Stepping off the ship at Kusadasi I was immediately hit by a wall of sunlight and heat, followed closely by an overwhelming wave of chaotic noise – a cacophony of hooting scooters and voices raised in haggling and bartering and negotiating. After the mandatory trek to Bird Island, with its beautiful walkway connecting the mainland to the tiny island in the shallow waters, we walked the pier and went into the village for some much needed shade. Being more concerned with getting to grips with the history and essence of the town rather than the discount deals to be had in the shuk, Gary and I headed straight into the side streets of the port and looked for any cultural landmarks that took our fancy. After a long morning of the maze of alleys, we stumbled upon the still heart of the village – the beautiful mosque and its courtyard.
Arriving just as the call to prayer was sounded, and not wanting to offend or get in the way, we stood behind the intricate green gates of the square and watched the men and boys of the town leave the humming shopping area and take in a moment of quiet contemplation. The peace of this ritual even washed over us on the sidelines and after prayers had finished we decided to locate an authentic Turkish restaurant, preferably one favoured by the locals, where we could spend the rest of the afternoon with a strong cup of authentic coffee.
Having no idea of where to turn, and with hundreds of choices of places to eat and drink in the town, it was pure luck that led us to the best spot in town – verified by the fact that the ship’s captain and senior staff, as well as our Turkish waiter, were the other patrons for the day. The open courtyard of the seating area, filled with dappled light through plump vines and men dressed in freshly pressed white apron’s and uniforms, flowed with ice cold Effe beers and homemade dolmades and humus. We idled away the hours people-watching and overhearing conversations of the various locals and travellers who regularly frequent this place. After talking to our own family via free WIFI, we made a dash back to the boat and yes, Gary even got to flex his bargaining muscles in some of the stalls on the way to the ship.
In Chania, we also bypassed the markets with their baskets of crawling (and escaping!) snails and fresh crabs and made a beeline straight for the island’s famous synagogue. The route to the shul, which we made up as we went along sans map, transported us back into the movie Zorba the Greek - whitewashed two-storey homes with turquoise shutters and matching tables and chairs; heavy ripe creepers hanging over entrances with white laced curtains; courtyards filled with old men drinking ouzo to the sounds of a strumming guitar. Beautiful! The synagogue, hidden behind a non-descript door down one of the side streets, was absolutely gorgeous in every way – more vines and trellises, corrugated iron roofs and chiselled stone doorways with elaborate wooden interiors. The velvet and gold and silver artwork of the Judaica, and the simple yet striking beauty of the stone mikveh, all felt untouched for the past hundred years. And yet the incredible warmth and history of Etz Hayyim also had a painful side. The unique history of this community, isolated from much of the world like Crete itself, was subject to the different influences of the various powers that were in charge of this part of the Med throughout the centuries. Periods of religious tolerance bled into periods of persecution for the Jews here, culminating in the 1942 tragedy where the entire community was imprisoned under Nazi rule and forced onto the ill-fated Tanais ship, which was mistakenly sunk by an Allied torpedo and left no survivors.
Despite this haunting event, the spirit of which we could feel in the synagogue halls and courtyards that day, the image that comes to mind when I think of Chania is of the gorgeous old harbour entrance. Despite still being littered with crumbling buildings damaged by World War 2 bombings, the area is defined by an elegant domed mosque on the edge of the waters, a building which has served as a church too and is now a public art museum. The amalgamation of Ottoman, Roman, Greek and other Western and Eastern influences has created a striking town and population, which today stands as an intriguing example of multiculturalism and interfaith harmony.
The passage of time is chronicled so beautifully in both these seaside towns, and the timelessness of the cultures and exchanges of the buildings and heritage here endures into the future just as the ancient waves of the ocean reinvent themselves as they spray against the stone of the piers …
