Instead of fitting into simplified geographical labels, there’s a strong sense of being part of a culture formed in the crossroads of Europe and Asia, shaped by both the legacy of the Ottoman Empire and the reforms of the modern Turkish republic. Many people see themselves as belonging to a distinct Turkish identity.

Hagia Sophia’s Thousand-Year Transformation

Our first stop was the magnificent Hagia Sophia, a structure that embodies Istanbul’s identity more than any other building. Originally constructed by Byzantine Emperor Justinian I between 532 and 537 CE, this architectural marvel has undergone many transformations.

The building’s history reads like a political timeline of empires. For nearly a millennium, it served as the principal cathedral of Eastern Christianity until 1453, when Sultan Mehmed II converted it into a mosque following the Ottoman conquest of Constantinople. The Ottomans didn’t destroy the Christian elements but rather incorporated them into their Islamic architecture, adding minarets, a mihrab, and a minbar while preserving many of the original Byzantine mosaics. Even today it remains the centre of politics, having witnessed protesters unfurling a “Free Palestine” sign, before quickly removing it, presumably for a social media campaign. Other sensitive topics like the Armenian genocide and the population exchange with Greece reflect ongoing struggles with historical memory and national identity. Our guide tended to avoid these questions, due to their political sensitivity.

The transformation continued into the modern era when Mustafa Kemal Atatürk converted it into a museum in 1934, symbolizing Turkey’s secular reforms. For 86 years, it existed as a unique blend of Christian and Islamic heritage until July 2020, when it was reconverted to a mosque. This most recent change sparked international debate, but it ensures that this architectural wonder continues to serve as a living, breathing place of worship rather than merely a historical artifact.

What captures visitors’ attention immediately are the massive circular calligraphic roundels – some of the largest in the Islamic world. These wooden panels, inscribed by the Ottoman calligrapher Kazasker Mustafa İzzet Efendi, display the names of Allah, Prophet Muhammad, the first four caliphs (Abu Bakr, Umar, Uthman, and Ali), and Muhammad’s grandsons Hassan and Hussein.

The Christian mosaics that survive today offer glimpses into Byzantine artistry. During the Ottoman period, many were plastered over but not destroyed, allowing for their later restoration during the museum years.

The Blue Mosque: Six Minarets and an Architectural Controversy

Directly across from Hagia Sophia stands the Sultan Ahmed Mosque, better known as the Blue Mosque, completed in 1616 during the reign of Sultan Ahmed I. The mosque was designed by architect Sedefkar Mehmed Ağa as an imperial show of strength to complement the imposing Hagia Sophia. Its most distinctive feature – six minarets – caused considerable controversy when first built, as only the Prophet’s mosque in Mecca possessed the same number. Unlike Hagia Sophia’s converted structure, the Blue Mosque was purpose-built as a place of Islamic worship.

Minarets serve both functional and symbolic purposes. Their number indicates a mosque’s importance: most mosques have one minaret, significant mosques have two, and only the most important imperial mosques have four or more. Originally, muezzins climbed these towers five times daily to call the faithful to prayer, with the call projecting in all directions from the circular galleries.

The mosque earned its popular name from the more than 20,000 handmade İznik tiles that adorn its interior. These ceramic masterpieces feature intricate designs of tulips, roses, carnations, and lilies in predominantly blue hues, beautifully illuminated by 260 windows. The craftsmanship represents the pinnacle of Ottoman ceramic art, with each tile contributing to a harmonious whole that creates an almost meditative atmosphere.

During our visit, we observed the quiet distribution of Qurans to interested visitors, reflecting the mosque’s role as both a place of worship and cultural exchange.

The Basilica Cistern’s Mysterious Depths

Built in the 6th century during Emperor Justinian I’s reign, this underground marvel was designed to supply water to the Great Palace of Constantinople and Hagia Sophia. The engineering achievement is staggering: 336 marble columns, each approximately 9 meters tall, arranged in 12 rows of 28 columns, supporting the weight of the vaulted ceiling above.

The cistern’s most intriguing features are the Medusa heads serving as column bases. These carved blocks were discovered during restoration work between 1985 and 1987, having remained hidden for centuries.

Several explanations exist for these mysterious sculptures. Some historians believe the heads were intentionally placed upside down to neutralize Medusa’s legendary power to turn viewers to stone. Others suggest they were simply repurposed architectural elements from earlier Roman buildings, positioned for purely structural reasons. A third theory proposes they were placed as protective talismans against evil spirits.

The cistern’s Islamic history reveals an interesting cultural perspective on flowing versus still water. When the Ottomans conquered Constantinople, they largely abandoned the cistern because Islamic tradition considers moving water more spiritually pure than stored water. This cultural preference led to the cistern’s gradual neglect until its rediscovery and restoration in the modern era.

The atmospheric lighting and the sound of water dropping from the ceiling create an almost mystical environment that makes visitors feel like they’re exploring an underground cathedral. The wooden walkways allow close examination of the varied column capitals, some Corinthian, others Ionic or Doric, evidence that the builders sourced materials from diverse ancient structures throughout the empire.

Imperial Opulence: Inside Topkapi Palace

Topkapi Palace served as the primary residence of Ottoman sultans for nearly 400 years, and walking through its courtyards and chambers offers an intimate glimpse into imperial life. The palace complex is vast, containing multiple courtyards, residential quarters, administrative buildings, and the famous Harem, where the sultan’s family and concubines lived in seclusion.

The palace’s Sacred Relics chamber houses one of the world’s most significant collections of Islamic artifacts. These relics were brought to Istanbul in 1517 when Sultan Selim I conquered the holy cities of Mecca and Medina, establishing himself as Caliph. The collection includes items purportedly belonging to Prophet Muhammad himself: strands of hair from his beard, a tooth, his footprint, several swords, and most significantly, the Blessed Mantle (Hırka-i Saadet).

