Tear Down the Walls of Troy

A horse is a horse, of course, of course,
Unless the horse is in the harbor of Çanakkale and not outside the walls of Troy.

I've read the Iliad. I've read the Aeneid. So it was time to see Troy for myself. Well, what's left of the place. And that's not much, but more is being uncovered all the time, complicated by the fact that there was no one City of Troy. There were nine. Layered on top of each other.

And that complicates the archaeology, especially in a world where archaeologists are trying to balance preservation with discovery. And in a place such as Troy, the fact that the pendulum has swung hard in favor of preservation, that makes the process of uncovering the deeper layers, going back to 3000 B.C. (And, again, B.C., not B.C.E., because what makes the "common era" common? Or should I ask, who makes it common? Exactly.)

It's about a four-hour drive in a large passenger travel van (the van is large, the passengers vary in size). You travel along the Sea of Marmara, the body of the water with the Bosphorus to the north and the Dardenelles to the southwest, for a long while. (It is the set of three bodies of water, the Dardenelles, the Sea of Marmara, and the Bosphorus, that separate the Mediterranean and Aegean Seas from the Black Sea.) After you reach the Dardenelles, you take a ferry across the water from Eceabat on the European side of the Dardenelles to the city of Çanakkale in Asia. The sign in the above photo shows you where to go to get the "feribot," so, yes, it is not a ferry and it is not a boat. It is a ferry-boat. Like a tuna fish or a turkey bird.

Eceabat does feature statuary near the ferry-boat harbor.

I had limited time in Eceabat, so I saw this one, but missed the massive "Respect for History" monument and the trench warfare. (There were a huge number of Aussie and Kiwi tourists on my van and nearly all were going to Gallipoli, a famous WWI battlefield where an enormous number of Australian and New Zealand troops were slaughtered,)

Off to the ferry-boat and to Anatolian Turkey.

There's more than one ferry-boat operating these waters. I'm not sure why there are multiple bridges over the Bosphorus but, at most, one over the Dardenelles. I am guessing it's the combination of the fact that the Dardenelles is a wider channel and Bosphorus has one of the world's most populous cities built astride it.

Once you land in Çanakkale, the setting of the Trojan mood begins.

There is a replica of the Trojan Horse in the Çanakkale harbor. Actually, that is not a replica. It's apparently the real thing. The "real thing" as in the real Trojan Horse from the filming of the Brad Pitt movie "Troy" several years ago. The movie studio gifted the horse to Çanakkale after filming. So this is the real deal. In a way.

A little aside of town are Trojan busts.

 

Above is the happy loving couple that, according to Homer, caused the whole Trojan War mess. I guess this couple sort of served the same role as the Archduke Ferdinand and his spoiled wife Sophie did in fomenting WWI. History does not repeat, as they say, but it rhymes.

This is King Agamemnon. You also may know him from the Aeschylus written Greek tragedy play named for him.

Odysseus. He was the star in Homer's sequel to the Iliad, the Odyssey.

This is a tragic figure:

No. I am not referring to the man in the foreground who made the tragic fashion choice of fluorescent yellow. I am referring the Achilles, the man with the famous heel, over his left shoulder.

And here I am posing with a heroic figure, not a tragic one:

  

Me and Mr. Ataturk. Kemel Ataturk, the founder of modern day Turkey. Now modern-day Türkiye.

As an aside, I really should get used to spelling it "Türkiye," since the locals, when speaking English, pronounce the name of their country "tur-KEY-uh," with a pronounced extra vowel sound at the end, and not "tur-KEY," as we do. R.E.S. P. E. C. T. And all that.

We now are in the Troy archaeological site, with a very sad and not-at-all-original Trojan Horse, The Trojans would have got what they deserved if they couldn't figure out a giant wooden horse with a staircase coming out of its belly was trouble. With a "T" and that stands for "Troy."

Time to explore some ruins. Time to tear down the walls of Troy:

This is from the Homeric Era of Troy, which would be the sixth of seventh of the nine incarnations of Troy.

I am here:

The path doesn't neatly go from Troy #1 to Troy #9, or vice versa, because archaeology doesn't work that way. What got uncovered got uncovered and it's impossible to put them in numerical sequence. So you walk along the designated route, see what you see, and hope you can make sense of the historical perspective necessary.

All in all, I was surprised that there were nine Troys, ranging from 3000 B.C. to 500 A.D. in the late Roman Era. I though there was one Troy and it was destroyed in a war with Greece, fictionalized and sensationalized by Homer -- whoever heard of author sensationalizing reality -- and once Odysseus started his long, long journey home, that was the end of the saga of Troy.

