We woke up determined to beat other tourists to Ephesus.
It was a Saturday, after all and we expected it'd be busy.
Since it sounded easy to hop from dolmus (bus) to dolmus
to get from Kusadasi to Selcuk and it sounded as though Ephesus was not far
from Selcuk--we left the rental car behind and bus hopped. It was a cool
and fun experience in getting to Selcuk. Each bus driver went to great lengths
to make certain we caught the next bus in line to get us where we needed to be.
They honked and pointed and encouraged us to walk through traffic-heavy
roundabouts as masses of metal and glass blew through, not pulling away until
it was clear we'd fumbled our way into figuring out the proper next move.
A recurring theme throughout this trip has been
"Turkish hospitality". It actually started even prior to our
trip, where stateside Turks we were put in contact with offered friends and
family members names and contact info for "anything [we] need".
Omur and Hassan in Istanbul and others in Turkey were no
different, scribbling names and phone numbers and addresses on bits of paper,
exchanging phone numbers, emails and WhatsApp account info for the same
purpose. They roundly offered their own hospitality and the hospitality
of others freely and touted their reach and their ability to help--at least
through another--throughout their country.
Turkish people are among the best I've encountered in all
of my travels to however many countries I've been to (maybe 20? [not bragging,
just providing context for the observation]) over the years. According to
Omur, Turkish people are brought up to be extremely hospitable--"we are
taught from young age that visitors are gifts from God"--he said as he
served us an apple tea upon our returning to his shop to thank him again for
providing us shelter from the storm days earlier.
When we arrived in Selcuk, things got a little
dicey. We decided to forego the final bus in the chain--the one from
Selcuk to Ephesus--for two reasons: (1) we thought it was 20 lira (~$7) per
person and that seemed steep considering the other dolmuses were 2-to-6 lira
per person and (2) we had read the guidebook to say (and I'm paraphrasing)
"it's a lovely and quick 20-minute traipse from Selcuk to Ephesus".
As we started walking through Selcuk, it quickly became apparent we were
struggling to navigate the small town. We did find the tourist information
center, though, which was astoundingly closed on the weekends. We pondered on
that for a bit as we walked around aimlessly.
Because we continued to fail in finding our way to the
lower gates of Ephesus, we identified that the upper gates could be reached by
heading out the main drag through town, but the guidebook map didn't show where
the gates were specifically. An arrow at the bottom of the map simply pointed
off the map and it indicated it would be about 3.5 kilometers out that way.
Having a direction at least, we set off walking. We then
continued walking. More walking. Twenty minutes had long passed. The heat
and the distance turned the traipse into a slog. We began to doubt we were
going the right direction as there were no signs anywhere. Three Turkish
traffic police were in the middle of a traffic stop when we approached and
said, "Ephesus?" They clearly didn't speak English, but one officer
in particular was extremely willing to help and he pointed in the direction
we'd been heading, so we sallied forth. It was tough by this point.
More soul crushing was that we came to the first sign
indicating anything about the damn place and it was a freeway exit sign telling
cars to take the exit and go another two kilometers. At this point, we were
cursing the guidebook author's name repeatedly under our breath.
After taking the freeway exit on foot, we eventually came
upon what appeared to be a military check point. A friendly-enough man with a
semiautomatic weapon slung over his right shoulder beckoned us off of the
sidewalk and through the checkpoint. "Passports?", he said. We
beat feet over to him, thanking our lucky stars on the way that we had our
passports on us at that moment, and he waved us through without issue and confirmed
for us we were still heading in the right direction.
The slog continued. Now uphill. Still no
terribly informative nor helpful signs. Becca wondered aloud how
Ephesus--probably Turkey's biggest tourist attraction--was not better
signed. The heat did not relent. At this point, we were fantasizing
about killing the guidebook author's whole family.
As we crested the hill, we heard a beep beep as a
motorcycle whirred by. The helpful traffic police officer was grinning ear to
ear and waving to us happily. Our sweaty, dirty faces registered
significantly less happiness, but we were pleased to see him again. As I
think about it after the fact--I think he drove up that way just to be sure we
made it there (and alive). Mostly, I think that because as soon as he
reached the top of the hill and saw us he whipped around and sped back out of
there.
Because I felt a bit bad we didn't give him a better
response when he first honked and waved as he drove past us going up the hill,
once he turned around and passed us again going down the hill--I tried to do
better. This time I flashed him a big grin and gave him a thumbs up.
He waved less enthusiastically this time. Becca
immediately told me to "be careful giving a thumbs up" and I was in
disbelief. That sounded ridiculous to me, so I looked it up.
Unfortunately, by gesturing just so I'd told that nice
policeman one of two things--either: "up yours" or "sit on
this"!
I then thought back through all the people I'd given
thumbs up to thus far on the trip and among them were waiters and children.
This weighed heavily on my mind throughout our jaunt
through the ancient port city of Ephesus. Similarly, the gauntlet we'd
walked through to get there weighed heavily on our bodies.
On the way back, we were determined to pay the twenty
lira per person to get back to Selcuk by bus. Once on the bus, we learned
it was not twenty lira at all--it was 2.50 lira. Like 80 fucking
cents! And the lower gate to Ephesus, which we'd tried to find from
Selcuk before going through the ringer to get to the upper gate, was right
under our noses early on in the process had we just had a sign to let us know!
The only consolation was sitting down as the dolmus did
the work to get us back with a cool breeze coming through the open roof vent
and a Turkish flag-themed fuzzy dice swinging back and forth and side to side
seemingly inspired to move by the faint sound of house music emanating from the
radio.
Soon enough we were in Kusadasi again and floating in the
Aegean Sea. The rigors and frustrations of the morning excursion were
washed away in the cool, salty, green water.
This was our last day in Kusadasi at the resort.
Next, we'd head inland to Pamukkale and trade the expansive cool water of the
Aegean Sea for picturesque pools of natural hot springs.
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