under a changing sky

it may not be indiana jones, but it's still awesome

There were so many things I wanted to be when I "grew up", and the memories of my life's adults trying to box up my imagination for practicality's sake are clear as day. I wanted to be an artist, a poet, a theatre actor, Sir Edmund Hillary, Jacques Cousteau, a trapezist, an historian, a microbiologist, an immunologist, a botanist, someone who worked in a cool café, a journalist, and Indiana Jones. Oh to be an archaeologist solving ancient mysteries, travelling around the world while fighting evil in a wide-brimmed fedora! Yes, this was the life I saw for myself until somewhere along the line I discovered that all I wanted to do was draw. Nevertheless, it's a thrill visiting working archaeological sites. I deeply admire the dusty, sunburnt scientists and students toiling away to put together pieces of our collective past, and I enjoy meeting the workmen with seemingly superhuman strength, who are often wells of knowledge on their site. I was lucky to have visited Göbeklitepe and Çatalhöyük last year, and to have met some lovely people working at both sites.

While I realise that the lives of archaeologists don't involve saving precious artifacts from Nazis, nor do they swing away from booby-trapped boulders on a whip, many do wear fedoras. Jens Notroff is one of the lucky archaeologists working on Göbeklitepe who wears such a hat, and has written a great post on his blog which describes an average day in the field. It's not Hollywood-glamorous, but it's still pretty awesome from my perspective.



When I visited the working site of the Roman terrace houses in Ephesus, there was plenty of evidence of how painstaking the work of reassembling ancient structures is— there were so many fragments of walls, columns, painted plaster, mosaics, and whatnot. The ultimate puzzle.



And look at what all their hard work gives us:



We can see that even the Romans knew that everything is better with a pigeon.

shades of white

the library of celsus

Ephesus and its magnificent Library of Celsus took root in my brain as one of those significant childhood memories that I like to revisit every now and then. I first explored the ancient city's streets as part of a school trip in the fifth grade, and I remember that I had bought some strappy leather sandals as souvenirs with the spending money my mother gave me— my goodness, how I loved those sandals! When I closed my eyes to listen to their plat plat on the ancient marble, I was transported to Ancient Greece— I was Athena herself, golden helmet and Medusa shield, my little owl on my shoulder.

Everything seemed so grand— the folds of fabric in the statues, the intricately carved capitals of the library's columns (which I learned were composite, and took great pleasure in pointing this out to my classmates, most probably to their annoyance). I was in heaven.



Twenty-six years later, all I need to do is look up and I'm that scabby-kneed girl again. The tourists disappear with my worries, and I'm left with this terrific feeling inside.



I suppose it's hope.

in-between

First of all, I would like to express my sincere gratitude for all the kind words sent my way, in comments or through emails— thank you so much. Rest assured, I'll continue to share my adventures with you here on Harika, and show you a different part of the world. At the moment I'm in Portugal for a little while, in a state of in-between, and will be saying my long farewell to Turkey through the following string of posts.



Once again, thank you!

above

The steepest theatre of the ancient world with a capacity of around 10,000 spectators, the ampitheatre of Pergamon is truly awesome. Though the main structure dates back to the 3rd Century BCE, it was renovated and added to by the Romans and Byzantines. Imagine sitting among the people of ancient Pergamon, looking out over a pristine valley, waiting for the performance to start...



What would it have been like?

beneath

pergamon

The remains of what was once one of the most powerful Ancient Greek city-states in Anatolia lie scattered across a hilltop in what is now Bergama. Pergamon is breathtaking even in ruin, and it's easy to imagine the city's past splendour when weaving in and out between the columns of the Temple of Trajan, and simply looking up— marble faces frozen among the intricate patterns carved with great care and skill.

the many layers of troy

The morning sky was pale and edged with a heavy blue that promised rain. Though we knew it was inevitable, we continued to explore the layered ruins of Troy, hoping that those first drops we felt on our faces would be the last. What followed would send us running for cover, taking refuge under an awning built to protect one of the outer walls of the ancient city. It must have been about half an hour or so before the rain stopped, just enough time for a splotchy sketch.