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Published: August 14th 2014
Woolly says – well rested and well fed (for a change) I knew there was something afoot, for some strange reason Jo has packed my Santa Hat! It’s not that time of year already….. is it? Feeling somewhat confused I trotted behind the grownups to the bus station and the wheels on the bus went round and round. I think I’m going to have to ban that song or muzzle the Mammoth. The bus proved to be a cool retreat from the already hot morning. Having never used the Turkish buses before I think we would all recommend them, air con, comfy seats and free drinks are all wonderful but for the distance covered of 350km at a cost of £45 GBP it was a bargain as well. Our plan was to catch the bus back to Antalya having a pit stop at Demre and Olympus, well that was the starting plan. Woolly says – But why my Christmas hat? I haven’t even written my present list yet, what is that women up to? I got out my Mammoth Book of Facts and looked up the destination of Demre. Demre is the Lycian town of Myra, the home of
Saint Nicholas of Myra, the historical man that developed into the figure of
Santa Claus. We’re going to see Father Christmas! A large
Christian community of
Greeks lived in Demre until the 1920s when they were forced to migrate to
Greece after the
Population exchange between Greece and Turkey, that sounds familiar.
With the fur ball bouncing up and down in excitement we happily watched the scenery go by, the coast road looks different on the return journey and gave us the chance to exclaim in joy over the beautiful views that we were passing.
Woolly says – Jo became annoying with more and more announcements of ‘Goats Woolly’, I’m sure I’ve told her in the past that I DO know what a goat looks like, silly girl. Pulling into the bus station didn’t inspire me one iota, no sign of Santa only brand new shops selling dresses which isn’t a lot of use to me. I waited patiently while the rucksacks were unloaded before putting my paw down and demanding to know where he was. Patience would be such a virtue, I wonder if I can buy some for him! Rounding the corner his little face lit up as he raced across the road and clambered onto a life size model of Father Christmas. Having prised him off we paid our 15 TL (approximately £4.50 GBP) and entered the scared grounds of the Church of St Nicholas.
Woolly says – HE’S HERE!!!!! I flew under the barrier and down some steep steps and found myself in front of a lovely statue of the man himself. Glancing to the right I could see a building that seemed mosque like in construction but with arched windows from a church. Most strangely of all I could here singing, psalms being sung in perfect vocal harmony, how wonderful. Not so wonderful was the amount of people that had decided to visit on the same day, there were billions, well ok millions, well probably a few thousand, look there were lots of people pushing and josserling to get into the church. Being small has its advantages as I threaded my way through the legs and found myself inside. The church was built to honour Saint Nicholas and contains his tomb, built in AD 520 on the foundations of the older Christian church where Saint Nicholas served as a Bishop
. Over time the river changed course and the church was filled with silt and was buried. In 1862 Russian Tsar Nicholas I restored the church, adding a tower and making other changes to its Byzantine architecture. My first view was of the remarkable wall frescos, they were something to behold, so intricate and beautiful I found my neck craning upwards to see more and I wasn’t disappointed there were loads. Jo grabbed my paw and held on tightly as we tried to get past the many tour groups that were blocking every piece of floor space until we arrived in the inner church to find the source of the psalms. To find three monks in their habits singing was incredible and we paused to listen to the beautiful voices that filled the space, all too soon they finished and didn’t look quite so impressive when changed into T Shirts and jeans. Continuing our battle with the crowds we made our way through the building being more astounded at each corner as we encountered more fresco’s and carvings. Peeking through some locked gates we could see where further excavation was still taking place, the place was big already when everything was uncovered it would be huge.
Woolly says – I was getting fed up of being stepped on and pushed out of the way, so giving Jo and Happy a nudge we ventured further into the church to find the great man himself. Behind a Perspex sheet we could just about make out his coffin, everyone was throwing money over the top of the screen and then kissing the plastic, YUCK, not for me but it was wonderful to know that the man who took on Christmas was there. The information board told me that … The true story of Santa Claus begins with Nicholas, who was born during the third century in the village of
Patara. At the time the area was Greek and is now on the southern coast of Turkey. His wealthy parents, who raised him to be a devout Christian, died in an epidemic while Nicholas was still young. Obeying Jesus' words to "sell what you own and give the money to the poor," Nicholas used his whole inheritance to assist the needy, the sick, and the suffering. He dedicated his life to serving God and
was made
Bishop of
Myra (now Demre) while still a young man. Bishop Nicholas became known throughout the land for his generosity to those in need, his love for children, and his concern for sailors and ships.
Under the Roman Emperor
Diocletian, who ruthlessly persecuted Christians, Bishop Nicholas suffered for his faith, was exiled and imprisoned. The prisons were so full of bishops, priests, and deacons, there was no room for the real criminals—murderers, thieves and robbers. After his release, Nicholas attended the
Council of Nicaea in AD 325. He died December 6, AD 343 in Myra (now Demre) and was buried in his cathedral church, where a unique
relic, called
manna, formed in his grave. This liquid substance, said to have healing powers, fostered the growth of devotion to Nicholas. The anniversary of his death became a day of celebration,
St. Nicholas Day, December 6th (December 19 on the Julian calendar).
….
What a dude, I would love to offer my paw to shake but will have to settle for being a good Mammoth until he brings my presents on Christmas Day. With the temperature still rising and rivers of sweat running off everyone we stopped for a cold
drink.
Woolly says – there was a mosaic, but it was very confusing instead of reindeer which everyone knows help Santa there were dolphins! I might have to stay up this Christmas Eve to check this out! Tired of the crowds and starting to feel the need for a lack of fur coat I suggested we head to the bus and our next destination. While Woolly had been pondering how dolphins could pull Santa’s sleigh we had made a slight amendment to the day, instead of stopping at Olympus and facing an eleven kilometre walk we would head straight to Antalya and it’s old town. Woolly says – I was disappointed but had to except that with the sun now high in the sky and the thermometer close to fifty it would be madness to try a walk like that, so having extracted a promise from Jo to return and investigate the eternal flame I reluctantly accepted the fait accompli and ambled onto the bus with thoughts of my hero Hadrian to look forward to. Sorry folks photo's arn't loading will load more as they come through 😊
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D MJ Binkley
Dave and Merry Jo Binkley
Father Christmas
Woolley really gets around.