Part 6, Turkey 2011: A Case of Mistaken Identity Atop Nemrut Dag
Leaving Urfa, we delved ever eastward into a landscape that ranged from desert to vaguely alpine (right down to snowcapped peaks of the Atlas mountains)
Along the way we stopped at the largest dam in the Middle East, Ataturk Dam:
(15 large tour buses would fit inside the "D" alone)
A project both wonderful and terrible, the dam promises to bring water and electricity to hundreds of thousands of people in eastern Turkey but damming up the mighty Euphrates, one of the two rivers from which human civilization began, means that ancient villages with their myriad historical treasures will be forever drowned and the modern citizens displaced.
For now, the dam is still a work in progress and a place ordinary Turks come to sit under thatched roofs to drink cai (chai) and contemplate the future of their nation. It's also a safe harbor for stray Kangal puppies, a guard dog breed unique to Turkey:
Not far down the road is a place famous for its unique ice cream. Ice cream is already quite a production in Turkey, with street vendors stretching and spinning it like taffy and juggling the cones in and out of your reach for show, but this place took it to a new level. Designed to be eaten with a knife and fork and covered in a chocolate hazelnut sauce with pistachios, it's a special kind of delicious that even Italy's famed gelato could not rival.
Later in the evening we landed in our hotel in Adiyaman. However, there was little time to explore the town because we were due to get to bed early, as we had a 1:45 am (yes, you read that right) wake-up call so that we could hike the summit of Mount Nemrut in time to see the sun rise over the great stone heads guarding the tomb of the Commagene king, Antiochus.
This was a brutal task, one which would make me vow to never hike a mountain/volcano ever again at 3 am, not ever see God's own ass. The ascent was punctuated by treacherous shale, freezing winds, and the the weight and stench of a mule's blanket about my shoulders. Add to the mix sleep deprivation and a belly full of nothing more than tea, and it's fair to say I was in Hell.
Well, at least until we reached the 7,053-foot summit and the sun began to emerge:
Shivering in the early morning light, with hordes of friendly Turks snuggling up next to me to keep me warm, I couldn't help but be awed by the vista spread out before me over the Atlas mountains. I knew why Antiochus had chosen this site, for surely he was closest to the Gods here.
Beside Antiochus own head are those of Mithras, Tyche, Zeus, and Hercules, all rendered in a uniquely Greek-meets-Persian aesthetic. Once full, seated figures, the huge heads lay at the crumbled feet of their bodies and are dwarfed by a burial mound so huge and inaccessible that no one has been able to excavate it yet. It is believed that when it finally is excavated, the discovery will be on-par with that of King Tut's tomb.
Around the summit are also fallen commemorative tablets erected by the Commagenes:
Strangely, amid all this splendor, the attention of about 20-30 young Turks was suddenly turned upon me. I had noticed a large group of them taking my photo with their camera phones when, suddenly, three of the girls approached me nervously and indicated to our guide that they wanted their photo taken with me. I had no idea why, as I had ZERO makeup, windswept hair, and smelled like a mule, but still they giggled nervously and said over and over in Turkish, "Guzel!! Cok guzel!" (Beautiful, so beautiful!). I was baffled. Was it because I was a foreigner? Surely there are more foreign-looking foreigners?
Nay, it appeared from our guide that they had mistook me to be an Eastern European movie star. I don't know her name, but evidently the look was close enough that upwards of 20 people thought I was her and began trailing me all around the summit, popping out from behind rocks to snap my photo at all turns. I couldn't have imagined a stranger experience. A comedy of the absurd, albeit flatteringly so.
After we left the mountain, we wove around treacherous, unpaved and guardrail-free mountain passes to other Commagene sites, including a lesser tomb set deep within a cave which features the longest Greek inscription in the world:
It also has an interesting tab beside it of the king shaking hands with Hercules as an advertisement to the people, indicating he was a friend of the Gods.
(Try to ignore our hot, stressed-looking guide Sher Khan -- yep, also a real name)
Beyond the mountains lies one of the largest and best-preserved Roman bridges in antiquity, the Septimus Serverus Bridge:
From the bridge, one has a grand view of the cliffs and caves along the river, and within one such cave is a pair of enormous pythons which have been the bane of the villagers for years because they are rumored to eat the sheep. Alas, the villagers have no recourse because the snakes are protected by the government.
However, it should be noted that the bridge itself is protected by wild, fully-grown Kangal dogs which are roughly the size of a Great Dane:
On the hillsides nearby, families held picnics and shared their feast with strangers. The girl to the left in the pink hijab approached me as I strolled around and offered me the most amazing cheesy biscuits:
Between finally sating my hunger and taking in the view in the thin, Atlas air, I almost didn't notice the small, curious things which crossed my path -- the most bizarre black cricket I had ever seen. I examined him for a moment and realized how far from home I really was as I traversed this beautiful alien world which became more exotic by the day.