The chamber where these relics are displayed maintains a profound spiritual atmosphere, with an imam continuously reciting Quranic verses, a practice that has continued for centuries.

Whether one believes in the authenticity of these artifacts or not, their historical significance as symbols of Islamic leadership and spiritual authority is undeniable. The scholarly consensus confirms that Prophet Muhammad was indeed a historical figure who lived in western Arabia during the early 7th century CE, supported by contemporary Byzantine, Syrian, and Armenian sources.

The palace also contains remarkable examples of Ottoman craftsmanship and design. The tile work throughout the complex rivals that of Portugal’s Sintra Palace but with distinctly Turkish colour palettes and motifs[highlighted in visitor notes]. The various reception halls, and the sultan’s private chambers each tell stories of ceremony, diplomacy, and daily life in the Ottoman court.

The Harem quarters, often misunderstood as merely the sultan’s private domain, actually functioned as a complex social institution housing the royal family, their servants, and administrators. The intricate tile work, painted ceilings, and carefully designed spaces reveal the sophisticated court culture that governed the Ottoman Empire at its zenith.

A Culinary Disappointment: Fine Dining Falls Short

Our evening took us to a restaurant featured in the Michelin Guide, not a starred establishment, but one included in their recommendations. The experience proved disappointing. The meal began promisingly with traditional Turkish tea, and fresh bread. However, the execution fell short. While I generally like this cuisine, I didn’t enjoy their execution of it.

We began with a mezze platter featuring chickpea yogurt, spicy tomato spreads, stuffed grape leaves, feta cheese, and hummus. It looked good, but Each dish supposedly carried historical Ottoman connections, but the preparation lacked finesse.

All red meat was cooked well-done, reflecting traditional Turkish preferences that prioritize food safety over texture. While this cooking style has deep cultural roots, this part I had trouble getting used to.

I did enjoy the restaurant’s attempt to connect each dish to Ottoman history. The finale of apple tea was genuinely excellent. Even with the historical ambiance and cultural storytelling, the experience has room for improvement by international standards.

Farewell Moments: The Human Connection

Our most meaningful experiences came not from monuments but from human connections. Saying goodbye to our tour group at a local bar revealed the true value of shared travel experiences. The group had developed strong bonds, inside jokes, and genuine friendships over just a few days. While our tour guide occasionally seemed overwhelmed by the group’s energy and humour, his professionalism and knowledge enhanced our understanding of each site significantly.

I checked in together with one of our tour group members who happen to have the same flight connection as me, but in the process, the attendant mistakenly checked one of her suitcases under my itinerary, and I noticed it too late, causing us to spend time to work with the airline to return her luggage, a process that, thankfully, worked out a day later. I also met an Indian passenger on her first flight ever – traveling from India to Turkey to Frankfurt to Canada.

These moments reminded us that while Istanbul’s historic sites provide the framework for exploration, the people we meet, fellow travelers, guides, and locals enriches sightseeing into genuine cultural exchange. The laughter, shared observations, and collective wonder at ancient achievements created memories that we will carry with us.

Practical Observations: Modern Istanbul’s Challenges

The economic challenges facing Turkey were evident in pricing that approaches American levels despite significantly lower local wages. Inflation rates exceeding 47% in late 2024 have created substantial pressure on both residents and visitors. Unlike some nations, Turkey didn’t engage in excessive pandemic spending; however, several distinct factors have fueled inflation, such as persistent currency devaluation, lowering interest rates in the face of rising prices, and heavy reliance on imported goods (some even highly taxed). The political situation continues to generate debate, with critics arguing that democratic institutions have been weakened while supporters maintain that stability has been preserved.

The taxi situation in Istanbul remains problematic for tourists, with widespread reports of scams including overcharging, longer routes, and “broken” meters. The prevalence of these issues suggests systemic problems that detract from the city’s tourism appeal. Using public transportation or pre-arranged transfers appears advisable for visitors.

Istanbul’s airport stands out for its striking design and enormous scale (albeit with less than sufficient air conditioning), and amenities like business lounges with a mini golf course and a pool table give arriving travellers a strong first impression. However, this impressive gateway doesn’t fully hide the economic and social challenges that many people in Turkey face beyond its sleek halls.

See more of Istanbul here

How Water Built a “Castle”

We learned from our guide that each terrace is a natural bowl of travertine, a limestone deposited when hot, calcium-carbonate spring water loses carbon dioxide and solidifies. Over millennia the process stacked basin upon basin, producing a 200-metre cliff that gleams as if it has never known a footprint.

UNESCO recognised both the geology and the adjacent Greco-Roman spa of Hierapolis in 1988, ensuring stricter water-flow management so the terraces retain their snowy coat.

Ruins with Stories in Stone

At the hilltop the ground levels into the ruins of Hierapolis, founded by the Attalid kings in the second century BCE.

The theatre dominates the skyline. We hiked up to the top an watched the sunset.

The city sits atop the Pamukkale fault zone, a geologically active area responsible for both the mineral-rich hot springs and the site’s seismic instability. Major earthquakes are recorded in 17 CE under Tiberius and again, even more devastatingly, in 60 CE under Nero. The city was rebuilt with Roman imperial funds, but the threat of further destruction always loomed. Additional earthquakes in the 14th and 17th centuries CE led to significant structural collapse and abandonment by the surviving population.

Within the ruins, stray animals call it home. Among the stray cats and dogs, a turtle stands out, a pet-trade species now ranked among the world’s most invasive reptiles.

The Myth of Cerberus

South-east of the stage lies the Ploutonion, once famed as “Pluto’s Gate”. Ancient writers described sacrificial bulls collapsing here while priests emerged unharmed. Modern gas probes explain the trick: a fissure still vents carbon dioxide strong enough to reach lethal concentrations near the ground.

From the viewing deck we could see the statue of Pluto and Cerberus guarding the gate to hell.

