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Turkey is closely associated with Christmas, and I don’t mean the feathered variety; Santa Claus came not from Lapland but from Lycia in southwestern Turkey. St Nicholas, or Sinterklaas as the Dutch would know him in the course of his fascinating posthumous odyssey through Christian history, was the fourth century bishop of Myra, now modern Demre. This may be the season for visits to grottoes from Woollies to Lapland, but if you want the real history behind Santa, long before sleighs, reindeer and Coca-Cola claimed him, you’re better to wait for the spring and explore the antique sites associated with St Nicholas in Turkey.

These happen to lie along one of the country’s most enchanting stretches of coastline, alluringly indented with ruin-strewn coves and pine-scented inlets where whispers reach you from the depths of history. Combine your archaeological potterings with wonderful village restaurants, charming rustic accommodation, walks along the waymarked Lycian Way and, at the likes of Patara and Oludeniz, some of the Mediterranean’s most stunning beaches.

If you fly into Antalya, one of several airports now serving the Turkish Riviera, be sure to begin your Santa tour at this boom city’s archaeological museum. The second-century statuary from nearby antique Perge is spectacular, but keep a special eye out for the tiny artifact in a neighbouring gallery of the museum; a reliquary box containing a small selection of what are said to be the original bones of St Nicholas.

Now that you’ve met the man in person, continue to Demre which lies two hours’ west of Antalya. A statue of Santa Claus stands in the main square and the hawkers do a steady trade both in devotional Orthodox objects – key rings and miniature icons of St Nicholas - and also fridge magnets, painted pumpkin gourds and hearth rugs of a more familiar Christmas figure. Odd to think that it was from this nondescript town of all places, now submerged in a sea of tomato-growing hothouses, that the dead Nicholas set out on his westward epic to Santa Claus.

St Nicholas’ basilica at Demre has only been partially excavated from the earthquakes, floods, abandonments and pirate raids of the centuries. It has no particular architectural merit, but the building site complex of arcades and courtyards cocooning the nave impresses by virtue of its very survival. It’s a patched-up wreck of a church, but one that conveys a tenacity which is thoroughly in keeping with its patron. Nicholas, as his Lapland transformation demonstrates, has proved the most adaptable of saints in his progress through the centuries.

The basilica has recently unveiled a rich array of restored medieval frescoes which are a moving representation of stories from the life of St Nicholas. Buried for centuries under silt, they are akin to a 12th century billboard helping to create at the hub of Nicholas’ cult a devotional ripple effect which spread the saint’s renown across Christendom.

Another hour to the west lies Patara. The ancient city of Nicholas’ birth stands just behind 10 miles of pristine white sand. The beach at Patara has been protected on account of the endangered loggerhead turtles which return to the birthplace they share with the saint to nest along the beach. Nothing tangible remains to connect St Nicholas with Patara, but the historical association combines with the dune-swathed amphitheatre, Roman gateway and sunken streets to make these the most evocative of all Anatolia’s ruins.

Onwards to Kaya, near Fethiye, where a rutted track leads through the forest to Gemiler. It’s a simple cove of the sort Turkey excels in – though the fish at the shoreside restaurants can harm the wallet – overshadowed by an uninhabited island barely a hundred metres offshore. A fisherman drops me at a rickety landing stage and I climb through cobwebbed hollyoaks and olive trees which have forced their way between the skewed stone blocks of ruined walls, cisterns and fifth-century basilicas. The grand remains of a once-roofed processional way rise by a long series of steps to the island’s summit. This significant stop-off on the ancient pilgrimage route to the Holy Land was known since the Crusades as St Nicholas Island. In one of the island’s several basilicas, I find a scrap of fresco depicting the man; evidence that the saint of the sea – Nicholas would succeed Poseidon as patron of sailors – had been quick to establish his renown along the great maritime arteries which would carry his name to the West, and thence to a future in much higher latitudes.


Jeremy Seal’s newly published Santa: A Life (Picador; £14.99), is a travelogue/memoir exploring St Nicholas’ journey to Santa Claus.

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