The West bank : Luxor, Egypt

The river that demarcates life and after life.

Luxor is divided by the Nile into two areas: the East Bank, where the modern city is, and the West Bank, known mainly for its ancient tombs and monuments. And that is where we are headed next but on a corporeal mode of transport. 

Lure of the lore

For me, an English Literature and Geography buff, a visit to Egypt cannot be complete without sailing the Nile. Didn’t Shakespeare's Cleopatra, ‘Serpent of the Nile’, sail with pomp and splendor, down the longest river in the world?

“The barge she sat in, like a burnish'd throne, / Burned on the water”. 

( from Shakespeare's  Antony and Cleopatra)

Hence from the archaeological sites on the East bank we go up to the pier where ferries are waiting to take passengers across the river. There are a couple of Nile cruise ships as well. 

A ride in a felucca, the traditional Egyptian sail boat, would have been ideal but I had to settle for less. Ours is a small motorised ferry with padded seats and colourful cushions. As the boat glides gently along the river, the desert and green fields slide past on either side. We are protected from the sun by a canopy and a cool breeze soothes us.

A perceptive change

It's past midday and the sun is already moving towards the West.  How symbolically appropriate that we follow it! The greenery has faded, the harsh light has softened, the heat has abated somewhat,and the colour of the waters changes.

Entombed History, Resurrection

We alight on the opposite bank and it feels as though we have crossed not just the Nile, but a boundary between worlds. Suddenly everything is different: a vast desert plain, the mountains rising behind it, and scattered across the landscape, the remnants of a  three thousand year old civilization.

The distances are immense. Walking from one site to another is almost unthinkable, so we drive through this extraordinary landscape, passing colossal statues in various stages of restoration. Everywhere there is the sense of something long buried stirring back to life.

The first to greet us are the Colossi of Memnon, each towering 18 metres above us. They stand like ancient sentinels at the entrance to what remains of the enormous mortuary temple of Amenhotep III. Excavation and restoration continue around them. Fragments everywhere—broken limbs, fallen stones, shattered architectural details—waiting to be identified, numbered and fitted back into place. What patience this requires.

And then the Pharaoh, Amenhotep, himself appears.

He has been brought back upon his feet after 30 centuries of collapse. His enormous form has been meticulously reconstructed from fragments and re-erected.There is something deeply moving about it. These are not simply ruins. They are acts of resurrection. Besides him is his wife, the queen.

Further on, mud-brick structures emerge from the slope, cave-like and almost seamlessly blending with the barren landscape. They are the vaulted storerooms of the Ramesseum, and once again we are overwhelmed by the scale and sophistication of ancient Egyptian architecture.

 

The Enormousness of the necropolis

First the pyramids and then the vast tombs in the Valley of the Kings and the Valley of the Queens.

The caves are an introduction to the Valley of the Kings, where the magnificent tombs of ancient pharaohs were carved into the desert rock. The landscape hence looks pockmarked with entrances to tombs.This famous archeological site houses over 60 tombs of royal pharaohs and nobles, including that of  Ramesses V & VI and Tutankhamun.

We tend to associate ancient Egypt with pyramids: vast monuments rising high from the desert, built to entomb the dead and proclaim their power for eternity. But in Luxor,  these monuments descend into the mountain, through long, winding passages and chambers, their walls alive with brilliant paintings and hieroglyphics.

There is also a practical reason:  Kings stopped building pyramids because robbers easily stole from them. 

It feels less like entering a tomb than entering another realm. 

The walls tell stories of gods, death and rebirth, guiding the pharaoh on his journey into the afterlife. The treasures buried within were not simply possessions, but provisions for eternity—a carefully imagined passage from one existence into another. Is it really all silence and stone?

Where workers and nobles are not left out

We continue deeper into the West Bank of Luxor, the road carrying us into a world of rock and dust . The weathered limestone cliffs of Deir el-Bahari rise. This is the Valley of the Artisans. Some of the best workers that helped build the tombs are buried here. Understandably, these tombs are smaller and not as grandiose.

Hats off to Hatshepsut

Around the bend is the Valley of the Queens. The archeological site is where the wives of the royal pharaohs were buried. Most of the tombs here are rather small and not as impressive as those in the Valley of the Kings. However, the tomb of Queen Nefertari is located here and is said to be one of the best.

