Friday, July 16, 2004
Part 1 - Slowing down
Just back from the train station on the far side of town. I’m flying back to Istanbul tonight, and don’t want any more transportion surprises so I've gone to check the time-table. There’s a train leaving at 5:30 that actually stops INSIDE THE AIRPORT, arriving at 6:15 – perfect. Now I can happily spend the day sightseeing.
I’ve given up on Miletus, Priene, and the other “minor” Aegean classical sites. Getting to them involves several dolmush transfers, and I’m worried about the timing. Besides, yesterday Ephesus was all a blur, and I think any more ruins would be wasted on me. Instead, I’ll head out again with my faithful companion Sam, to a few choice, local sites.
----
First, the remnants of the great Temple of Artemis. One of the Seven Wonders of the World, it once rivaled the Pyramids and the Gardens of Babylon for sheer spectacle. It supposedly made the Parthenon in Athens look like a sad imitation. But now only one lonely pillar rises out of swamped foundations; a sad, lone reminder of the glorious past. It was the locals’ ancient devotion to Artemis that kept Paul from delivering his evangelizing speech to the massed Ephesians at the theater I visited yesterday (he wrote a letter instead - it’s been reprinted a few times since). During that infamous display of pagan loyalty, the locals supposedly clasped little idols of Artemis in their hands, and there are a few stray salesmen offering resin reproductions at the site. Sam and I are the only visitors, and we strike-up a little conversation with the man.
He’s been hawking his souvenirs by this sad little pond and the crumbled columns for 25 years, he says. 25 years and still only one column. He’s also selling the fake “ancient” coins that the MoneyPhoto girl was peddling back in Hieropolis. But he’s either a more honest man or else can tell that we’re not the right demographic – he shrugs as he shows them to us, “Not really old. But some people think so.” There’s a story going round, propagated mainly by a few Turkey guidebooks (including the one I’ve been using) that the aging process is accomplished by taking new coins and passing them through the digestive track of a goat. This sounded implausible to me from the moment I first heard it, so I ask the man vaguely, “If they’re not old, how do you make them look like that?”
He smiles back at me. “You think goat? Yes?” I shrug. “This is not smart. You think I sit, watch goat shit for many weeks? Wait for coins. Not smart. No one do this.” So I ask him how he does it. “Secret.” he says. Then he tells me. “I carve coins myself, then chemicals. Many chemicals. Bury in ground. Look old. Take couple days. Better than goat. Yes?”
I’m still not interested in buying one, but I succumb to the tacky Artemis idols and haggle a little. He hurries off along with a few other men selling exactly the same thing as a tour coach pulls up. The German tourists stand and gaze blankly out at the swamp and the pillar for less than five minutes, then pull away again.
Pilgrims to the ancient temple. But it’s hardly the Pyramids.
----
Next, we hike up the hill to the ruins of the 6th century Church of St. John. Despite Paul’s cool reception in Ephesus (so cool, in fact, that he was eventually executed), those pesky disciples were convinced Ephesus would come round, and so John (now also the care-taker of his boss’s mother, Mary) took over the church in Ephesus, wrote his gospels and in the end was buried here as well.
There’s not much left of the church now – just crumbling foundations and a little colonnade around the grave, erected by Justinian, and it clearly lived up to his ambitious vision for all things Christian and architectural.
I descend the three steps down into the (now dry) baptismal font for good measure and pay my respects at the grave. I can’t help but marvel at the ruined site – if this grave were in Italy or Spain, there would no doubt be a massive Cathedral on the site. It’s bewildering to stand on the supposed burial of St. John and look at about at ruins instead of gothic pillars or baroque arches.
Back in town, there’s the Ephesus museum to tour and ice-cream to be eaten. Plus I’ve got to pack. It’s turning out to be a nice, relaxed sort of day.
|
I’ve given up on Miletus, Priene, and the other “minor” Aegean classical sites. Getting to them involves several dolmush transfers, and I’m worried about the timing. Besides, yesterday Ephesus was all a blur, and I think any more ruins would be wasted on me. Instead, I’ll head out again with my faithful companion Sam, to a few choice, local sites.
----
First, the remnants of the great Temple of Artemis. One of the Seven Wonders of the World, it once rivaled the Pyramids and the Gardens of Babylon for sheer spectacle. It supposedly made the Parthenon in Athens look like a sad imitation. But now only one lonely pillar rises out of swamped foundations; a sad, lone reminder of the glorious past. It was the locals’ ancient devotion to Artemis that kept Paul from delivering his evangelizing speech to the massed Ephesians at the theater I visited yesterday (he wrote a letter instead - it’s been reprinted a few times since). During that infamous display of pagan loyalty, the locals supposedly clasped little idols of Artemis in their hands, and there are a few stray salesmen offering resin reproductions at the site. Sam and I are the only visitors, and we strike-up a little conversation with the man.
He’s been hawking his souvenirs by this sad little pond and the crumbled columns for 25 years, he says. 25 years and still only one column. He’s also selling the fake “ancient” coins that the MoneyPhoto girl was peddling back in Hieropolis. But he’s either a more honest man or else can tell that we’re not the right demographic – he shrugs as he shows them to us, “Not really old. But some people think so.” There’s a story going round, propagated mainly by a few Turkey guidebooks (including the one I’ve been using) that the aging process is accomplished by taking new coins and passing them through the digestive track of a goat. This sounded implausible to me from the moment I first heard it, so I ask the man vaguely, “If they’re not old, how do you make them look like that?”
He smiles back at me. “You think goat? Yes?” I shrug. “This is not smart. You think I sit, watch goat shit for many weeks? Wait for coins. Not smart. No one do this.” So I ask him how he does it. “Secret.” he says. Then he tells me. “I carve coins myself, then chemicals. Many chemicals. Bury in ground. Look old. Take couple days. Better than goat. Yes?”
I’m still not interested in buying one, but I succumb to the tacky Artemis idols and haggle a little. He hurries off along with a few other men selling exactly the same thing as a tour coach pulls up. The German tourists stand and gaze blankly out at the swamp and the pillar for less than five minutes, then pull away again.
Pilgrims to the ancient temple. But it’s hardly the Pyramids.
----
Next, we hike up the hill to the ruins of the 6th century Church of St. John. Despite Paul’s cool reception in Ephesus (so cool, in fact, that he was eventually executed), those pesky disciples were convinced Ephesus would come round, and so John (now also the care-taker of his boss’s mother, Mary) took over the church in Ephesus, wrote his gospels and in the end was buried here as well.
There’s not much left of the church now – just crumbling foundations and a little colonnade around the grave, erected by Justinian, and it clearly lived up to his ambitious vision for all things Christian and architectural.
I descend the three steps down into the (now dry) baptismal font for good measure and pay my respects at the grave. I can’t help but marvel at the ruined site – if this grave were in Italy or Spain, there would no doubt be a massive Cathedral on the site. It’s bewildering to stand on the supposed burial of St. John and look at about at ruins instead of gothic pillars or baroque arches.
Back in town, there’s the Ephesus museum to tour and ice-cream to be eaten. Plus I’ve got to pack. It’s turning out to be a nice, relaxed sort of day.
|
