A Graeco-Roman City and an 'Infinitely' Deep Blue Spring
Albania |
Edi, our driver for the rest of this trip arrived punctually at 9.
Butrint
The end of the main peninsula was only a few minutes away. Butrint, the remains of the Graeco-Roman city of Bouthroton/Buthrotum, a National Park and UNESCO World Heritage Site, perches on a secondary peninsula pointing inland and forming the eastern end of the Vivari Channel linking Lake Butrint to the sea.
Butrint is in Albania's extreme south west corner. We had spent the previous two nights in Ksamil, south of Saranda and closer to Butrint than we had realised |
When we said we were going to Albania, more than one person recalled holidaying in Corfu as a child, and seeing an adult finger pointing across the straits to the green hills beyond while its owner said:‘That’s Albania, no one goes there.’ Times have changed, Butrint is now a popular destination on day trips from Corfu, though few venture across the water for longer. Arriving early from Ksamil meant we almost had the place to ourselves.
Greek Butrint - Bouthroton
The oldest archaeological evidence of a settlement dates to between the 10th and 8th centuries BCE and that settlement became the city of Bouthroton with the construction of the acropolis in the 7th century. At first an independent city linked with the Corinthian colony of Corfu, it became subject to Corfu after the second Peloponnesian War (413-404 BCE). Bouthroton’s access to the Straits of Corfu, and location on the boundary between mainland Greece and the barbarian world beyond gave it strategic importance. The city grew and by the 4th century BCE had an agora, a theatre and a sanctuary dedicated to Asclepius, the Greek god of medicine.
Butrint site map, the work of Lencer from an original by Neritan Ceka, borrowed from Wikipedia |
The site map above, by far the best I have found, is in German but even the most monolingual anglophone should not find it difficult to follow. We arrived on the (purple) road (left of map) which leads to a parking area. After picking up a knowledgeable young guide, we entered (at the eingang!) and made our way up to the agora and theatre.
Approaching the temple of Asclepius and the theatre, Butrint |
This is a seismically active area and over the centuries the land and the water table have shifted up and down. It is now necessary to cross a small lake to reach the Temple of Asclepius…
Over the lake to the Temple of Asclepius, Butrint |
…with the opportunity to view the resident turtles. These may be European pond turtles, striped necked terrapins (aka Caspian turtles), both or neither.
Part of Butrint's turtle community |
Every Greek city needed a theatre, and Burtrint’s looks small, though there is evidence that the seating went further up the hill behind.
Greek theatre, Butrint |
It is easy to be appalled by 18th and 19th century slavery (and by modern slavery, too) but it is almost impossible to comprehend the mind-set involved in classical slavery. Inscriptions on the wall at the entrance to the theatre (though it may have been a wall in the agora at the time) mainly deal with the freeing of slaves. Freed slaves merged into the regular citizenry and some become slave owners themselves.
Inscriptions on the theatre wall, Butrint |
Leaving the temple for the baths, we could to see the theatre seating probably continuing into the woods above – and a school party using the theatre as it was designed.
Greek theatre, Butrint |
Roman Butrint -Buthrotum
As Greek power waned, that of Rome waxed and 228 BCE Butrint and Corfu became Roman protectorates. A century later Butrint became part of the Province of Macedonia and in 44 BCE a Roman colony.
Romans needed baths like Greeks needed theatres, so they built one, the underfloor design being instantly recognisable from one end of the empire to the other. The water in the bottom is not bathwater!
Roman baths, Butrint |
Opposite are the remains of the Temple of Minerva.
Temple of Minerva, Butrint |
Continuing past on-going archaeology …
Continuing archaeology, Butrint |
…we reached the gymnasium. Although sounding as though it should be Greek, the gymnasium lies on the line of the second of the city’s three walls built to protect an ever larger area as the population grew. The nymphaeum is the only recognisable survivor and is certainly a Romanesque structure. The remains of mosaics can be seen in the tops of the niches, but even by standing directly beneath them, risking a backward step into the water, I could not make them out.
The gymnasium's nymphaeum, Roman Butrint |
In the 3rd century CE a major earthquake levelled much of outer Buthrotum…
…and in the 5th century political earthquakes destroyed the Roman Empire. Power passed to Byzantium.
