Travel Diary in Türkiye
Roger Short Memorial Fund Travel Diary – Tiancheng Wang (2021, Ancient History)
My trip to Türkiye in the summer of 2024 was one of the most thrilling and enriching experiences of my life. Over the course of a ten-day road trip, my friend and I explored 22 ancient sites, including 21 theatres, 6 stadiums, and more Hellenic temples and Roman baths than I could count. This journey greatly deepened my understanding of the material culture and topography of ancient cities in Asia Minor. We also spent another six days in Istanbul, the historic crossroads of the world, where we immersed ourselves in the rich cultural and modern-day life of Türkiye, savouring its diverse traditions, flavours, and vibrant cityscapes.
Day 1 – Day 3 Touristing in Constantinople
My friend and I met at Istanbul Airport early in the morning, around six o’clock. I had taken the night flight from Heathrow, while my friend flew in from Beijing. By eight, we had arrived in the Old City and dropped off our luggage at our hotel, just a block away from the Blue Mosque. We had Bal Kaymak and Menemen for breakfast in an old family restaurant. The streets were still quiet, with people looking sleepy and shops just beginning to open.
We began our first day’s sightseeing with a visit to Küçük Ayasofya (“Little Hagia Sophia”). The neighbourhood was peaceful, with more cats roaming the lanes than people. Along the way, we saw some Byzantine-period ruins that once formed the city’s southern sea wall. As we made our way north, a towering structure of ruins caught our eyes. Google Maps initially identified it as Marmara University, but we later discovered that it was actually the Sphendone, the southern end of the ancient Hippodrome, with the modern university situated right on top of it!
As the midday sun began to scorch Sultanahmet Square, we sought refuge in the cool, air-conditioned Turkish and Islamic Arts Museum. In addition to beautiful tapestries, the museum displays relics from various periods of Turkish and Islamic history, including artefacts from the Turkic states that preceded the Ottoman Empire in Anatolia. Exhausted from the previous night’s flight, I eventually returned to the hotel for a nap.
Late in the afternoon, we regrouped to visit the Hagia Sophia. The setting sun cast a warm glow through the windows onto the richly decorated walls, while the hall was illuminated by the soft lights of chandeliers. After a dinner of pottery kebab, we visited the Basilica Cistern. The colourful light displays created a magical atmosphere in this cool and damp space. The shadow of a Medusa statue projected onto the wall added to the mysterious ambiance.
The next morning, around five, I was awakened by a loud, desolate call to prayer. It was the ezan for Fajr, announcing the arrival of dawn. I stepped onto the hotel balcony and was awestruck by the chants emanating from both the Hagia Sophia and the Blue Mosque, each beautifully illuminated under the night sky. Their chants seemed to echo one another, with one picking up as the other paused—a surreal blend of sound and sight that instilled a profound sense of reverence for a culture I had only begun to understand.
We spent most of our second day in Topkapi Palace, immersed in the opulent lifestyle of the Ottoman sultans. As a Chinese visitor, I couldn’t help comparing it to the Forbidden City (Gugong) Palace Museum in Beijing: both are sprawling complexes with courtyard after courtyard, and both have dazzling exhibition halls called “Hall of Treasures,” “Hall of Clocks,” and “Hall of Porcelain.” Though I usually enjoy shiny things like gold and silver, after an entire day surrounded by luxury, I felt tired of all that glitters—much like one who feels cloyed after too much dessert.
Our next stop was the Istanbul Archaeological Museum, conveniently located at Topkapi’s exit. I read a few inscriptions in the courtyard and stood wistfully in front of the empty porphyry sarcophagi, which were once the resting places of renowned Roman emperors—allegedly including Constantine the Great, Julian the Apostate, and Theodosius I. Their bones are long gone, and we can no longer identify which emperor each sarcophagus belonged to. Inside, we explored the museum’s stunning collection of sarcophagi and statues, many of which came from ancient cities we were about to visit.
In the evening, we dined at a rooftop restaurant overlooking the Sea of Marmara, watching the moonlight gently shine over the strait, with seagulls and passing ships glimmering in its reflection. Unfortunately, our lovely evening was interrupted by an incident: an eager kitten jumped onto the table and scratched my friend’s hand as it tried to get food. Although we were reassured that the kitten was domesticated, we decided to get my friend a rabies vaccine that night at the İstanbul Eğitim Ve Araştırma Hastanesi. We didn’t wait long, and it was clear that the hospital had ample experience with international tourists who had encounters with stray animals. Communication was smooth thanks to our translation app and the help of a Turkish gentleman who had also been scratched by a cat. The medics were efficient, and my friend’s worries were quickly eased with one jab. This unexpected episode gave us a glimpse of the Turkish public health system, which seems very efficient and nearly free for all.
We also had a minor issue with our late-night taxi ride to the hospital. The driver took an unnecessary detour, gave flimsy excuses when I noticed, and charged us significantly more than the meter indicated. Since we were in a hurry, we paid, but later reported the incident to Uber customer service, who provided a full refund. This was our only encounter with a taxi scam in Türkiye (all other drivers were professional and honest), perhaps because this time we were starting from a touristic area. So for future travellers, my tip is: if you have to use a taxi, use Uber or reputable apps and avoid paying drivers directly or taking unmetered trips. This way, even if you encounter a dishonest driver, your safety will be protected, and you’re more likely to recover your money!