As we round the approach, the Temple of Hatshepsut suddenly comes into view. Three immense terraces rise one above another, their precise colonnades creating a striking play of light and shadow. Yet the monument fits perfectly into its surroundings, as though it was always meant to stand here.

We follow in the footsteps of countless others who came to honour Hatshepsut and the gods. One of ancient Egypt’s most remarkable rulers and its most famous female pharaoh, she built the temple as both a memorial to her reign and a sacred place connected with her journey into eternity.

Inside, surviving reliefs, with traces of brilliant colour, depict her divine birth and celebrated expedition to the Land of Punt. Ships, animals, plants and foreign traders unfold across the walls, offering a glimpse into a world of commerce, ceremony and belief.

Higher up, the sanctuary brings a sudden stillness. What stays with us is not only the monument’s magnificence, but Hatshepsut’s desire to place her story within a larger order of gods, life, death and renewal—a testament to the enduring human desire to be remembered beyond a single lifetime.

We watch stone masons at work on the restoration projects, and also get to see some traditional pottery.

Back to the Red Sea

Just as the sun disappears between the western hills,  the monuments awash with twilight, we make our way back to the port. This time we cross the Nile on a bridge. And as the road carries us away towards the Red Sea, the last light over the Nile seems to bring the journey full circle.

Reflection

In Hinduism, East represents new beginnings, light, and divine awakening, while West symbolizes culmination, reflection, and the evening closing of a cycle.The afterlife connection: In ancient Khmer and Hindu symbolism, the west—the direction of the setting sun—is also tied to death and the afterlife. Angora wat in Cambodia is the largest religious monument in the world faces west. It has been suggested that King Suryavarman II who built the temple intended Angkor Wat to serve as his royal mausoleum or funerary temple in addition to a state temple.

The East bank : Luxor and Karnak, Egypt

Safaga Port to Luxor

Destined 

We are at Safaga Port, and we have no plans. After our experience at Port Said, we are more than a little concerned about our safety. But our cruise friends have booked a minivan for six, and two of their group have withdrawn. Could we go with them? Why not? And so, we do.

As soon as we disembark, the person in our group who arranged the private transport manages, with some difficulty, to contact our driver. We are soon guided into an air-conditioned vehicle, and our journey to Luxor begins—approximately three hours from Safaga.

In retrospect, how easy it would have been had we stayed on the ship, played it safe, only to miss what was to become one of the most memorable experiences of our trip. Taking a chance and more led to a rewarding experience.

We were destined to make this journey.

Upper is not north. It is south.

That small geographical conundrum tickles me as we begin our almost three-hour drive south through Egypt. We are travelling upstream, following the Nile toward its source, and into what is hence known as Upper Egypt. Somehow, the farther south we go, the more the ancient geography begins to make sense.

At first, there is little but desert—vast, barren, and almost unearthly. Then, almost imperceptibly, the landscape begins to shift. Patches of green appear. Fields stretch along the river. The desert gives way to swatches of cultivated land, and suddenly there is life everywhere.

We pass through small villages with mud-brick homes. Cows graze, chickens wander across the roadside, and people go about the ordinary business of daily life. After the immense silence of the desert, these simple scenes feel almost miraculous.

The contrast is astonishing: endless desert on the one hand, a remarkably fertile landscape on the other. It is easy to understand why this narrow valley has sustained communities for thousands of years. Looking out the window, I find myself marveling at how such a slender strip of green could give rise to one of the world’s great civilizations.

We are now in  the ancient region of Thebes, the Greek name for the area around modern-day Luxor. The road continues south toward Aswan and the Aswan High Dam, but that is not our Itinerary today.

For now, the journey itself feels like part of the discovery. Desert, fields, villages and the Nile river unfold beside us in a landscape where the ancient and the everyday astonishingly exist side by side.

The reveal

As we near Luxor, modern buildings begin to appear alongside an excavation site, where a seemingly endless row of sphinxes stretches into the distance. This evocative first glimpse affirms our expectations: coexistence of the  everyday and the ancient.

Once the capital of ancient Egypt, Luxor is today a lively market town serving the surrounding agricultural region. The farmland and villages we passed along the Nile had already suggested what lay ahead: a city at the heart of this fertile valley. Yet I am struck by how completely modern life has grown around the ancient temples. Churches, mosques, restaurants, hotels, and bustling markets all share the landscape with monuments thousands of years old.

