In the last blog I told you that while I want to go back to Goreme, I want to live in Ephesus. I said that to be a bit dramatic. I know that you can't actually live in Ephesus anymore (although if given the option of living in a different century, that would certainly be a consideration). Today, I don't want to live in Ephesus, but I do want to live in the nearest town, Selcuk. It is the most charming town in all of Turkey. I love it.
We arrived there in the afternoon with two nights left with Gloria and Gene. Matt and I had thought we would move on to a different town once they left, but we didn't. We stayed and pretended to live there.
But, again, I'm ahead of myself.
We arrived by a very crowded train in the afternoon and found our host. We had rented an apartment through AirBnB, which was right across the street from St. John's Basilica and down the hill from the castle.
Our apartment was charming. I had originally thought we might cook a meal while there, but really, why cook when you can just go to a Turkish restaurant?
It was cloudy and cool when we arrived, but no snow, so Matt and I headed out for a short run around the basilica. As we ran, thunder started to roll in the distance and lightening lit up the sky. That allowed for an abbreviated run.
(Sometimes, on our runs, I stop to "take pictures," but really, I'm just stopping.)
We headed in and quickly heated up water for hot chocolate and coffee before the power went out. It went out and the storm raged around, which was incredibly exciting. We looked through the pamphlets and started to plan our final days exploring.
After awhile, the storm quieted, but the power stayed out, so we headed to the center of town with the hopes of finding a restaurant that still had power.
Everything was dark, but we finally found movements in the restaurant, Tat. It is owned by Kurdish brothers who have been there several years now. They were so kind and welcoming, it was the perfect refuge from the stormy night. And the food was delicious. We had chicken curry because we hadn't seen curry in all of Turkey. That meal led to a cooking class and nearly every subsequent meal for the rest of our stay. Everytime we came, they would say "Welcome home," and it was so sincere that you really felt like you were coming home. It was lovely.
After dinner that night, Gloria and I had decided to visit the local Turkish Bath or Hamam. A lot of research had gone into this. In Istanbul, you could either go to the very fancy hamams, pay 120 euro, and only see tourists or you could go for a few dollars, wonder if the sponge was used on everybody (according to online reviews) and only see locals. We were hoping for a happy medium. Selcuk Hamam seemed to be the one.
We stopped in before dinner and it was dimly lit, due to the power outage. There were three figures sitting around a stove, all older men. In my mind, I had imagined a communal bathing experience of women. I wanted a nice Turkish grandmother to bathe me. Apparently, this was a hamam for men and women.
So, after dinner, we took a deep breath and went for it.
When we arrived we put our things in a little room with beds (for napping?) and then we were ushered out to the stove for tea. In Selcuk, tea was offered constantly. After we drank that, they gave us plaid sarongs to tie around ourselves. So we went into our room, stripped down to our bathing suits and tied on our sarongs.
Then we walked through two doors before entering the bath. It is a marble room, with a large hexagonal marble slab in the center. There are several other slabs along the walls and stalls lining the walls with curtains.
Everything was marble. And there are no pools of water.
Just as we stepped in, the man who led us very unceremoniously poured a bucket of water over us, sarong and all. It was so sudden, I can't even remember if it was cool or warm; it wasn't uncomfortable, just surprising. Then he gestured to take our sarongs off and go lie on the marble hexagon.
Each triangle in the hexagon had lines intersecting it, making their way to the middle. I wasn't really sure, if we should lie horizontally along the edge, or vertically with our heads pointing to the center. Heads in seemed to make the most sense space-wise, plus it was easier to talk that way, and really, if we're being honest, its the beauty of community of women that really made me want to try our the Turkish bath. Later, a man came out from his bath and lay horizontally, whatever, to each his own.
The marble was hot and the closer to the center, the hotter it got. After a few minutes of lying on the wet, hot marble, we were summoned.
"Lady, lady," they said pointing to another marble slab in the corner. So, we moved and lay on another piece of marble. This one was hotter. Now, I started sweating from the heat. I shifted around trying not to get burned.
After awhile, "lady, lady." This time it was the man who gives the baths calling us over, one at a time. I volunteered to go first, or jumped at the chance, rather, because it was so hot. Hot stone or half-naked Turkish man ready to scrub you. It's a toss-up.