On the third day, we explored the Theodosian Walls, once among the most formidable defensive structures in history. We began our day at the 1453 Panorama “Museum.” Expecting a detailed account of the 1453 siege, we were somewhat disappointed to find that the centrepiece was a mini-film focused more on nationalistic themes than a realistic recreation of the battle. Outside the panorama, however, the view of the walls is stunning. I sat in the shade of a tree, enjoying the sight of the walls in the cool morning breeze.
We continued along the walls, moving from gate to gate, partly on foot and partly by bus. Certain sections are in ruins, but most are remarkably well-preserved, with some areas undergoing fresh restoration. At some gates, we could ascend the walls and appreciate the massive double-wall system once considered nearly impregnable.
Of all the gates, I was especially struck by the Golden Gate—or, more accurately, the two Golden Gates, old and new—within the later Yedikule Fortress. This was the gate that Roman emperors and generals used for their triumphal returns to the city. It was awe-inspiring to step on the same stones where Belisarius and Basil II had once entered the city in victory. The cheers, the neighing of horses, and the clash of armour are no longer heard, but the gate still stands with a commanding view in the city’s landscape: to the north, the city walls stretch endlessly toward the horizon; to the south, hundreds of ships sail the sea.
After visiting the Blachernae Palace at the northern end of the Theodosian Walls, we headed to the Kariye Mosque (formerly the Chora Church) nearby, a masterpiece of Byzantine architecture and art. Although there was a long queue to get in, the frescoes, illuminated by the late afternoon sunlight, were breathtaking and well worth the wait. We then went to İskenderpaşa and tried Kelle Paça, a soup made from sheep’s head; it may sound eerie, but the taste was good. After our meal, we strolled through several bustling residential neighbourhoods, where we saw the Column of Marcian beautifully lit by the glow of the setting sun.
Day 4: Pergamon, Athens of Asia
On Day 4, we flew to Izmir and began our ten-day road trip. After landing, we first drove to Pergamon (modern-day Bergama). We stayed at the Attalos Hotel, named after the eponymous founder of the ruling dynasty of the ancient Pergamon Kingdom. On our way to the hotel, we saw a bronze statue of Aristonikos, a local claimant who led a revolt against the Romans after the last Attalid ruler bequeathed the kingdom to the Roman Republic.
As an ancient historian, I have read extensively about the Pergamon Kingdom, the hegemon of Asia Minor in the second century BCE, and their Attalid rulers, who modelled the city after Athens. But when I finally saw the acropolis of Pergamon with my own eyes, I was still surprised by the beauty and magnitude of this ancient megalopolis. I was particularly impressed by the theatre, one of the steepest in the ancient world. Cautiously climbing down the theatre, I could almost imagine the city in its prime, with the Temple of Athena towering above the citadel and citizens making their way to the theatre via the long, porticoed street at its base.
One of the most famous structures of Pergamon is its Great Altar. We were disappointed to learn that this richly decorated altar is now housed in the Pergamon Museum in Berlin. I truly wish that this monumental piece could one day be returned to its original location, where visitors could better appreciate its urban context within the landscape, rather than seeing it “exhibited” as a specimen in a museum thousands of miles away. To make matters worse, we later learned from the news that the Pergamon Museum in Berlin is currently under renovation and will remain closed for many years.
At dusk, we descended the hill and visited the Red Basilica, a temple dedicated to the Egyptian gods during the rule of Hadrian. The basilica was later converted into a church during Byzantine times, and nowadays one of its two rotundas still serves as a mosque. I was fascinated to learn that the courtyard of the temple was built on a 200-meter-wide “bridge” (or tunnel, depending on how you think of it). When I first looked for the bridge, I thought I was in the wrong place because it looked different from what I saw on Google, but I soon realized I was just at the other end of it!
Bergama is a quiet town in the evening, and most shops close early. We had dinner at an outdoor café with amazing music and friendly local young people. It was a full moon that night, and we had a divine view of the moon rising between the arches of the Red Basilica as we walked back to the hotel. The night sky was clear, and we could see the Summer Triangle and the Northern Cross above us.
Day 5 Rise and Fall: Sardis and Smyrna
We left Pergamon for Sardis in the morning, driving through the fertile plain of the Caicus River (nowadays Bakırçay). After two hours, we found ourselves within the cultural heartland of ancient Lydia, greeted by the royal tombs (Bintepe) along the highway. I couldn’t help but think that in one of these tombs might rest King Gyges, whom Plato portrayed as a shepherd who found a magic ring of invisibility and used it to usurp the throne.
There isn’t much left of ancient Sardis, apart from a Jewish synagogue and a Greek gymnasium. The synagogue features beautiful mosaics, and on one tile, we found an IX monogram, a symbol of early Christians. We also explored the ancient pipelines and shops along the main street; one of them was a dye shop with a basin carved with crosses, likely owned by an early Christian immigrant from Judaea.