I had expected to encounter the remnants of an ancient civilization; I had not quite expected to find modern life unfolding so naturally around them.

Layers of time

We finally catch sight of the ruins of Luxor Temple. It is time to leave the comfort of air-conditioning and step into the afternoon heat.

Our first surprise is a domed, active mosque standing within the ancient temple complex, beside and partly above the massive stone pylon—the original Egyptian gateway. The mosque is obviously a later Islamic structure, while the pylon belongs to the much older temple. Roman alterations to the ancient stonework are visible as well. Standing here, I am even more struck by the extraordinary layering of history: ancient Egyptian, Roman, Islamic, and modern life occupying the same space.

Passing through the pylon, a massive gateway, we discover a narrow, remarkably steep staircase said to lead through hollow rooms and corridors to the upper levels and roof—spaces once used by priests, guards, and workers. Do we hear the muffled tones of people moving through these same passages thousands of years ago?

Beyond the gateway, the purpose of the temple begins to emerge. Despite being called a temple, Luxor Temple was not dedicated to a single god. It was the focal point of the annual Opet Festival, when divine statues were carried from Karnak to Luxor in a ceremony symbolizing the renewal of the pharaoh’s right to rule.

Before the pylon once stood two obelisks. One remains here; the other was presented to France in 1831, in honour of the French man who helped decipher the hieroglyphs, and now stands in Paris’s Place de la Concorde. It is strange to think of these two monuments, once standing together at this entrance, now separated by thousands of kilometres.

From here, we move deeper into the temple and emerge into the great peristyle court, surrounded on three sides by elegant papyrus-cluster columns. Their capitals imitate the spreading umbels, fanlike flower clusters, of the papyrus plant. After seeing photographs and drawings of ancient Egypt for so many years, standing among these immense columns is something else entirely. The scale and craftsmanship are overwhelming..

The Pharaohs’ echoes via ‘Sphinx Avenue’

We walk beneath the vast Egyptian sky along the Avenue of Ram-Headed Sphinxes, their weathered faces silently watching as we approach the Karnak Temple Complex. Then the Great Hypostyle Hall comes into view—a breathtaking forest of 134 colossal columns, their surfaces alive with ancient inscriptions and reliefs. Standing among them feels less like entering a temple than stepping into another age.

At the entrance, the remains of the monumental pylon of Ramesses II are flanked by colossal statues of the pharaoh. One restored black-granite colossus stands 11 meters high. Discovered in 57 fragments only 70 years ago, it was painstakingly reassembled and unveiled in 2017. At his feet, a five-foot figure of Queen Nefertari offers a striking contrast.

Surrounded by these ancient giants, it is easy to imagine Karnak not as ruins, but as a world still alive with echoes of the past.

The huge closely placed columns did offer much needed shade from the merciless sun

Reaching for the heavens

Standing within the Karnak Temple Complex in Luxor, I was awestruck by Hatshepsut’s magnificent pink granite obelisk, rising nearly 30 meters into the sky. Carved from a single block of granite quarried at Aswan, it weighs an astonishing 323 tons.

Nearby, the obelisk of Thutmose I rises about 21.7 meters and weighs roughly 143 tons.

These were far more than feats of engineering. Rising toward the heavens, the obelisks symbolized the sun and were dedicated to the gods. Standing beside them, I found myself wondering how people more than 3,000 years ago could quarry, transport, and raise stones of such immense size. The sheer scale left me humbled—and reminded me how much of the ingenuity of the ancient world still lies beyond our imagination.

Quiet Reflection at the Sacred Lake

Within the vast Precinct of Amun-Re at Karnak, the Sacred Lake rests peacefully among towering columns and ancient temples.

Created under Pharaoh Thutmose III, it served as a place of ritual purification, where priests prepared themselves before entering the sacred presence of the gods.

Today, its still waters offer a rare moment of quiet within the grandeur of Karnak. Standing at its edge, I felt a deep sense of respect for the countless generations who gathered here. For a moment, it was easy to imagine the priests walking these same shores thousands of years ago—and to feel the enduring presence of a world long gone, yet not forgotten.

Dung Beetle Charm

And then there is the irresistible pink granite scarab—a giant at 1.9 metres long and weighing five tons—perched at one corner of the lake.

So why are people walking around it? Folklore has the answer:

Three laps bring general good fortune.

