=July 1, 2011=
The best kind of travel is to get to know an area, rather than packing in as much as possible and finding yourself on the whirlwind tour. Take time getting from A to B and let a little bit of the place sink into your spirit, listen to what it has to say, see what speaks to you and what doesn't. Kalekoy is a great place to just take in.
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The abandoned village is part of a Lycian Necropolis and is partially sunken under water. It also boasts the ruins of a castle built in the middle ages to fight off pirates, a small theatre and several churches.
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Greece and Turkey have a long, convoluted history and the shells of these building serve as a reminder of how much they love each other. They get along so well that after the Greco-Turkish War, the flailing Ottoman government shipped all the Greek Orthodox Christians over to Greece in exchange for the Muslim minority living in Greece. It was a compulsory population swap, and people who'd been born, bred, and owned property in one country lost everything. Kalekoy was one of the villages that was completely deserted when the citizens were forced from the country, about 90 years ago. It was simply left to wither away, but there are still many buildings that hint at it's former beauty.
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These days the lizards and goats are the only inhabitants to greet the steady trickle of tourists who come here to check out what remains of the city's former glory days. Despite the unbridled growth and exploitation of the Turkish Riviera going on just a hop and a skip away, this place is (so far) untouched and unchanged from the day it was left. No graffiti mars the walls and not a shred of trash did I see anywhere. It's air of tranquil calmness inspires reflection, respect, and for some reason I caught myself using my library voice.
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I wonder if any of the Greek descendants of the people who left this city have ever been here and sought out the house where a grandparent was born, or if anyone in Greece grew up hearing stories about the village. Does anyone still identify with the fading paintings that decorate the walls of the churches or the graves of those who are buried here? If these walls could talk, what would they say?
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Even if walls could talk, they'd probably keep silent because the number of tourists that don't look where they're walking and stumble over the grossly uneven paving stones to fall flat on their faces is hilarious.
The goats think so, too.
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