A ten-minute drive from the synagogue-gymnasium complex brought us to the Temple of Artemis (of Sardis, not the more famous one in Ephesus). This relatively well-preserved temple sits at the foot of the steep Lydian citadel. I could almost imagine how the Persian soldiers under Cyrus the Great might have felt while besieging the mighty citadel of Sardis. I also thought of Croesus, the last Lydian king and the protagonist of the first book of Herodotus: ruler of such a mighty city, it’s no wonder he once believed himself to be the happiest man in the world!
We enjoyed delicious pide at a roadside canteen, and after lunch, we drove to Izmir to visit the agora of ancient Smyrna. Caught in heavy traffic, we had to walk some distance to reach the agora. The best-preserved structures there are the vaulted galleries beneath the agora, and it’s incredible that water still flows through the ancient supply channels to this day.
As I ascended to the ground level of the agora, the sombre and sorrowful sound (or at least that’s how it felt to me) of the Asr Ezan rang from a mosque on Pagos Hill, the former acropolis of Smyrna. Legend has it that Alexander the Great fell asleep on this hill and was instructed in his dream by the twin Nemeses to build the new city of Smyrna. I couldn’t help but think of the tragic Great Fire of Smyrna a hundred years ago, when the Greek and Armenian districts were set ablaze. That desolate feeling lifted as I left the ancient agora and made my way through the bustling bazaar to Konak Square, where I refreshed myself in the sea breeze blowing gently over the modern city.
We drove to Selçuk under a beautiful sunset, the silhouette of distant mountains and the ruins of medieval forts etched against the vibrant sky.
Day 6 Along the Asian coast: Ephesus, Magnesia, Didyma and Miletus
We got up early and visited the famed Temple of Artemis in Ephesus. Only a single pillar survives today—too little to fully capture its former grandeur in my imagination. Afterwards we quickly walked through the ancient city of Ephesus, a popular tourist attraction, before the crowds arrived. Ephesus is, of course, an important city of the ancient world, but my friend and I don’t enjoy crowded tourist spots. I was impressed by the city’s layout, with its walls and fortifications encircling several hills for defence. The Library of Celsus was spectacular, but I was more captivated by the long, porticoed road that led from the theatre to the now silted port. Unfortunately, the shaded sidewalks didn’t survive the passage of time—otherwise, they would have been a welcome relief in such hot weather.
It was just past eleven when we left Ephesus, so we decided to make a detour to Magnesia ad Maeandrum on our way to Miletus. This Magnesia is less famous than Magnesia ad Sipylum (modern Manisa) to the north, but it has its own historical significance: the Athenian politician Themistocles was given rulership of this city by the Persians after his exile from Athens. The main site of Magnesia is mostly in ruins, but a large part of the Temple of Artemis survived (yes, another Temple of Artemis!), and we enjoyed a great view of the Maeander Valley and the quarries in the distant mountain ridges. We then drove along a narrow country road to visit the stadium, one of the best-preserved in Asia Minor. The staff at the main site opened the electric gate when they saw us on CCTV. We only caught a glimpse of this magnificent structure from afar. I wished we had more time to explore, but we were lucky to have made this unplanned detour.
Afterwards we drove to Didyma. For hundreds of years in Classical Antiquity, the oracle at Didyma was a centre of worship not only for the Milesians, but for all Greeks and Mediterraneans. The Roman Emperor Diocletian allegedly persecuted Christians under the sanction of this oracle, and in turn, Constantine closed Didyma and persecuted her priests. Standing amid the columns of the Temple of Apollo, I could imagine the delirious prophetess washing her feet in the Holy Spring, with choruses singing hymns and people anxiously waiting for their fortunes outside.
After a roadside lunch and a refreshing treat of fresh orange juice, we arrived in Miletus, the city of philosophers—Thales, Anaximander, and Anaximenes. A Sacred Way links Didyma to Miletus, along which the Milesians would walk 17 km to worship Apollo Didymeus! I really admire the zeal of the ancient Milesians to travel such a distance on foot. The Roman theatre of Miletus is an imposing monument in the landscape. In the Classical period, the theatre sat by the sea, overlooking the port and the entire Bay of Miletus. I could only imagine what a view it must have been for sailors arriving from the sea. Inside the theatre, we saw a fine relief depicting gladiatorial fights. The seats are supported by lion claw-shaped structures, a feature of many theatres in Asia Minor. Once again, the spectacular Market Gate was removed to the Pergamon Museum in Berlin. I don’t know if I’ll ever get over my frustration with that museum, especially since it remains closed. The local Museum of Miletus is small but very well-organized. We saw many inscribed tombstones and beautiful reliefs displayed in its courtyard.
We drove back north across a vast plain that used to be the Bay of Miletus, crossing the Maeander River. The bay was once a prosperous trade hub, but the river gradually silted it up. In China, we have a saying, “when the vast sea turns into mulberry fields,” which perfectly describes my wistful feeling as I saw green crops growing where Milesian triremes once sailed.
At sunset, we returned to Selçuk and visited the Ephesus Archaeological Museum in the evening. We found it incredibly convenient that many Turkish museums and ancient sites stay open until 9 p.m. The statues of the Ephesian Artemis (a local Mother Goddess actually) are breathtaking under the divine lighting. After leaving the museum, we were too tired and made the mistake of trusting the spiel of a restaurant owner in the central tourist zone. The food was terrible, and we left without eating much. I even gave my first bad review on Google (apparently, many others were equally shocked by the poor quality of their food). To soothe our stomachs and souls, we returned to the excellent restaurant we had visited the night before and made it up to ourselves.