Seven laps bring luck in marriage.

And nine laps—the maximum(?)—are for fertility.

The tradition has a fascinating connection to ancient Egypt. The scarab was associated with Khepri, the god of the rising sun and rebirth. Egyptians saw the dung beetle rolling its ball across the ground as a reflection of the sun being rolled across the sky.

Local folklore has given that ancient symbol a wonderfully practical twist: a good-luck charm.

A link to the next blog on the West Bank of Luxor.

This scarab was originally made during the reign of Amenhotep III for his mortuary temple on Luxor’s west bank, before being moved to Karnak. The ball rolls!

Le Havre, France(2): an identity

Cont'd from Le Havre, France(1):  Recovery or Restoration?

The lantern whose colours speak 

St. Joseph’s Church is a striking modern concrete landmark, dominated by its 107-metre octagonal tower, known locally as the “Lighthouse.” Built as a memorial to around 5,000 civilians who died in the war, the church combines remembrance with a sense of hope. Inside, thousands of stained-glass panels fill the space with changing colours rather than traditional religious imagery. The effect is calm and contemplative, inviting visitors to pause and reflect on the church’s history and memorial purpose.

Promenading the esplanade

And then we walk along the coastal Boulevard Clémenceau, catching glimpses of the pebbly beaches and the sea beyond. The day is becoming too warm, and I reluctantly abandon the idea of visiting the Hanging Gardens, with their flights of stairs, developed among the ruins of the fort once commandeered by Napoleon. It feels like a small loss, knowing that we will miss the gardens and their views, but the heat makes the climb seem less inviting.

Impression(ism) 

The coastal promenade takes me to The Signal, the distinct monumental concrete sculpture,like a stylized human eye, cantilevered in the ​MuMa (Musée d'art moderne André Malraux) Plaza. 

It seems appropriate for the museum houses some paintings of Claude Monet, Auguste Renoir and others. An 1872 painting by Claude Monet called  Impression, Sunrise depicting the port of Le Havre, Monet's hometown, is thought to have inspired the Impressionists movement.    

Symbols of wealth and success

And then a board that says Gold Coast grabs my attention. I don't see anything like the Australian Gold Coast. I have to go very close to the brick parapet and peer over the breakwater before I spot the glinting rocks,contrasting sharply with the colours of the sea.Had it been sunset or sunrise, or even moonlight,  I would have noticed it immediately. Again, this is an installation made of several rocks of hybrid material, painted gold. 

From there, in the distance, at the tip of a long breakwater, I catch sight of a statue of a father on whose shoulder sits his daughter. The father, an artist,  and the daughter are gazing out over the sea to a future? NY ( based on the imaginary line of the gaze)? the old transatlantic routes?

 Hut handed down 

And then there are the colourful beach huts . Interesting that they are passed down from generation to generation. 

The monuments referred to my previous blog:

The childlike figure captures the carefree joy of life by the sea.

Mr Gull seems to embody a longing for the ocean. With his seagull’s head, sailor’s peacoat and perch atop a ship’s mast, he becomes a whimsical symbol of the maritime world.

The iceberg provides a striking contrast to the volcanoes—ice against fire. Intriguingly, Saharan dust carried on atmospheric winds once settled on the sculpture, giving the iceberg a yellow hue: an unexpected, natural addition to its symbolism.

A tribute to maritime history and engineering

As we make our way back to our cruise pier we take a closer look at an astonishing upright chain link formed of colorful containers at the entrance to the port. The statistics are mind-boggling. Height: 28m. Weight: 248 tons.

 Back at Basin du Roi

All along we see that the quiet morning has given way to a vibrant evening with restaurants doing brisk business. The tide is in and the boats are available for rides. Families stand on the bridge admiring it all. Others walk along the banks.

A high rise building in the distance displays figures/apparitions, on uninstalled window frames The seafood stalls are brisk with business.

 After that it is a lonely walk back to the ship.

Why so many monuments?

To celebrate the city’s 500th anniversary in 2017, “A Summer in Le Havre” was launched, inviting international artists to create works inspired by the identity of this historic port city. Some of the installations became permanent fixtures, while the festival continues to take place every year.

