Didyma, Miletus and Priene
After breakfast taken with several cats in attendance, including the 18yr old Lulu, who OWNS the place, we left the brightly colored SU Otel in the company of our new guide Güray and groovy-looking (long wavy hair gelled and combed back, bright blue eyes, cool mid-calf pants with loose shirt) driver Mustafa. We set off in the direction of our first stop, Didyma, and discovered then that Güray, although incredibly well informed, speaks the kind of English best understood by an English speaking Turk. He speaks with passion about the mythological characters (“They make-a LOVE each other”) - this about Artemis, who in this region is also called Selena, Goddess of the Moon, and whose husband was a shepherd Andemyan, who worked in the majestic Five Finger Mountains. They had an impressive 50 children, and it was said that when they made-a that love, there was an especially beautiful sunset. Güray learns that he will have to adjust to this particular group, when he turns in the van and says (rhetorically): “Do you know famous Aristotle sentence?” From his position of possible comfort in the van Keith drawls: “Yeah - man is a rational animal” and then laughs that big happy laugh of his, while Güray looks goofy for a moment.
The approach to Didyma was through modern and hastily erected apartment houses reminiscent of the scene in Ireland when we were there in 2004. Suddenly the construction sites opened to reveal the stunning Apollo temple, where we could walk freely amongst the ruins. Behind the temple was a modern mosque, from which we suddenly heard one of the 5 daily chanted prayers, creating an interesting contrast between the grandiose heathen antiquity in front of us and modern day Islam.
After a traditional Turkish lunch with ‘mezzes’, some hot dishes and fruits, we were off to the ancient Miletus, birthplace of Thales and philosophy. In order to get there we walked on a dirt path along an olive orchard, where cows were taking a siesta in the midday hour or lazily chewing on some low-hanging branches.
I spotted a stork nest on an ancient mosque, not only with a stork in it, but also baby storks. “It’s a sign!” I shouted to Keith walking in front of me, since we have been waiting for Sydney, their new granddaughter, to be born for the whole week. We had the site almost to ourselves and in the hot sun it was so quiet that we could hear the bees humming, as we explored what was left to see of the Miletus civilization. Once the sea reached to the gates of this ancient community, creating the lively trade they depended on, but when silt filled up and effectively isolated the entire area, along with introducing malaria to the region, the population basically abandoned the city.
We still had Priene to go which we reached after a stiff hike up the mountain side in the afternoon sun. Above the lovely theatre, the columns and the tumbled jig-saw puzzle of pieces tossed as if by a giant hand in the grass around us, we could see the rough mountain side from which the local blue, gray marble had been cut to create all of this. Güray handed me a slender wild asparagus stalk to chew on, and then a stalk of wild oregano, which fitted perfectly with the surroundings.
Back at the hotel for a dip in the pool we decided on stronger measures: we shared 2 bottles of local sparkling wine and toasted Sydney as best we could. And indeed, she was born in California that night. Welcome Sydney!
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