Day 7 Deep into Caria: Aphrodisias, Laodicea, and Hierapolis
Another busy day. We left Selçuk early in the morning and drove to Aphrodisias. As my college advisor is the director of excavations there, I felt an added sense of familiarity with the site. I was impressed by a wall of theatrical masks at the entrance. The Southern Agora (now labelled as an “urban park”) has a long, oval pool in the centre – back in the days when the pool was filled with water, it must have been a refreshing spot to escape the heat!
One highlight for me was Diocletian’s Edict of Maximum Prices, inscribed on the northern façade of the Basilica. The original inscription is preserved elsewhere, but the site displays several panels showing the price lists in Latin, Turkish, and English. The list includes not only food and commodities but also wages for various occupations and freight charges between localities. The maximum price for a Libyan lion was 150,000 denarii, while a young slave boy or girl was valued at just a tenth of that! A shepherd might earn 20 denarii a day, a mosaicist 60, and a portrait painter 150.
The theatre, baths, bouleuterion, and sculptor’s workshop are all relatively well-preserved, and I was awestruck by the beauty of the Temple of Aphrodite, the city’s eponymous deity. This Ionic temple was one of the last strongholds of Hellenic pagans, and the local goddess here was revered not only as a goddess of beauty but also as a warrior deity. We even found a beautiful swastika decoration on one of the footstones. Next, we visited the magnificent stadium. Standing at the top, I could almost hear the echoes of cheering spectators from two thousand years ago. The stunning Tetrapylon (entrance to the sanctuary of Aphrodite) was under repair, but I managed to capture a decent picture of it. We took a break on a stone chair adorned with dolphins before continuing on our way.
Laodicea turned out to be the biggest surprise of the day. Before the trip, I had thought that little would remain visible at ground level, but I was wrong: Turkish archaeologists have made impressive progress over the last decade, and large parts of the ancient city have been newly excavated. Among the most important finds is a water law inscription on the base of a nymphaeum, which itself features a statue of Emperor Trajan with a Dacian prisoner at his feet. The site is so vast—and our schedule so tight—that I had to run to reach this monument at the far end of Stadium Street.
The entire site was treeless, exposing us to the intense midday sun. The white travertine city, with all her columns and pavements, gleamed under the bright light, making it hard to keep our eyes open. We were especially impressed by the broad northwest-southeast avenue known as the “Syrian Street” – in Roman times, Laodicea was a key waypoint for travellers to Syria. Under the glass floor of a temple basement, I spotted two columns with votive inscriptions dedicated to the sacra of Apollo, Fortuna, Diana, and Laodicea, the latter likely representing the personified goddess of the city.
The West Theatre had undergone heavy restoration, with a wooden orchestra floor and railings. It felt somewhat overdone, as more than half of the stone materials appeared new; the local authorities may intend to use it for modern performances. In stark contrast, the North Theatre remains mostly in ruins, its stones scattered across the hillside. I hope it can be left as it is, or at least restored with fewer new materials.
Late in the afternoon, we arrived at the Hierapolis-Pamukkale site. It was bustling with tourists, as it’s a popular attraction. My friend’s hat was blown into the Ploutonion, but a kind staff member retrieved it for us—hopefully with Pluto’s permission. As the sun set, many people were still enjoying the Pamukkale pools. We took a long walk through the necropolis in the serene twilight, surrounded by tombs and mausoleums of various designs. By the time we reached the northern gate, night had fully fallen.
Our hotel that evening was in a village, where we picked up some food to enjoy on the small balcony of our room. A celebration was taking place in the village, and we were treated to a fireworks display as we ate—a perfect end to a long and eventful day.
Day 8 Kaunos, a city of two citadels
On this day we drove four hours to reach the ancient city of Kaunos and crossed the mighty Dalyan River by ferry. The spectacular rock tombs that greeted us were a gentle reminder that we had entered the borderland between Caria and Lycia. Before the Greco-Roman era, Kaunos was a frontier Carian city heavily influenced by the Lycians. The city had both a higher and a lower acropolis, named Heraklion and Persikon respectively—both of which were besieged and conquered by Ptolemy during the Wars of the Diadochi. The higher acropolis is so imposing that it’s hard to imagine how Ptolemy’s forces could have stormed such a stronghold.
Between the two acropolis hills sits the theatre, which offers a stunning view of the port (now a lagoon), much like the theatres of Ephesus and Miletus. Kaunos was once a thriving harbour city until the Dalyan River gradually silted up its port—a fate shared by many port cities in Asia Minor that we visited. The theatre has become a playground for goats, with whom we shared the shade of an overgrown tree. We then walked down the road leading to the Lower City and the port, which reminded me of the first line of Plato’s Republic, where my lecturer once stressed the nuance of “going down” (καταβαίνω) to the port of Piraeus in Athens.