A walk that turns the  pages of history

Le Havre is, without a doubt,a city you have to walk to understand. Its story unfolds with every step: the rigid grid leads you through a bold landscape of concrete, where streets, buildings and open spaces tell the story of a city reduced to rubble and reborn in the daring modernist vision of one man, Auguste Perret. It is no wonder then that the unique postwar reconstruction and architecture  earned the city center a UNESCO World Heritage listing in 2005.

And as you walk, the city’s gaze keeps returning to the sea. The streets lead towards a port that has connected Le Havre with the wider world for centuries—particularly Asia—and remains a powerhouse of trade and industry.

Trivia

• The AREVA has a factory for building wind turbines designed for Offshore wind power in Brittany, the UK, and Normandy. It created some 1,800 jobs.

• The largest industrial employer (2,400 employees) of the Le Havre region is the Renault public company 

Le Havre, France(1): Recovery or Restoration?

Harbouring hopes at The Harbour

Le Havre is the port closest to Paris, sitting on the English Channel – at the estuary of the river Seine –where France has long faced England across the water. That alone makes me curious. This was once a gateway for commerce, but also shaped by centuries of rivalry. Somewhere along this coast, William the Conqueror crossed the Channel on his way to claim the English throne. Centuries later, the Normandy beaches would see D-Day.

And yet, today, it is simply our port of call. The 21/2 hour journey to Paris, a city in which we spent a few days many years ago, is a definite “No”. We could wander through picturesque Honfleur, but somehow Le Havre itself is drawing me in. From the ship, the city looks unexpectedly modern, its architecture hinting at a past.

I’m eager to step ashore and see what lies beyond the waterfront. Perhaps there is more to Le Havre than first meets the eye—and perhaps that is exactly what makes it worth exploring. Maybe Le Havre will surprise us.

Not so simple

There are paid shuttles into the city, but we decide to walk—only about two kilometres, or 20–30 minutes. Easy? Apparently not. Almost immediately, we realize we have absolutely no clue.

Surrounded by acres of enormous wind-turbine blades, neatly lined up, the port is like a maze designed to discourage tourists. We follow the fences until we reach a swing bridge. The light is red. We wait. And wait. Nothing. Not our lucky day.

We backtrack, find another bridge and a crosswalk, and finally make our way through the working port and industrial docks. It’s a long, lonely walk—not the scenic grand entrance to Le Havre we had imagined!

A basin dug out of a bay

Still, we keep going, wondering when we would finally reach the city. At last, we come upon a beautiful stone bridge spanning the Bassin du Roi, Le Havre’s oldest wet dock, commissioned by King Francis I in the15 hundreds. The basin was actually dug out of the existing bay! The tide is low and so the sides are exposed. The colourful boats appear stranded in the middle.The stairs leading to the boats below are quite tall. There is no human movement at all. 

Near the beginning of the bridge, perched high on a building, is an unusual bronze sculpture of a girl which serves as a weather vane. But a closer look at the details suggests that she is a creature of the sea happily providing a refuge for marine life. Perhaps she represents the close relationship of the city with the sea. We are finally getting somewhere.

Are we going to have the city all to ourselves?

We walk along  a row of empty stalls stacked with crates. Some have stoves and ovens. I can almost imagine crowds gathering here for sea food. But where are the crowds?

Across the channel we walk along closed store fronts and then we turn into a residential area. 

Stark and solemn

We have wandered towards Notre Dame Cathedral and the older part of Le Havre. This cathedral sits in the heart of the city. We are in one of the oldest thoroughfares of the city. The cathedral was built in the 16th century but of the original only the bell tower remains. It and many of the older buildings in the neighbourhood were severely damaged in WW2.  Hence what we see around us are modern concrete buildings replicating some older features. The streets, in a grid layout, are broad as are the squares. The church itself was restored. Only a couple of people are up and about walking their dogs.

The city is stirring

Since we are already in the heart of the city we decide to find the town hall. We instinctively slow into an amble when we turn into a broad treelined avenue bordered by stark, modern residential apartment blocks. A lot more people are walking about either leisurely or business-like. A building hidden behind bushes draws my attention. It seems like a community centre and I take pictures from the little opening in the bushes lining the fence. We are looking at a public nursery school reconstructed post WW2 with the unique architecture of the city.  

Perked up:A vibrant atmosphere

As the sun climbs higher, the pace of the town changes. Almost before we realize it, we are swept up in a wonderful whirl of colour, noise and activity. It’s market day, and somehow we have wandered right into the middle of the weekend bustle.

