Ephesus

As I watch the sunset and sip on my glass of Sirince wine, I hear the prayer call begin. I silence Edith Piaf on my Ipod (guilty pleasure music) and devote my full attention to the mosque man's unintelligible chanting. I reflect on what it truly means to be in Turkey and can't help but think about my experience at Ephesus.

After a lovely drive passed the city and into the countryside, we arrived in Selcuk. A friend dropped me off at the front of the ruins and I continued through the gate alone. Passing on the tour guide, I followed a crowd of foreign tourists down the hill and to the beginning of Ephesus. Veering left onto the path less traveled, I found myself walking alone down a trail alined by former pieces of columns. Some of these stones portrayed Greek goddesses and others had carved out writings. As I continued down the overgrown trail, I sought for some enlightening experience. Some connection to the ruins. The place wreaked of history, but I smelled nothing. Cited in the Book of Revelation, the Gospel of John may have been written here. Every so often I would sit upon a sizeable stone and wait. Wait for some magical feeling like you look for around the holidays. The childhood Christmas tingle that you seek for when your older but never actually achieve. You bake goodies, watch classic holiday clamation films and eat things horribly bad for you all in the hope of finding that feeling you lost when you were growing up. No matter how many Christmas carols I sang as I walked, the feeling never came. I finally gave up and enjoyed the rest of the afternoon.

An hour, and thousands of pictures later, I saw I was reaching the end. The crowd continued to pace forward and I saw a fairly unpopular path out of the corner of my eye. With time to spare, I followed it. I walked down the trail for maybe a mile when I began to see some ruins amongst the shrubbery. These were ruins made of some other medium than Ephesus. I got closer and discovered it was the Church of Mary or the Double Church. I gingerly walked the dilapitated architecture and found an area I believed to be the alter. I started to feel the Christmas tingle. I sat upon the pile of stones and felt my soul melt from my body. Motionless, I stayed there for a few moments before I moved to lie upon the heap. I stared into the sky, flat atop history and it began to rain. I'm not entirely sure how much time passed. My mind was clear of all thoughts. My innermonologue was entirely silent. The feeling was brilliant. My soul was at peace. Feeling refreshed, I finally sat up and left the church. I made my way out of Ephesus, somehow changed.

I decided will seek out other ancient ruins in search for this same divine feeling. I will probably become a sightseeing junkie, shooting up old rocks and meaningful locations.

My ride arrived and we finished the day in Sirince, sampling their local wines. This quaint village was nothing short of enchanting with cobble stoned roads bordered by restaurants and wine shops. The people here were delightfully provincial and abundantly hospitable, exceeding that of the normal Turkish hospitality. We purchased several bottles of the incredible wines and continued on our way back to Izmir. The drive, and the wine buzz, allowed me to reflect on my day.

Now as I sip on my local beverage and soak up the harsh summer heat, I get lost in the prayer call. The constant chanting of words unknown somehow gives me peace.This, couple with my experience at Ephesus, allows me to skip the Xanax tonight.

Thank you God. I needed that