The buildings of Kaunos are less refined compared to the more famous ancient cities we had explored. However, two structures stood out to me: the first is a round platform, divided into 16 equal sectors by radial lines spaced 22.5 degrees apart. The site attributes it to the astronomer Hipparchus, though there is no concrete evidence linking him to this city. The second is a temple terrace with a round structure, originally an Abathon-Heroon dedicated to the eponymous founder of the city, Kaunios. After Hellenization, it became a sanctuary of Zeus Soteros.
We spent the evening in Fethiye. Initially, we had no intention of exploring the city, so we booked a hotel far from the centre. However, when we eventually decided to venture into town, we found that there were no taxis or public transport available, so we ended up walking for forty minutes. Fethiye turned out to have a vibrant nightlife and a laid-back atmosphere. We had an excellent meal of sausage ravioli at a small but highly rated family restaurant. I felt a bit sorry for the owners, as we were the only customers there—they truly deserved more business! I would definitely recommend this charming spot, Sausage Mantı & Yağlama Salonu.
Day 9 Discovering the Lycian League: Tlos, Pinara, Xanthos and Patara
Today, we took a road trip along the D400 highway between Fethiye and Kaş, stopping to explore several ancient cities that once formed the Lycian League—arguably the world’s first representative democracy, which later inspired aspects of the U.S. Constitution. Of the six major cities that held the most power, with three votes each in the confederacy, we managed to visit four, along with the League’s sacred site, the Letoon.
Our first stop was Tlos, the legendary city of the hero Bellerophon and his winged horse, Pegasus. In Lycian cities, the necropolis is often strikingly close to the city centre, and Tlos is no exception. Here, the necropolis is nestled right beneath the acropolis, with both rock-cut tombs and house-shaped sarcophagi. A fortress, later built by Turkic lords, crowns the acropolis, giving us a panoramic view of the stadium, theatre, and baths below. Tlos also boasts a small Temple of Cronos, a rare specimen in the Hellenic religion. From the cliffside Byzantine basilica, we enjoyed a breathtaking view of the Xanthos Valley.
Our next stop was Pinara, whose name means “round hill.” This remote site, set in rugged mountain terrain, has seen minimal development. We began with a rocky climb up to the ancient rock tombs, one of which caught our attention with its intricate relief depicting the city’s skyline. The interiors of these tombs are blackened, likely from shepherds who have sought shelter and made fires here over the centuries. As we made our way back, we heard the bleating of goats and the whistles of a nearby shepherd. After a hot, sandy trek, we reached Pinara’s well-preserved theatre. From the top, we had a magnificent view of the “round hill” and surrounding mountains; one can only imagine the awe-inspiring experience of watching a Greek play in such a setting. The citadel hill itself is unique—a rounded cliff rising abruptly from the valley, dotted with countless cave tombs. I couldn’t help but picture the city’s past, with buildings and tombs towering over this elevated citadel just as the relief depicted. Along the way, we even spotted wild boar tracks and found a porcupine quill. While most of Pinara remains unexcavated, I hope to see more of this mysterious city uncovered in my lifetime.
The third stop was Xanthos, the economic and cultural centre of Lycia. Perched on a cliff above the Xanthos River, it struck me as unusual that the city and its acropolis were overshadowed by higher surrounding hills, a poor defensive position. Yet Xanthos is renowned for its valiant history, even if its fate was tragic. When the Persians besieged the city, the men of Xanthos reportedly killed the women and children, rallied out, and fought to the death. Xanthos later suffered similar fates under Alexander the Great and then Brutus the Liberator. I could almost hear the despairing echoes of the city’s struggles resonating through the Xanthos Valley. The most important relic of Xanthos is a trilingual obelisk written in Greek, Lycian A, and Lycian B. The city also features pillar tombs, a type unique even among Lycian cities. Once again, I was struck by the close placement of the tombs to the theatre and acropolis. The reliefs of the Harpy Tomb and the Nereid Monument have been removed to the British Museum (luckily one I can easily visit), but I felt conflicted, given my feelings about monuments from Pergamon and Miletus taken to Berlin’s Pergamon Museum.
The fourth stop was the Letoon, the religious centre of the Lycians. Dedicated to the goddess Leto and her divine twins, Apollo and Artemis, the Letoon has three temples, one for each deity. The Temple of Artemis, the smallest, caught my attention because a large natural rock is integrated into the structure, suggesting that this “Artemis” may originally have been a local deity.
Our final stop was Patara, a port city that hosted the confederate assembly. Perhaps due to its symbolic importance to modern democracy, the bouleuterion has been almost entirely reconstructed, with only traces of the original materials remaining. I’m uncertain if this was the ideal approach for such a historically significant building, but it did give me a sense of the space where representatives from both small and large Lycian cities once deliberated. Outside the bouleuterion, inscriptions recount confederate decisions and the elections of the Lyciarch, the confederate’s executive chief. I was also impressed by the broad colonnaded street leading to the now-silted port, where ancient Patara’s bustling market district is now lushly overgrown. Like Kaunos, Patara today serves as an optional destination for European tourists drawn to its nearby beaches, which provides a blend of resort and cultural tourism that helps introduce these ancient sites to a wider audience.
