We started out for our first destination, the ancient city of Sardis, situated at the Turkish city of Sart. We expected to see very few tourists at the site.
Driving through the back roads of Turkey, even during the hottest part of the day, people were out working in their fields. The women were in the fields hoeing or picking or planting. We assumed that the men were all praying – praying that their women don't get sick or injured, or die. The men work the machinery. That gives them enough time to sit in the taverns all day playing games and drinking tea.
We drove through miles upon miles of vineyards, with an occasional grove of olives, pomegranates (in blossom at this time of year), plums, apricots, and figs. Early in the day it was already getting quite hot. The A/C in the car barely cooled it off. We arrived at Sardis at about 12:30, and eventually found the ticket booth, tucked away down a narrow rural street. The official spoke no English, but I was able to make him understand that I wanted to see the ancient synagogue (some time between 100 and 200 CE) that is at the site.
He was able to make me understand that the admission to the park was in two parts: one where the temple of Aphrodite was found, and the other was the gymnasium and synagogue – each paid separately. We made our way to the other entrance of the park, the only car in the parking lot.
In the hour we were there, some more people showed up, and we had a nice conversation with a French couple (In French and in English, mind you). The site is relatively small, but we wanted specifically to see the synagogue. The first building to come into view, however is the gymnasium, complete with swimming pool. It's one of the largest buildings we have seen so far. It faces the town agora, and another building occupies an entire side of the agora. I entered the area and ran into the French couple, discussing the building. The were reading from a very thick guidebook. I confirmed with them that we were in the synagogue, and they also pointed out that there is an information sign at the other entrance to the space.
They said that they were looking for some independent marker that the building is indeed a synagogue, but couldn't find it. There is a big plaque on one of the walls recognizing the donors who made it possible to recover this ruin. All the names are Jewish. I consider this to be independent evidence that we were in the synagogue.
Aside from this, there was very little recognizable Jewish symbols. There is a high table with eagles on the sides. There are two statues of lions flanking the table. Although the entrance is on the eastern wall, there are two raised altar-like structures on the same wall. More obscure, but also more definitive: we found a mosaic, remains of which appear to depict a menorah. And a carving in a floor tile with a couple of Hebrew letters.
The remains of merchants' shops were built against the long side wall of the synagogue. They were the shops of primarily Jewish merchants. The day was incredibly, unseasonably hot. We were already tired when we got into the car.
We stopped for lunch at a roadside restaurant, and ate under the trees on their lawn. Again we had köfte (ground meat skewered and flame roasted) and şiş (skewered lamb chunks), along with a salad. We saw the next table have a yogurt drink that we had not yet tried, so we pointed and ordered one. Called ayran, it's yogurt, mixed with water and a little salt, and it's very refreshing.
When we finally got to Bergama, we had the darnedest time finding the hotel I had reserved, in spite of numerous signs showing the way. After asking the fifth or sixth person as we were homing in on the location, we found it on a dead-end street. The moment we entered, we knew that we had encountered the first serious problem with my hotel reservations. I made some lame excuse for not staying and we took off for better accommodations. Since we didn't know the town, we called the proprietor of the previous hotel to get a suggestion. Of the two suggestions we found one to be unacceptable and the other to be fine. The owner is an adorable little man who knows just enough English to check people in and out and to negotiate prices. The hotel has furniture from the 1940's, but the hotel was very clean and agreeable. Lucky to find it with such short notice.
We walked the streets of the town and ran across a spice shop, where we ogled the merchandise for a while. We bought saffron (asafran), which the storekeeper scooped into a bag with a shovel; needless to say, it was inexpensive compared to the US. Then we found another restaurant, evaluated again by 1) the number of native-looking people were eating there and 2) the relative cleanliness. We ordered variations on kebaps and köfte, with salad. We also ran into a mother-daughter pair at the restaurant whom we had seen at the previous hotel. They were also staying at the same hotel.
When dinner was over, and we had paid, the waiter came with a large bottle of liquid, which he poured generously over our open palms. The custom is apparently to rub Cologne water on your hands after dinner. It is refreshing and an agreeable custom.
We crossed the street and had dessert at a pastry shop – namely, baklava. Then we took a stroll through one of the local parks until we finally ended up at the hotel for the night.
1 comment:
so what was so wrong with the hotel?
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