The Bare-Foot Gauntlet

The guide offered us two options to go back into town: 1) to take the bus back, or 2) walk down the terrace – reluctantly, I opted for the second option.

Visitors must walk the slope barefoot, a rule that protects the fragile crust but punishes one’s soles like walking on Lego.

We chose each step carefully, hunting for the smoothest stripes between ridges. The descent stretched only a few hundred metres, yet the stinging pressure made it feel closer to half an hour, each step a tactical decision rather than a stroll.

A Welcome Shift in Flavour

Once we all made it down, our guide took us to a restaurant that happened to be run by Chinese immigrants in Turkey. We slid chopsticks through shrimp fried noodles, a flavour more reminescent of home, something welcome especially by now I was slowly getting tired of Turkish food.

Hot Air Balloons

As we prepared to depart the next morning, we looked back to see hot air balloons launching into the morning sky.

See more of Pamukkale / Hierapolis here

Stepping onto the grounds of Laodicea felt like entering a secret world. The site was remarkably quiet, with virtually no other visitors in sight. We wandered through millennia of history with an almost eerie sense of solitude, as if the ancient ruins had been preserved exclusively for our exploration. This isolation allowed us to fully appreciate the magnitude and significance of what lay before us without the typical crowds found at more famous archaeological destinations.

The Rich Heritage of Laodicea

Laodicea on the Lycus represents one of Turkey’s most significant archaeological sites, earning its place on the UNESCO World Heritage Tentative List in 2013. Located near the modern city of Denizli in southwestern Turkey, this ancient settlement served as a major crossroads in the Roman Empire. Founded between 261-253 BCE by Antiochus II Theos of the Seleucid Empire, the city was named in honour of his wife, Laodice. Archaeological evidence suggests continuous habitation from approximately 5500 BCE to the seventh century CE, making this site a remarkable window into thousands of years of human civilization.

The city flourished as a major commercial hub during the Roman period, positioned strategically at the crossroads of important trade routes connecting western, central, and southern Anatolia. Laodicea became renowned for its banking services, black wool trade, and medical achievements. The city’s prosperity was legendary – when a devastating earthquake struck in 60 CE, the wealthy inhabitants famously refused financial assistance from the Roman Empire, choosing instead to rebuild using their own resources.

The Monument to Trajan: A Marvel of Imperial Propaganda

Among Laodicea’s most remarkable discoveries is the Monument to Trajan, a masterpiece of Roman sculptural art that commands attention and respect. This extraordinary 3-metre-tall statue, dating to 113 CE, depicts Emperor Marcus Ulpius Traianus in full military regalia, showcasing the artistic sophistication of the Roman Empire at its peak. The statue was discovered in 356 fragments beneath an ancient fountain and has been meticulously reconstructed by archaeologists.

The monument serves as a fascinating example of how Roman emperors used public art to communicate their power and achievements.

A Glimpse of Preserved Ancient Ceilings

One of our most exciting discoveries was encountering preserved ceiling structures, a relatively rare find in ancient archaeological sites.

Most ancient buildings have lost their roofs and upper architectural elements over the millennia, making ceiling remains particularly valuable for understanding original construction techniques and decorative programs.

The Partially Excavated Amphitheatre

Laodicea’s amphitheatre represents an ongoing archaeological project that illustrates the meticulous nature of modern excavation work. Unlike fully restored sites, this partially excavated structure allows visitors to witness archaeology in progress. The amphitheatre reveals the complexity of ancient entertainment venues, with its sophisticated underground systems for staging elaborate performances and spectacles.

The structure demonstrates the Romans’ engineering prowess in creating venues that could accommodate thousands of spectators while providing optimal sight lines and acoustics. The site actually contains two theatres: the West Theatre, built in the 2nd century BCE during the Hellenistic period with a capacity of 8,000 spectators, and the larger North Theatre, constructed during the Roman Imperial period with seating for up to 15,000 people. Excavation work continues to reveal new details about how these ancient entertainment complexes functioned, including staging areas, animal holding pens, and mechanical systems used to create spectacular shows for ancient audiences.

Laodicea boasts some of the most impressive archaeological remains in Turkey. Even today, the site is still being excvated.

See more of Laodicea here

The Stork Highway of Ancient Rome

Walking through Selçuk’s streets during the ongoing heat wave, we couldn’t help but notice the most unusual sight: massive white storks perched confidently atop Roman aqueduct ruins and modern utility poles alike. These aren’t just random visitors – they’re part of an annual migration pattern that has turned this historic town into Turkey’s unofficial stork capital.

Every March, storks return to Selçuk from their winter homes in sub-Saharan Africa. The storks choose the highest points available for their nests, including the remnants of Byzantine aqueducts that once supplied water to ancient Ephesus. Local authorities have even installed special platforms on utility poles to prevent the birds from electrocution while preserving their traditional nesting sites.

Mysteries of the Multi-Breasted Goddess

Our visit to the Ephesus Museum revealed one of archaeology’s most debated artifacts: a towering statue covered in what appears to be dozens of breasts. This is the famous Artemis of Ephesus, but those protuberances might not be what they seem.

The 292-centimetre-tall statue actually represents a fascinating scholarly controversy. While traditionally interpreted as multiple breasts symbolizing fertility, many experts now believe these oval objects are bull testicles, hung as offerings during sacrificial ceremonies. Some scholars even suggest they could be bee larvae, as bees were sacred to Artemis. What makes this debate particularly intriguing is that none of the “breasts” have nipples – a detail that ancient sculptors, masters of human anatomy, would hardly have overlooked.

This statue likely stood in the Temple of Artemis, one of the Seven Wonders of the Ancient World, making it a tangible connection to one of antiquity’s most celebrated structures. The temple’s destruction by 401 CE means this museum piece represents our closest link to understanding how the ancient world venerated this powerful goddess.