Along the way we stopped at the largest dam in the Middle East, Ataturk Dam:
(15 large tour buses would fit inside the "D" alone)
A project both wonderful and terrible, the dam promises to bring water and electricity to hundreds of thousands of people in eastern Turkey but damming up the mighty Euphrates, one of the two rivers from which human civilization began, means that ancient villages with their myriad historical treasures will be forever drowned and the modern citizens displaced.
For now, the dam is still a work in progress and a place ordinary Turks come to sit under thatched roofs to drink cai (chai) and contemplate the future of their nation. It's also a safe harbor for stray Kangal puppies, a guard dog breed unique to Turkey:
Not far down the road is a place famous for its unique ice cream. Ice cream is already quite a production in Turkey, with street vendors stretching and spinning it like taffy and juggling the cones in and out of your reach for show, but this place took it to a new level. Designed to be eaten with a knife and fork and covered in a chocolate hazelnut sauce with pistachios, it's a special kind of delicious that even Italy's famed gelato could not rival.
Later in the evening we landed in our hotel in Adiyaman. However, there was little time to explore the town because we were due to get to bed early, as we had a 1:45 am (yes, you read that right) wake-up call so that we could hike the summit of Mount Nemrut in time to see the sun rise over the great stone heads guarding the tomb of the Commagene king, Antiochus.
This was a brutal task, one which would make me vow to never hike a mountain/volcano ever again at 3 am, not ever see God's own ass. The ascent was punctuated by treacherous shale, freezing winds, and the the weight and stench of a mule's blanket about my shoulders. Add to the mix sleep deprivation and a belly full of nothing more than tea, and it's fair to say I was in Hell.
Well, at least until we reached the 7,053-foot summit and the sun began to emerge:
Shivering in the early morning light, with hordes of friendly Turks snuggling up next to me to keep me warm, I couldn't help but be awed by the vista spread out before me over the Atlas mountains. I knew why Antiochus had chosen this site, for surely he was closest to the Gods here.
Beside Antiochus own head are those of Mithras, Tyche, Zeus, and Hercules, all rendered in a uniquely Greek-meets-Persian aesthetic. Once full, seated figures, the huge heads lay at the crumbled feet of their bodies and are dwarfed by a burial mound so huge and inaccessible that no one has been able to excavate it yet. It is believed that when it finally is excavated, the discovery will be on-par with that of King Tut's tomb.
Around the summit are also fallen commemorative tablets erected by the Commagenes:
Strangely, amid all this splendor, the attention of about 20-30 young Turks was suddenly turned upon me. I had noticed a large group of them taking my photo with their camera phones when, suddenly, three of the girls approached me nervously and indicated to our guide that they wanted their photo taken with me. I had no idea why, as I had ZERO makeup, windswept hair, and smelled like a mule, but still they giggled nervously and said over and over in Turkish, "Guzel!! Cok guzel!" (Beautiful, so beautiful!). I was baffled. Was it because I was a foreigner? Surely there are more foreign-looking foreigners?
Nay, it appeared from our guide that they had mistook me to be an Eastern European movie star. I don't know her name, but evidently the look was close enough that upwards of 20 people thought I was her and began trailing me all around the summit, popping out from behind rocks to snap my photo at all turns. I couldn't have imagined a stranger experience. A comedy of the absurd, albeit flatteringly so.
After we left the mountain, we wove around treacherous, unpaved and guardrail-free mountain passes to other Commagene sites, including a lesser tomb set deep within a cave which features the longest Greek inscription in the world:
It also has an interesting tab beside it of the king shaking hands with Hercules as an advertisement to the people, indicating he was a friend of the Gods.
(Try to ignore our hot, stressed-looking guide Sher Khan -- yep, also a real name)
Beyond the mountains lies one of the largest and best-preserved Roman bridges in antiquity, the Septimus Serverus Bridge:
From the bridge, one has a grand view of the cliffs and caves along the river, and within one such cave is a pair of enormous pythons which have been the bane of the villagers for years because they are rumored to eat the sheep. Alas, the villagers have no recourse because the snakes are protected by the government.
However, it should be noted that the bridge itself is protected by wild, fully-grown Kangal dogs which are roughly the size of a Great Dane:
On the hillsides nearby, families held picnics and shared their feast with strangers. The girl to the left in the pink hijab approached me as I strolled around and offered me the most amazing cheesy biscuits:
Between finally sating my hunger and taking in the view in the thin, Atlas air, I almost didn't notice the small, curious things which crossed my path -- the most bizarre black cricket I had ever seen. I examined him for a moment and realized how far from home I really was as I traversed this beautiful alien world which became more exotic by the day.