As we continued along the seaside highway toward Kaş at sunset, Greek islands were so close that my phone provider repeatedly sent “Welcome to Greece” messages, only to switch back to “Welcome to Türkiye” as we continued along the coast. We arrived in Kaş just after sunset, where the hotel gave us an unexpected room upgrade with a view of the gulf and the Greek island of Kastellorizo. The town’s nightlife was lively yet relaxed, and the cool sea breeze helped us unwind after a packed day of exploration.
Day 10 Santa Claus and Sea Turtles: Sailing from Myra
Today was perhaps the most relaxed day of our entire road trip. We began by driving to the ancient city of Myra, another one of the six major cities of Lycia and famously where Saint Nicholas (Santa Claus) served as bishop. Upon arrival, we were greeted by blocks of theatrical masks and an impressive cliff of rock-cut tombs. One of the tombs features a beautiful relief depicting a man with his family. Aside from these, only the theatre remains, and while it is very well-preserved, we had seen so many theatres by now that even this one felt somewhat less striking.
Next, we visited Andriake, likely the harbour town of ancient Myra. The ground of this site was carpeted with tiny shells—silent witnesses to the centuries of purple-dye production that thrived here during Roman times. To our surprise, we discovered a rather sizable Lycian Civilization Museum at this remote site, where we seemed to be the only visitors. The museum is housed in a Hadrian-era granary complex, transforming this 1,800-year-old structure into an educational centre. Inside, we viewed fascinating relics and read detailed descriptions of the Lycian cities.
From the new port near Andriake, we embarked on a boat trip to the island of Kekova. While boarding, we were delighted to see sea turtles swimming nearby, feasting on melons tossed by the crew. The weather was perfect, and the sea displayed the richest sapphire blue I’ve ever seen. In the shallow waters near the shore, this blue softened into a dreamlike cyan, where schools of tiny fish swirled. We then approached the sunken city on Kekova island, a site that evokes another era, with partially submerged ruins visible just below the water’s surface. When we reached Simena Castle, I took the opportunity to swim out to a half-submerged Lycian sarcophagus. The beach here was bustling with holiday tourists, making me glad that I didn’t need to go ashore. On our way back, I tried open-water swimming for the first time in a tranquil bay, venturing into waters so deep that I couldn’t see the bottom.
We returned to Kaş around four in the afternoon, which gave us time to explore this charming town. Despite having already seen several grand theatres, I couldn’t resist visiting the theatre of Antiphellos. Perhaps it was a collector’s mentality that led us here, but I was glad we went. In the middle of the theatre floor, a few very chubby dogs were napping soundly, undisturbed by the many tourists walking around them. In the evening, we enjoyed delicious fish soup and seafood at an open-air restaurant tucked away in an alley, a perfect end to our leisurely day.
Day 11 Termessos: The Eagles’ Nest
We left Kaş for Phaselis in the morning. Just before reaching the site, we got caught in a long line of traffic, waiting quite a while before we finally got in. It turned out that locals from Antalya and nearby areas treat Phaselis as a popular weekend beach spot—almost free for Turkish citizens. This was perhaps the busiest ancient site we had visited after Ephesus and Hierapolis, but most people were here mainly for the beaches and showed little interest in the ancient city itself. We took time to explore the theatre, the main street, and the Roman baths. I noted the layout of the city’s three ports—military, civil, and commercial—and was amazed by its ideal location. However, the site overall didn’t particularly stand out to me, and I somewhat regretted choosing it over Olympos, the last of the six major Lycian cities.
At noon, we enjoyed delicious kebabs in the suburbs of Antalya, then drove toward the highlight of the day: Termessos. Nestled atop a mountain and guarding the Yenik Pass, this mighty citadel famously held off the conquering armies of Alexander the Great. From the parking lot, we climbed up a rocky path along the mountainside, with steep walls on one side and a deep valley on the other. The route itself began to reveal why this city was deemed unconquerable. The symbol of a round shield, sometimes with an arrow pointing inward or outward, is carved into many of the walls and broken columns, proudly marking the city’s resilience.
After about a forty-minute hike, we reached the Roman baths and gymnasium halfway up. The complex was largely overgrown, with arches and walls standing tenaciously amid the ruins, adding to the desolate atmosphere. To the right of the path, a platform overlooks the valley, offering a sweeping view of the strategic pass that Termessos once controlled. Standing there, I could sense the safety and pride this mountain-top city must have offered its inhabitants, even in the face of Alexander’s armies.
The only real vulnerability of the city lay in its water supply. To adapt to the terrain, Termessos had an intricate water storage system, including five large cisterns lined up for rainwater collection. I was thoroughly impressed by the ingenuity of the ancient Termessians. Unfortunately, earthquakes later damaged the city’s aqueducts, forcing the city to be abandoned—but its isolation also helped make it one of Türkiye’s best-preserved sites.
The most awe-inspiring part of Termessos is its theatre. Sitting alone on the edge of a cliff, it is surrounded by towering mountains. I can only imagine what it must have felt like to watch a performance in such a breathtaking location; the natural acoustics must have been extraordinary. The highest peak in view is Mount Solymus. In Herodotus’ time, the residents of Pisidia called themselves the Solymi and worshipped Zeus Solymus as their supreme god. As we climbed over the theatre’s rubble, rainbows appeared over the distant mountain ridges, followed by approaching rumbles of thunder. Heavy rain soon poured down in torrents—it felt as if Zeus Solymus himself was asserting his power over us.
