The Haghia Nicholas Monastery (Midye / Kiyikoy) entrance and the self appointed "resident guardian" watching the tourist traffic! 
Inside the Haghia Nicolas monastery (Midye/Kiyikoy)Getting out of the Istanbul traffic mini-hell is not an easy task. Even on a Sunday morning. The mega-city has extended tentacles spread for long miles and miles over both sides of the magnificent Bosporus strait. The road to the remote village of Demirkoy, just before Bulgarian border in the Thrace, is about 200 km.
Forty five minutes were enough to get the better of the Istanbul’s northern boundaries.
Endless brick and mortar gradually gave way to green open pastures. The Edirne (Adrianapolis) bound highway cutting the landscape into two asymmetrical shapes leaving the overcrowded old lady Constantinople behind us and promising us a leap back to Mother Nature.
Heading North to the ‘’European’’ lands of modern Turkey, is an exciting experience. The region has been known as Thrace throughout history and is the birthplace of so many kings and heroes. But the region’s most famous son is Spartacus, the slave turned hero. This area today is known as the Kirklareli province and it is pretty pleasing to the eye. Endless prairie style flat green fields form the southern part, while the majestic Istranca mountain massif is n the north, extending to Bulgaria proper.
Thrace is continually inhabited since pre historical times. The area understandably has a large concentration of ruins, sanctuaries and sacrificial altars other archaeological objects, mostly still ‘unexplored’ by archaeologists and treasure hunters. The perfectly level plains here and there are ‘punctured’ by small and obviously man made hills and mounds: A sure sign of ancient Thracian, Greek or Byzantine burial or sacred places. These mounds are mostly unexplored ancient burial sites, but modern day fortune hunters are never that far, despite the laws protecting against any treasure hunting!
The iron bearing and moss covered rocks (Demirkoy region, northern Thrace)The villages and towns of lower Thrace are now part of the modern Turkey, but the area was mostly inhabited by Greeks as well as some Bulgarians and some Turks up to the second decade of the twentieth century. A drastic ‘population exchange’ along ethnic lines occurred in the region and most of the Greek inhabitants left, replaced by Bosnians, Albanians and other Turkic people. The current Bulgarian-Turkish border in the region to the north was established after the Balkan wars in1913, when the northern part of Istranca became part of Bulgaria (known as Strandzha). The towns we are crossing are mostly neat, functional, somehow prosperous and apparently socially liberal. The women are scarcely veiled, the inhabitants look vibrant and extrovert:
¨It is the last bastion of true secular liberalism, enjoy it while it lasts¨ murmurs Adnan, obviously not too optimistic and fearing for the worst for the region. The domino effect of the Islams waves sweeping throughout the Middle East have so far spared this region. But for how long can this last?
Our car is a sub compact, a bit noisy. Adnan is always calm and stoic behind the wheels, proud to leave overcrowded Istanbul. Heading to Demirkoy for a few days of rest and surveying the poplar and walnut plantations is more than just an occasional escape.
But behind me, my new friend Aram is not calm. He is also off to Demirkoy as well and he has lots of stories to share and issues to argue about But he is effervescent, a real Energizer bunny in a straight jacket. He is eager to get out the torturous state he is in. He is six foot six and the car is not made to match his impressive caliber.
We reach the junction town of Cerkezkoy then up next we are in Saray, a nice place to stop for a meal and give Aram’s very long legs a good rest.
The restaurant is provincial but immaculate. The food traditional cuisine: The lentil soup, the bean and chickpeas stews along with the bulgur pilaf. The ‘manda’ yogurt accompanying is very rich and full of grassy flavours. Manda is an animal of supposedly Indian origin, some sort of an Asiatic equivalent or parent of the American buffalo according to the local people. Whatever the origin of the beast, the yogurt is simply divine.
Then there is Vize, an agricultural merchant town, another ancient Greek-Thracian town. Vize the ancient Bizye, has somehow managed to preserve a close semblance to its historical name without assuming a new Turkish name like most other towns and villages of the region. Just like the nearby Black sea village of Yalikoy (Podima) and Binkilic (Istranca) or Kiyikoy (Midye).
The age old church Haghia Sophia is Vize’s most notable structure. It was re-constructed on an earlier church probably during the 8th or 9th century, and is situated on the less populated western slopes of the acropolis of this ancient Byzantine city. This pretty imposing church features a basilica style plan on the ground floor and barrel vaults supporting an imposing central dome on the gallery level. It is an architectural bridge between the basilicas of the Early Christian period and the cross-domed churches that dominate Middle Byzantine architecture from the 9th century on.
