Turkey travel | Travel Thru History

My Turkish Delight: An Ankara Adventure

Turkey

by Paola Fornari

‘What to do in Ankara if you come from Istanbul.’ That was one of the first presentations offered by the participants at the Turkish Ministry of Foreign Affairs where I was giving some training courses recently. Apparently Ankara is such a dump that the only ways people from Istanbul can survive are a) hit the shops, b) hit the bars, c) hit the station and get a train to Istanbul every weekend.

I was in Ankara for three weeks, and I wasn’t interested in shops or bars. And Istanbul was not practical: I had two short weekends ahead of me, during which I had to do a lot of preparation work. I was in Ankara, and I love being in new places. The city must have something to offer, and I would find it.

During the first week, I became familiar with taxi route between the hotel and the Ministry: busy wide boulevards flanked by huge buildings, and pedestrian bridges. I occasionally ventured out in the evening, and learnt my first few words of Turkish: ‘hello’, the two sorts of ‘goodbye’ (one for leaving and one for staying), ‘please’, ‘thank you’, ‘orange juice’, ‘entrance’, ‘exit’, ‘water’, ‘what’s your name’ and ‘car wash’ (well, Oto Kuaför is simply too memorable, even if not particularly useful).

At the weekend, I decided I would see two of the three highlights recommended in my Lonely Planet Guide, saving the third till the following weekend. I wandered up to the Citadel, the oldest part of the city, the walls of which date back to the 7th century. The narrow winding streets were packed with carpet stalls and little restaurants. Women chatted by the side of the road, crocheting handbags. A family, gathered on a few steps outside a crumbling house, invited me to join them for chai. Seeing their shoes all lined up neatly to one side, I took off mine, and we smiled and giggled at each other and sipped tea for a while.

Later, from the castle walls, I enjoyed the superb view over Ankara and the snow-capped mountains beyond. The sunset was stunning.

On Sunday morning I went to the Museum of Anatolian Civilizations. It won the ‘Best European Museum of the Year’ award over ten years ago, and is still superb, displaying archaeological artifacts from the Stone Age through the Assyrians, Hittites, Phrygians and Lydians. And my guide spoke reasonable English.

That afternoon I went off to a hammam – a Turkish bath – in a fancy area of town, recommended by one of my trainees, and then had a manicure next door. A wonderfully relaxing way to end my weekend, and I added a few more less-than-useful words to my list: ‘soap’, and ‘pearly pink’.

The second weekend, I visited the Citadel and the Museum of Anatolian Civilisations again: this time the only guide I could find that I would be able to understand spoke a mixture of Italian and Spanish.

And then I walked to the site I had been saving: Anit Kabir, Ataturk’s mausoleum. Ataturk (1881 – 1938) was an army officer who led the Turkish national movement after the fall of the Ottoman Empire, and defeated the allied forces, thus preventing partition. He was the founder of the Republic of Turkey and transformed the vestiges of the Empire into the modern, secular state Turkey is today. The beautifully kept monumental structure is packed with visitors paying their respects to the great man, and you really sense the hold he had over his adoring people.

By this stage I had added ‘yes’,’ no’, ‘minute’, ‘left’, ‘right’, ‘lovely’, ‘big’, ‘small’ and ‘stop’ to my list of Turkish words.

At the end of my three weeks’ work, I had an extra Saturday to fill before my flight home. I wandered off to a wonderful four-storey book and music shop with a café on top and bought some traditional music, and the number one bestseller called ‘Last Train to Istanbul’, which turned out to be a fascinating but badly translated novel set in wartime Turkey. On the way back to the hotel I bought some Turkish Delight. My bargaining skills had certainly developed over the past three weeks: I would always know to bargain in markets, but here it worked even in highly respectable shops.

So what does one do on one’s third weekend in Ankara?

It just had to be a genuine ancient hammam. The Lonely Planet recommended Sengül Merkez Hamami. At the entrance to a quiet alleyway, below the hammam sign, two women sat on the ground sipping tea. A child played nearby.

I approached. Three women jammed the space between the double doors. I squeezed past, into shabby high-domed room bordered on two levels by cabins. Women milled around, some in long dresses and headscarves, others in very little. Around a large table several women sipped chai and chatted. One sorted a large pile of underwear into neat piles.

‘Hammam?’ I asked. An enormous smiling woman wearing black underwear came over and led me by the hand to a cabin, and gave me a wrap and a pair of enormous clogs.