Actual history, as it always is, is more complicated.

And we only guess it what those complications were. We can't interview the eyewitnesses, after all. We can only unearth what is there and hope to guess the right answer from extremely limited data and our overwhelming expectations and pedelictions.

This was a trench dug by a German archaeologist in the 1870's, Heinrich Schliemann, who dug a deep trench through the middle of the Troy ruins. Which, under the current rules of archaeology, was verboten. But, again, life is complicated, it is from his trench we learned over the nine Troys and that there was not just a single one. Under the current rules of practice in archaeology, we never should dig deeper than the Roman layer on top.

Was this the ramp they used to get the Trojan Horse inside the walls of Troy? Assuming there was a horse ... as that may just be a conspiracy theory.

This sidewalk in old Troy shows evidence of a massive earthquake. I still choose to believe Homer that Troy was destroyed by Greeks bearing gifts, all because of that shameless hussy Helen, But history and the archaeology seems to bolster the "massive earthquake in earthquake country" theory regarding the destruction of Troy.

This is a Trojan oak:

It is a form of oak tree, but the leaves have needles at the points, like holly. Look, don't touch.

This is an ampitheater:

Trojans did not have massive American sized butts and bodies to fit into these seats. In fact, they were so petite that they could have fit comfortably well in a Spirit Airlines seat. Almost. But could they have offered the price of a plastic bottle of water?

And the tour of Troy comes to an end. Evening is falling and it is time to get back to Istanbul and my hotel room bed.

But if you are ever in the neighborhood, visit Troy.

You will jump for joy. (That is my attempt at the instagram leap. Kudos to the photographer who caught me mid-air before gravity won the battle.)

Perusing Peru: Destination 2: El Norte

Elias Aguirre stands tall in the park that bears his name

Travel day. And the travel day destination? El Norte. Or, more specifically, Chiclayo, Peru.

I am referring to this as El Norte, the North, because just about everyone in Lima with whom I spoke, when I said I was next going to Chiclayo, would respond with two two-word responses. "El Norte," because it is in Northern Peru. And "muy calor," very hot, because Peru, being in the southern hemisphere, gets hotter as you move north,

I am staying at the Casa Andina. Casa Andina is a Peruvian chain hotel. But I'm not just staying at any old Casa Andina. No. Not me. I'm an upscale traveler who in the course of my travels has developed a taste for the finer things in life. I am staying at a Casa Andina Select.

It's in a relatively quiet neighborhood, just beyond the small downtown core of Chiclayo. Of course, any neighborhood is going to seem quiet compared to Lima. Where I was staying in Lima, by Lima standards, was a quiet neighborhood. That meant the car horns stopped their constant honking at around 1:00 a.m. I shudder to think what it's like in the less-quiet neighborhoods of that mega-city. Here in Chiclayo, the streets are quiet by 9:00 p.m. Just like in Phoenix!

The hotel is across the street from a small park: Parque Infantil de Chiclayo. Translation (and this one is obvious): Chiclayo Children's Park.

There is a statue of man on a horse.

Every park should have a statue of man on a horse. There also is an abbreviated colonnade:

The streets are relatively quiet. You can actually safely jaywalk. Not that I would ever do anything illegal in a foreign land. But I could do it if I were so inclined. But I'm not. So stop thinking about jaywalking please.

There is of course market stalls right on Avenida Salaverry.

And we then come to Plazueta Elias Aguirre,

I presume he was a Naval hero of some sort. The anchor is my clue.

And he does have a cool-looking building over his left shoulder. Let's take a closer look, shall we?

Chiclayo has been thrust to the forefront of global tourism because of events that happened this past May. The selection of Robert Prevost as the new pope. Pope Leo XIV. Chiclayo now is known throughout the land as "La Ciudad del Papa León XIV," the City of Pope Leo XIV. And when I say "throughout the land," I mean the land that is Peru. And when I say that the city has been "thrust to the forefront of global tourism," I mean interest in Chiclayo as a tourist destination has increased among the people of Peru, who are quite proud to have been the home of the reigning pope.

I do want to see the Pope Leo XIV sites when I am here. But the more significant reason for visiting Chiclayo -- which has been on my list of places I want to go long before any of us thought that Chicago-born priest living in Peru would be selected pope -- are some pre-Inca historic sites in the Chiclayo environs. The first is the Sipán, or Moche, culture, which was dominant in this region from A.D. 100 to A.D. 800. The Sicán, unrelated despite strikingly a similar name, was dominant in the region from A.D. 750 to A.D. 1375, right before the rise of the Inca in the 120 years to so before the Spanish arrival in Peru.

