 million souls and 13 million ways to take a wrong turn and vanish from the face of the earth. So I kept driving.

Part of the deal with my rental car (acquired from a cheap, no-name company that has no rental return place at the airport) is that I show up in the International Departure lane and let the company’s representatives find me and claim the car at 8:30am. (I know … there’s cheap and then there’s stupid!). Another part of the deal is that I picked up the car empty and was supposed to return it that way (they hope to make a little money off the extra gas left in the tank). So here I was, driving toward Istanbul, no tokens for the toll road, all the signs in Turkish, not an airport icon in sight … and my gas gauge is reading in the red! 40 kilometers out, I was getting anxious. 30 kilometers out, I was starting to sweat bullets. 20 kilometers out and I thought I’d missed the turn off for sure. (I mean, lots of major airports are 30, 40, 50 kilometers from the city center). Finally I saw the airplane symbol and the name “Ataturk (something)”–about a kilometer before the turn off. I made the turn, drove through a murderous morass of traffic, got to the airport, dove into a exit that I prayed led to short-term parking–for if it did not, I was sunk!–parked the car (hallelujah–I haven’t gone to church today, but I worshipped at that moment!), and melted into a puddle on the floor mats.

That’s how I ended up at a coffee shop in the airport in the wee hours of the morning. Now I just have to hope that when I exit the OtoPark, there is a sign that will lead me to the International Departures terminal, that there is a space I can pull the car into, that no one is going to force me to move on at the 3 minute mark, and that someone actually shows up to take the car! Then, finally, I can get on a plane to Athens and sleep!

Ain’t international travel fun!

Hello again! You’re probably just awakening to greet the new day. It’s already been a long, wet one for me. Yes, it’s raining torrentially. I had to drive through this slop for about three hours today (from Selcuk to Bergama). Poor visibility. Great puddles that dragged at my tires and threw water everywhere. Cars around me even more unpredictable than usual. Driving in Turkey (as in Greece) is a challenge. The rain just makes it worse.

Finally arrived at my hotel in Bergama. Since it’s been raining so much, I probably won’t get to see this site—which, by all accounts, is supposed to be wonderful. After I’m done with this email, I’ll try to fight through the rain again and visit the museum (which is also reputed to be good. At least the museum has a roof!) Hopefully tomorrow will be clear and I’ll have a chance to run around the ruins once before I head north to Istanbul.

I wandered about for 2 hours trying to find the hotel once I arrived in Bergama (in the rain!); their map on the internet is useless! Finally made it. But I left my backpack in the car (didn’t want to lug it around as I searched) and will have to go retrieve that for some dry clothes!

While I was looking for my hotel, a nice young man (whose confidence in his English far surpassed his proficiency) tried to help me. He looked up my hotel on his phone and came up with an address I didn’t think was right, but … I waited for a break in the rain at a coffee shop (having a Turkish coffee with about 5 old men who apparently had nothing better to do than sit in a little hole-in-the-wall shop, sip tea, and gossip) and intended to go off in the direction the young man thought I should go and then double-back to where I thought the hotel actually was. But as I stepped from the shop, he was there with his car keys, offering to take me to the hotel. Having been burned by friendly strangers before, I was leery. But he had a nice face and I decided that I didn’t want to give offense. So we walked to his car, he drove me to what he thought was my hotel (actually, it was a completely different hotel with the only thing in common the word “Pansiyon”). He really was trying to be helpful—just didn’t know any better. I got out, thanked him profusely, walked into the hotel, explained that I was in the wrong place, waited for the young man to drive away, and then had to walk about 1.5 miles back to where I started—in the pouring rain! Still took me another 30 minutes to find the place.

But now I’m drying off a bit, doing some email work (like this!), and contemplating braving the rain once more. I hate to be this close to world-class ruins and artifacts and not take advantage. I will try to get to the museum (if it hasn’t washed away). But I might just take the day off, work on labeling photographs, and try again in the morning.