This man was rotund, had a large mustache and wore only a sarong. His English was limited, but enough to ask me if it was my first Turkish bath, and tell me where to lie down, when to roll over, when to sit up and when I was done.
I am about to explain how dirty I was, so be prepared.
I went to his marble slab and lay down on my stomach. With a rough sponge he started to scrub hard. All that perspiration and heat had loosened up my skin and it just rolled off. He told me to roll over on my back and continued to scrub. Everywhere. It was an experience.
Then I had to sit up and I'm pretty sure he tsked at me as he pointed to all that dead skin rolled up. Then he unceremoniously poured large bowls of water over me or at me, it was hard to tell which direction it came from.
After the scrub was the soap. He had this piece of cloth that blows up like a balloon and creates endless soap suds, it's pretty impressive. I was again on my stomach and being cleaned. I was soaped everywhere.
When he had me sit up, he even scrubbed my eyelids, nose, lips, neck. I really felt like I'm lacking in my own personal bathing habits after that. After another deluge of water, this time with eyes closed from soap, so really unexpected, it was time for a massage.
Have you ever had a massage on a marble slab? I have now, and it was unique. He rubbed down my feet and every toe cracked. Then he worked his way up to my back, where it sounded like every vertebrae cracked as he pushed me into that marble slab.
He massaged my arms and hands, then I was done. He pointed to a stall and said "cold shower." It was cold, but after all that heat, felt remarkably good.
When I emerged, he pointed back to the hexagon as he started scrubbing Gloria.
It's like you've gone through a car wash, which you wouldn't think would be enjoyable, but as I lay on that heated marble, I was so relaxed. I knew that if I ever lived in Turkey, the bath would be a weekly event (or more than weekly, not sure how many times is appropriate).
Anyways, I loved it.
I lay on the hexagon moving hot to cool to hot again and staring up at the dome overhead, wondering about all the bathers through the centuries. Cultures that include baths in their infrastructure are really onto something.
Once Gloria was finished, they told us we could lie for awhile then use the stalls to wash off. We lay a bit longer enjoying our freshly cleaned skin, or rather new layer of skin.
All of a sudden, they rushed in and saying "Speak English, Lady, come, speak English." They grabbed me, wrapped a new sarong around me and led me out to the waiting room. Apparently, some other women had come in, and were unsure about having a man bathe them. They wanted me to tell them it was fine, but they had left by the time I was there. Those girls missed out. I would have told them, it started out a little intimidating, but turned out to be an incredible experience. You kind of forget its a strange man washing you and really start thinking about how you can't believe how dirty you actually are.
After we had enough heat, we went into the stalls, that are also completely marble. There is a bowl and a sink with two faucets, one freezing, one scalding. I think you mix the water to the temperature you want and scoop the water out and pour over yourself, using your own soap, shampoo, whatever. The cool water felt really good. You just let it run all over, because you're in a wet room of marble.
When we felt we were as clean as we were going to get we put on the dry sarongs they left us and went out. We sat down for more tea, obviously, and they tied towels around our hair.
We sat in a very relaxed state. Then the door opened as the restaurant owner (where our husbands had stayed to wait for us) and my sweet husband walked in, wondering what was taking so long. We had been bathing for two hours!
We finished our tea and reluctantly prepared to leave the warmth of the bath. It was the absolute perfect way to spend a stormy night. We bundled up, gathered Matt and Gene and went home to go to bed. It was such a good night of sleep that night. I smelled so good.
So, that is the first danger of buying a house in Turkey: the investment of being routinely bathed in a marble room.
After the restful night of clean sleep, we were up early, ready for the day.
We had made a plan to head out to Ephesus. Our host had told us that if we visited the Seven Sleepers first, we could have a traditional breakfast. A wise choice.
It was rainy so, we hired a taxi, who ended up driving us for most of the day, which was perfect. We headed out to breakfast.
We arrived at a mostly empty tent that was layered with textiles. Oh my goodness, I loved it. Garlands hung from the walls. The tables were low and there were cushions and carpets arranged around the tables for lounging. Another couch lounging meal, I love those.
We ate and ate and it was delicious.
After that, we went to the Seven Sleepers. A tomb for seven Christian men who fell asleep/were buried here. They may have been hiding. I should know the details better, and I couldn't really tell if it was legend or based on something real. Anyways, the guard opened the gate for us and we looked around.