Byzantine Butrint
Christianity arrived with the Byzantine Empire and the circular baptistry was built in the 6th century on part of a Roman bathhouse. The star shaped font in the centre is surrounded by two concentric circles of eight Egyptian granite pillars, once supports for a wooden roof.
Byzantine baptistry, Butrint |
On the floor is one of the finest mosaics of the Byzantine world. Unfortunately, as the on-site display board explains at length, it is permanently covered to protect it from the seasonal rise and fall of water levels. Once every couple of years the cover is removed for conservation purposes, but not today, so we had to make do with the picture on the display board.
The baptistry mosaic, display board, Butrint |
The Basilica was also built in the 6th century when Butrint became the seat of a bishopric, though it was rebuilt in 1267 by Charles I, King of Naples.
Butrint Basilica |
It had three aisles…
Aisles, Butrint basilica |
…and a mosaic floor, part of which can still be seen.
Mosaics on the basilica floor, Butrint |
Despots, Angevins and Doges
In the 7th century Slavic tribes started to move into the Balkans. Butrint survived but it is unclear whether the city was under Byzantine or Slavic control from the 7th to the 10th century.
Although Constantinople did not fall to the Ottomans until 1453, the Byzantine Empire started fragmenting after the 4th Crusade (1202-1204). Butrint became part of the wonderfully named Despotate of Epirus - one of the fragments - that ruled Eastern Greece until the Ottomans arrived in 1474.
In 1272 Charles of Anjou took Corfu and Butrint and in 1277 added King of Albania to his many other titles. The Angevins ruled in Butrint (with occasional interruptions from the Despotate) until 1386 when Corfu and Butrint were sold to the Doge of Venice.
The Venetians were only interested in Corfu, and Butrint went into decline. The city was sacked in 1572 in the war between the Venetians and Ottomans and never recovered.
Fascists and Communists in Butrint
East of the basilica the path slipped through one of the gaps in the outer wall and continued along the edge of the Vivari Channel.
Looking up the Vivari Channel into Lake Burtrint |
An independent Principality of Albania was established followed the defeat of the Ottomans in the 1913 Balkan War and the Great Powers decided that German princeling Wilhelm of Wied should be the new head of state. He lasted six months; Albania was on the road to chaos even before the start of World War I.
Stability returned in 1925 with the creation of the First Republic of Albania as an Italian protectorate. In 1928 President Zogu became King Zog I; the new Kingdom nominally independent but with Italy still holding the reins. (for more about King Zog, see the Tirana post.)
In 1928 Mussolini sent an archaeological expedition to Butrint headed by Luigi Maria Ugolini, a political appointment but also a competent professional archaeologist. He excavated the Greek and Roman cities and found two gates in the outer wall.
The 'Scaean' Gate, Butrint |
Virgil’s epic poem, The Aeneid (published 19 BCE) concerns Aeneas, who survived the fall of Troy and fled westwards. Virgil tells of his visit to Butrint, founded, allegedly, by Helenus, son of King Priam of Troy and Andromache, the widow of Hector. Here Aeneas learns that his destiny is to endure much and eventually reach Italy and found the city of Rome.
Virgil was writing patriotic mythology but fascism needs to believe its own mythology – and not just because it gave Italy a tenuous claim over Albania. To please Mussolini, Ugolini dubbed his freshly discovered gate the ‘Scaean Gate’ after the main gate of Troy. The Italian post office re-imagined the meeting of Helenus and Aeneas at the ‘Scaean Gate’ with both men raising their arms in a fascist salute.
Aeneas greets Helenus at Butrint. Fascists would be funny if they weren't so nasty |
After passing the Lion Gate we ascended to the acropolis.
The Lion Gate, Butrint |
When the communist government of Enver Hoxha took over after World War II, foreign archaeologists were no longer welcome, but excavations continued, directed by local academic Hasan Ceka. There would be few visitors to Butrint during the next 45 years, foreign tourists stayed away, and Albanians from outside the region needed special security passes to travel this close to the Greek border.
There is a story that when Mr Khrushchev visited in 1959, the leader of the Soviet Union studied the view from the acropolis and told Enver Hoxha to forget ancient ruins, Butrint would make a perfect submarine base.
