Selcuk, Ephesus and Parmukkale

In Selcuk, many minibuses were arriving at the same time. My hotel had someone come to meet them, and I started talking to another guest. He was an American studying in Germany, who had just come from Cappadocia. We walked to the hotel together and then had breakfast. Our waiter introduced himself as Jack and was completely adorable. We decided to meet up later on and maybe explore the city together.

We both went back to our respective rooms to sleep. When I woke up, at around 3 pm, there was no answer at his door so I went out exploring alone. I walked past several carpet shops, ignoring the calls of the sellers. One man followed me and asked where I bought my scarf. He told me how pretty it was. I didn’t know if he truly was complimenting my scarf (it was pretty!) or if this was his ploy: compliment me enough in hopes of getting me to buy a carpet (unlikely). I said that I got it at the market in Istanbul, and he invited me in to drink tea.

I thought I could milk the situation to my advantage: get free tea, so I wouldn’t have to buy some later on. We started talking…and talking and talking and talking. He’s Kurdish and told me all about growing up in Van. His family are nomads and he didn’t leave his village until he was 18, to go to Istanbul to study Economics. He invited me inside to have dinner with his family. I didn’t know if I should accept or not, but I decided to be adventurous. After all, how many times do you get invited to eat dinner with a Kurdish family?

The food was great. Pasta and potatoes. I don’t know how authentic it was but it was good! He explained that he’s got a patio and he wants to put a tent up there, so he could live like he did in Van. His patio had a great view of the castle and the church of St. John. We went back to the carpet shop to continue talking. He told me all about carpets, the weaves, the styles and the makers. I was duly impressed. He announced that he could read palms. I gave him my hand. Kurdish palm readers are different from North American ones. He took my hand and pulled all my fingers, meanwhile mumbling under his breath. (He told me later he was reciting verses from the Koran). Then he made a pulling motion with his fingers and said he was removing the evil from my body and asked if I could feel anything. I couldn’t. He tried again and I still didn’t feel anything. He said that my heart was unusually pure.

I was tired so I decided to go home. He invited me for breakfast the next day: fresh bread, tomatoes, cucumbers and fresh sheep cheese. How could I resist?

It was delicious! We talked some more the next day but I didn’t want to distract him from his customers. I told him I was headed to explore the church of St. John the apostle.
Legend has it that after Jesus’ crucifixion, John and Mary came to Efes (Ephesus) to spend their final days. John had this church built on the hill and was subsequently buried in it. Mary died a few kilomtres away.

The church was incredible! I think it was built on a former temple. I climbed all the walls and filled up my digital camera with pictures. A man came up to me and offered to sell me "genuine coins found in the church" as well as take me on a tour of the castle, all for 5 lira. I was previously warned about people selling fake coins, and I knew the castle was closed to tourists, but I played along with it. I kept insisting that we couldn’t get inside but he said that he could show it to me. I knew it was a trick, pointed out the "verboten" sign and then told him I wasn’t interested in the tour. He slunked off in the search of a more gullible tourist. John’s grave wasn’t anything special: a marble slab with four pillars and a plaque. Still, it’s history.

Up next was my expedition to find the temple of Artemis. One of the Seven Wonders of the Ancient World, it’s now reduced to a single broken column (which looked more like an abacus of while marble) with a stork’s nest on top. I tried to find a few stone chips but the place was picked clean. The driveway was full of tour busses full of German and Japanese tourists. They didn’t even come up close to look at the column: they stayed in the driveway and snapped the obligatory picture.

That night, there was a party at the hotel. The place was full of young backpackers and a group learning how to be tour guides in Turkey for a summer job. None of these people had any knowledge of Turkey: they were hired because they were "fun". Why can’t these types of jobs be given to Classics and History students, instead of people who like to brag about how much they can drink in one evening?

I met a few Canadian girls who were studying in Prague. I thought we would have a lot in common but sadly, I was mistaken. "Like, oh my God! Prague is like so cool! The alcohol is so cheap and like oh my God, the bars are so cool! I love Prague. Classes are so easy and that’s cool, because I’m like, living in Prague and it’s like, the cultural experience that counts and the beer is so good there!" And so on and so on. I felt sick that such an experience was being wasted on such a superficial person. One of the guys training to be a tour guide came over to chat and we started talking about Prague. Until the girl started bragging about how much she could drink. Luckily, the entertainment was about to start, so we all sat at the tables to watch Jack and a belly dancer do some dances.

