Four Days in One

Whew. No Internet for several days and the experiences are backing up. I need to record them for clarity, because as the UTAustin professor Jennifer Gates-Foster predicted to us, I'm starting to get "marble fatigue". Actually no, not fatigue, but I risk confusion as the amazing sites start to slide together in my memory.
A brief list:
Antalya: the hotel rocked. That is my most enduring impression of my time there. I totally needed a day off, but I didn't recognize that because I'm like a hamster in the wheel of learning here. I cannot emphasize enough how well done this program is in terms of providing insight and context to the culture. It is heresy that we teach "the classics" from a solely Greek and Roman point of view. Worse--it's just historically myopic.
The old city was wonderful but I think I covered that in an earlier post. Our day off was rejuvenative (made up word?) and I needed it. I've been swimming almost every day this week. I think my triceps are starting to de-atrophy (another made up word).

Geez., where did we go from Antalya? I need to check. We spent last night in Kaqlkan, a super-charming but rather expensive harbor city. Our hotel was sweet (the Happy Hotel, google it) and I had a suite...yes, that was a ridiculous and intentional pun. Sorry. Poolside dining. For real. I took a walk after the after-dinner conversation (I love Jim and Jim for that, or Jim and David) down the steep streets--like Signal Hill only longer--to the ledge leading down to the public beach. It was Friday night, I gathered, because the few rooftop and sidewalk bars in this otherwise quiet residential neighborhood were pulsing with music and action. But we were removed from the center of the city, and apparently the mostly British clientele doesn't head out until 11:00 or so for the big nights. Oy vay. Not me. I had to pick up a few stones for the very large dogs in the area. Just in case. This place (Turkey) is rife with feral cats, and there are far fewer untended dogs here, but the ones they have are HUGE. So you don't take chances...that's what the stones are for.

Gosh, what did we do today? I have the Lycians (Lyceans?) on the brain. Yes, we started at Patara Beach, which I keep trying to write as Parata, but that's probably Indian. Anyway, it's a national park that belongs to humans from 7 to 8 during the day and from 8 to 7 to the Caratta caratta turtles during the night. Apparently they swim from the waters of Mexico all the way across to the Turkish Mediterranean to lay their eggs. 10 miles of uninterrupted beach. Jim Bey (Jim Haut from St. Louis, not to be confused with Jim Pasha from Cincinnati, more than 10 years his senior--hence the differential in titles) and I came across some serious fish vertebrae half buried in the sand. At least 8 inches across, this was a link of 6-7 vertebrae. Serious stuff. We were like kids, thrilled with our discovery but marvelously underinformed. And even at 8:30, the heat was killer so it was hard to be exultant.
Next to Lycian ruins currently under excavation. See, Patara is the birthplace of St. Nicholas, whose tomb/church we visited yesterday. My camera batteries were kicking (what I get for buying a 4-pack of Panasonics for 2 Turkish lira on the street in Antalya--they didn't work AT ALL). My main pursuit was following around the hordes of Russian tourists who come in droves to pay some sort of twisted cultural homage to St. Nicholas. So pious. That was in the city of Demre, which is half-Russian now. The history of the town is pretty interesting, but I won't detail it here. Suffice it to say that the Italians had their claws in St. Nicholas's relics, but the Russians could not be dissuaded. They bought up property at an alarming rate, while they were purportedly there to renovate the delapidated church (under Nicholas I, I think). I just liked listening to and reading all the Russian. BTW, if you're interested, Russian women's holiday fashion has just gotten worse as "prosperity" has come to them. Holy cow. Awful. Still gorgeous, but could somebody please dress these women to go outside???
Anyway, then I had a transcendent experience. Hard to describe, because you'd have to know about my history with water sports, fear of my uncles teaching me to swim (I was so sure they'd let go as they held me, floating, and then share a good laugh about how I sputtered...psychosis? I don't know. Anyway, I have a tenuous relationship with swimming/diving/large open water). So. We go out on a boat in...forget name of town. To spend some time in the water and see underground Lycian cities, mostly amphorae (plural of amphora, big jugs to hold oil, wine, whatever). 5-6 century B.C. Water levels were way lower then. These cities are buried under 4-5 meters of water. We stopped at 4-5 places for swimming. Gorgeous water. Oh yeah, and on the boat I realized I'd forgotten the bottom of my bathing suit. Nice. Just right there on my seat on the bus. I hadn't put it in my bag. What a moron. Crap. What to do. I had on shorts, but they were like tent canvas. Underwear option? No dice--not appropriate (what a day not to wear bikini briefs!) So in I went with the shorts. To hell with it. Had the time of my life. Apparently, since they were khaki colored, they looked quite scandalous from the boat. Ha. We became progressively braver as the afternoon wore on. I ended up jumping off the top rail--probably 3-4 meters from the water. For me this was a huge deal. I have never in my life gone off a high dive. However, I was filled with such exuberance, such optimism...I accessed my inner 11-year old. And boy did I have fun. What a day. We were all kids. Like kids at camp who really want to be there. We jumped in tandem. We jumped in groups of 4, 5...even like those old water-ballet movies, in a line. People did swan dives, back dives, cannonballs...it was great. I can't remember the last time I slayed a personal dragon (highdive) and had such fun. I think I did it 6-7 times. Go me.
Oh yeah, we went to Phaselis, a beautiful ancient town with 3 sleepy harbors that once was the dominion of pirates. It was a Lycian place (Anatolian peoples, not Greeks) then under the nominal direction of Rome, fended off the Persians (or am I getting my places confused?), was a hub for pirates for a long time...I forget. I'm telling you, we get so much info in a single day, I feel like I could write a lengthy piece that could submit to rigorous scholarly scrutiny every day.
It's crazy.