View from the Acropolis, Butrint. It looks too shallow for submarines (occasionally I feel moved to give my opinion on a subject of which my ignorance is absolute) |
It is also said that before Khrushchev’s visit the heavily wooded site was swept for poisonous snakes. Later Albanian officials watched in horror as a snake emerge from the undergrowth, slithered over to the Soviet leader and buried its fangs in his ankle. Sadly, the snake died.
The local guide told the first of those stories as fact, I do not know the source and maybe it is true but I have my doubts. A year later Albania fell out with the USSR and allied itself with the Chinese in the great communist schism, so a story showing Khrushchev in a bad light was convenient. In 1976 Chairman Mao died, Albania fell out with China and for the next 12 years was as isolated as North Korea.
Venetian fort, Acropolis, Butrint |
Outside is a carved head that Ugolini presented to Mussolini. It was thought to be the head of a woman, but the misleading haircut was apparently popular with men at some time in antiquity, and it is now believed to be Apollo. Fascism and communism having both slipped into the past (and may they stay there) the bust has returned to its rightful place.
Apollo, Butrint |
The Blue Eye
We left Butrint and made our way back through Ksamil and Saranda before turning east into hilly terrain.
Travelling inland from Saranda |
After almost an hour Edi swung off the road onto a well-made but unmetalled track leading into a forest of oak and sycamore, round and above a lake, to a car park. ‘Blue eye,’ he said pointing at a footpath into the trees.
The path took us beside and then over a stream of astounding clarity, rushing with surprising speed through the wooded valley.
The water from the Blue Eye rushing through the wooded valley |
The path twisted and turned and we shortly came back to the stream, perhaps after the confluence with another stream as two bodies of water appeared to flow side by side or was it just an optical illusion cused by disparities in depth.
Possibly two steams flowing side by side, or possibly an optical illusion |
Metallic blue damselflies flew in large numbers about the paths and clearings, and in and out of the stream side vegetation, occasionally stopping to pose for a photograph. These were, probably, beautiful demoiselles – by which I mean Calopteryx virgo not my description (though beautiful they were). The mature male of the Balkan version of the subspecies Calopteryx virgo festiva has no white patches on his wings, so that is what I think I have captured.
A beautiful demoiselle (I think) Calopteryz virgo festiva at the Blue Eye |
We soon reached the start of the stream – a somewhat unusual statement. There was clearly a substantial spring here and, as can be seen in the photo below, a platform to view it from.
The Blue Eye from the end of the stream |
From the platform we peered into the depths of the Blue Eye, (Syri i KaltĂ«r – Eye of Blue in Albanian). The water wells up a from deep inside the earth, the eye’s iris as blue as the damselflies flitting round the pond. It is reputedly over 50m deep, though the precise depth is unknown.
Internet pictures show people diving into the eye from above the platform – foolish I would have thought, much of the surrounding water is dangerously shallow, and uncomfortable, too, as the water emerges at 10ÂşC.
The Blue Eye |
Wikipedia informs me that the discharge rate is 18,400 l/s and “in summer 2004 the source temporarily dried up”. If it can dry up, then the discharge rate must vary, presumably seasonally and with stronger variations during extreme weather. So, what does 18,400 l/s mean? Is it the maximum discharge? The average, and if so at some particular time of year? Is it merely the last measurement of some unspecified individual? Was the number plucked from the air? As a grumpy old mathematician, it really annoys me when people quote numbers that have not properly understood (and lacked the wit to realise their failure). And why bother with it anyway, who can visualise what 18,400 l/s looks like?
I do not wish to finish with a rant – particularly as it is about Wikipedia, not the Blue Eye or anything Albanian. We had enjoyed a fine morning and continued our journey to GjirokastĂ«r in good spirits.
Part 3: Gjirokastër
Part 4: Berat
Part 5: Tirana
Part 6: Tirana to Saranda
+
Corfu: A Fleeting Visit
I didn’t really have any ideas about the country and have to say it looks a delight. The ruins at Butrint look amazing and the gorgeous colour of the Blue Eye water absolutely wonderful
ReplyDelete