‘Epilasion?’ she asked. I hesitated. She lifted my arm and peered into my armpit.

‘Epilasion,’ she stated firmly.

It was an amazing experience, with women coming to chat, watch, compare results, giggling as I yelled the two most important words in the Turkish language, ‘stop’ and ‘no’, while my hammam lady plied, kneaded and moulded her lump of glutinous chewing-gum wax all over me.

After that, I was ready to be pampered. I understood that the even larger lady whose job it was to scrub me was the sister of the epilasion one. I lay on the marble slab. And very quietly, she began to sing, the volume gradually increasing, until her haunting, deep, sad song filled the steamy air and brought tears to my eyes – no, not tears – floods. I look up at her closed eyes, her furrowed brow, her look of concentration as she drew the cheap, hand-crocheted, garish flannel up and down my arms, her blubbery stomach filling the space between us. ‘Benli benli, benli benli,’ she sang, as I imagined a story of lost love, war, pain, death, disaster… Then a young woman beside me – yes, someone spoke a few words of English here – said ‘Hello!’

‘Please tell me what the song is about,’ I said.
‘It’s a traditional song. It says it’s difficult to live with someone who is ugly.’
How banal, I thought, rather embarrassed about my emotional display.
‘Ugly inside,’ she added, as the hammam lady sang, and I burst into tears again. Lovely. A perfect end to my three weeks.

Private Tour: Ankara Sightseeing

If You Go:

Where to stay: I stayed at the Ankara Plaza Hotel, which was comfortable and friendly. See www.tripadvisor.com

Things to do:
• Museum of Anatolian Civilisations, anadolu Medeniyetleri Muzesi, daily 8:30 am – 5:15 pm, entrance 10 Turkish lira.
• Ataturk’s Mausoleum, Gazi Mustafa Kemal Bulvari (Mon 1:30 – 5:00 pm, Tues – Sat 9:00 am – 5:00 pm, free) • Sengül Merkez Hamami,Ulus,, 6:00 am – 8:00 pm daily, recently restored, see sengulhamami.com/icerik-93.html.

About the author:
Paola Fornari was born on an island in Lake Victoria, and was brought up in Tanzania. She has lived in almost a dozen countries over three continents, speaks five and a half languages, and describes herself as an “expatriate sine patria”. Wherever she goes, she makes it her business to get involved in local activities, explore, and learn the language, thus making each new destination a real home. At present she is living in Bangladesh.

All photos are by Paola Fornari.

Blue Eyed Mummies of Amasya, Turkey

by Inka Piegsa-guischotte

I saw the picture first and I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the image of a baby boy mummy staring at me with wide open blue eyes. It was part of a brochure about the archaeology museum in the fabulous mountain town of Amasya, located about 100 miles south inland from the Turkish Black Sea coast.

I couldn’t wait to rush off and visit the museum and have a closer look at this witness from 1000 years ago who was still looking at the world in this way. I generally have mixed feelings about looking at mummies. Somehow it seems to me as if I am intruding and disturbing the peace of the dead. Mummies are after all neither statues nor paintings, they are well preserved dead bodies of people who once were very much alive and, more often than not, important people, rulers, kings, queens or priests. But, on the other hand, no man made image can convey a real impression of how people looked who have lived such a long time ago and, in the end, curiosity always overrules misgivings.

The first day of my stay in Amasya was dedicated to getting the feel for this amazing town nestled in the gorge of steep mountains and dominated by a towering castle on Harshena mountain, 700 m above sea level and first constructed in the Hellenistic period with alterations and additions ever since. Below it, the rock tombs of kings, illuminated at night, add to the magic of the entire place.

The next day however, I couldn’t resist any longer and went off across one of several bridges which lead over the Green River to the town center and Mustafa Kemal Pasa Caddesi, where the archaeology museum is located and, within the complex, the mummies awaited.

The museum consists of a two-story modern building, just your run of the mill block with nothing remarkable about the building itself. But wait until you get inside!

It’s one of these museums I like best, with just one ring-passage leading along the exhibits, displayed either openly like a big pile of amphorae or behind glass but allowing you to get close enough to see every detail. Few visitors were around and I could stroll at my leisure, admiring Roman coins and gold jewellery, the gold treasure of Saraycik and the world famous statue of Teshup which dates from the Hittite period of the 14th century BC and looks as polished and life- like as if it were created yesterday and many more artifacts from no less than 12 different civilizations which all have left their traces and silent witnesses in the tiny town of Amasya alone.