But that was yesterday. Today we hit Parata, Xanthos (pronounced Santos) and somewhere else, but I don't have my notes in front of me. Xanthos is what I really want to talk about because it brings up such thorny ethical/political/historic/economic issues. Basically the deal is this: the treasures and traces of the Lycian civilization at Xanthos (as in so many Turkish sites of antiquity) are mostly in the hands of foreign entities, namely the British Museum. This is not meant to point the finger of "guilt" (is it?) at Britain. The Germans, Americans and countless other "developed" countries have "helped" Turkey excavate here many, many important archaeological sites. Back in the 1800s and even early `1900s, I can be persuaded by the predominant argument that Turkey was unable to do justice to the digs, the research, the long-term housing and display (not to mention transport) of these objects. But this is not the case anymore. These objects belong in Turkish museums. In Turkey. The British Museum has priceless artifacts from countries around the world, so does the Met, and nearly every major museum in the West. And how did they get them? That's a question to ask. The black market for antiquities is HUGE. I do not mean to intimate that the major Western museums have acquired their stellar collections--seen by millions who might never travel to these far-flung places--by roguish means. Still, we need to ask the question of where Turkey's treasures (and India's and Afghanistan's and Egypt's, etc, etc, etc) belong. Times have changed. These countries know have the scholars, the technology, the know-how to protect and display these works. The two museums we've seen here (Anatolian Civilizations in Ankara and the Antalya Museum) are amazing. A-ma-zing. But they've had to buy some of their items from individuals or from major museums. That's just wrong. The Lycian coin collection we just viewed in Antalya was purchased by the Turkish state for $5 million just a few years ago, I think from the British Museum, but I'm not sure. That's so wrong. So many items displayed in the Antalya Museum has identification cards saying they'd been recouped from smugglers. It's big business. Like arms, like drugs, like human trafficking. Pisses me off.
This might be more than people wanted to read tonight.

Other quick notes: 40% done with Orhan Pamuk's book, Snow. Lovely. I really like it, but my time in Turkey and my readings for it have helped me appreciate it, the regional implications, the weighted individual (and larger social) implications of a person's relationship with God, the gender divide. It's wonderful.

Also, I L-O-V-E Fethiye. I should post a zillion pics of Fethiye, since it was the town I'd decided I would love while I was still in CT. I imagined it like a young man might imagine the perfect bride, full of charm, smiles just for him. So Fethiye has been in my imagination. Being here, it makes me think of Mom, rum and Jimmy Buffet. Not that I have any of those, but that she would like it. So would Chris. Boats, water, stores and bars. Our hotel pool is charming and the view from my window cannot be beat (except perhaps by the folks 2 stories above me.) Anyway, we have to leave in the morning. Early. I had a great walk (2K each way)down along the water--some serious boats moored here (rich people envy rearing its head again). Past the jendarm (like the French gendarme, except these dudes are military, not local police) to the main marina and all the shops, restaurants and activity unfolding there. Lovely. So very, very lovely in the soft light of early evening. I shopped a bit, bought 2 pieces of jewelry (so decadent) and walked through the bazaar (spelled pazar in Turkish).

Now distracted. Must go. More tomorrow.