Nowadays, many Americans are fortunate enough to travel to the Mediterranean. As Mediterranean meccas like Athens, the Greek Islands and Istanbul become overrun by American cruise ships, there is still a place near the Aegean Coast where you can experience the sights, sounds and aromas of a different world -- without running into a lot of Americans. This place is called Bergama, Turkey.
the road to bergama
Twenty kilometers southeast of the Turkish Port is the city of Ayvalik. The best way to get to Bergama is to take a bus from Ayvalik. The bus ride takes about an hour and a half, and you ride through miles of villages and olive fields.Our particular bus ride was highlighted by a police stop that tests bus drivers for intoxication. Accidents caused by drunken bus drivers are all too common in Turkey, so police are taking the necessary precautions. After a few minutes, our driver waddled back into the bus after passing the test, or coming up with the right amount of money to pass...
let the bidding begin
Upon arrival into the Bergama bus station, you are greeted by a cast of pension owners and workers hawking the benefits of their particular dwellings. As we scarfed down a particularly tasty lamb stew served over rice, a persistent pension owner, armed with a three-ring notebook full of reviews from sources like the Lonely Planet, made his case.We decided to take a chance and spend the night in Bergama. Little did we know a short stopover would turn into the two-day highlight of the entire two-week trip.
The pension owner drove us to the 300-year-old restored Ottoman style Pension Athena. A sign leading in read, "We are not the best but trying to get there." Our room overlooked the ancient ruins of Pergamon, a Hellenistic ruin dating back over 2,200 years.
Although the late September weather was a clear and comfortable 80 degrees, we decided to wear jeans and cover our skin out of respect to the Muslim culture. While Turkey is not an extreme Muslim country, the religion does underline life in the nation. Throughout the day one can hear the chants and prayers emanating from the mosques. While its not a public offense to wear shorts, many tourists will get treated with intentional indifference, or the evil eye...
we soon settled
Once settled in, we ventured out past the ruins Aesiepion in the Western section of town. When the Roman Empire dominated this area, the complex became one of the first medical clinics and spas in recorded history. Past the Aesiepion, you arrive at a row of carpet merchants. We visited a few of the shops and partook in the custom of drinking freshly brewed apple tea as merchants flipped through hundreds of colorful, intricately sewn rugs.Since we werent quite in the buying spirit, we decided to take the 1 1/2 mile hike up to the ancient city of Pergamon. Weaving uphill through neighborhoods of adobe dwellings swashed in pastel blues, pinks and yellows, we encountered groups of cheerful and curious grade school children. The children playfully asked for everything -- money, pictures, ball point pens. Each wanted their picture taken and wrote out their address in hopes of becoming pen pals.
temple of cats
After the one-mile hike up a dusty sagebrush hill, we arrived at the Pergamum ruins. We toured the remains of the acropolis, temple of Zeus, and amphitheater. What sets Pergamum apart from these other sites is the fact that it is located on a hill isolated from the town below. Hence, schlocky souvenir stands are kept to a minimum. One can sit in relative peace and quiet and imagine what it was really like to live 2,200 years ago.Wandering through the ruins, you run into the only living residents of Pergamum -- lots and lots of kitty cats. While the cats give the area a mysterious and wild flair, their overwhelming numbers serve as a sad testament to the problem of feral dogs and cats.
Throughout the region, funding is not allocated to pet shelters or neutering programs. Therefore, wild cats and dogs fill the streets throughout the region. We found ourselves feeding leftovers to the cats throughout the trip. Since these cats are really wild animals, its best to keep your distance.
bathe with a new friend
After the long walk down from ancient Pergamum to Bergama, we stopped by a local cafe for the essential beer and lamb specialty of the house. Everything was fresh and delicious. The breads and lamb were laced with special seasonings unfamiliar to an American tongue.As we capped off the feast, a cigarette smoking Turkish man in his 30's asked if he could join us to practice his English. Despite our suspicious Northeast American inclinations, we welcomed him over and preceded to talk up a storm. This man was a shopkeeper who lived in a village two hours away in the mountains. He traveled weekly to town for business. He was very inquisitive about popular culture like John Wayne, The Beatles, and Bill Clintons extramarital affairs. He shared his hopes of one day visiting the United States.
the torture chamber
As the beers went down and conversation flowed, our friend said he was a former masseuse who used to work at a 500-year-old Turkish bathhouse just around the corner from the restaurant. He offered to take us there for a free bath. Adventurous and beer happy, we took him up on the offer, settled the bill, and followed him through windy backstreets.We entered a white stucco building. An immense, raised white marble slab filled a large room. Surrounding this main room were many dressing areas, steam rooms and bathing rooms. Our friend blurted something guttural to the burly proprietor who resembled Saddam Hussein. Begrudgingly, he let us in.
After changing into towels and securing our items as best we could, our friend brought us into the soap room. Since he seemed to show more vigorous interest in what was beneath my wifes towel than the task at hand, I volunteered to get the royal treatment from this former masseuse, as my wife scurried to the side protecting her camera lens from the steam. Our friend started the process with a pressure rub of the major arm neck and muscle groups. What I expected to be a light motherly rubdown felt more like a fish being skinned by a hungry grizzly bear.
he wasn't that good
Then comes the hard bar of soap rubbed vigorously on the torso and scalp. This is designed to open the pores; I thought it was going to open the blood vessels. Then, the splashing of cool bowls of water thrown everywhere, but mostly in the eyes and up the nose. This is followed by the shampoo which feels more like a phrenology exam gone terribly wrong. Fortunately, my love for calcium rich ice cream paid off, preventing my skull from being crushed.The former masseuse began walking on my back, which actually felt pretty good. As his heels dug between my shoulder blades, the session was suddenly interrupted by the loud burly proprietor who yelled something at our friend. Our friend yelled something back. After a slight pause, our friend cleared his throat and informed us that weve been asked to leave. The only word I could make out from the irate proprietor was "amateur."
It seems our friend had taken advantage of his alumni status one too many times. With my spine still intact, we graciously declined his invitation to take a 2-hour bus ride and meet his wife and children. After this not-so relaxing introduction to Turkish massage, we took his card, split ways and called it a night.
market day
Bergama is a city of 56,000. On Mondays it seems to double in size for the big regional market day. From end to end it takes an hour just to walk a straight line past the booths, through the throngs of buyers and sellers. Locals, gypsies and residents from the region buy and sell goods like sheep, fruits, vegetables, crafts, and exotic spices. Modern westernized Turkish women rub elbows with brightly colored robes of traditionally dressed women from the village. Boys with Nike shirts run circles around fez-topped men.Color bursts everywhere: green olives, long firehose-like purple eggplants, fat stumpy orange carrots. Aromas from strange spices, incense, huka pipes, fresh breads, roasted nuts, and musty black market clothing mix and hover at nose level.
Besides the women covered in traditional garb, most locals are very photogenic and almost amused by having their picture taken. One particular group of men gazed heartily at the camera as they played cards, sipped strong Turkish coffee and smoked from pipes.
What we thought would be a two-hour stopover in Bergama became a two-day adventure, and the highlight of a two-week backpacking honeymoon of Greece and Turkey. Bergama is an offbeat alternative to Istanbul, and a slice of Turkey that should not be missed.
Resources:
Turkey Travel Guide
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