This article appeared
in Volume 21: No. 4 of the Orient
Express magazine.
Turkish Delights
HRH Princess Michael of Kent recalls a trip during which she encountered
evocative ruins, spectacular natural phenomena, raging bull-camels
and fishing cats—all of which more than made up for her late
discovery of Turkey.
I was 40 years old before I saw Turkey. True, I had sailed along
the coast but never ventured any further. Finally, when Turkish friends
persuaded me to visit, I fell in love—with Istanbul, with the
Bosphorus, the mosques, the spice markets—and I greatly regretted
that I had not been there sooner.
Sun-seekers have always been lured to Turkey and her glorious coast,
but I am more drawn to her past, her history, her ruins, her natural
wonders and, of course, the local customs and food, similar in so
many ways to Hungarian and Austrian. At dinners in Turkey, there
is always enough for extra guests, just in case you decide to bring
friends. The hospitality is quite overwhelming.
Our goal on a recent trip, one of the many we’ve made to Turkey
in recent years, was the ancient Roman city of Ephesus, reputed to
have been inhabited since 3000bc, but certainly an Ionian city between
1500 and 1000bc. This great trading city on the south Aegean coast
was also the centre of the powerful cult of the virgin goddess Artemis
(the Roman Diana), for whom a splendid Hellenistic temple was rebuilt
after an earthquake in 356bc. Heralded as one of the Seven Wonders
of the World, just a single perfect column remains.
As the Roman provincial capital, the city enjoyed great prosperity,
and the growing Christian community (some 250,000) was visited by
such luminaries as St John the Evangelist and later, St Paul. Traditionally
Catholics have believed that Mary, the mother of Christ, came to
live in Ephesus towards the end of her life.
Ephesus drew its wealth from its harbour and when that began to
silt up for the second time, the city went into decline and was finally
abandoned. Happily for today’s tourist, there is much to see:
the ancient classical city is astonishingly well preserved and possibly
one of the best existing examples of Roman architecture.
In stark contrast to the calm pursuit of ruin-hopping, visitors
to Ephesus during three months of winter, beginning towards the end
of January, can catch a surprising sporting event. This is the annual
camel wrestling festival, an ancient Turkish tradition. Until recently,
the fights would take place in the 2,000-year-old stadium at Ephesus,
just as they had done for centuries. However, in an attempt to preserve
the ancient arena, the festival, which draws up to 20,000 onlookers
to watch the camels do battle, now takes place on a field near Pamucak
beach. Crowds, many of them nomads, arrive early for the weekly Sunday
spectacle. With it being the mating season, winter is the only time
of year the camels will fight, the bulls battling it out over a female.
The camels used for wrestling are a long-haired cross-breed called
Tulus, known for their aggressive nature. The actual fight is fairly
straightforward; it is the build-up that is so magical and even slightly
comical, with overfed and overdressed camels parading through the
villages in elaborate harnesses of coloured, woven wool covered in
silver bells, mirrored blankets, red tassels, and with bright wool
pompoms woven into their tails.
Compared with bull-fighting or cock-fighting, little damage is done
to the contestants in a camel fight. Within a herd, bull camels will
butt one another to the ground for precedence and for mating rights.
In the arena, two bulls are paraded around in circles to a running
commentary on their wrestling career and fighting skills. A poem
is read, and a female camel is led into the area to excite the two
protagonists. Evidence of success is the sight of their very runny
noses, and streams of milky saliva dribbling from their jaws. The
female is removed and the butting begins. To keep the camels from
harm, their owners muzzle them tightly with string and the beasts
are left with no weapons other than their strong, flexible necks.
These they entwine while pushing each other with their broad, hard
chests. Occasionally a muzzle does come off and biting begins in
earnest until the camels’ owners can separate them.
Another technique used by the experienced fighter is to try to trip
up the opponent with a foreleg-lock followed by a mighty shove. More
often than not, these finer techniques are abandoned and roughly
one ton, or more, of camel will charge and crash into the other,
pushing and straining. The referee keeps up a flow of agitated commentary
while teams of handlers hover nearby to remove the victorious camel
when the other hits the ground. Sometimes the defeated camel will
struggle to its feet and head straight into the crowd. Mayhem ensues.
Spectators scatter, laughing and screaming all at once, while hysterical
handlers chase their precious charges to try to catch their trailing
neck ropes. Happily accidents would appear to be rare.
Just as with racehorses, a camel’s bloodlines are most important,
the best descending from Iranian stock. Betting is widespread and
most of the spectators understand the highly complicated judging
system based on the winning techniques the camels must display. The
successful owner is rewarded with a carpet, which hardly compensates
them for their costs, and the winning camel is utterly pampered.
After my dromedary diversion I drove to nearby Pamukkale, an extraordinarily
beautiful natural phenomenon in the Aegean region. Pamukkale, which
literally translates as “cotton castle”, is the name
of the unique geological formations made by calcium-oxide-rich waters
cascading from a warm spring over the edge of a cliff. Time has caused
deposits of white travertine to build up on the plateau and harden
into ledges, basins and ridges. These fill with water from the spring
and sparkle in the sunlight, resembling an almost extraterrestrial
scene.
Pamukkale adjoins the historic city of Hierapolis, which, among
other treasures, boasts a museum with magnificent sculptures made
at the ancient school there. But it was the magnificent theatre that
enthralled me, with its friezes of mythological scenes of Apollo
and Artemis overlooking a magnificent view of the plain below. There
are other impressive ruins—the Temple of Apollo, principal
deity of Hierapolis, and in front of the temple, a well-preserved
and monumental fountain. Most remarkable was the Martyrion of St
Philip, an octagonal construction, built on a square site measuring
20 x 20m. There is much more to see, including a Christian basilica
from the sixth century, the ancient agora or market, and the remains
of the huge baths converted into a church in the fifth century. A
sight definitely not to be missed is the necropolis of Hierapolis,
Anatolia’s largest early graveyard with 1,200 tombs including
tumuli and sarcophagi.
One final surprise was in store for me. Having seen and marvelled
at so many relics of the ancient world, I was enchanted by stories
of the “fishing cats” of the Van lake area of eastern
Anatolia. The Van breed of Turkish cat, which first arrived in Europe
in the 16th century, was blue-eyed and had a long white coat with
auburn head markings and a faintly ringed auburn tail. In Turkey,
these cats mysteriously have one amber eye and one blue eye. They
also—unlike all other cats except tigers—like water,
and I found it fascinating to watch these beautiful animals boarding
the fishing boats and diving into the lake. It is the most extraordinary
sight as they emerge, their long hair dripping and clinging to their
slim bodies, a small fish wriggling in their jaws. It would have
been so tempting to add a Van cat to my “Gang of Four” at
home, but what of the fish in my pond? Regretfully, I had to decide
against it
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