Valle dei Templi

Listen first. Wind moves through the olive trees, and somewhere below you a cicada starts up, then stops. The ground underfoot is pale and dusty, and the stone around you is warm, the colour of honey. Look south and you will see a thin blue line, the sea, shining past the almond groves. You are standing in the Valle dei Templi, the Valley of the Temples, just below the modern city of Agrigento on the southern coast of Sicily.

Here is the first surprise. This is not really a valley at all. The temples stand along a long rocky ridge. The name stuck centuries ago, and nobody has changed it since. The ancient builders chose this ridge on purpose. From the sea, sailors would have seen a line of painted temples standing high along the horizon. It was a clear message to every visitor... this city is rich, and it is proud of it.

That city was called Akragas. Greek settlers founded it in the early sixth century before Christ. They came from Gela, an older Greek colony further along the same coast. Akragas grew quickly. Its farmland was fertile, and its traders sold grain, wine and olive oil across the Mediterranean. Ancient writers described it as one of the most beautiful cities in the Greek world. Within a few generations, it was building temples on a scale that rivalled the great cities of mainland Greece.

The temple in front of you on this stretch is the Temple of Concordia. It is one of the best-preserved Greek temples anywhere in the world. Count the columns along the front and the sides. Almost all of them still stand, and they still carry their heavy stone beams. It belongs to the Doric style — the plainest and strongest of the Greek orders, with thick fluted columns and simple, cushion-shaped tops.

Why did this one survive, when so many others fell? The answer is a little ironic. Near the end of the sixth century after Christ, the building was turned into a Christian church. Builders cut arches into the inner walls and closed the gaps between the columns. Those changes kept the structure in use, and in use meant cared for. Even the name is borrowed. Concordia comes from a Latin inscription found nearby, which has nothing to do with this temple. Nobody knows for certain which god it originally honoured.

Now step closer and look at the stone itself. It is a soft local limestone, rough and full of tiny holes. In many places you can see small fossil shells pressed into it. The Greeks never meant you to see this surface. They covered the temples with a fine white plaster, and then painted details in strong colours. Imagine reds and blues along the roofline, against the bright Sicilian sky. The plain gold stone you see today is the bare skeleton.

On the grass nearby lies a large bronze figure, with wings and a broken body. This is the fallen Icarus by the sculptor Igor Mitoraj. In Greek myth, Icarus flew too close to the sun on wings of wax, and fell into the sea. The modern bronze and the ancient temple stand side by side. Many visitors find the contrast moving. It makes a good place to pause and look back along the ridge.

Follow the path east and uphill to the Temple of Juno, often linked with the goddess Hera. It stands on the highest point of the ridge. Look closely at some of the stones. In places they show reddish marks. Many scholars connect these marks with fire, when an army from Carthage, the great North African power, captured and burned Akragas in 406 BC. The city recovered in later centuries, but it never again reached its earlier wealth.

As you walk, notice the rock walls along the path. They are full of small rectangular openings cut into the stone. These are tombs. Christians of the late Roman and Byzantine periods cut burial places into the old city wall, and into the rock nearby. So the ridge carries two layers of sacred use. First came the Greek gods, then the Christian dead, side by side on the same stretch of hill.

On the western side of the site, the mood changes completely. Here you find a vast field of fallen blocks. This was the Temple of Olympian Zeus. It was planned as the largest Doric temple ever built. It was never finished, and earthquakes and stone robbers did the rest. Much of its stone was carried away over the centuries for buildings and harbour works. What remains is a broken platform, enormous and strangely quiet.

Look for a giant stone man lying on his back among the ruins. He is a telamon, a male figure that once stood high between the columns, with his arms raised to support the weight of the building above. The figure here is a reconstruction. The original stones are kept indoors in the regional archaeological museum, a short walk uphill from the site. Seeing one in person helps you understand just how huge this temple was meant to be.

Nearby, four columns rise against the sky, with a corner of roof still on top. This is the Temple of Castor and Pollux, the twin heroes of Greek myth. Here is the second surprise. This famous corner was put together in the nineteenth century, partly from pieces that may come from different buildings. It is beautiful, and it has become a symbol of Agrigento. But it is a modern arrangement of ancient stone, not a survivor. Just below lies the Kolymbethra garden, a green hollow of citrus and olive trees.

Before you leave, stand still for a moment. Feel the heat rising from the stone and the soft breeze coming up from the sea. Look along the ridge at the line of columns, gold against the hills. Behind you, the apartment blocks of modern Agrigento climb the hillside. In front of you, the old city lies under fields and trees. As you walk back, notice the almond trees, the lizards on the warm blocks... and the small fossil shells inside the stone, older than any temple.