The first floor is dedicated to the Ottoman period and you can indulge in the luxury of embroidered garments worn by the sultans as well as ‘Tableaux’ which recreate life at the times.

But, where were the mummies? I asked and discovered, that they were treated with respect as the people responsible for the museum seemed to have had the same feelings about the nature of mummies I had.

I leave the museum and enter the adjacent garden which abounds with carved tomb stones and other relics and statues from the Greek and Roman periods. At the bottom is the tomb of Sultan Mesud I, Sultan of the Selcuks and within it the mummies are displayed. Was it their power to remind visitors to be respectful or was the sentiment my fancy? When I entered through the narrow and low doorway to the tomb I violently banged my head. Slightly dazed, I adjusted my eyes in the deep shadows of the tomb and approached the four mummies which belong to a high official and his family of the Ilhan period of the 14th century.

The nazir is surprisingly tall and then there is the baby, blue eyes wide open, little mouth and nose intact but the small body in part destroyed. I wondered what the little prince might have died of but at least it can be concluded from his peaceful expression that we wasn’t suffering any pain.

These mummies have been embalmed and preserved in a very different way from those of Egypt as the organs have not been removed but have been dried with the rest of the body.

May they rest in peace and continue to inform today’s visitor in their own silent way about their times and lives.

Bosphorus Strait and Black Sea Half-Day Cruise from Istanbul

If You Go:

Bring a Turkish phrase book. English is not as widely spoken as in the more touristic areas of Turkey.
Bring good hiking shoes. Otherwise you won’t be able to climb up to the castle.
Try gözleme, a very thin, filling pancake which, in Amasya, is filled with poppy seeds. Amasya is famous for the best apples in Turkey too.
Book a hotel in one of the converted wooden houses along the river. For best views and good value, consult www.booking.com and www.tripadvisor.com for good deals.

Amasya, Turkey in Wikipedia

www.amasya.turkeyhotelstours.com

About the author:
Inka Piegsa-quischotte is an ex-attorney turned travel writer and novelist. She writes for online travel magazines and has two novels and a travel guide to Galicia/Spain published. She lives between Turkey and Miami.

Photo Credits:
First Amasya, Turkey photo by Kaan Özer from Pixabay
All other photographs are by Inka Piegsa-quischotte.

Exploring Bodrum and Fethiye, Turkey

A Turkish Delight

by W. Ruth Kozak

A visit to Turkey is always a delight for me. I’ve been to Istanbul and down the coast to Ephesus and Kusadasi several times. This time, my destination was Bodrum and Fethiye.

My friend and I arrived at Bodrum by ferry from the Greek island of Kos. Bodrum is a beautiful bustling tourist centre. The harbour is dominated by the impressive Castle of St. Peter built by the Knights of St. John. Magnificent yachts from all over the world are anchored there and the sea front is lined with charter and excursion boats.

We found a quiet pension on a back street with chickens, ducks and roosters in the yard, and set off to see the sights. Known in ancient times as Halicarnassus, Bodrum was once famous for the Tomb of King Mausoles, one of the Seven Wonders of the World. The Mausoleum has long since been destroyed (a reconstruction of it is in the British Museum) and fragments of the marble were used by the Knights to build their castle.

Inside the castle grounds peacocks and various exotic fowl strut around the gardens or roost in the trees. The castle is now the home of the world’s only undersea archaeological museum, Turkey’s pride, with a display of cargo and in replicas or actual portions of ships found ‘in situ’ dating from 1400 BC to Byzantine times. The Bronze Age ship finds are the most amazing for here was a ship laden with gifts from a king to a king as some of the artifacts, already antiques when the ship set said, were treasures only to be owned by royalty, including Hittite and Egyptian treasures.

The various towers of the castle also have displays. In the English Tower are suits of armour and artifacts including the replica of “The Sovereign of the Seas” a ship commissioned by King Charles I in the 1600s.

Past the castle, we found ourselves at the east harbour. The atmosphere was like a carnival with laser lights and a cacophony of blaring music from the dozens of discos and café bars that line the waterfront. People jammed together along the harbour stroll, tourists and Turkish families enjoying the sights. I have always been impressed with the graciousness and courtesy of the Turkish people. The behaviour of many of the tourists was in direct contrast. Scantily clad young women gyrated in wild abandon from platforms in front of the clubs, raucous drunks reeled through the crowds. My friend and I beat a hasty retreat back to the more sedate traditional part of town and found a quiet table at a sea-side restaurant.