Hopefully this won’t be my last foray into Turkey. I think this area has some good potential for putting together a “Footsteps of Paul” trip and bringing some groups this way. The museums and sites are certainly worth it. The scenery is often spectacular. The towns are mostly poor and unsightly (how dare those subsistence-level people leave their trash lying around and their laundry flapping!).

But if I do decide to add this trip to my list (Greece and Italy at present), I’ll have to come back to do some more exploratory work and will get to revisit the sites I missed this time. Ahhhh … it’s dirty work, but somebody has to do it!

I spent this morning (about 3.5 hours) at Ephesus. Went through the site twice: once just to recon and photo and then a second time with the audio guide. What an incredible site! Massive, evocative, compelling. The theater (seating 25,000) is the largest ancient stadium in Turkey and one of the largest in the world. The library of Celsus is so impressive: ornate and looming. Gates and fountains and agorae—even a brothel! I confess I did visit the brothel but apparently the flesh-trade has been on the decline in Ephesus for a couple of MILLENNIA! Who knew?

Very few sites I’ve visited in the mediterranean region (and I’ve been to a few) are as impressive: well preserved, high-quality, and extensive. You can almost hear the sandal-slapping of ancient feet as you walk around. We moderns think we’re so superior with our technology and our scientific methods. But here, 2500 years ago, were indoor toilets and intricate water-management systems and elaborate finishes and great civic facilities. Apart from refrigeration (and associated air conditioning) there is little the ancients had to do without—unless you count the internet and iPads. Of course, there were the minor inconveniences of no antibiotics or anesthesia. But if you didn’t cut yourself and never needed anyone to cut on you, you’d hardly notice the difference!

It was absolutely perfect weather today—60’s with a light breeze. Just when I started to get overheated (climbing the Sacred Way … searching for a woman in the brothel), I just moved into the shade and enjoyed a few quiet and cooling moments to reflect on the flow of history and the vagaries of time.

It’s been a long day. Started with a long night. Jet lag hit with a vengeance—I was up at 2:00 and read until 5:00, slept a couple hours more, and then started the day.

It was chilly this morning—maybe in the 40’s? The temperature warmed quickly, however (into the 60’s), and the drive north was beautiful: great sea vistas, looming mountain ranges, fields newly planted and orchards of olive trees. The landscape is so like Greece. In the ancient world, this area was called “Ionia” and was settled extensively by Greek expats—merchants, farmers, sailors, and soldiers. Must have seemed like home to them.

It was the settlements of Ionia that started all the trouble with Persia in the late 6th/early 5th centuries B.C. They rebelled, suffered the predictable consequences, and rallied their Greece compatriots (notably the Athenians) to their cause. The ruins of this area are very like the ruins of Greece—same architecture, same pantheon of gods, same civic structures.

I drove from Bodrum north to Didyma—the Twin—the site of one of the largest temples in the ancient world: The Temple of Apollo (who was the twin of Aphrodite—hence the name). The site itself was something of a disappointment—small, limited primarily to the temple itself. The temple was worth the trip, however. It was huge, with 60 foot-tall pillars (that’s a six-story building!), two vaulted walk-ways leading down to the exedra (the open-air center of the temple), and massive porticos all around. The detail work (entablature, bas reliefs, decorations on the pedestals and capitals of the columns) was first rate.

I spent an hour or so, walking around the ruins, bought an ice cream, and hit the road again. North once more. 10-12 miles to Miletus—one of the largest and most important cities in the ancient world. Paul visited here twice—that we know of.

The first visit (noted by Luke in Acts 20) was at the end of Paul’s third missionary journey. He was headed home from Corinth (a difficult and contentious visit), sailed across the Aegean to the Roman province of Asia Minor (that includes Ionia and is roughly equivalent to modern-day Turkey), and needed to see the elders of Ephesus. But he couldn’t afford to stop in Ephesus: too many connections … too many people who would delay his trip to Jerusalem. So he sailed down the western coast of Turkey and stopped at Miletus—about 20 miles aways—sending a message to the elders to meet him there. It was at Miletus that Paul said his wrenching goodbyes to the men he had entrusted with the spiritual health of the church in Ephesus, charging them to be the shepherds the Holy Spirit had called them to be, and warning them of future problems in the church—many of those problems originating among the elders themselves!