We have stepped into Les Halles Centrales, the covered market hall, with the surrounding streets alive with stalls. Everywhere we look there is something to catch our eye—local arts and crafts, colourful clothing, jewellery, woven baskets and all sorts of treasures.

Inside the hall, butchers, greengrocers, wine merchants, cheesemongers, fishmongers and pastry stalls compete for our attention, filling the air with enticing sights and aromas. Outside, the cafés are packed and abuzz with conversation.

We pause for a moment simply to absorb it all. What a delightful surprise to stumble into such a lively, colourful slice of local life!

A welcome respite

Not too far away are St. Joseph's Church and City Hall. Knowing the church is closer to the port, we decide to continue walking toward City Hall, or Place de l’Hôtel de Ville. The original city hall was destroyed by British bombardment during the Second World War, and what stands before us today is its modern reconstruction.

The square in front is unexpectedly inviting, with tiered fountains, shady trees and neatly manicured gardens. After the slowly building excitement of the morning we are glad for a quiet place to catch our breath, take in our surroundings, and simply enjoy being here.

More wandering: is there a story?

A walk through the remarkably quiet neighbourhood leads us toward the old market square, where we come across a light-stone building that appears to have retained much of its pre-war architecture. This is the city’s Natural History Museum that stands out among the modern buildings around it. Standing nearby is a rather curious statue, adding an unexpected touch of character to the scene. He is Mister Gull. There must surely be a story to this one.

Cultural and shopping centre

The white structure that has been visible from the different streets now looms up before us. What I had imagined to be the top part of a boot has more beneath it, for the structure sits below street level. Yes, it is shaped like a volcano with smooth white sides. There are not one but two volcano structures. The larger Grand Volcan houses a 1,200-seat theater and a 350-seat cinema. The smaller, Petit Volcan,  is now a public Library.  Both were designed by a Brazilian architect called Oscar Niemeyer. The two buildings that form the cultural  center stand in stark contrast to the post war concrete buildings all around them.  Climbing out of the sunken area brings us into rows of eateries and bars preparing to open for the evening crowd. 

Apt war memorial

Our eyes are next drawn to a statue in a large square called Place Général de Gaulle. The square faces a pond lined with seats and benches. If the sun had been more merciful we would have sat there in the company of two others who were sunbathing on the boardwalk! In the middle of the park stands the enormous statue that pays homage to the lives lost in WW1 and  WW2 and other major conflicts.. The fountains were not activated the time we were there. 

The pond/basin also has a quirky artistic installation called the ‘Ice berg’.

To be cont'd in Le Havre, France(2): Monuments

Mitilini, Lesbos, Greece : Oh, my my, my!

Tender approach

Right after visiting Istanbul(Constantinople, the grand capital of the Roman empire),at the crossroads of Asia and Europe, we are back on the Aegean Sea, making our way toward the Greek island of Lesbos. We are tendered into Mytilini, the capital of Lesbos, with little in the way of expectations. After the intensity and grandeur of Istanbul, we are but mildly curious to see what this next stop might bring.

Hah!

As is our habit, we intend to walk to the farthest point first, then slowly make our way back, taking in the sights and soaking up the atmosphere. But then—wow!—an imposing church catches our eye (even as we approach the shore) and stops us in our tracks. Its striking architecture and five domes are simply breathtaking – Agios Therapontas, a Greek Orthodox Cathedral with 5 ornate domes. It is a magnificent example of Byzantine architecture. It’s unlike any other church in Greece. In the courtyard is Lesvos’ Byzantine Museum.

My! Off shore or downtown?

As we stroll along the paved Ermou Street, through the old Turkish Quarter toward the other harbour, it is easy to think of it as simply another street filled with souvenir shops. But this is no ordinary street. It carries layers of history.

Named after Hermes, the ancient Greek god of commerce, travel, and trade, Ermou elicits the spirit of an old agora—the marketplace where people once gathered not only to trade, but to meet, talk, exchange news, etc. In other words, it would have been a social and cultural hub. Pedestrianised in 2024, the street compels us to slow down and look around. Fish shops, grocery stores, little bookshops, convenience stores, jewellery, and souvenir shops spill their ware into the rhythm of everyday life. 

