where we visit the Roman sites of Herakleia Salbake, Nysa, Kızılçullu Su Kemerleri, Smyrna; Byzantine ruins at Kadifekale; Ottoman mosques; and İzmir’s historic synagogues
Ferda and I met up with Gülizar and Ali in İzmir this spring for our Likya Yolu walking tour. The timing worked out well to drive from Antalya to İzmir with Özgür. Being in a private car we were able to make a couple stops along the way. First was the ancient Caria city of Herakleia Salbake in Vakıf near Tavas, Denizli.
What looks like a theater in those photos (above) is actually a stadium according to the internet.
The theater at Nysa is, on the other hand, unmistakable.
Unlike Herakleia Salbake, Nysa has a guard, an entrance fee, and other tourists wandering around. It seemed like a wonderful place to spend half a day and look around some more. We had to limit ourselves to a rushed 90 minutes, and even then Özgür was a bit late to meet his friend in İzmir that evening.
Here you can see just a bit of Nysa’s unexcavated stadium.
Is this perhaps the agora?
Here’s the excavated bouleuterion which I sometimes call odeon and for Nysa Strabon called a gerontikon. I’m not trying to confuse you, really. How can anyone keep all this stuff straight?
Nysa was a good stop.
I have been to İzmir many times, but this was the first time I made it out to the Roman aqueducts, Kızılçullu Su Kemerleri. They’re in an area of the city I had never been to before, and, well, there’s not much else of interest nearby.
The aqueducts provided water to ancient Smyrna, about 3km to the NNE. I’d been to Smyrna’s agora before, but on this trip I visited the theater for the first time.
Or maybe I should say I tried to the visit the theater. The site is closed to visitors for excavations. I took those photos through fences. Above that theater is Kadifekale (a fortress) where we can see a Byzantine cistern.
This fortified castle is on the top of a hill, and it wasn’t clear if the Roman aqueducts brought water high enough to fill the Byzantine cistern. Seems unlikely from my quick review of the topo map. Maybe filled with rain water?
More exciting than the fortress or the cistern is actually the view of the modern city.
We’re directly above Konak, the center of the Ottoman city. I walked down. Kestanepazarı Camii was covered with scaffolding for restoration. Başdurak Camii is squeezed into the busy çarşı area (aka Kemeraltı).
In crowded Kemeraltı, Abacıoğlu Hanı looks like a calm, fancy place for lunch.
Ali Paşa Meydanı is the place to try Manisa kebabı. I wasn’t hungry the first time I went through, and I was hungry but out of time when I came back. Need to go back…
Perhaps İzmir’s most photographed Ottoman monuments are the clock tower and nearby Konak Camii close to one of the ferry terminals.
Before we leave Kemeraltı, we should take a look at İzmir’s historic synagogues. It’s not quite so easy, however. Permission needs to be obtained beforehand. Get in touch with Ebruli Turizm. In my last post I talked a little about Jewish history on Rhodes. In some ways it’s quite similar to what I learned in İzmir — İzmir had a small Jewish population before many more Jews started arriving from the Iberian Peninsula at the end of the 15th century (like on Rhodes). Their numbers overwhelmed the local population such that Ladino became the lingua franca of İzmir’s Jews (like on Rhodes). Later (we’re skipping centuries here) Jews started leaving İzmir for economic reasons (like on Rhodes), largely to Uruguay, Argentina, Israel, Canada, and the US.
The great news is that — correct me if I’m wrong — in İzmir Jews were not rounded up and sent to be killed. The decline of İzmir’s Jewish quarter and synagogues was due to the population moving voluntarily, even as close as Karataş, ~3km to the SW.
Incredibly there are still nine synagogues fairly close together in Kemeraltı centered around Havra Sokağı (Synagogue Street): Bikur Holim, Portekiz, Etz Hayim, Hevra, Shalom, Algaze, Los Foresteros, La Senyora (aka Signora Giveret), and Beit Hillel.
They are in various state of repair, but Bikur Holim, Shalom, Algaze, and Sinyora Giveret all have interiors in excellent condition. I met my guide at Bikur Holim so that’s the first one I saw.
The four columns in the center of room surrounding the Tevah (a platform from where the Torah is read during services) is a common feature of İzmir’s synagogues. Here you can see it again in Algaze Synagogue.
Or again here in Etz Hayim, missing the Tevah itself, I guess? Etz Hayim is perhaps İzmir’s only remaining synagogue from the Byzantine Period.
The Tevah in Shalom Synagogue was moved to the side, perhaps during ceiling restoration work. This Tevah is supposed to be shaped like the galleys that brought Jews from Iberia to İzmir. Shalom is the only of these synagogues that was not destroyed by a fire in 1841 so perhaps its interior is the most historically accurate (except for the out of place Tevah?).
Sinyora Giveret Synagogue has a double Tevah off to the side, a change apparently made around 1940 in İzmir.
Hevra Synagogue is in poor shape,
and I didn’t get into Los Foresteros at all. Portekiz Synagogue may be now used for cultural events. I didn’t get inside. Four of these synagogues — Hevra, Algaze, Los Foresteros, La Senyora — are directly next to each other, one after another, perhaps the only place in the world with four adjacent synagogues.
Beit Hillel Synagogue now functions as a museum. The municipality paid a construction company (not historic preservation experts) for the restoration (reconstruction?) of Beit Hillel. It’s now the least accurate historically — the prayer area doesn’t even face east (a synagogue requirement, I was told). Because it’s a museum I was able to see a Torah, the holy book that is usually stored out of sight except during services. It’s forbidden for anyone to touch the book so it’s one long scroll that is scrolled by rotating the posts at either end.
While arranging this visit, I also got permission to visit Beit Israel Synagogue (from 1950) in Karataş. It’s still in use. Not wanting to be late for my appointment there is why I missed out on the Manisa kebabı.
The historic synagogue in Karataş is Rosh Ha Har. I peaked in through the locked front gate. It looked to be falling apart.
If you’ve made it this far, you’ll want to check out the nearby Karataş Asansörü, an elevator that reminded me of the urban elevator in Salvador de Bahia. Later I learned that the Karataş elevator was built by a Jewish philanthropist who was “inspired by a similar elevator which he had seen in Lisbon” (source). And the one in Bahia? Also inspired by Lisbon?
Another nice view of İzmir.
A history of İzmir cannot be complete without learning about the burning of the city in 1922. I recommend Paradise Lost: Smyrna, 1922 by Giles Milton if you’re interested.