With the storm bearing down, we made a hasty retreat, joined by other panicked tourists and a dog that followed closely at my heels the entire way down before disappearing at the foot of the hill. Completely soaked, I used my clothes to protect my camera from the downpour. Unfortunately, the thunderstorm kept us from visiting the agora and the many beautifully carved tombs in the necropolis, but we left in awe of nature’s raw, mighty power. Perhaps I’ll visit again someday—with an offering to Zeus Solymus in hand!
We arrived in Antalya by dusk, and as we descended from the Pisidian mountains into the flat Pamphylian plains, the storm cleared. After showering and changing into dry clothes at our hotel, we walked down to the Roman tower guarding the harbour. The sky over the gulf was painted with cinematic afterglows, colouring the evening of an adventurous day.
Day 12 Jewels of Pamphylia: Side and Aspendos
Today, we drove east to the ancient city of Side, whose name means “pomegranate” in the ancient Anatolian language. From the parking lot, we hopped on the site’s land train, which took us to the Roman theatre. We then walked through an area that was half residential shops and half archaeological sites. It seems that the tourism boom in the 20th century led many locals to build unauthorized houses here, complicating later excavation efforts. We eventually reached a cluster of temples by the sea, the most magnificent being the Temple of Apollo, which stands solemnly against the sea, overlooking what was once Side’s famous harbour. By eleven, the sun was already scorching, but this did not deter Turkish archaeologists and restoration teams, who were hard at work restoring the adjacent Temple of Athena. I stood in the shade of the columns, listening to the rhythmic sounds of masonry and admiring both their dedication and the craftsmanship involved.
We then returned to the theatre and exited through a grand arch, beside which stands a nymphaeum dedicated to Emperor Vespasian. The commercial agora lies adjacent to the theatre. In the centre of the agora is a round temple dedicated to Fortuna (Tyche). I could vividly imagine the bustling life of this place in ancient times—the devout worshipping the goddess of good fortune, merchants selling their wares, and citizens rushing to the theatre for the latest play.
The city’s broad colonnaded street, now overlain by a modern road, is flanked by the ruins of ancient workshops and residential areas, neatly arranged in blocks with lanes running perpendicular to the main street. We were particularly captivated by another wide colonnaded street that intersects this main road at the city gate. At first, we thought the street was closed since no tourists were on it, but with the ticket office open, we decided to give it a try—and discovered a huge archaeological area that few others ventured into, likely due to the intense heat on the treeless path. Walking this open street under the blazing sun was exhausting, but it was worth it—I admired the ancient drainage system running parallel to the street, a testament to the city’s advanced infrastructure. We ventured down another ancient street that led to the beautiful portico of a second agora and a library complex, where we saw statues and rows of columns lined like a forest of marble. The straight streets, neatly arranged blocks, and well-designed public spaces spoke to the pride Side’s citizens must have felt in their thriving city.
After a refreshing lunch to recover from the heat, we headed to another ancient city: Aspendos. Our first stop was the aqueducts, under whose shade two vendors were selling orange juice. We bought from one of them and found it amusing that our choice sparked a heated quarrel between the two. After a twenty-minute walk along the aqueduct, we returned to find the two neighbours had reconciled and were chatting amicably again.
Aspendos has one of Türkiye’s best-preserved Greco-Roman theatres, but having seen so many on this trip, we were less captivated than we might have been otherwise. It was a pity that none of the statues on the scaenae frons had survived. The afternoon sunlight cast beautiful shadows through the protective bars on the arched windows.
Leaving the theatre, we explored the city’s stadium and then walked uphill toward the acropolis. We first took a detour through the overgrown lower city, occasionally venturing into the ruins of medieval fortresses. In one of these, we enjoyed a panoramic view of the city’s remarkable aqueduct system and the vast plain the city once controlled. The ancient street leading to the upper city was under excavation, with an archaeological team working diligently under the heat. Once again, I was struck by the intricate drainage system running beneath the stone pavement—a hallmark of the city’s thoughtful design. We then visited the grand nymphaeum and agora complex. Much of the acropolis is still being excavated, and we could see the archaeologists’ tents set up at the far end of the site. We descended from the acropolis via the road leading to the southern gate, awed by the defensive advantage afforded by the city’s layout, which harmoniously integrated the main streets with the precipitous terrain.
We returned to Antalya in the evening and relaxed, enjoying the city’s vibrant nightlife.
Day 13 Perge: A City of Flowing Water
In the morning, we visited Perge, the last ancient city on our road trip. We started with the stadium and were surprised to find that part of it had been built up in late antiquity to function as a small theatre. Entering the city through the southern gate, we were greeted by two remarkable Hellenistic towers. Perge’s layout features an almost square plan, with a broad colonnaded road running north through the city towards the acropolis. This main street intersects with another colonnaded street running east-west in the upper half of the city, dividing it into four districts. Beautiful Ionic and Corinthian columns line the length of the street—a spectacular sight. We were touched to learn that over a hundred of these columns, once collapsed, had been restored through a mass fundraising campaign called “Come and Erect a Column in Perge”—a wonderful example of public engagement in preserving cultural heritage.