Where Emperors Built Upon Apostles

The ruins of the Basilica of Saint John dominate Ayasoluk Hill, their weathered stones telling a story of imperial ambition, religious devotion, and inevitable decay. Emperor Justinian I commissioned this massive structure between 548 and 565 CE, designing it as both a pilgrimage destination and a worthy monument to house the tomb of John the Apostle.

The basilica measured 428 by 213 feet, making it potentially the seventh-largest church in the world if reconstructed today. Justinian modeled it after the Church of the Holy Apostles in Constantinople, creating a cruciform structure crowned with six domes. The builders incorporated materials from the nearby Temple of Artemis and other Ephesian ruins, recycling ancient marble and stones into Christian architecture.

The basilica’s decline began with Arab raids in the 7th and 8th centuries, which forced the construction of defensive walls around the structure. By 1304, invading Seljuk Turks converted part of the building into a mosque, and in 1402, Tamerlane’s Mongol army destroyed it during their invasion. Earthquakes in the 1360s completed the devastation, leaving the impressive ruins we see today.

A Castle Built on Sacred Ground

Crowning Ayasoluk Hill above the basilica ruins stands a fortress that represents the practical realities of medieval defense. The Ayasoluk Castle, built during the Byzantine era around the 6th century CE, incorporates stones from dismantled Roman buildings, including materials from Ephesian structures.

The castle’s strategic position made it valuable to successive rulers. Seljuk Turks expanded it after conquering the area in 1090, and Ottoman forces later added their own modifications. The fortress enclosed fifteen towers connected by 1.5 kilometres of walls, protecting a small community that included a mosque, cisterns, baths, and residential quarters.

What makes this castle particularly fascinating is its relationship with the basilica below. Rather than destroying the Christian site, medieval builders incorporated it into their defensive strategy, using the basilica’s walls as part of the lower fortress complex. This created unique architecture where Islamic military architecture literally rests upon Christian sacred space.

Divine Intervention at the Neighbourhood Mosque

Our exploration of Selçuk’s religious landscape led us to the İsa Bey Mosque, a remarkable example of 14th-century Anatolian architecture. Built between 1374-75 by Syrian architect Ali ibn el-Dimişki, this mosque demonstrates the transitional period between Seljuk and Ottoman architectural styles.

The mosque’s segregated prayer areas for women represent traditional Islamic practice, though such arrangements can appear restrictive to visitors from different cultural backgrounds. These architectural divisions reflect religious interpretations that prioritize modesty and separate worship spaces, practices that have shaped Islamic religious architecture for centuries.

During our visit, we discovered that the mosque offers free Quran copies to interested visitors – a practice that connects contemporary Islamic outreach with the site’s long history as a religious centre. While there, we met a local man who was especially eager to talk to us about Islam. He explained that he hadn’t actually planned to visit the mosque at that time; he was on his way to complete some errands, but on a whim decided to stop by and pick up a Quran for a friend. Instead, he ran into us and was convinced that our meeting was no coincidence, telling us he believed it was divine intervention.

Our conversation quickly turned philosophical. He earnestly shared his belief that the Quran contains the answers to every question in life, presenting it as the ultimate guide to truth. At one point, he shared a rather striking perspective: he said that people who believe in God are the highest tier of lifeforms, followed by animals, with people who don’t believe, especially those who “act like they are their own god”, ranking below animals. I couldn’t help but laugh internally, realizing that by his definition I must be beneath the neighborhood cats lounging in the sun! He meant no offense, his words were offered with sincerity and a desire to share his worldview. Still, I got the impression he didn’t realize we weren’t religious ourselves, or how his ranking might sound to an outsider.

Echoes of the Population Exchange

Our journey to Şirince village, perched on a hillside 8 kilometres from Selçuk, revealed one of Turkey’s most poignant historical legacies. This mountaintop settlement, originally called Çirkince (meaning “ugly” in Turkish), was supposedly named by its Greek founders to deter other settlers from discovering their mountain paradise.

The village prospered under its Greek Orthodox Christian population, who spoke primarily Turkish despite their religious identity. By 1908-09, over 1,000 houses sheltered Greek families who cultivated vines, tobacco, figs, and olives while maintaining their distinct cultural traditions.

The 1923 Population Exchange between Greece and Turkey devastated Şirince’s established community. This compulsory transfer, formalized in the Convention Concerning the Exchange of Greek and Turkish Populations, displaced approximately 1.6 million people based solely on religious affiliation. Greek Orthodox Christians from Turkish territories moved to Greece, while Muslims from Greece relocated to Turkey. The abandoned houses we encountered represent this traumatic displacement.

The Grandeur and Complexity of Ancient Ephesus

The archaeological site of Ephesus, directly connected to modern Selçuk, represents one of the Mediterranean’s most significant Roman cities. As we walked among its ruins during the intensifying heat wave, the scale and sophistication of this ancient metropolis became immediately apparent. A local restaurant owner’s joke about Efes beer – suggesting we walk a few kilometres toward ancient Ephesus since “Efes” is simply the Turkish name for the ancient city – highlighted how thoroughly this archaeological site integrates with the culture. The beer’s naming represents a modern commercial connection to ancient prestige.

The Temple of Artemis ruins, reduced now to a single reconstructed column, still commanded respect as the remains of one of the Seven Wonders of the Ancient World. Though little survives of this massive structure, which once measured 137 metres long and featured 127 columns each standing 18 metres high, the site’s significance resonates across millennia.

Ephesus declined through a combination of geographical and political factors. The Küçük Menderes River gradually silted up the harbour, cutting the city’s vital connection to maritime trade routes. Natural disasters, including a devastating earthquake in 614 CE, damaged infrastructure repeatedly. The rise of Christianity displaced traditional pagan worship, while Gothic invasions in 262 CE destroyed much of the city, including the Temple of Artemis.