Dining out in Turkey is a delight, even if it’s at a fast-food donair shop. Food is prepared with great care and served artfully with special attention to spices and garnishes. The waiters “serve’ you elegantly with great attentiveness and gallant manners and are friendly, helpful and courteous to their guests. In addition, prices are so much cheaper than elsewhere in Europe. We tried the fabled Iskendar kebaps (lamb fed on wild spices laid on a slice of pita, topped with tomato sauces and browned butter.)

The next day we took a dolmus (mini bus) to a small fishing village a half hour from the city. Gumusluk Beach is a blue flag beach, though it’s mostly stony. The sea here is jade green, the water calm and shallow. We got beach chairs and umbrellas free for the day courtesy of the beach café where we ate lunch. Considering this is a conservative Muslim country, it was surprising to see some tourist women flaunting bare breasts. They were asked courteously by the waiter to cover up.

Nearby is a village, the site of ancient Myndos, inhabited from prehistoric times to 4th century AD. After the death of Julius Caesar, his assassins, Brutus and Cassius hid out here. In ancient times Myndians mixed their wine with sea water to relax the stomach so they were called “the brine drinkers’. Some house foundations can be seen on the hillside or underwater, accessible to scuba divers.

The next morning we were off again, on a four hour bus trip down the coast through the pine-forested mountains to the beautiful harbour town of Fethiye. The major bus companies and dolmus (mini buses) of Turkey are privatized, consequently each owner/operator is conscientious in their bid for customers. Passengers are provided with various services, making the trip comfortable and pleasant. First we were given lemon-scented hand wash to freshen up for the trip. Next, cold drinking water was offered, then tea or coffee, cake and later soft drinks.

Fethiye is located on a lovely bay strewn with islands. The town is built up the hillside, just below the famous Lycian rock tombs, but there are many sarcophagi in the town itself. The ruins of a crusaders castle crowns the hill, built by the Knights of Rhodes. The rock tombs dominate the town, representing the facades of Doric-style temples cut into the cliff face.

To get to the tombs, we walked through a village on the outskirts of Fethye. Here it is the more traditional Turkey where women are dressed in colourful floral patterned trousers and skirts and head scarves, and men wear crocheted caps.

I had always wanted to visit the Lycian tombs, but by the time we reached the top of the steep slope I was so exhausted from the heat I almost opted not to climb up. Once I’d caught my breath, I knew I had to. After all, I’d waited years for this moment. So up I went, climbing the steep the two hundred steps until I was standing right in front of the most predominant of these marvels, the Tomb of Amyntas, which dates to the 4th century B.C. The magnificent view across the tiled rooftops of the village and town of Fethye to the sparkling turquoise sea made it worth the effort.

On the way back through the village three children greeted is. introducing themselves,and politely shook our hands. They little girl questioned us, asking our names, where we were from, and offered information about the area. She said she’d learned English in school. At the edge of the village the little boy piped up and said “One million, please.” Unfortunately, I’d neglected to bring trinkets from home so we had nothing to offer them and as begging is frowned upon, we thanked them, and went on our way.

Fethiye is a more traditional town then Bodrum. Although there are plenty of tourists about, most of them staying at the out-of-town resorts. Our pension was located on the hillside overlooking the harbour ($24 a night with breakfast). The next morning we sat on the roof terrace which was decorated Turkish style, and were served a delicious traditional Turkish breakfast: boiled egg, cheese, tomato, olives, bread and honey and apple tea. Then we set off to spend our last day at the beach.

We caught a dolmus for the nine kilometer trip to Oludeniz, south of Fethiye at the coast. These dolmuses are mini-vans (15 passenger) privately owned like taxis and they travel all over the place for just $2. or less. We were headed for Oludeniz, the Blue Lagoon, a beach which is hidden from the open sea. But we ended up at the larger Belceky Beach. “Oludeniz” means “Dead” or “Calm Sea.” But the sea at Belceky certainly wasn’t calm. Big rollers crashed in on the pebbly shore. The sea here is absolutely gorgeous, clear turquoise and very warm, located on a bay surrounded by pine-forested mountains. It’s a popular resort with lines of colourful umbrellas and lots of tourists. You can rent sports equipment here and we saw a few brave people plummeting off the cliff in what they call “tandem paragliding” with Turks hanging on their backs (or were they hanging on to the Turks?) There were also a number of parasailers out over the sea. We spend the day frolicking in the waves. Later, at the Oludeniz village bazaar, we watched a traditionally dressed lady rolling out gozleme, a kind of thin pancake, kind of like a crepe but made with dough instead of batter and filled with shredded potato, cheese and onions. We bought some for a delicious snack while waiting for our dolmus.