The church was recently given a face lift by the authorities and looks perfect from the outside, but it also got an unexpected gift: an ill matching Ottoman style new minaret, asserting its conversion it to a mosque. Haghia Sofia church is another addition to the long lists of turn-church- into-mosque policy after the conquest of 1453. Better turn the churches into mosques than let them decay, the logic goes. This pattern of ‘’renovations’’ converting churches to mosques is not new, of course. It has been going on for a few centuries since the initial Constantinople conquest of 1453. Adding four minarets of different brick and stone colours all around the universally treasure of Istanbul’s Haghia Sofia must have been the first but certainly not the last.
The Haghia Sofia church of Vize tranformed to a Mosque by this very ill fitting minaret. The Turkish authorities could have found a more competent architect.We left Vize, and gradually Thracian landscape changed drastically from plains to mountainous forest. We were entering the northern Thrace, the Istranca massif, almost entirely covered by rare conifers and oak. These rare black oak forests are unique in Europe and seem to be well protected by the authorities. The fact that region is to near the Bulgarian (ex soviet bloc) border, had a positive effect in hindering any wild modern developments, preserving the traditional ambiance and landscape.
The Istranca Mountains, run parallel to the sea in north-eastern Thrace have fragrant forests, gigantic aging trees and springs of all sizes bursting from all corners. Impressive wild rhododendrons under the tree canopy make the moss covered rocks look even more mysterious. Locally called zelenka, rhododendrons are in their most natural of possible habitats. These impressive evergreen acid loving plants add a wonderful range of pastel colours to the nature when in bloom, an incredible sight.
Adnan announces that we are fast approaching the picturesque ancient village of Kiyikoy translated as ‘Coast Village’, perched on some cliffs by the azure of the Black sea. This is the ancient Greek village of Midye. Lots have obviously changed throughout the ages, but the natural beauty of the place is unscathed. The original defensive walls around the village have somehow been preserved while other parts have given way to the construction of villagers’ houses.
Kiyikoy is calm on this Sunday morning. People are dressed to impress each other and relax. The influx to the mosque seems weak, the cafés bustling with their all male patrons sipping tea and discussing politics and unfinished business. Kiyikoy is a small village, but it seems to be at the very heartbeat of the northern Istranca.
The Black sea behind may be called ‘’black’’, but it definitely appears very appealing blue to me, especially from the café perched above the cliffs. ‘Turkish’ coffee seems to be an endangered species in Istanbul, but in here it is delicious. For the first time since my arrival to Turkey, I was not offered a Nescafe upon asking for coffee!
Below us, down the cliffs there lie the small fishing boats and tons of nets. The fish is reputedly getting scarcer every year, pretty expensive as well. We visit a fisherman’s shack, but the prices seem as high as in Istanbul’s markets. Especially the famous Flat fish, locally named as Kalkan, (or shield). The asking price of about 50$ per kilo is absurd by any standard. But rarity keeps the demand (and prices) pretty high.
The fishermen understandably complain that they are being robbed by the professional fishing boats passing by the area and severely depleting any sustainable fish. The universal problem of wild and indiscriminate overfishing seems to have also arrived to these remote virgin shores of the Black sea.
But Kiyikoy’s real treasure was just a couple of miles away from the village: The Haghia Nicholas byzantine monastery of the 6th century carved in a mountain, presumably during the reign of Emperor Justinian 527-567 AD.
Posing with my imposing new friend in front of Haghia Nicholas at Kiyikoy
A dirt road from the village leads us there. The site is not very imposing but very much unexpected and refreshing. The monastery is very modest in size but its instant charm is undeniable. A local mini replica of Armenia’s ‘Keghart’ monastery: cloisters carved in the rock in a mountain, near a fertile valley with so many springs bubbling with crystalline water. Early Christian monks, from Kiyikoy Haghia Nicholas to Cappadocia to Keghart, obviously knew where to carve their cloisters.
My first impression of Haghia Nicholas was the ‘’local’’ homeless man almost blocking one of the main entrances by his presence. He stood right there as if to claim the rights to this ancient place. A little intimidating at first, but Adnan advised not to pay attention and we got through.
The site is very interesting but not well maintained over the ages, neither signs of deliberate destruction. Just a total state of ‘let go’. Litter is plentiful, and the homeless man’s sleeping quarters and tons of junk are stationed right behind the monastery’s main altar. The site of great historical and theological interest but no attention is given by the authorities, except for a plaque giving a few details about this unique monastery.
Then we are off to our final destination: the village of Demirkoy or Iron Village, for the region is famous for iron mines dating back to the Iron Age. Back to the future, perhaps?
© Krikor Tersakian 2009