I was captivated by how Ephesus’s grandeur was engineered. The ancients combined brute force and technical innovation. Iron pins and lead clamps held massive marble slabs together, damping seismic shocks and locking the city’s great structures in place (though unlikely they knew how well that method would stand up to an actual earthquake).

Workers used wooden cranes, pulleys, and earth ramps to raise monolithic columns, guiding tonnes of stone into precise positions.

We realized that knowing Latin wouldn’t have helped us decipher most Ephesian inscriptions. The city’s later inscriptions switched entirely to Greek, the region’s lingua franca after Alexander the Great’s conquest. An odd feeling – usually we lament not knowing Latin, but this time, it wouldn’t have helped at all. Amid these weighty ruins, we saw samples of the ichthys fish symbol (colloquially known as the Jesus fish symbol), scratched into ancient stones, symbolizing early Christianity. In Greek, it’s written as ΙΧΘΥΣ, and is sometimes seen abbreviated using a symbol resembling a pizza cut into eight slices.

The Temple That Bridged Empires

Among Ephesus’s countless architectural treasures, the Temple of Hadrian stands as a masterpiece of cultural synthesis. This elegantly proportioned structure, built around 117 CE, demonstrates how Roman architects embraced and transformed Eastern design traditions through its distinctive Syrian arch.

The temple’s facade tells multiple stories through stone. Tyche, goddess of city fortune, crowns the keystone wearing walls as her crown, symbolizing her protection over Ephesian prosperity. Above the inner doorway, a relief of Medusa emerges from acanthus leaves, not the terrifying monster of myth, but a protective figure surrounded by the Mediterranean vegetation that inspired Corinthian column designs.

Roman Domestic Life Preserved in Paint

The Terrace Houses of Ephesus shattered our expectations of ancient Roman domestic architecture. These luxury residences, inhabited by wealthy families from the 1st to 7th centuries CE, revealed that Roman homes were far more colourful and sophisticated than typical stone ruins suggest.

The houses featured extensive frescoed walls with floral motifs, geometric patterns, and figurative scenes painted directly onto plaster surfaces. Archaeologists have carefully restored many of these paintings, revealing the artistic sophistication of domestic Roman decoration. The mosaic floors display intricate geometric and figural designs, demonstrating the high level of craftsmanship available to Ephesian elite. These restorations represent authentic ancient artwork, not modern interpretations.

The houses incorporated sophisticated engineering, including hypocaust heating systems that circulated warm air beneath floors and within walls, and plumbing that provided both hot and cold running water. These amenities matched those available in Roman public baths, demonstrating the luxury standards of Ephesian wealthy families.

The Library That Conquered Death

The Library of Celsus stands as Ephesus’s most iconic structure, and deservedly so. This magnificent building, constructed between 110-135 CE, served the dual purpose of housing scrolls and honouring the dead. Tiberius Julius Aquila commissioned the library as a memorial to his father, Tiberius Julius Celsus Polemaeanus, who had served as Roman consul and proconsul of Asia. The building functioned as both a repository of knowledge, holding approximately 12,000 scrolls, and as Celsus’s mausoleum – his marble sarcophagus rests in a crypt beneath the building.

Fire destroyed the library’s interior around 262 CE, though the façade survived until earthquakes brought it down in the 10th or 11th century. Austrian archaeologists reconstructed the façade between 1970 and 1978, creating the impressive sight that draws crowds today for both daytime visits and evening light shows.

As we left, we saw people lined up for hundreds of meters lining up to see the evening light show – many of them coming in from cruise ships.

See more images from Selçuk and Ancient Ephesus

The Acropolis crowns a 335-metre mesa overlooking the Bakırçay Plain. Terraces carve into the slope, supporting temples, theatres and stoas laid out by Pergamon’s Attalid kings in the 3rd–2nd centuries BCE. Roman engineers later added their stamp without erasing Hellenistic lines, creating a multi-layered skyline that still dominates modern-day Bergama on the plain below.

Temple of Trajan

Built under Emperor Hadrian to honour deified Trajan and Zeus Philios, the temple doubled as imperial propaganda: placing Roman power literally above every older monument. We imagined ancient worshippers ascending the vaulted substructure, aware that loyalty to Rome meant economic perks and civic prestige.

Asia Minor cities often requested imperial cult temples to cement ties with Rome. By venerating Trajan alongside Zeus, Pergamon gained tax breaks, construction funds and prominence as a provincial capital. Statues of the emperor, fragments now in Berlin, once towered over the courtyard, signalling that divine favour and political security walked hand-in-hand.

The Steepest Theatre in the Ancient World

Carved like stadium seating on a 70-degree incline, Pergamon’s theatre packs 10,000 stone seats into half a semicircle.

This theatre is known as the steepest in the ancient world.

Where Was Their Water Source?

This aqueduct was part of an advanced water supply system built to serve the city, especially the acropolis, which sat atop a steep hill and was the center of Pergamon’s political and religious life. While the aqueduct lay at the bottom of the hill, the water in the pipeline was pushed up the hill by the weight of the water behind, like a chain being pulled over a pulley – a feat of ancient hydraulic engineering.

Once at the acropolis, water was distributed to cisterns and throughout the city via smaller pipes.

By late morning, as the heat started to build up, we caught our taxi and rejoined with the tour. Overall it was a nice visit, and we wondered why this place wasn’t actually part of the official itinerary given that it wasn’t too far from where we stayed the night.

See more photos of the Pergamon Acropolis here

Troy: Where Legend Meets Archaeological Reality

Standing before the ancient walls of Troy, we grappled with questions that have fascinated scholars and visitors for centuries.

Troy, designated as a UNESCO World Heritage Site in 1998, sits on the mound of Hisarlık in northwestern Turkey, approximately 4.8 kilometres from the Dardanelles. This ancient city served as a crucial bridge between Anatolia and the Mediterranean world for over 4,000 years.

