Knidos
Superbly sited classical port
The high and wild Datça Peninsula, which fingers far out to sea in Turkey’s southwesternmost corner, serves to divide the Aegean from the Mediterranean; its headland, Krio, could be called the Cape of Good Hope of the classical age.
For Cape Krio dominated the ancient sea routes connecting nearby Halicarnassus (modern Bodrum) with Rhodes, each home to one of the ancient world’s Seven Wonders; and, more distantly, Ephesus with Alexandria (ditto). No surprise, then, that the port of Knidos, or Cnidus, which was established here by the 4th century BC, enjoyed fabled prosperity. Western visitors may know it as the site of the great lion which was removed in the 1850s from here to the British Museum; it originally stood a mile or two east of the city, atop a shoreside tomb whose plinth is still visible from the sea.
Knidos is a long haul by road; the way to arrive is by sea, mooring in the magnificent sheltered harbour which tucks up beneath bulking Cape Krio. From here the exceptional view is of the waterside theatre which spills down the hillside where the main part of the city stands, its honey-coloured stone especially attractive in the late-afternoon light.
Put ashore at the jetty, with its restaurant, to reach the ticket office. Pass the main agora, with its partially restored stoa, to reach the port’s second harbour, built for military triremes, which lies beyond a narrow isthmus. Admire the reconstructed fountain; the harbour-side chapels, built to serve generations of superstitious sailors; and the impressive fortifications around the harbour mouth. Then follow the sunken road which runs inland and uphill towards a series of temples with beautifully carved masonry; the most interesting one, almost set into the cliff face, stands on an impressive round platform in which a crude excavation has been dug. This temple has been identified as the setting for a cult statue of a nude Aphrodite, by famed sculptor Praxiteles, which appears to have inflamed the collective loin of the ancient world. The statue is long lost, but contemporary accounts tell of the attempts of desperate young men to pass the night with her by concealing themselves within the temple at closing time. (Who will trace the line of descent from Praxiteles’ Aphrodite to arrive at the poster girl of my own youth, the one with the tennis ball protruding from the back of her knickers?)
So much for that. Continue by following the obvious trend of the paths to take in the Corinthian temple and church, now in the process of reconstruction. Look out too for the nearby cisterns, with their plastered interior walls, before descending to the waterside theatre.
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