On Wednesday, I headed for Ephesus. The place was swarming with German tour groups. "Ja, ja, das ist shon. Underbar!" There are Germans in all my pictures. At the ancient latrines, I heard English being spoken, and met a Canadian guy travelling with a handful of Aussies and Kiwis from Istanbul to Syria. We took pictures of each other sitting on the toilets and started chatting about Robert Kaplan, the Balkans and transition countries. His tour guide was very interesting and I sort of tagged along and eavesdropped.

I took tonnes of pictures at the library (the most famous part of Ephesus). All different angles and views. It’s even more impressive in real life and I heartily enjoyed it. I met up with the group again and Mile (the Canadian) and I went off on our own to check out the theatre. We climbed up as far as you can and sat on the seats, eating pistachios and talking. It was hot but it was such a nice feeling, eating nuts, sitting on a 2000 year old seat and talking with another travelling Canadian.

His group was headed back to town, so I went instead to find the cave of the Seven Sleepers. Legend has it that in the first few centuries CE, seven Christians were prosecuted in the region. They prayed to Jesus that they would go to sleep and wake up when Christianity reined supreme. They ended up sleeping for 400 years.

I walked along the road, casually eating the rest of my pistachios. I passed lizards, old men tending sheep and loud tour busses. I finally came to the caves and to my delight, it was free (unlike the House of Mary, which I refused to go to on the account that it cost 10 lira). A man approached me and explained that he was a guide and showed me the cave (which was well-marked). He then offered to take a picture of me (which I refused) and then pointed out some traces of cave paintings. I escaped from him and scampered up the hill to see what else was up there. He followed me and handed me a stem of an aromatic plant. I asked if he would take a picture of me, which he did. When I came down, he held out his hand and asked for money. I didn’t know what I should do. I didn’t solicit him, nor did he show me anything that wasn’t well-labelled. However, he did take a picture of me, so I handed him 2.50 lira, claiming it was all I had. I think he was insulted, but it’s not like he did a vast amount of work.

On my way back, I stopped in a small café for some gozleme, which are like stuffed pancakes and ayran. This ayran was fresh and bubbly. My gozleme was delicious. Hot, full of potatoes, cheese and spinach. It was hot out and I dreaded leaving. However, as I set out, the owner asked if I was going to Selcuk, and then offered me a place on his friend’s motorcycle. I hopped on and off we sped.

It wasn’t as much a motorbike as an electric bicycle. I held on for dear life as we sped through the Turkish countryside, my hair blowing in the breeze. Romania has corrupted me: no seatbelt in Romania and no helmet in Turkey. He dropped me off in Selcuk and then sped away.
I met up with Mike again and we spent a good hour talking about future travels. He was also on his way to Cappadocia and we made plans to meet up in Goreme the next week. By now, I had a headache developing, so I headed back to the hotel to sleep.

Thursday was my long-awaited trip to Parmukkale. Parmukkale means "cotton castle" and was a spa used by the ancient Greeks. It’s a waterfall of crystalised calcium and thermal pools. I was excited. Apparently, it’s much more impressive in the sun, and our day was grey and overcast, but I resolved to enjoy myself.

Unfortunately, the majority of the other people on my tour were elderly. I fell asleep on the way there. We drove up through Hieropolis. Not everyone who came to the spa left in good health. Hieropolis is basically a huge graveyard with ancient tombs and graves. In the pouring rain, it was eerily beautiful. I wanted to take some time to explore the ruins but the old people in the car were whining. Only myself and a lady from Michigan went out to take pictures. We both said we went to Turkey for more than just looking at ruins from windows. We got soaked but the car was beeping, so I felt rushed and couldn’t enjoy the experience as much as I would have liked.
When we got to Parmukkale, it was gently misting. We were given 1.5 hours to either visit the pools, swim in the pool, see the museum, see the ancient Greek ruins or just walk along the grounds. Waitaminute…I travelled for three hours to only get 1.5 hours to explore ONE THING??? To say I was pissed was an understatement. Stupid old people, always whining (this is nothing against all the cool old people who actually like to go out and do things). I’m sorry if it’s raining, but some of us paid good money to take this trip.

Since the cliffs were rather unspectacular in the rain and the thermal pool cost $15 CAD to use, I decided to explore the grounds. I saw signs for a 4th century church (St. Philip the Martyr) so decided to make finding it my goal.

