Laodicea on the Lycus

Listen for a moment. Under your shoes, the dust is pale and fine. It lifts a little with every step and settles on the marble. Around you, the broken columns stand in rows. A dry wind comes down the valley, and on the far hillside you may see a long white streak, like snow that never melts. That white streak is the travertine of Pamukkale. You are standing in Laodicea, a city that once watched that hillside every single day.

Laodicea sits on a low plateau above the Lycus river valley, just outside modern Denizli. The river today is called the Çürüksu. The location was not chosen by chance. Several important roads of ancient Anatolia met near here. Traders moving between the Aegean coast and the interior had to pass through this valley. A city on this plateau could watch the roads, collect the trade, and grow rich. And for several centuries, it did exactly that.

The city was founded in the third century before Christ by Antiochus the Second, a king of the Seleucid dynasty. The Seleucids were one of the Greek-speaking kingdoms that rose after the death of Alexander the Great. Antiochus named the new city after his wife, Laodice. It is a gentle origin for a name. But the story did not end gently. Ancient writers say the royal marriage later broke apart in bitterness and intrigue. The city kept her name long after the marriage had failed.

Under Roman rule, Laodicea became one of the wealthiest cities in the region. Ancient sources describe three pillars of its fortune. The first was textiles, especially a soft, glossy black wool from local sheep. The second was banking, because so much money moved along these roads. The third was medicine. A well-known medical school worked in the area, and the region was associated with a famous eye salve. Keep those three things in mind — wool, money, and eye medicine. They will return in a surprising way.

Here is the first surprise. In the year 60, a strong earthquake struck the Lycus valley. Many cities in the Roman world asked the emperor for help after disasters like this. The Roman historian Tacitus recorded that Laodicea did something different. The city refused imperial aid and rebuilt from its own resources. Think about the confidence that takes. Much of the grand marble you see around you comes from the centuries of prosperity after that rebuilding.

Now walk toward the long colonnaded street that runs through the excavated city. Archaeologists call it Syrian Street, because it led toward the eastern road. Look at the paving stones under your feet. Many of them carry grooves, worn by wheels and foot traffic over centuries. Columns line both sides, and behind them once stood shops. Many of the columns you see were lifted back into place by modern excavation teams. They used the original pieces wherever they could find them.

The city had a serious problem, and the answer is still visible. Laodicea had no strong water source of its own. Water came from springs several kilometres away, carried by an aqueduct and stone and clay pipes. Look for the large stone water distribution structures and the sections of pipe on display. Some pipes are almost blocked by thick white mineral deposits. The water was heavy with calcium, the same mineral that builds the white terraces of Pamukkale across the valley.

This is where the second surprise arrives. Laodicea appears in the Bible, in the Book of Revelation. It is one of the Seven Churches of Asia, a group of early Christian communities addressed in that text. The letter to Laodicea is famous for one image. It calls the church lukewarm — neither hot nor cold — and warns that it will be spat out. Many scholars connect this image to the city's water. Hierapolis, across the valley, had hot springs. Colossae, nearby, had cold water. Laodicea's water arrived lukewarm and full of minerals.

The same letter contains more local detail. It tells the church that it believes it is rich but is really poor. It tells the church to buy white garments to cover itself, and salve to anoint its eyes so that it can see. Remember the three pillars — banking, black wool, and eye medicine. The writer seems to have chosen words that every person in this city would understand at once. The text uses the city's own pride against it.

Laodicea was home to an early Christian community, and the apostle Paul mentions it in his letter to the Colossians. Excavations here uncovered a large church thought to date to the early fourth century. That is a very early date for a purpose-built church. Look for its mosaic floors and the remains of a baptistery, a pool used for baptism. A church council also met in Laodicea in the fourth century. It produced rules that shaped early church life.

The city was built for crowds. Laodicea had two theatres, and both are worth finding. The western theatre and the northern theatre were cut into the slopes of the plateau. The rows of stone seats face out over the valley. There was also a large stadium on the southern edge of the city. Imagine thousands of people here on a festival day. They would hear the noise of races, the music of performances, and the shouting of merchants outside.

Why is the city empty today? A series of earthquakes in late antiquity damaged it again and again. Over time, trade routes shifted and the region changed hands. The population gradually moved away to safer, better-watered ground nearby. That ground became the town that grew into modern Denizli. For centuries, Laodicea lay mostly under soil. Systematic excavation and restoration, led by Turkish archaeologists, has brought much of it back into the light in recent years.

As you walk, notice the work that is still going on. You may see numbered blocks lying in rows, waiting to be placed. You may see fresh stone set beside ancient stone, to support a column or a wall. This is a city that is still being put back together, piece by piece. Each season, the excavation teams make another part of it visible. You are seeing a stage in that process, not a finished picture.

Before you leave, stand still on the paving stones for one more minute. Look across the valley to the white slopes of Pamukkale. The people of Laodicea saw that same white line every morning. Feel the dry wind and the warm stone under your hand. And as you walk back toward the gate, listen to your own footsteps on the old street. For a few moments, you are one more traveller passing through the Lycus valley.