Travel notes the abode of the gods or unknown Hierapolis
The abode of the gods, or Hierapolis,
about which we know nothing!
The mystery of Pamukkale excursion to Wonderland
Giant polished blocks, perfectly fitted together without fixing solution, the polygonal masonry, cyclopean buildings, amazing arches and pillars, sarcophagi, jewelry and carved out of solid rock – all this I managed to see not far in Mexico, Peru or Egypt, and almost by our side, in Sunny Turkey! It would seem that this country has long been well-known. Historical monuments, remaining from the Hittites, the Etruscans, the ancient Greek and Roman era, lazily stretch tired tourists to sunbathe and to lie on the beach. So I pulled into the nearest travel Agency, littered with magazines, brochures and advertising pamphlets about Turkish attractions. The choice fell on Pamukkale! If I knew what surprise waits for me there…
So, in the spring of 2010, I was among those who arrived in Turkey as to his dacha near Moscow. Full holiday by the sea in Kemer, I went to a many hours journey on the tour bus from the coast of Antalya in the depths of the country to the city of Denizli. I admit, nothing special to see I was not expecting,because we knew the features of similar “cultural” events, when the guides are being driven by tourists, like a flock of sheep, and always in a hurry, glancing at his watch. After all, they still need time to familiarize tourists with Souvenirs, perfume, wine, carpet and other shops, and this process for the Turkish guides are sometimes more important than demonstrations of some attractions. So I thought, when going on an excursion to Pamukkale, and why would I take a camera? At best made a couple of shots, and at worst drown my camera in the Cleopatra bath or a drop on the travertine on the way to his bus. In short, it seemed to me that it is better to go a little light, but then I much regretted that took this decision.
When they reached the town of Denizli, preliminary visiting on the way the carpet factory and the stock center with Turkish textile goods, we had lunch in haste and rushed to attack Pamukkale. To reach the coveted Cleopatra’s baths, we had to pass the road a couple of miles in the heat of the sun through the ruins of some ancient city, whose name I could not remember. Otherwise there was no choice and, with clenched teeth, we had to walk, sweating and cursing those who came up with this tourist route. Once on the territory of the necropolis, a group of tourists began to spread, someone picked up his pace to quickly overcome the path to the hot springs, while others began to be photographed every stone along the way. And here I literally was dumbfounded! My eyes were drawn to one of the many sarcophagi scattered around the necropolis, like logs in a sawmill. Coming closer and having considered the sarcophagus, I admired the quality of the master. Despite the weathered and natural elements corroded the surface of the stone, surprised by the skill and Herculean efforts that have been made to cut a huge sarcophagus with a lid from a solid block. Moreover, the massive cover adjacent to the sarcophagus perfect!