The second visit involved one Trophymous—a companion and work-mate of Paul—who fell ill at some later point in Paul’s travels (that presumably occurred after the conclusion of Acts and Paul’s “appeal to Caesar”) and had to be left behind “at Miletus” (see 2Ti 4).

The ruins are a wonder. They are dominated by a theater that once seated 15,000 people (some scholars say 25,000!). The theater is well-preserved and includes a well-defined “orchestra,” a columned seating area for visiting Emperors (among them Caesar, Augustus, and Tragen), and huge access tunnels that allowed spectators to move quickly and efficiently to their seats. There is an inscription here (“For the Jews and Godfearers”) that reserves a block of seats. This is surprising since Hebrews did not usually dabble in theater. However, the diaspora Jews were more liberal than their Judaean counterparts and could have overcome their thesbi-phobia. (They probably had praise teams in the synagogue as well!)

Around the theater are the remains of an ancient palace structure, a heroon (ancient tomb and shrine), and a barracks for soldiers (rulers in the old days liked to keep their troops close). Beyond the theater are the skeletal protuberances of temples, gateways, stoas (ancient porches), and agoras—all framed by pools of stagnant water, the echoes of the sea that once lapped at the feet of ancient Miletus. Miletus was a thriving port city, sited at the mouth of the Meander River (whose wandering course gave us the word “meandering”). But the river silted in, stranding Miletus 4-5 miles from the sea, and ending the wealth that flowed from trading and, hence, its dominance of the area.

Oops. I’m about 50 yards away from a mosque and the time for prayer is just being sung. They broadcast this call over loudspeakers from the minarets that grace each mosque—loudly! It is so out of character—this religiously dominated culture—for those of us accustomed to the secular nation and the separation of church and state. Odd. Arresting.

One of my primary memories of Miletus will be auditory: the hum of bees (they were everywhere, feasting on the flowers and hedges that were in profuse bloom), the quarcking of frogs (the waters of the swamps drew them by the thousands), the voices of ghosts haunting this site, speaking of things Greek and Roman and human.

I’m sitting on a roof-top café near my hotel in Selcuk, just a couple of miles from Ephesus. I go there tomorrow.

I’m sitting at a Starbucks in Bodrum. Beautiful, sunny day. 60’s.

Got some good rest last night. Out early after breakfast. Visited St. Peter’s castle where they have the National Underwater Archaeological Museum. Great displays of ships and artifacts raised from the sea-floor in this area. Very interesting. And some beautiful vistas.

Walked all over the city. Peered through the gates of the site to the Mausoleum—the tomb of King Mausolos, one of the seven wonders of the ancient world. Nothing much to see now. Guide books said not to waste the entry fee, so …

Got a sandwich and came back to the hotel for a quick power nap. I’m having coffee now and doing some reading about the sites I’ll visit tomorrow: Didyma, Miletus, Priene. Will be driving north tomorrow to get to those sites and will be staying at a hotel near Ephesus in Selcuk.

Roads are good (so far) and driving here is much like driving in Greece. In fact, the two countries and peoples are very similar. Must be why they hate each other so much.

Every four hours or so (starting at 5:00 this morning!), the call to prayer screams out from the minarets. Doesn’t last but for a few minutes, but the rhythm of life it creates is different from any other place I’ve visited. The call is offered in that high, ululating cadence that is so eastern and distinctive. But it has almost a playful quality to it … interesting.

As I was walking to the Starbucks, a fire engine was blocking the street, backing up traffic for a ways. They were unlimbering the ladder and had a fireman in the bucket with a net. Stopped to watch. He was trying to collect a huge bird (some kind of macaw? Colorful parrot of some species). It flew off to the top of another palm tree and they had to pull in the ladder, move the truck about 20 yards, and start all over again. People stopped to gawk and were laughing and pointing. The more things differ, the more they are the same.

I’ll probably get dinner at the same spot tonight (Musto’s Restaurant). The “linguini with seafoods” really was that good. Hope you are all well.