And then there is the story beneath our feet: 

Imagine!  Mytilene, on which the fortress is, was once a small island, lying just offshore from the much larger island of Lesbos. Between them ran a narrow channel of sea. Over the centuries silt and sediment accumulated little by little, the waterway growing narrower and shallower,making it feasible to build marble bridges across the remaining passage, binding the two shores together.

In time, the channel disappeared altogether. The little island of Mytilene became joined to Lesbos, and the sea that had once flowed between them gave way to solid ground. And so, we may have just walked over naturally reclaimed land on some of the intersections.

We pass by mansions. Further up the streets the architecture of the buildings shift. We are in the  Ottoman quarter which is flanked by Neoclassical merchant houses from the late 19th century. The city's Islamic history is revealed through the vestiges. The ruins of the 19th century complex that includes a mosque and hamam are an unmistakably  unique blend of Byzantine and Ottoman architectural elements.

Layers of historical significance 

Close by, rising above the surrounding streets, stands the 16th-century Metropolitan Church of Aghios Athanasios, which became the Metropolitan Church of Mytilene in the 18th century. We are struck by neo-Gothic bell tower that soars to an impressive 33 metres. Both the church and its bell tower were apparently built with chiselled stone brought from the quarries of Asia Minor, adding yet another layer of history to this remarkable landmark.

Leaving the church behind, we wander deeper into Mytilene’s quieter and older streets. Among the stucco-fronted houses and timeworn ceramic  façades another Orthodox church comes into view, partly concealed behind a wrought-iron gate at the bottom of a simple stone belfry, beyond which lies a peaceful courtyard.

A little farther on, another charming surprise awaits us. Tucked among the surrounding buildings is the small chapel of St. Eudokomis, with its distinctive red-and-white horizontal stripes. A reddish-brown dome crowns the chapel, while a tiny rooftop bell tower, with its solitary bell, completes its picturesque appearance. The chapel is thought to have been built by refugees from Asia Minor, giving this modest place of worship a poignant connection to the region’s history of displacement and resettlement.

Continuing our aimless wandering, we soon encounter yet another Byzantine Orthodox church. This time it is the Orthodox Church of St. Paul, believed to commemorate a historic stop made by St. Paul during one of his missionary journeys. Encountering these churches one after another, tucked into the fabric of the city, makes our walk through Mytilene feel like a journey through layers of faith and history.

My, my!

Lesbos is famous for its ouzo, the anise-flavored spirit that Greece is known for. But if the name Lesbos triggers another, more familiar association, you’re absolutely on the right track.

Lesbos was the birthplace of Sappho, one of ancient Greece’s most celebrated lyric poets. Born into an aristocratic family in the 7th century BCE, Sappho spent much of her life in Mytilene, the island’s capital, writing intensely passionate poetry—much of it exploring love, desire, and affection between women.

And here’s the concurrence: the word “lesbian” traces its roots directly back to this island because of Sappho’s poetry and her association with love

My, my, my!

Asia Minor has played a profound role in the history and identity of Lesbos, A mere six miles of water on a map can become, for those crossing it, an entire world between the life they have left behind and the life they hope to find. It has also been a passage between peoples, cultures, histories, and, at times, worlds in conflict.During the 2015–2016 refugee crisis, Lesbos once again became a gateway between Asia and Europe. Hundreds of thousands of people fleeing war and instability in Syria, Iraq, and Afghanistan crossed the Aegean, arriving on the island in search of safety and a new life. 

In Mytilene, these layered histories are reflected symbolically in the statues that stand along the waterfront. The figure of Mother Asia Minor evokes the memory of those who were displaced from the shores across the sea, while the statue of Sappho speaks to Lesbos's ancient cultural legacy. Nearby, closer to the port, stands a Statue of Liberty—reminiscent of the one in New York—offering another powerful image of arrival, freedom, and possibility.

On a lighter note

Before returning to the harbour, we make our way towards the Fortress of Mytilene, a massive sixth-century stronghold rising from a pine-covered hill between the island’s two harbours. We are content simply to admire it from below, taking in its scale and history without needing to climb any higher.

Then, as if to complete the day perfectly, we find our way to the crystal-clear waters of the Aegean. Perched on ancient stones beside the shingle beach, we dip our feet into the cool sea and sit for a while, quietly taking it all in. There is a wonderful sense of satisfaction in ending the day this way—surrounded by history, sea and sunlight.