He didn’t know what we know, walking up the same rocky mountainside, wilting under the same heat, rasping for breath in the same thinning air. The year was 1881, and Karl Sester, a German engineer, regarded Mount Nemrut as nothing more than a convenient vantage from which to survey potential transport routes through the Anti-Taurus range in eastern Turkey.

We are following a winding path. Sester had to forge his own way toward the summit, clambering over boulders and crunching across brittle, sun-parched vegetation.

We pause for a brief rest. Perhaps he did, too. From up here, we gaze out at a panorama of pale hills. This must be what the middle of nowhere looks like. We are a long way from any major city. So why are we here?

Answering that takes us back to Karl Sester. As he neared the end of his ascent, he began to realize there was something not quite natural about the top of the mountain. It leveled out into two flat terraces separated by the 150-foot rocky cone that forms the mountain’s peak. The peak looked a little too smooth, a little too perfect, to be the product of geological attrition.

When he reached the terraces and saw what lay there, was he excited or frightened? In this remotest of spots, he found himself eye to eye with a series of giant stone heads, each as tall as him.

The passing of time, and the accumulation of archaeological knowledge about this remarkable site, has not lessened its impact. When we see the statues for the first time, our feelings echo those of Karl Sester. Our excitement is tinged with, if not fear, then perhaps a sense of unease.

Eastern Turkey is a disorienting place. For us, getting here required an international flight to Istanbul, followed by a 90-minute domestic flight to Gaziantep. Out the airplane window, the terrain below appeared to become harsher as we flew east, and the signs of humanity became fewer and farther between.

When we finally touched down, we could easily presume to have reached a backwater of civilization. In fact, we had arrived in its heartland. This region provided the foundations for the modern world.

Gaziantep is one of the oldest continuously inhabited cities on Earth. Strip away the layers, and you’ll find evidence of the Ottomans, the Byzantines, the Romans, the Macedonians, the Persians, the Babylonians, the Assyrians and the Hittites, among others.

The driving force of history is geography. Find Gaziantep on a map, and you’ll see why it has been so important to so many people for so long. It lies at the pinch point between East and West, between the Mediterranean and the Black seas, between deserts and mountains, and within easy reach of two great rivers: the Euphrates and the Tigris. For early humans, this area was practically the center of the world.

The city is the product of this complexity. It is by turns European and Asian, ancient and modern. The tinted glass façades of office blocks reflect timeless vistas of tile-roofed houses punctuated by minarets. Almost every time ground is broken on a new building site here, construction workers uncover fresh evidence of the underlying history. New chapters are regularly being added to the story.

One recent discovery was made during the construction of the Birecik Dam, 28 miles east of Gaziantep. Intensive excavations were made at the archaeological sites that were due to be flooded, including the old Greek city of Zeugma, yielding an astonishing collection of remarkably preserved, 2,000-year-old mosaics.

Gypsy Girl mosaic found during the Zeugma excavations © Creapictures | Dreamstime.com

The finds were so extensive they required the construction of a 323,000-square-foot museum to display them. The Zeugma Mosaic Museum, which opened in Gaziantep in 2011, instantly became the world’s largest mosaic museum. The star attraction is a beguiling mosaic known as Gypsy Girl, dubbed the “Mona Lisa of the ancient world.”

The legacy of the region’s diverse history is not only archaeological. Early in our visit, we seek out one of the most famous of the city’s 500 bakeries. Baklavacı Güllüoğlu Mahmut Güllü has been trading at the same location in the bazaar since 1870, serving the local version of the sweet pastry delicacy, baklava.

As we bite through the layers of crisp pastry and pistachio nuts, we can argue this is not indulgence, it is essential research. Baklava is the product of the multicultural ingredients mixed in this region for millennia.

Despite the help afforded by museums and pastry shops, we’re already struggling to fit eastern Turkey’s historical narrative together coherently. The time scale is vast, and the geographic scope extends beyond the horizon in every direction. Even professional archaeologists have been reduced to perplexed head-scratching by some of the most recent discoveries.

We drive east for two hours on a road that sometimes meanders within 15 miles of the border with troubled Syria. At last we reach the city of Urfa (officially known as Sanliurfa, “Glorious Urfa,” though locals prefer the shorter name), which is reputed to be the birthplace of the prophet Abraham. The biblical era is positively recent compared to the mysterious site unearthed nine miles from downtown.

Göbekli Tepe was discovered nearly 50 years ago, though it is only since 1994 that archaeologists have begun to understand its significance. Painstaking excavations revealed a series of stone circles. Some of the stones have been carved into T-shapes. Some bear intricate bas-reliefs of various animals.

What sets Göbekli Tepe apart from other archaeological sites is its age. Current estimates indicate it was constructed 11,000 years ago, making it more than 6,500 years older than the Great Pyramids or Stonehenge.

It is believed that at the time it was built, humans were hunter-gatherers. How could they build something so elaborate? Why did they build it? With around 95 percent of the site still to be excavated, researchers hope the answers will eventually be dug out of the ground.

We drive north, wondering what else lies hidden beneath the fields and hills. Sadly, some secrets will never be uncovered. We skirt the mammoth Ataturk Dam, which blocked the Euphrates in the 1990s, permanently flooding 315 square miles of countryside. Innumerable historic sites were lost forever, and 55,000 people were relocated as the rising waters inundated several valleys.

Arriving at Nemrut Daği, we vaulted across the millennia from Göbekli Tepe. We are still in the same geographic region, but the agricultural revolution transformed human societies. Great civilizations have risen; some have fallen. This mountain represents the heart of the Kingdom of Commagene, a tiny nation sandwiched between the Persian and Roman empires approximately 60 years before the birth of Christ.

As we make the late-afternoon trek up the flank of the mountain, climbing above the tree line, we try to picture what this land looked like during the reign of King Antiochus of the Commagenes, who chose the summit for his tomb.

In truth, the landscape has probably changed little since then. Out of sight of modern roads, there is no firm point of reference to put us in the 21st century. We can ride our imaginations, either back to the heyday of the Commagenes or to the fateful 19th-century visit of the German engineer Karl Sester.

The path flattens, and we find ourselves on the stone processional road laid by the Commagenes. It takes us to the eastern terrace, where several stone torsos sit with their backs to the conical peak. Their magnificently carved heads, which were removed from the bodies for unknown reasons at some point during history, line up in front: eagles, lions, Greek gods and King Antiochus himself.

When Karl Sester first saw them, he had no idea what he found. They are simultaneously reminiscent of Greek statues and monumental Assyrian sculptures. Like baklava pastry, they are neither European nor Asian, but a unifying blend.

We circumnavigate the peak, reaching the western terrace in time for sunset. Here, a similar set of stone heads gazes blindly toward the rosy horizon. We look in the same direction, at rugged mountains and shadowed valleys. Abandoning ourselves to the moment, it is hard to know precisely where we are, or when.

Turkey Info to Go

International flights arrive either at Istanbul Ataturk International Airport (IST) or Ankara Esenboğa International Airport (ESB), from where there are domestic connections to several airports in eastern Turkey, including Gaziantep (GZT) and Urfa (SFQ). Independent travel is feasible, either by rental car or public transport, though the most time-effective option is to join an organized tour. Explore Worldwide offers a 15-day tour, including Nemrut Daği, Göbekli Tepe, Urfa and Gaziantep, from $1,600 excluding flights.

Read more about Gaziantep’s pistachio nuts here.