Even more remarkable is the long central water channel running down the middle of the main street, designed as a series of cascading pools that flow from the upper city to the southern gate. We followed this channel to its far end, where a fountain lies at the base of the acropolis, adorned with a reclining statue of Cestros, the deity of the Cestrus River (modern Aksu). Water once flowed from beneath his lap, as though the river god himself were offering this precious spring to the entire city. This network of streets and water channels is like the veins of a living body, supplying the lifeblood that made Perge thrive. I can only imagine how stunning it must have been in its prime, with fresh water streaming through the channels amid marble columns and statues, nourishing magnificent fountains and grand baths.
Next, we walked along the east-west street, visiting the Roman-period gymnasium and baths all the way to the western end, where the base of what was once a magnificent nymphaeum still stands. We then returned to the main road and strolled back to the southern gate, where I explored the agora and another Roman bath complex. The agora had a round temple at its centre, much like that of Side, but in Byzantine times it was converted into a water tank or fountain, with pipes visible converging from different directions. This again underscores the importance of water to both the flourishing and eventual decline of Perge.
In the afternoon, we returned to Antalya and visited the Antalya Archaeological Museum, which immediately became my favourite museum in Türkiye. The museum boasts hundreds of exquisite statues, primarily from the nymphaea and baths of Perge, as well as detailed exhibits on the archaeological history of various ancient cities in Lycia-Pamphylia. I would rate its educational value 10/10. I was especially impressed by the lighting in the statue galleries, where my favourite piece was the statue of a dancing woman, whose sculptor so vividly captured the motion of her dress. The statues of Aphrodite, Artemis, and Hercules were equally captivating in their beauty. I was also struck by an inscription beneath a statue of Plancia Magna, a remarkable Roman noblewoman who served as both priestess and decurion (city senator) and funded many public projects in Perge.
The museum also has lovely collections of mosaics and sarcophagi. On the upper floor, there is a collection of coins spanning from classical antiquity to the Ottoman period. In the inner courtyard near the exit, cats were napping on chairs and even inside a marble basin. In the open courtyard beyond, more sarcophagi are on display, guarded by stone lions whose expressions are endearingly dorky.
We walked back to our hotel along a seaside road, enjoying sunset over the gulf. Along the way, we came across a statue of the Seljuk Sultan Giyaseddin Keyhusrev, the first Turkic conqueror of Antalya, as well as the National Ascendancy Monument, commemorating Kemal Atatürk and the spirit of modernisation. Both statues reveal different aspects of this city’s complex history. Finally, in a bustling commercial area, we found a statue of Attalos, the founder of Antalya (Attaleia). Our road trip began ten days ago in Pergamon, the capital of Attalos’ Kingdom, and fittingly ends here in a city named after him—a serendipitous and poetic conclusion I hadn’t anticipated when planning this journey.
Day 14 – Day 16 Living Istanbul
After an intense ten-day tour across twenty ancient cities, we flew back to Istanbul to enjoy three days of peace. We stayed in a quiet yet convenient neighbourhood in the Beyoğlu district, climbing up and down hills daily. Our experience of Istanbul during these days was entirely different from our first impression of the city two weeks ago when we spent most of our time in the touristic Old City. Now, we had the chance to explore some of the quieter neighbourhoods and try a wider variety of food, sampling everything from the overly sweet desserts at Hafiz Mustafa 1864 to homestyle fish in Kadıköy.
Of course, we didn’t spend our time entirely without sightseeing: we climbed the Galata Tower, enjoying panoramic views of the Golden Horn. We took a boat to the Maiden’s Tower and witnessed one of the most beautiful sunsets. We ferried back and forth across the Bosphorus, experiencing the distinct vibes of Istanbul’s diverse neighbourhoods. We were also lucky enough to catch the sunset on three consecutive days, capturing glorious moments as the setting sun etched the city’s skyline in vivid colours. These spectacular scenes, framed by the ferry whistles and the cries of seagulls, are memories I will cherish for a lifetime.
On our last evening, after a ferry ride, we unexpectedly found ourselves swept into a clamouring parade. At first, we assumed it was some kind of national memorial event, but we soon learned it was the night that the local football team, Beşiktaş, was facing Lugano in their home stadium. What we expected to be a quick ten-minute bus ride ended up taking over an hour, as we watched fans chanting and marching towards Tüpraş Stadium. Coming from a country with little football culture and not being particularly interested in the sport myself, I was nonetheless struck by the sheer enthusiasm that people here feel for it.
During these last few days, I paid closer attention to how different walks of life dress, commute, what they shop in supermarkets, and what music Turkish youth play on their headphones. My observational focus shifted from my professional interest in the Greco-Roman past to the making of modern Türkiye, including the pervasive reverence for Atatürk, whose portrait is omnipresent in public and private spaces. I also noted some social issues, like soaring inflation and the apparent wealth gap. Election ads lined the roadsides, and I used my translation app to try to understand the nuances of each political manifesto. My friend and I discussed how Turkish civic life in some ways mirrors and in other ways contrasts with that of China.
Of course, these are only superficial observations, incomparable to those of people who have lived here all their lives. I remain a tourist, though perhaps now one with a little more understanding of Türkiye and a growing eagerness to return someday to experience more of its vibrant culture.