From there, we drove up the hill to the Mary's house! As in Mary, the mother of Jesus! John and Mary were charged with caring for one another and it was believed that Mary lived her final days in this house above Ephesus. Of course, no one knows for sure. They believe the house was built in the first century, and in the last few decades it was declared by the Pope to be her house. Whether it is or not, it is still special.
Inside is an altar and a monk sits waiting. There is one main room and a smaller side room. Mary would have been older as she lived there, and you can't help but wonder what it was like. I imagine she had to cook her meals, and care for her garden and do daily life. Or maybe she had a young maid to look after her. Maybe the maid's husband took care of the garden. Maybe they were trusted to care for Mary in her last days. I'm making this all up, but it's hard not to wonder and imagine.
High in the corner, just inside the entry is a collection of crutches and braces, obviously some dating back decades. Perhaps they are a testament of faith.
Below the house is a holy spring and a fence with prayers written and tied. Mary is an important woman.
After this stop, we drove back down the hill, stopping to admire the view which went all the way out to the Aegean Sea.
Then, we came to the gates of Ephesus. Ephesus has been around for a long time. It was interesting that for us, we know Ephesus because of Ephesians. I mean the Apostle Paul walked those streets. Yet, he was a quick note on the historical background. I imagined signs all over: Paul spoke here, Paul was a guest in this house, Paul bathed here (because Turkish baths have been around for awhile). But, there was nothing like that. I wonder if perhaps the actions of Paul just aren't as important to the local culture. He is historical and worth a mention, but that's it. I was surprised by how little there was about the early Christians. But, we know they were there. We know they walked those streets.
So, walk the streets we did. We walked past a small amphitheater and through rows of shops. We walked by buildings dedicated to the Roman Emperors and then we came to the facade of the library.
It was a rainy day and very few tourists, so we skipped ahead of some of the groups and took in that building without anybody there! I think we have once in a lifetime photos, I can't believe how empty it was!
From there we visited the main coliseum, which was huge. We saw a picture of what it had been before restoration. It is very impressive that archaeologists can determine any form at all in the ruins.
A few days later, Matt and I were on a bus coming back into town. As we drove by Ephesus, we could see the stadium in the distance. That was amazing, as that is what the ships would have seen as they came into port.
We walked to the port, but over the centuries the sea has receded nine kilometers! So, there's no port anymore.
Once we finished walking through Ephesus, we headed back to Selcuk so we could check out the Saturday market. We wandered around a bit, before getting ready for our cooking class.
We got to Tat and had a cup of apple tea, of course, and waited a bit for our class to start. We met a British couple who have a house there, but were just visiting. They were friends of the restaurant owners and obviously came by often. I loved that small-town feel. That couple recommended a hotel, which was conveniently across the street, and that's where Matt and I moved to. We met so many lovely people. Everytime we went out, we would run into someone we had met and it was like meeting an old friend, like we belonged in that town.
Anyways, back to our class. The chef was teaching us how to make lentil soup, zucchini fritters and chicken curry. We recorded what we learned through a mix of notes, photos and videos, hopefully we'll be able to make it, because it was absolutely delicious. Also, that curry is so good because there is a lot of cream in there.
Second danger of buying a house in Turkey: we would eat chicken curry every single day.
The whole time, the brothers shared their kitchen with us. The chef had the most joyful smile on his face. They talked about washing dishes when they first arrived and working their way up to having their own restaurant. Not all restaurants stay open through the winter when there are fewer tourists, but they do, fortunately. When people go there, they return. I think most people we saw there, we saw more than once.
But those joyful smiles were the best. They loved sharing their kitchen with others.
We ate so much that night, it was amazing.
The next morning, we enjoyed some coffee and slowly packed up. Gloria and Gene headed off to the train station to return to Istanbul for their flight home. It was sad to see them go. Turkey is an amazing place to share with friends.
After they left, Matt and I moved into our hotel. We are not used to such on-the-go travel for such a long stretch (we have not done any research for future countries and it felt so good) so I think we might have lay around, found baklava and ate chicken curry the rest of the day. We had to recover.
Third danger of buying a house in Turkey: friends would have to give up their vacations elsewhere and come visit us instead. But, they would love it, so it's not really a danger.
The next day, though, we got out to explore the town. Matt desperately needed a haircut, so we found a barber. I don't think Matt has ever had a haircut quite like this. It started off normal enough. Once the barber started on his face, though, things got fancy. Threading was involved (Matt now has better manicured eyebrows than I do), fire was used (not sure what for), facial mask and hand massage. It was impressive.