The Oral Tradition Question

One of the most intriguing aspects we discovered was the relationship between Homer’s Iliad and Odyssey and historical fact. These epic poems weren’t initially written documents but rather oral traditions passed down through generations of travelling bards called aoidoi. Archaeological evidence suggests these stories (like the story of the Trojan Horse) were orally composed and performed, likely accompanied by a lyre, sometime in the 8th century BCE before being transcribed.

The poems contain significant embellishment, they’re not non-fiction in the modern sense, but rather traditional tales that wove together historical events, cultural memories, and mythological elements. Modern scholars believe these oral traditions preserved genuine Bronze Age details, including descriptions of weapons, architectural features, and place names that had disappeared by Homer’s time.

The Trojan Horse: Myth or Memory?

While no direct archaeological evidence proves the existence of a wooden horse, the story likely preserves memories of actual siege tactics. Ancient armies did use various deception strategies, and the horse story may represent a folk memory of how Troy ultimately fell, whether through trickery, betrayal, or siege engineering.

The Nine Layers of Time

Troy’s archaeological complexity becomes apparent when examining its nine distinct settlement layers, designated Troy I through IX. Each represents a different period of occupation spanning over 4,000 years, from around 3600 BCE to 500 CE. These layers weren’t built simultaneously but rather represent successive cities constructed atop their predecessors’ ruins.

Troy I, the earliest settlement (3000-2550 BCE), featured massive limestone fortifications. Troy II (2500-2300 BCE) showed remarkable wealth and sophisticated urban planning. Troy VI (1750-1300 BCE) and Troy VIIa (1300-1180 BCE) correspond most closely to the period when the legendary Trojan War would have occurred, showing evidence of violent destruction that aligns with Homer’s narrative.

Construction Mysteries Revealed

The ancient builders demonstrated remarkable engineering skills. They chiselled limestone blocks using bronze tools and wooden wedges, creating walls that incorporated a distinctive “sawtooth” pattern common in Mycenaean architecture. The fortifications reached heights of over 9 metres, with wooden and mudbrick superstructures atop limestone foundations.

Regarding lead pipes, archaeological evidence suggests lead was indeed used in joints and connections of water systems, though the full extent of its use in Troy’s infrastructure remains under investigation. The builders had access to advanced metallurgy, including bronze working and sophisticated water management systems.

Environmental Changes Over Time

Troy’s decline wasn’t solely due to warfare. The ancient city’s strategic position near water sources gradually changed due to natural sedimentation. The coastline shifted over millennia, and what was once a major harbour became landlocked. Climate changes and the silting up of waterways contributed to the city’s eventual abandonment as a major trade centre. The land where the water used to be is now farmland.

We found seashells embedded in the excavated soil, evidence of Troy’s ancient connection to the sea and the geological processes that have reshaped this landscape over thousands of years.

The Troy Museum Experience

Our visit to the recently opened Troy Museum in nearby Tevfikiye village provided essential context for understanding the archaeological site. Tevfikiye, a small village in Çanakkale Province, houses this award-winning museum that opened in 2018 and contains over 2,000 artifacts spanning Troy’s entire history. The striking cube-shaped building, clad in weathering steel, was designed to echo the archaeological excavation process, its height matches the depth of Troy’s excavation layers.

The museum’s interactive displays helped us visualize how the ancient city would have appeared at its height, complete with digital reconstructions of the citadel and lower town. Particularly impressive was the replica of Schliemann’s famous “Treasure of Priam,” the original of which remains in Moscow’s Pushkin Museum.

Ayvalik: A Minor Stop with Major Impact

After the history lesson at Troy, Ayvalik served as a more relaxed interlude in our journey. We made a visit to çöp(m)adam, a social enterprise that demonstrates how traditional communities can embrace innovative solutions to modern challenges. The name itself contains a clever Turkish pun: “çöp” means “garbage” or “trash” in Turkish, while “madam” adopts the French word for “female.” Together, “çöp(m)adam” literally translates to “garbage ladies”, a playful yet meaningful reference to the project’s mission of transforming waste into fashionable accessories.

Founded by American social entrepreneur Tara Chantal Hopkins, çöp(m)adam addresses women’s employment challenges in a country where female workforce participation historically faced cultural barriers. The project employs local women who create unique handbags, accessories, and home goods from recycled materials, including fabric waste from local manufacturers. It provides women with their first salaried employment opportunities, enabling financial independence in a traditionally male-dominated economic environment.

See more photos of Troy here

A Contrast in Cities

The contrast between Vienna and Bratislava becomes apparent immediately upon arrival. While both cities share a Habsburg heritage, Bratislava’s economic situation differs markedly from its Austrian neighbour.

This disparity likely stems from Austria flourishing being a primary driver of European prosperity, while Slovakia being a part of another empires/kingdoms for centuries, and then spending four decades behind the Iron Curtain under Communist rule.

Christmas Spirit

Despite December temperatures hovering around freezing and biting winds sweeping through the streets, Bratislava’s Christmas markets created a warm atmosphere. Unlike Vienna’s markets, which balance merchandise and food, Bratislava’s focus heavily on traditional Slovak cuisine and glühwein.

We sampled a traditional potato pancake served with sour cream and various toppings. It tasted pretty much like a hashbrown with toppings. I also got to try glühwein mixed with absinthe, something I hadn’t had in years and isn’t common to find in North America.

Čumil the Sewer Worker

Among Bratislava’s most photographed attractions is Čumil, the “Man at Work” sculpture. Created by Viktor Hulík in 1997, this bronze figure peers out from a manhole cover. The sculpture brings a bit of character to the old town. While photographing Čumil, we noticed people observing tourists – a reminder to stay vigilant in crowded tourist areas.

The Opera House and National Identity

Our walking tour took us past the Slovak National Theatre. The Neo-Renaissance opera house, completed in 1886, was built during the Austro-Hungarian Empire. The facade features busts of famous playwrights and composers, none of whom are ethnically Slovak. This reflects the historical reality that Slovak national identity was still forming during the theatre’s construction. The first Slovak-language play was not performed at the opera house until the early 20th century.