I was on my way to dinner at a well-reviewed restaurant according to the google: Don Juan Plazuela, right next to the Elias Aguirre Plazuela. But, first, I had to check out the Christmas decoration at a retail location along the street which, at some point in the brief few blocks I walked changed its name from Av. Salaverry to Calle Capitan Elias Aguirre.

Peru does decorate for Christmas. Anyway, google maps said that Don Juan Plazuela was "not too busy," which is not bad for a restaurant rated 4.9 stars. It was closed. "Cerramos," said the man behind the locked gate. Well, I guess if your restaurant is closed then, inside, it genuinely would be "not too busy," although, in my world, the use of that phrase was a trifle misleading.

So, anyway, not wishing to do any further research and just wanting to feed my stomach which has not had food tossed into it since the quinoa bar on the airplane ride, I went to Brasa Roja. It's a chicken restaurant. Ninety percent of the restaurants in Chiclayo (at least my neighborhood) seem to be chicken restaurants. The rest are chifa, but downscale chifa. 

The restaurant was basically El Pollo Loco, but where you sit down and they take your order. Plus they serve alcohol, which I believe El Pollo Loco does not. I had the rotisserie chicken, breast quarter, served with a large amount of fries (three dipping sauces for the fries), a salad that was equal parts salad and dressing (which in my mind is the appropriate amount of salad dressing: make that lettuce swim), and a Cerveza Cusqueña Negra, the dark ("negra") beer from one of the major Peruvian breweries.

This not being Los Estados Unidos, none of the three fry-dipping sauces were ketchup. One was mayonnaise. One was what seemed to be, potentially, a mayonnaise and ketchup mix. What people in Utah would call "fry dipping sauce." And the third was this spicy mayonnaise-based herbal sauce. The herb might've been cilantro, but the spice level was sufficient I could not be certain.

As far as the adult beverage goes, truth be told: this was not one of my favorite dark beers. It was very sweet. And I mean VERY. It was so sweet it tasted like hard root beer, rather than a dark lager.

One last look out my hotel window at the park across the street before I turn in for the night.

The One Full Day in Korea: Starting at the National Museum

A pagoda in the snow. And in front of the National Museum of Korea

Three days in wintry Seoul, but only one of those days is a full 24-hour day.  This is it.

Other than sleeping in to get caught up from the jet lag, there were only two items on the agenda.  First up was the National Museum of Korea.  This meant taking the Seoul Metro to the Yongsan stop.  I probably should have gone to the Ichon stop instead, but that was a different subway line so I didn't think to take it.  The area around the Yongsan stop was interesting.

The Seoul Metro is not that difficult to navigate.  I was able to figure it out in a couple of rides.  Which is one of the reasons I like to travel to solo:  you don't have to explain to someone you're traveling with when you are still trying to learn to navigate the subway system.

This was a weird looking whatever:

It said it was a spa.  It had the over-the-top flamboyance of a casino, but it appeared not to be that.  But it did have a Christmas tree, which was appropriately on a snowy day.

And then:  another Christmas tree!

And then: a railroad crossing.

You can see that the snow is starting to pick up the pace:

Soon as I was at the snowy grounds of the National Museum:

Lots of schoolchildren outside.  Even more inside.

Let's go check out the pagoda.

And of course that is what a bridge to a pagoda would have to look like.

And this is what the pagoda looks like.

A pagoda in the snow.  With child.

I, of course, meant that there was a child in the photo with the pagoda.  Not that the pagoda was pregnant.  The sign call this:  Cheongjajeong.  I don't know if that is the name of the pagoda, the builder of the pagoda, or the Korean word for pagoda.  Some mysteries are unsolved even on travel.

Enough of the pagoda.  It's museum time.

Even better:  it's time to go inside the museum.

The museum does go back into Korean history.

And here is one of those chimes instruments that we saw at Gwanghwamun Square.

Here is Emperor Gojong, founder of the Joseon Dynasty.

The Joseon Dynasty ruled the Korean Peninsula until the Japanese conquest and subjugation of Korea in the late 19th/early 20th Century.  One nugget learned in the National Museum of Korea:  Japan became a great an international power in the early 20th Century because of the wealth it stole from Korea.  That's the Korean side of the story and they are sticking with it.

And here's a tower with a robot:

The robot is in the middle.

The standard wall of pottery:

I've traveled enough to know this:  Every national museum has a wall of pottery.

And a man on a horse.

I learned a lot about Korean history, specifically from the Korean perspective.  And, from touring two museums, I've learned this about Korea:  they're still not over the whole subjugation at the hands of Japan thing.