I always forget how hot Turkey is, and I definitely should have remembered to get water before I left the ship. Thankfully one of the nurses sharing the bus with me was kind enough to split her water with me, though I suspect that was a preventive measure to avoid my having to visit her in a professional capacity later on!
For a destination as popular as Ephesus – not to mention a price as good as we were offered – I’m surprised that there aren’t more people on the bus. That said, the other crew tour today was to a water park, and I suspect that – given the heat- that may be a more appealing destination for many than the sun-baked ruins where we’re headed. But I’ve not been to Ephesus in two years, and back then I was both escorting a guest tour (always an…interesting experience) and on what was probably the worst contract of my ship-board career. I’m anxious to see it again under better circumstances.
As usual the majority of the bus is filled with crew members of multiple nationalities enjoying their very rare day off. Eventually the (to me mostly unintelligible) chatter prompts me to slide in my headphones as the bus gradually fills up. Soon enough the bus rumbles to life and we start to ease our way along the crowded Turkish streets.
We visit Mary’s House first. As usual in places like this, I find it interesting to watch people’s reactions to the space. Outside it’s an almost light-hearted atmosphere; despite the signs posted everywhere that solemnly remind people that this is a holy place and proper decorum is requested. Inside though, is a whole different story. Inside that one small room (and it is only one room, at least only one that’s open to the public) is a thick silence, almost shutting out the constant whirr of sound from outside despite the fact that the building has no doors. I pick up a candle at the entrance which I carefully light and add to the flickering rack that stands nearby outside, where it is soon indistinguishable from its fellows. It’s a gesture I always make when I’m visiting a church of any faith, something I do out of respect and out of my belief that this poor world needs all the help it can get. Oddly, when I am inside I find myself fighting the urge to kneel, and my fingers twitch to sketch out a gesture that even as a child I was never expected to follow except on the odd occasion when my grandmother took me to church. I’m not sure if it’s the tiny fraction of ‘catholic guilt’ that I carry hidden in the back pocket of my mind or an inherit flare for the dramatic that causes this impulse, but whatever the reason I don’t do it. Perhaps though it’s neither of those things, perhaps it’s just the overwhelming faith of this place, the pulse of the belief of the people in it, that literally sculpts your heart for a moment while you’re exposed to it. I’m suddenly very aware of Elliot, with his very distinctive background, resting against my throat on his delicate chain.
Finally we end up visiting the wishing wall. Despite what many would thing this isn’t a religious thing, at least it’s not a Christian one, for reasons no one can really explain this wall has always been believed to be able to grand wishes. I find myself thinking of the Hunchback of Notre Dame and how I should be like Esmeralda and wish for nothing for myself, but I’m not that totally pure-hearted and of the five wishes I attached to the wall one was for me, that said it was the least important one.
Leaving wishes and candles behind us we drove to Ephesus and my experience with the city this time could not be more different form two years ago. The whole sit is nearly empty! No pushing and shoving for sightlines and photographs, no screaming children, no herds of tours tramping in front of you. Just a handful of tours other than us and some really amazing photo opportunities you just never expect to get in places like this.
We had to be back at the bus by 3:30 so that the crewmembers who worked at 4 would be back on time, so we had to move quickly, this meant we couldn’t linger to point out absolutely everything, but we saw the most important things. Except the single pillar that remains of the Temple of Artemis, which for some reason the guide didn’t want to stop at – perhaps it was too far away from the main site or perhaps we simply didn’t have time to visit what was left of the religious quarter I’m not really sure.
Still amazing though, to find yourself standing at the base of the street where Cleopatra is believed to have once paraded with Marc Anthony…
Have I mentioned before how much I love this part of the world?