the ruins of arsemia

planning

What's planning without a little snack? I have no idea what this gözleme gibi treat was, but it was nutty and delicious. I am endlessly fascinated by Pedro's meticulous birding notes, and this particular book has a hand-drawn map of Turkey with little x's for the distribution of certain birds on each page.

the light of sunrise

There are few things I would get up before the crack of dawn for, and normally I wouldn't want to hike up some steep hill at such an hour (Caspian Snowcocks are worth it), but this was different.



A small group of people had already gathered at the top of Mount Nemrut, some with blankets wrapped tightly around them, nearly everyone with a camera in hand. We all watched quietly as the horizon gathered an orange glow, and as the pale yellow ball rose above the jagged contours of mountains, the selfies began.



Pedro and I soon discovered that if you hung around long enough for 8:30 or 9:00, you'd have the whole place to yourself— well, you and a roving band of snowfinches and some curious nuthatches.



This is truly, one of the most beautiful places I have ever been to in Turkey.

a welcome break from kebabs

Later that night at our hotel, we were grateful to discover that there wasn't a single kebab in sight. Now, I do love kebabs, and we've dined on some exquisite varieties whilst on the road, but after so many days of spiced skewered beef, it was amazing to see that tomato soup and chicken and potatoes!



The kindness and warmth of Kervansaray's owner Hamdi, Osman the cook, and the two boys who deftly flew between guests like the swallows that filled the sky, made our decision to stay an extra night easy. Nemrut at sunrise, another look at the Kurdish Wheatear, and a good wander around some more remnants of the Commagene kingdom. Maybe cool our feet in a branch of the Euphrates. These things helped too.



I felt at home.

the giant heads of nemrut

I had first heard of Mount Nemrut when a former colleague of mine returned from a trip to the East with tales of giant heads atop a snow-covered mountain. Something between the curvy-lipped Olmec heads and the stern brows of the Rapa Nui statues crossed my mind, even though the homes of both cultures were on the other side of the world. I eventually looked up Mount Nemrut on the internet to discover that my imagination was way off.

We were lucky to have found a room at the lovely Kervansaray Hotel ( I say lucky because the following day the hotel was full— and the staff were so very nice), and after a snack and a brief nap, we headed up Mount Nemrut to see these heads and watch the sun set. Even though you can drive up most of the way, you still have to climb a steep, heart-pounding staircase towards the top, and goodness, the view is spectacular!



We learned that the site is actually the mausoleum of Antiochus I, ruler of Commagene, a kingdom that was founded after the empire of Alexander the Great dissolved. This mound atop a small mountain is his great monument to himself; massive statues and reliefs place him among Herakles and Ancient Armenian, Greek, and Persian gods. What I found particularly interesting (and amusing), was how he had himself depicted mid-handshake with the gods in the reliefs. Clearly, Antiochus I wanted everyone to know that he was a well-connected guy.



In the background of the above photo, you can see what remains of the bodies. There are five statues, once standing about 6–9 metres each, which represent Antiochus among the deities, flanked by a lion and an eagle. The heads have fallen down and placed upright, their faces cracked from centuries of harsh weather.

The handful of tourists didn't take away from the quiet and sense of peace at the site, even though I occasionally heard a string of adventure-bragging in an American accent coming from a rocky platform at the other end of where I was sketching. The sun slowly slipped behind the hills, and the light went from a warm orange to a cool violet.

desolate

If it weren't for the power lines that stretched thin across the sky, or the occasional small herd that promised a shepherd, I could have been convinced that we were the only two people in existence.