Slovakia’s path to nationhood was complex, involving centuries under Hungarian rule, followed by inclusion in Czechoslovakia after World War I. The eventual peaceful dissolution of Czechoslovakia in 1993, known as the Velvet Divorce, marked Slovakia’s emergence as an independent nation. The Czech and Slovak languages illustrate this shared heritage, and are still mutually intelligible.

The UFO Bridge and the Memorial to the Jewish Quarter

A poignant stop on our tour was the site of a former synagogue. The Jewish Quarter was demolished during the construction of the UFO Bridge, officially known as the Bridge of the Slovak National Uprising, in the 1970s under Soviet rule. By that time, the area had been neglected for decades, likely due to the decimation of Bratislava’s Jewish population during the Holocaust. In its place, there’s now a memorial for where the old synagogue used to be.

The UFO Bridge itself has now become one of Bratislava’s most recognizable landmarks. Spanning the Danube without any supporting columns in the water, the bridge relies on suspension cables for structural integrity. Its unique design, with a circular restaurant perched atop, resembles a flying saucer, giving it the UFO moniker.

Christmas and Easter Traditions

Our guide shared some interesting Slovak holiday traditions. At Christmas, families often purchase live carp, allowing children to play with the fish in the bathtub for a day or two before it is prepared for dinner. Instead of Santa Claus, Slovakia’s version, Ježiško (Baby Jesus), visits children and brings them gifts. Easter brings another curious custom where boys pour water on girls they admire or value (romantic interests and female family members), a tradition thought to bring health and beauty. In return, the girls offer decorated eggs, booze or even money. The guide was completely aware how strange these traditions would sound to foreigners, and if you ask me, the Easter one seems a little bit one-sided.

Ascending to Bratislava Castle

The tour concluded with a climb to Bratislava Castle. Compared to grander castles in the region, Bratislava Castle reflects the city’s more modest resources.

Originally a military fortification, it achieved its greatest splendour under Maria Theresa’s reign in the 18th century when it was converted into a Habsburg residence. After a devastating fire in 1811, the castle fell into disrepair. During the communist era, reconstruction efforts were modest compared to its former glory, resulting in the simpler structure we see today.

From the top of the castle hill, visitors can see wind turbines in the distance. Interestingly, these turbines are located in Austria, as Slovakia does not yet have significant investments in wind energy.

See more of Bratislava here

Cinque Terre

Our first stop was in the Cinque Terre, a rugged stretch of coastline along the Italian Riviera. The Cinque Terre (“Five Lands” in Italian) is a UNESCO World and consists of five villages precariously perched between the cliffs and the sea – Riomaggiore, Manarola, Corniglia, Vernazza and Monterosso al Mare. We arrived via cruise ship at the seaside town of Portofino and from there, boarded smaller boats that ferried us there.

The pastel-colored, cliff-hugging villages look like they are straight out of a fairy tale. We started our visit in Vernazza, where we explored the charming harbor and the Gothic-style Church of Santa Margherita d’Antiochia, first built in 1318 AD. However, the narrow alleys of Vernazza were completely mobbed with tourists during our visit.

For some respite, we picked up a focaccia and hiked up to Doria Castle to avoid the crowds. The focaccia was too dry and didn’t taste good at all, but at least the view from above offered nice views of Vernazza down below.

Next, we hopped on a boat to neighboring Monterosso. After grabbing a disappointing, overpriced lunch at a touristy restaurant with our guide, we explored Monterosso (the guide hyped up the lunch so much too). While also crowded, the beaches and crystalline waters there were stunningly beautiful. Though, I couldn’t imagine living in either village, with the constant crowds of travelers coming in and out each day. Maybe the other three villages in the Cinque Terre are quieter since they’re harder to get to.

While undeniably beautiful, the crowds and rushed pace of our Cinque Terre tour prevented us from fully enjoying this place.

Pisa

Pisa was our next destination, home of the famous Leaning Tower. By arriving early, we were able to enjoy the Piazza dei Miracoli before the tour bus crowds descended. The sprawling square contains the medieval Leaning Tower, the Pisa Cathedral with its carved marble façade, and the circular Baptistery – all surrounded by manicured lawns.

Despite the early hour, we still spotted visitors doing the quintessential tourist photo, pretending to hold up the Leaning Tower. The famous tilt of the Leaning Tower was even more pronounced in the past before restoration work stabilized the structure. The tower’s foundation was inadequately laid on soft ground, causing the structure to start leaning soon after the first floors were completed in 1178. Today, the tower leans at about a 4-degree angle. Due to the precarious tilt, only a limited numbers of visitors are allowed inside at a time. Legend holds that Galileo dropped two cannonballs of different masses from the Leaning Tower, proving that their rate of descent was independent of their mass.

The Leaning Tower is actually just one part of Pisa’s impressive Field of Miracles complex. The sprawling square also contains the Pisa Cathedral with its carved marble façade, and the circular Baptistery – all surrounded by manicured lawns.The adjacent white marble Pisa Cathedral with its Romanesque architectural details is a stunning sight, dating back to 1064 AD. We also admired the round Baptistery, a dedicated location for performing baptisms.

Florence

Our final stop was the historic city of Florence. We started at the Hospital of the Innocents from the 15th century, designed by Renaissance architect Filippo Brunelleschi. Historically, parents could anonymously leave infants in a revolving door on the outside wall, where they would be safely cared for.

Moving deeper into the city, we visited the Florence Cathedral, with its massive dome that was the largest in the world for 400 years. The crowds moved slowly as eager visitors craned their necks to admire the pink, white and green marble facade.

The cathedral’s ornate façade is divided into three distinct horizontal levels, with rows of saints, prophets, and decorative patterns carved into the marble. The three huge bronze doors of the cathedral are also adorned with relief panels depicting biblical scenes.

