Monday, 22 June 2015

Stress is not us........

One of the first things you notice about Turkish towns is the number of small businesses that seem to exist, if not, thrive.  There are, for example, more barbershops than one can believe could be viable; there are countless choices for men. In the importance given to grooming, and in so many other ways, Turkey and Greece are similar.


Surprisingly, as you may think, I regularly get a haircut and beard trim. Barbers are highly professional and a haircut is a luxurious moment of indulgence. On the day we left the town of Fethiye in Turkey I decided to get rid of the homeless person look and found a small shop in the back streets with no tourists, and agreed a price. As I sat down I realized that one of the barbers was having a kip, sprawled across a chair; his snores, unembarrassed, reverberated around the small room. I was empathetic; in a barber’ chair I always drift off a bit too…


As I sat there in my semi conscious state, despite the Edward Scissor Hands flash of snipping around my head, I was set to thinking about the region we have been traveling in for the past three weeks or so, images and thoughts chaotically filling my head.


Known still as Lycia this area was inhabited some 5 000 years ago when the foundations for an extraordinary civilization were born and recorded in cuneiform. Lycians have been important in power struggles in this part of the world since then and were part of the formation of present day Turkey. They were a powerful civilization that predated and rivaled that of the Greeks, Romans and Ottomans. They conquered and were conquered by, or made alliances with, every power that the Mediterranean has seen and thus left their mark on European culture. Their architecture can still be seen today. The Roman sarcophagus is derived from the Lycian and the pedimented Greek style of building is seen on their earliest tombs.







Sitting in my chair, my head being firmly adjusted at intervals, I saw in the people around me the heirs to those very Lycians with their influences of East and West that make Turkey so fascinating for us.




As a piece of sagging flesh was tugged aside to facilitate a better cutting angle, I reflected on the town of Kayakoi that we had visited a couple of days before.


Once occupied by both Greeks and Turks it is now a desolate collection of ruins as a result of the 1922 population swap between Turkey and Greece. 1.2 million Greeks and 400 thousand Turks. (It was reminiscent of the current exodus from Syria of a similar number of people). The vast majority of the inhabitants of Kayakoi, an important town at the time, were Greek and after their departure, the town was never occupied again.





The experience of walking around the deserted village is emotionally charged and sharpened by images of the Greek family whose house was now converted into a restaurant. The abandoned family photographs speak of the haste in which the family had departed. The hearths that families gathered around for generations, the paths and steps that were constructed by communal effort with stones worn smooth by thousands of feet remind me of what a dreadful wrench it must have been for these people to desert their homes, friends, sacred places; the accumulation of centuries of human collaboration. The tourist notice disingenuously claims that ‘… some people moved voluntarily but no violence or hurt was suffered.’




There are about three thousand houses clustered on the side of the steep hill yet every house retains its view. The materials of construction are universally stone and wood yet they each have a uniqueness that gives them individuality and the town its character. The stone remains but the timber lintels and roof beams have been pilfered. Each house is about 50 square metres. A multi cultural, egalitarian society, respectful of neighbours, reduced to ruin for dubious political reasons. It has always been so and it still is.



Without warning a flaming wad of cotton wool sweeps across my ears, singing the errant hairs! My God! No more dozing! No hair in my ears or nostrils escapes the man’s attention!
And then the wonderful shoulder massage that is part of every haircut. Mmm… here we go again!

And some more pics....

Ancient glass in the excellent Antalya museum

Details of Roman corinthian capitals and friezes from ancient Mira




Mosaic floor of the Church of St Nicholas, Demra (Ancient Mira)

Rural Turkish house with clay tiled roof, originally clay in the same manner as our own "Brakdak"



Timber reinforcing to walls with stone detailing




























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