The city of Pergamon was established around the 4th century B.C. and was soon after conquered by 
the Persians. In 334 B.C. Alexander the Great conquered the Pergamon acropolis. When Alexander the Great died, the rule of Pergamon passed to one of his generals, Lysimakhos.
Because of its defensible placement, the general choose Pergamon to house the treasures he had won during war. However, the actual kingdom of Pergamon began with his successor, Philetairos, making a treaty with the Syrian king and beginning to build up the acropolis of the city. Philetarious and his nephew, Eumenes I, who continued his projects for the improvement of the city, were thus looked at as the founders of the city and kingdom of Pergamon.
During the Hellenistic age of Pergamon, the Attalid kingdom of Pergamon, called so because they were descendents of Attalus, the father of Philetarious, gained great importance as staunch allies of the Roman Empire and as a kingdom that greatly supported the arts. Pergamon became known as a center for sculpture in the Attalid period of the kingdom, extending from 281-133 B.C. The Attalids were also known for their just rule as they allowed some measure of independence to the Greek villages under their jurisdiction and supported the growth of new towns.
In 133 B.C. King Attalos III died without an heir and to prevent civil war he left the kingdom to the rule of the Roman Empire. However, Pergamon retained its importance and much of its independence even while ruled by the Roman Empire. It had the second largest library in the ancient world, second only to the library at Alexandria, though this library was somewhat diminished as Marc Anthony sent the best volumes as a gift to Cleopatra. Pergamon remained also a great cultural center for artists of all kinds and when a shortage of papyrus stopped imports into Pergamon, the talented artisans of the city invented parchment.
Our tour of Pergamon begins with a drive up a frighteningly narrow trail on the side of a very steep hill. We disembark at the top of the tall hill and begin our walk through the ruins. We walk around the stone walls of the city and into the agora, or marketplace, of the ancient city. The long occupation of the upper acropolis can be seen in the different building styles of different parts of the stone walls dating from different time periods. We walk past the sacred precinct of Athena, marked now by little more than some paving stones and the bottoms of the marble columns that once lined the entire area.
We then get our first view of the impressive reconstructed temple of the Trajaneum. This temple was dedicated to Roman emperor Trajan and dates from the 2nd century A.D.
The temple, already impressive with its towering marble columns and carved plinths is even more so when considered in its surroundings. It stands, relatively isolated from any other imposing structures, on the top of the upper acropolis, the very heart of the ancient city perched on top of a huge hill.
From there one can see the brown and desolate hills stretching on and on through the hazy air. We bypass the temple for now to go look over the edge of the cliff outside the city walls out over the dry, barren hills. There is a reservoir that shows the gravity of the current drought in the area through the huge difference between its old and current water lines. The surroundings as well as the placement of Pergamon and its composition all lend feelings of space, air, and age, as well as a sense of desolation.
We walk back through the Temple of Trajaneum. The marble columns are even more impressive standing beneath one and looking up at it. I lay my hot face against the cool marble of the temple and look over the modern town of Bergama, which is at the base of the hill on which rests the upper acropolis of ancient Pergamon. The courtyard of the temple has a large tree with spreading green branches that reminds me of the White Tree of Gondor in its glory days.
From there we move on to the terrace where the Sanctuary of Athena lies. As we stand on the terrace we can hear the call to prayer drifting up from Bergama below. A deep sense of the distance from home strikes me forcibly standing there on the top of a brown and nearly treeless hill, in the middle of an ancient Greek and Roman city, hearing the Muslim call to prayer.
The terrace that we stand on also forms the top of the disturbingly steep theater of Pergamon. The theater is built into the sheer hill and looks out with a spectacular view over the valley below. The theater is one of the most unique theaters that we see on the field trip. It is steeper and narrow than most others because it was constrained by the natural hillside into which it was built.
After the theater we begin the walk back to the bus, past the site of the Altar of Zeus, which is now just several beautiful trees as the actual altar is in a museum in Germany. We finally make it back to the bus, hot and sweaty, and drive down the hill and over to the Asklepieion, the ancient healing center of Pergamon.
The temple to Asklepios here was built in the 4th century B.C. It was dedicated to the Greek god Asklepios, the god of healing. The Asklepieion was one of three major ancient centers of healing. The priests of Asklepios were also physicians that treated the complaints of the patients with some herbs, a great deal of rest, massage, and the holy water from the spring. Much of the healing was thus psychological and those that could get better, did so more through rest and relaxation than any consummate skill of the physicians.
Our visit to the Asklepieion began with a walk down the long, paved road lined on either side with marble columns. At the end of this impressive walkway lies a courtyard, in the middle of which is a column carved with snakes, the symbol of the god Asklepios. There is a small theater, which was used for performances to entertain the patients. As we explore the theater, we find a small tunnel, barely tall enough to allow us to stand up straight and of course we head straight through it, feeling our way in the utter darkness. Occasionally the wall against which I trail my hand disappears and I wonder where these small side passages lead. The snakeskin that someone finds and the bats that apparently are hanging overhead lend to the general air of dungeon creepiness.
The other tunnel in the Asklepieion is much larger and lighter and much more inviting. It is a perfectly preserved 80-meter long domed tunnel leading from the holy spring to the Temple of Telesphorous. 
It has openings in the top to let in light and air and compared to the scorching heat outside it is nice and cool inside. Walking down the tunnel feels like I should be transported into another time and place. As though, when I finally reach the end, I will find ancient Roman patients washing themselves in the Temple of Telesphorous. This structure too is beautiful in its ruinous age, consisting of a series of arches surrounding a cylindrical stone area. It was once two stories tall, but the second story above ground no longer exists and only this portion, sunken as it is in the protective ground remains.
On the other end of the tunnel is the holy spring, which still yields drinkable water from underground. There is also a stagnant algae covered pool holding all manner of creatures now, which was once a covered pool of holy water used by the patients for bathing.
As we sit under one of the beautiful trees in the center of the Askelpieion waiting for everyone to gather so that we can get on the bus and head back to the hotel, I am struck by the differences in the feel of the acropolis of Pergamon and that of the Asklepieion, a difference in part caused by their different functions, but also largely because of their different placements. Pergamon is set on the top of a hill looking over what now seems like a desolate dry wasteland, though in ancient times it was very fertile land. Asklepieion, on the other hand, is set in a valley and is seemingly much more centralized and intact. Asklepieion therefore, though it was never an inhabited city like Pergamon, nevertheless has more of a feeling of life and less a sense of bleak age sweeping over the ruins.