We also spent time in Florence’s Signoria Square, home of a replica of Michelangelo’s David and the historic Palazzo Vecchio town hall.

On the way to lunch, we stopped to look at the Ponte Vecchio, Florence’s iconic landmark spanning the Arno River. It was common practice in the medieval times to build shops across the bridge. Initially home to tanners and butchers in the medieval era, the bridge is now lined with jewelry shops.

Next, we had lunch at the Palazzo Borghese, once home to Pauline Bonaparte, the sister of Napoleon Bonaparte. The ambience of the place was great, but the food was very disappointing – I could have made better pasta and I’m in no way an expert.

Our final stop was the Basilica of Santa Croce, the resting place for many famous Italians like Galileo, Michelangelo, and Machiavelli. However, we unfortunately did not have time to enter as we were tricked by the tour guide to a leather and gold shop instead for a sales pitch (we were told there was going to be a demo) before having explore the city ourselves the rest of our free time. In the plaza itself, we saw local artists selling their paintings and sketches.

Overall, although the trip was quite rushed, we still got to see a lot of cool stuff. If it weren’t for the crowds and the mediocre food, we would have enjoyed it even more.

See here for more of Cinque Terre, Pisa, and Florence

West Germany found itself on the front line in a potential war between NATO and the Warsaw Pact and needed a safe place for its government to continue to operate. It’s estimated the bunker costed 3 billion Deutschmarks (~ 1.5 billion Euros) to build, but due to its secrecy, the true number is unknown. Its existence is a tangible reminder of the fears and preparations that characterized the Cold War era.

In the event of a nearby explosion, such as a nuclear blast, the doors were designed to absorb and deflect the force of the blast, helping to shield the interior of the bunker from the destructive impact. It also shielded the inside from harmful radiation.

They often included communication equipment, medical facilities, and living quarters. Additionally, they served as command centers from which military operations and civil defense efforts could be coordinated. They could even broadcast press conferences from inside.

Driving less than ten minutes down the hill from the bunker was the quaint little town of Ahrweiler. Looking at the town itself, it was not obvious at all that such a bunker was nearby.

For lunch I had a nice sauerbraten (literally “sour roast”), a traditional German pot roast. A large cut of beef, such as roast or brisket, is marinated in a mixture of vinegar or wine along with various spices and seasonings, imparting a tangy flavour profile to the meat. The meat is then slow-cooked, usually braised or simmered, until it becomes tender. The resulting dish features meat that practically melts in the mouth. It’s s traditionally served with a variety of accompaniments that complement its bold taste like potato dumplings and red cabbage. It’s one of those things that any German restaurant worth their salt literally cannot mess up.

Despite its appearance, the town harbours a dark history. Prior to World War II, the town had a thriving Jewish community. Through the Nazi-era, the town’s synagogue was burned, and its Jewish inhabitants were deported. After the war ended, the Jewish community never recovered. The townspeople could only rebuild the synagogue and remember what once happened.

Here’s more of the bunker, and the town of Ahrweiler

We drove out to Cape Canaveral to visit the Kennedy Space Center, the primary launch site for human spaceflight missions in the United States. It’s one of the major attractions that doesn’t center around amusement parks. Visitors are welcomed by the Rocket Garden that showcases a diverse range of rockets used for past achievements that serve at a tribute to the achievements of space exploration.

One of the key attractions there is a the tour that takes visitors around the space center, and one of the key attractions along the tour is the Vehicle Assembly Building, a colossal structure where NASA assembles and prepares its largest rockets for space missions, including the Apollo and Space Shuttle programs. It stands as an iconic symbol of human space exploration and engineering prowess and is one of the largest buildings in the world. It played a pivotal role in assembling rockets and preparing space shuttles for their missions.

Another cool attraction was the mission control room. It’s no longer in use, and has since been repurposed as a simulation of a rocket launch. As the launch clock continues counting down, different systems of the rocket come online and their statuses are reflected on the screens and dashboards around the room. Until finally, when the countdown goes to zero, rocket launch noises fill the room and the screens show the rocket launching. The windows behind also glow bright orange to show the burn of the thrust.

The tour concludes with an exhibit of the Saturn V rocket, the largest and most powerful rocket ever built – the one that carried astronauts to the moon. It was difficult to grasp the scale of the rocket until I saw it in person. Each section is separated, showing each of the stages of the rocket launch. The Saturn V rocket launches by igniting its powerful engines, generating millions of pounds of thrust, and lifting off from the launch pad. As each section of the rocket runs of fuel, it separates from the rest, and propels the spacecraft and astronauts into space (most of the fuel is spend leaving Earth’s gravity). Attached to the end are the modules for the lunar lander and the craft for returning back to Earth.

It was also cool to see the lunar lander up close. It was a spacecraft designed to land astronauts on the moon during NASA’s Apollo missions. It consisted of two parts: the descent stage, which landed on the moon’s surface, and the ascent stage, which launched the astronauts back into lunar orbit.

In 1981, the space shuttle program was launched with the aim of creating a reusable spacecraft capable of launching payloads into space, deploying satellites, conducting scientific research, and safely returning to Earth. The exhibit also featured a simulator that simulates the experience of a rocket launch aboard a space shuttle – essentially a motion simulator that mimicked the G-forces and movements of a shuttle launch. Supposedly it’s a high fidelity simulation of a rocket launch, but surprisingly the G-forces only went up to what I vaguely recall to be 3.5Gs and felt actually quite mild (even children went on the ride and were completely okay).

A visit to the Kennedy Space Center adds a unique and educational dimension to the Orlando experience. From the awe-inspiring Rocket Garden to the monumental Vehicle Assembly Building, the center embodies the triumphs of human space exploration. It was cool to experience the simulated rocket and shuttle launch and getting up close to the lunar lander and Saturn V rocket.

More photos here