I followed an ancient path covered in stones. Other stones littered the grounds. I didn’t know if they were ancient buildings, graves or just that: rocks. I climbed up and up. I was the only one around, everyone else electing to go to the cliffs or the museum. I could see the different levels of stone on the path and I knew I was following an ancient route that people have been following for the past 1600 years.

I cannot describe how incredibly and beautiful it was there. A light mist was falling. The hills were covered in mist and fog. The grass was green and the rocks littering the ground were black. Looked like something out of a strange Japanese animation. Further and further I climbed, getting progressively wetter and dirtier. I had to cross a huge ditch. I felt self-important, knowing I could do it, until I saw other footprints. So I wasn’t the first person to do this!

I was glad I was alone. It was so quiet. Not even the birds were singing. Then I saw it: the church.

Everyone who knows me knows I am not religious, but it’s hard not to feel religious when you see such a beautiful church as this. High on the hill, in ruins, but still beautiful. It had a centre courtyard surrounded by arched hallways. I explored every nook and cranny. I saw on windowsills. I climbed walls. I climbed up even higher to get a better view. It was so humble yet beautiful that I think it replaces the church of St. Francis in Assisi as my favourite church. I could have stayed there all day but my watch told me to go. I sadly bid the church farewell.

Coming back to the hotel, I was soaked! I saw Jack, the waiter in the restaurant, and he told me he was getting off his shift soon and asked if I’d like to get a drink with him. "Of course!" I replied and we went to a local bar for some beer. We talked all night and it was a lot of fun! He showed me his patches that other guests have given him, his CDs (we like the same pop ballads) and he taught me some words in Turkish. It was a lot of fun!

Friday was relaxing. Hung out with my carpet friends, even helping out in the shop a bit. I contemplated what to buy, eventually settling on some beaded pillowcases. They tried to get me to buy a beautiful brocade bedspread. I was guaranteed that it was "100% silk" but eventually I decided against it. One of the sellers told me to talk to the customers to find out what jobs they do. He wanted to know how much he could charge them. One family refused to pay what he wanted for a carpet and since the man was a lawyer, he thought they should pay more. This turned me off completely, so I headed back to the hotel. I spent the evening talking to Jimmy, the owner.

Ok, I am not being paid to represent the Artemis Guest House but if you go to Selcuk, STAY THERE! Seriously, it is the best deal for your money. Jimmy and Bron (the owners) are great and the staff amazing (like Jack!). They even have a tourist agency there which will make you bus tickets and tickets to nearby sights. The rooms were comfortable and clean and the restaurant served great food at little prices. The location is perfect and they even have a pool!
I casually mentioned to Jimmy that I love baklava. Didn’t he give Jack some money to go get me some! I was already salivating when Jack brought in the box. Jimmy’s friend thought this was hilarious and insisted on hand-feeding me a piece. Mmm…backlava!

Saturday is market day in Selcuk and as I was coming out of the hotel, I saw Jack. We explored the market together and then went for a walk towards Ephesus. His family owns a café close by and we spent the afternoon eating gozleme, drinking tea and smoking nargile. This one was particularly harsh and I felt lightheaded and a tad sick. His family also has a zoo and I had fun chasing chickens and peacocks, while Jack petted the monkey.

Saturday night was so much fun! A group of archaeology students from Britain came and I chatted with one guy half the night. I told him about my frustrations of the previous "tour group" who were being leaders because they were "fun". I told James that it should be him and his friends who should be leaders. He laughed and agreed. He told me about growing up in Saudi Arabia (his dad works for the military) and the hardships his family endured being Westerners in an anti-Western country. I was shocked when he told me about people deliberately destroying the family’s car, or youths surrounding them in parking lots so they couldn’t drive out without hitting someone. His dad got death threats, people threw Molotov cocktails and his mom eventually moved back to Britain because she couldn’t take the pressure. Luckily, his dad’s contract is done in two years and he can’t wait to have his family reunited again. Then we got word that the pope died.

My last day in Selcuk, Jack and I decided to go to Sirince, a small Greek village 8 km away. Since the rain on Thursday, Selcuk was freezing! Sirince was cute but very touristy and much more expensive than Selcuk. We spent a few hours there, drank lots of tea and then got the bus back to Selcuk. Then I had a nice 12 hour drive to the middle of Turkey.