Also, we both got apple tea delivered.
We left that town well groomed and well bathed.
After that, I wanted to visit a couple shops. One was a carpet and kilim shop that we had passed while staying in the cottage. It looked full of patterns and cozy and I wanted one more pillow case for the collection.
I love carpets and kilims. I know I've already shared this, but I have a true passion for them. Also, the shop owners can really win me over. In the most sincere ways, not in schmoozy ways. This shop was also full of older carpets, so it really had me going.
Anyways, I sat down at their pile of pillowcases. I basically take their piles of pillowcases and work my way through them creating new piles: pillowcases I love, pillowcases that intrigue me and pillowcases I don't need. The shop owner, Osman, started throwing them all over the floor for me, so I knew this was a shop I could really get into my search, making me love it even more.
As I started sorting, in the background, carpets started to unroll. I didn't let this distract me, until I heard, "well, let's wait until my wife is done with the pillows."
Ok, at this point I had decided we shouldn't get a carpet. I had wanted one, and had been looking ever since Nepal (this is where my very first carpet came from- Matt got it as a gift for me on his first trip to Nepal). However, not having a house to put a carpet in is a deterrent when considering carpets. I had decided pillows were enough for now, we did, after all, have a couch.
So, we sorted out the pillowcases (we found three instead of one), then I nonchalantly asked what was going on with the carpets... So, we looked. Carpets started unrolling across the room. We heard where they were from, how old they were, how many knots they had in each square centimeter. We each had our favorites. I kept coming back to a blue one, which is fairly unusual for Turkish rugs, which tend to be warmer colors, when an American couple came in. They had a house in Selcuk, lived there six months out of the year and had bought many carpets from Osman. They had come by to say hello and commented on how nice the blue one was, it was good quality. That made me feel protective of it and made Matt more comfortable with it ( it hadn't been his favorite).
Well, the carpets kept coming out and we were sorting them into maybes and nos, until we had seen most of them in our price range. We didn't even touch the kilims this time (that took major restraint on my part).
We left that lovely shop with three pillowcases and four carpets. Oh my goodness, I love them. I have looked at their pictures everyday. I've named them. I wanted to go back before he mailed them home so I could cuddle them for a little while.
Fourth danger of buying a house in Turkey: the constant temptation and need for Turkish carpets and kilims. Affording a house would be no problem, it's the resulting carpets which may cause financial strain. Because, I would have to visit Osman often. He told me he's addicted to carpets, says he won't buy anymore, then finds something special and unique.
I understand, Osman, I understand.
I think I'm going to open a carpet and kilim shop when we get home, so I have a reason to go back to Turkey and find more.
But for now, I have beautiful Florence, quirky Annabelle, bohemian Josephine and regal Ataturk (seemed appropriate) waiting for us back at home. I will cherish them.
Well, after that, (which neither of us expected, but it turned out to be an amazing deal), we just enjoyed our pretend life in Selcuk. We made friends with the shopowners, went "home" to Tat for chicken curry every night, tasted different baklava shops, looking for our favorites. We made a few short trips. We took the bus to Sirince Village, a small village in the hills surrounded by olive trees and famous for its fruit wine, which we tasted.
We went to Kusadasi to walk around. We found a castle jutting out in the water and hiked around.
We were so grateful we stayed in Selcuk. When we left, Typhoon, who worked at our hotel (I was never sure if that was his real name or his nickname) hugged Matt.
We spent our last night in Izmir, before our flights out of Turkey. It was a big city with too many restaurants, shops and hotels. Again, we were so grateful we stayed in Selcuk.
It was just the loveliest town, I will always remember it. It is truly the first place we came to where I thought, I could stay here, I could spend time here, this could feel like a home. Maybe not a permanent home, but the idea of a someday home.
Honestly, it was a bit sad to leave Turkey, but we had come to the end of our time. It's a trip around the world, and there's so much more world left to see. However, Turkey will always be special.
One of the churches we went to in Istanbul was dedicated to Mary, and she was referred to as Pammakaristos, which means the most happy. I just loved that. It feels like the right note to end Turkey on. The most happy, Pammakaristos.
Perhaps the dangers of buying a house in Turkey could be overcome...
