Antiochus' Megalomania

July 21-22  Midyat to Mardin to Nemrut Dagi (Mt. Nemrut)

We awoke in the Shmayaa Hotel in Midyat to a wonderful breakfast. We ate in the beautiful courtyard, and for the first time since India, we were served breakfast rather than a buffet. And by a waitress no less, a rarity in the parts of Turkey we have visited.

Midyat is not too big and we got out of there without getting lost based on the directions of the hotel manager. It was less than an hour’s drive to Mardin and in the interest of time, we passed up several sites to go directly there. The old, and very well preserved, part of Mardin is a very ancient city that overlooks the Mesopotamian plains and was part of early civilizations in the Fertile Crescent. As with other cities in this area, it has been overrun by various conquerors. Until recently it was dominated by Assyrian Christians who, like those in Midyat, during the last century, either were killed or fled so that now many big churches stand underused.  Also like other cities in the area, it was until recently a stronghold of the PKK (depending upon your view, either a terrorist organization according to the Turks or freedom fighters for the Kurds), but that guerrilla war has shifted to a political phase.

The old town cascades down a steep hillside that is dominated by a castle on the top. The people lived in honey-colored stone houses that flow down the hill and line a labyrinth of narrow meandering lanes. Thus, while it was easy to find, it was very difficult to drive in that area. What should have been one-way streets were frequently the sites of vehicle confrontations. We were fortunate to find a parking space within walking distance of our target, the Sakip Sabanci Mardin City Museum (as in the US, if you give a lot of money to a cultural institution you get to put your name on the institution). It is a recent museum that is housed in an old, restored army barracks. Its exhibits display the story of Mardin’s history and culture and its multicultural past. Most importantly, it had excellent English language translations. Downstairs there was an art gallery focusing on photographs showing how the east was observed by the west. Best of all they admitted seniors for free.

We were facing a long drive to Mt. Nemrut so we passed on Mardin’s other attractions and attempted to make our way back down the hill, initially without success. Then I got behind two delivery trucks and just followed them as they made opposing traffic back up.

On the highway we stopped for gasoline. We were greeted by a young attendant who, after filling the tank, offered us tea and seats in his group. There was little common language, but liberal use of Google Translate. Turns out the station seemed to be a family affair. He is married and has a 3-month-old child whose pictures he showed us. In addition to several other adults and a couple of children, he brought over his father, and then his grandfather who was identified as the boss. Second cups of tea emerged and offers of cola. We also received the usual box of tissues.  They liked our pictures of Turkey and reviewing the places we had been, but they erupted in wild laughter when we showed them the picture of the cow on the street and immediately yelled, “India.”     

We continued driving north, around Diyarbakir and then west through Siverek. We needed to purchase some Turkish lira since were down to our last 100, but the hotels and restaurants seemed to take credit cards (we were told reluctantly, since all credit card transactions are reported to the government, thereby coming within view of the tax authorities) and since I was concerned that going into these big cities would at best cause delay, and at worst cause me to get lost, I was hoping to find a bank in a smaller town. However the banks seem to have abandoned the smaller towns so when we stopped for gas again, and our credit cards did not work so our lira supply was further depleted. We had lots of bottled water, but it was all hot from being in the car, so to quench thirst we were buying cold water at each stop.

When we arrived at the mountain area the roads became steep and windy, second-gear territory. No guard rails or safety barriers here. One wrong turn and you tumble over a cliff. Our Pension was in the village of Karadut. As we approached it, we were blocked for a time by a working back hoe and then approached by a man who solicited our business for his hotel.  Our pension was pretty basic, but the rooms were clean and the bathroom worked. There was a large, partially covered terrace in the back with sweeping views of the valley where a tasty, plentiful barbeque dinner was served. The sky was powdered with stars. Most of the staff did not speak English, but they were very helpful.  The downside was that there was no air-conditioning in our room [It advertised air conditioning and I did not check to see if other rooms had it.] and even throughout the night it was hot.

The next day we lounged on the terrace in the morning. I was getting lazy, so we agreed to a tour with our host at the pension--more like he served as the driver--of the mountain in the afternoon. Nemrut Dagi did not come to the attention of the west until the 19^th century when German Captain von Molke (later the Field Marshall who masterminded the WWI plan for the Germans on the western front)  noted it as a cartography point and referenced the monuments in Arsameia on the side of the mountain. However, it was not until late in the century when a German railroad engineer discovered the statues on the top of the mountain.

Most of the monuments and statues were created in the first century BC by Antiochus I, ruler of Commagene. He negotiated a non-aggression pact with Rome, effectively becoming a buffer for Rome against attacks from the east by the Parthians, with whom Antiochus also cultivated good relations. Apparently all these good relations engendered delusions of grandeur and he built the monuments, statues and funeral mound.

The sites are spread out around the mountain. The route covered over 100km over steep and sometimes unpaved roads, so the tour was a good investment. There was almost too much to see. The Cendere Bridge spans a river of the same name. It was built by the Romans in the 2d century. I waded into the river and crossed over the bridge. The bridge originally had 4 columns, but only three remain. Two were inscribed with the names of the emperor’s sons, but when one son succeeded his father he put his brother to death and ordered his name removed. The locals simply found it more practical to remove the column. Yeni Kale is a medieval fortress that contains outer and inner walls. There are two sites on adjoining hilltops called Arsameia on the Euphrates and the Nymphaoia that we hiked to and have several statues, the most impressive of which is a large relief of Antiochus’ father with Hercules. These sites also contain long tunnels, one of which I descended into as far as I dared without seeing the end.

We drove almost to the summit. And then ascended about 400 meters by a very long stairway to the top. There are three terraces, two of which are covered with monuments, primarily of various gods, but also of Antiochus. In most cases the large heads have fallen off their bodies and so they are sitting on the ground staring at you.  The third terrace is presumed to be an assembly area. There are lots of inscriptions at all these sites.

Topping it all off is a large tumulus of fist-sized stones that is presumed to be the tomb of Antiochus, but it has not been found.

We finished up about 7:30 and drove back to the pension. Another good dinner accompanied by many cats and kittens, but with lots of wind, which surprisingly did not blow all the bugs away.

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