Bergama is a beautiful, little market town surrounded by ancient Greek and Roman ruins. Around 300 B.C. this town had more inhabitants than it does today. It was controlled by one of Alexander the Great’s generals. The homes seem to be a mix of Greek and Ottoman. My hostel was an amazing, restored Ottoman house. The city is leisurely, but unlike Bozcaada people seem to be living very ordinary lives here.
Acropolis –
On the top of the hill are the ruins of a Greek acropolis. It has an incredibly steep 10,000-seat amphitheatre, a gymnasium, temples to Dionysus and Demeter, and once boasted the largest library besides the one in Alexandria. But it’s best known for the Temple to Zeus, which was relocated to Berlin and is now a major point of contention. The frieze around the base depicts a battle between Greek gods and giants, which, in Greek style, was a symbol for the city’s own victories during the 1st century B.C. It later became a Roman town, and a temple was built to Trajan, who also had deity-like status.
Asclepion –
West of the city is an ancient Greek medical center. It became famous due to the physician Galen, whose work remained the basis for Western medicine until the 16th century. You can see columns carved with snakes, dedicated to Asclepios, the god of medicine.
Red Bascilica –
Inside the town is an ancient temple dedicated to Egyptian deities. It was called one of the seven churches of the apocalypse in the book of Revelation, and the throne of the devil. Rather than convert it to a church, Christians built a basilica. You can’t go inside, and actually it’s a pretty uneventful visit, but there are lots of creepy black holes in the ground.
Walking around Bergama I kept thinking about how people felt about living next to these ancient monuments. As a tourist, no one seemed surprised that I was there, but they weren’t that interested in me either. It would be naïve to assume that tourism wasn’t a strong part of the cities economy, but they didn’t seem to capitalize on it like other cities might. Streets were lined with banks, supermarkets, cafes, and automotive shops. The few souvenir stands were right outside the ruins and were pretty casual. I went to a barber for a straight razor shave, and there I could step into that everyday life. The pine-sol smelling cologne I was doused with, the banter between the men, and the orders snapped at the young assistants all had nothing to do with Greek gods or battles.
In his book Istanbul, Orhan Pamuk describes his Grandmother by writing; “Like most people living comfortably in a city, she had no interest in monuments, history, or ‘beauties’.” When I told my Istanbulian friends about my travels they all laughed and said I would see more of Turkey than they have. I think it’s common across the world that we tend to ignore the ‘sights’ of our hometowns. We pay attention to our everyday concerns like family, work, haircuts, and lunches. But I still wonder if that history has some effect on the everyday lives of people in Bergama, like the way my shave reflects the transition from Greek to Roman fashion.
