When you read the title, a whole chain of associations fires up instantly: Schliemann’s excavations at Troy suddenly pulling Homer’s millennia-old epics into the realm of real history, the unearthing of the Egyptian Pyramids, and in very recent times, the discovery of Göbeklitepe followed by the broader series now known as the “Stone Hills.”
And of course this has its reflection in popular culture: the Indiana Jones films are the perfect example, with their charismatic archaeologist and his mind-bending adventures. You could multiply the examples endlessly.
What Happened in Marseille?
INRAP, the National Institute for Preventive Archaeological Research, is responsible for recording France’s archaeological heritage before it disappears, conducting excavations, and transferring the findings to the public, museums, and researchers. During the excavations in Marseille, areas once used as vineyards were uncovered. Dating studies in the region showed that these vineyards were established around 2,600 years ago and continued in use for about 400 years.
What Does This Have to Do With Us?
This timeline overlaps with the period when the Ionian cities on the western coast of Anatolia emerged and shone as beacons of civilization. It is generally accepted that there were twelve Ionian cities, each known for distinct qualities. Among them, one stood out for its seamanship: Phokaia.
The Phocaeans reached vast stretches of the Mediterranean and paved the way for the founding of colonies wherever they went. One of the places they reached was Massalia, the ancient name for modern-day Marseille.
Naturally, people from Anatolia brought with them objects and products they valued. Among the things the Phocaeans carried were vine cuttings from the Aegean, where the region’s grapes grew. Two varieties come to mind first: Bornova Misketi and Foçakarası.
Remarkably, just as these varieties were on the verge of disappearing from our land, a handful of devoted explorers saved them. Thanks to their dedication, we can still grow these grapes and craft their wines today.
Enthusiasm Is Contagious
While doing my routine research and reading on the wine world, I came across a piece on the website I closely follow, wein.plus. It shared the very information I summarized above, and revealed that a French vigneron following this subject had taken steps to grow Anatolian grape varieties in the region again. Going further, he wondered: “Could we even establish a museum here?” Naturally, the excitement of this French vigneron quickly rubbed off on a Turk.
The First Connection
Thanks to today’s digital platforms, there is always a way to reach anyone. I chose one of those ways and contacted our French wine-growing friend via LinkedIn. I let him know that we shared his excitement and that we were ready to do whatever we could to help bring the project to life.
Guillaume will be coming to Istanbul in February. When he does, we’ll sit down together and explore how to chase this dream. Perhaps one day, the vines that left the Aegean shores 2,600 years ago will take root again in France. Perhaps the climate of fear surrounding the simple act of using the word “wine” in our country will one day be replaced by headlines announcing the Museum of Ancient Anatolian Grapes and Wines in France. Time will tell.
Did This Story Make Waves?
Naturally, INRAP’s findings made the news in many places interested in the topic. Among the most notable were reports from our Greek neighbors. Disputes over cultural heritage never really end in this part of the world; tensions flare up now and then, only to settle again.
But something about this stood out: for some reason, not a single media outlet in our own country paid attention to it. While our neighbor Greece feels entitled to call these grape varieties “Greek,” why do we not raise our hand and speak up about the grapes we actively grow today in our vineyards?
Our Curious Cultural Policy
Our dominant historical narrative insists that we’ve existed on these lands for nearly a thousand years. But real history tells us that, like everywhere else, we are guests on this geography. We are communities shaped by the land we inhabit, molded by the history, culture, and civilization it has offered us.
The Dardanelles is the very place where Homer’s Iliad and Odyssey unfolded and were written. This is Anatolian history and legend. If we cannot internalize the richest heritage of the land we live on, how can we internalize its apples, its pears, its grapes, its wines?
The same is true for Ionia, and for Lydia, Lycia, Commagene, Urartu, the Hittites… all historical cultures you can think of. We are the synthesis of all of them, and what a blessing that is.
Final Word
I honestly don’t blame our Greek neighbors. They should share in this richness because we share the same sea, we come from the same ancient past. Instead of being boxed into nationalist molds, what could be more beautiful than embracing everything about the place we live in?