I would have liked to stay longer in Fethiye, to take the three to four day sailing cruise that is offered down the Turquoise Coast. But that’s something I can look forward to on my next visit, for I will certainly return again. Turkey, to me, is a genuine “delight.”

Private Guided Tour from Bodrum: Ephesus House of the Virgin Mary and Temple of Artemis

If You Go:

BODRUM:
Accommodations: Bodrum fills up with tourists in the high season, so hotels are usually booked ahead. The narrow streets north of the western bay harbour have pleasant family run pensions.

The Castle of St. Peter (Museum of Underwater Archaeology): Open 8.30 – 5 pm except for noon hour, daily except Monday. $5.50 U.S. admission. Glass Shipwreck exhibit and Carian Princess Exhibits: Open 10 -11, 2 -4 pm Monday – Friday only. $2.50 US admission

FETHIYE:
Accommodations: Fethiye has a good selection of budget and mid-range accommodations. Resort hotels are usually booked in advance.

About the author:
W. Ruth Kozak is always intrigued with exotic destinations. She has made several trips to Turkey and this summer hopes to make another. Ruth writes historical fiction as well as travel and to visit these destinations and explore the historical sites she has written about is always a thrill.

Photo credits:
First Bodrum, Turkey photo by Alp Cem from Pixabay
All other photos are by W. Ruth Kozak.

Ancient Ephesus, Turkey

An Afternoon With The Romans

by Chris Millikan

Joining other excited history buffs, my husband, daughter and I leave Kusadasi’s docks and head into Turkey’s arid northwestern hills. As archeology-student guide Tino sets the scene, we roll along a pretty coastline in our comfortable coach, then onward through pastoral countryside dotted with fig and apricot trees, Mediterranean pines and olive groves…

“A major trading center during the mighty Roman Empire, Ephesus prospered between 600 BC and 500 AD,” he begins. “Where the Cayster River emptied into the sea at Harbour Gate, fleets of wooden sailing ships unloaded exotic foreign cargoes and hordes of travelers from afar. Over centuries though, the sea has receded nearly ten kilometers away from that once-flourishing seaport.”

Afternoon sunlight gilds landscapes yellow and gold as we enter Asia Minor’s most sophisticated ancient capital through Magnesia Gate, a key entrance in this city’s heyday. As we explore timeless neighborhoods, Roman life emerges along entire streets reconstructed from rubble; majestic colonnades line marble-paved roadways. Plazas filled with magnificent monuments characterize this once influential city, the majority of which remains buried…

Still marked by an undamaged marble post, the ancient medical center had performed history’s earliest surgeries. And opposite, a Nike marker with the now familiar ‘swoosh’ denotes former temples, replaced nowadays by masses of scarlet poppies dancing in summer breezes.

On down Curetes Street Tino explains, “When over 250,000 people inhabited this magnificent cosmopolitan metropolis, streetlamps shone all along here; countless shops prospered up and down this street.”

Just through the Gates of Hercules, exquisite relics survive time’s ravages: the two-storied Fountain of Trajan’s cascading waters had surrounded polished columns and life-sized statues of Dionysus and Aphrodite; the roofed Odeon hosted small concerts in its theater seating 1500 patrons; an intact stone staircase at the Baths of Scolastika leads to a second floor where networks of hot water pipes had steam-heated communal thermal baths and pools for 1000. One of the city’s best-preserved monuments…and the first made of marble…Hadrian’s elegant Corinthian-style Temple crowns this hill where the wealthiest rulers lived.

Opposite Hadrian’s Temple, terrace houses hint at Roman family life. Known as “houses of the rich,” the oldest dates to the first century BC. Mostly two-stories, gracious living and dining rooms had opened to airy hallways on the ground floor; bedchambers and guest rooms were upstairs. Although they seem plain from outside, intricate mosaics and fascinating frescoes decorated them inside; central interior courtyards were filled with exquisite statuary. Remarkable original mosaics still pave the sidewalks out front…

Even in the worlds of Augustus and Alexander the Great, these privileged citizens enjoyed heating systems. Similar to the steam baths, terracotta pipes under floors and behind walls warmed them; elaborate marble bathrooms featured both hot and cold running water…

The upper Agora had been adorned with ornate fountains and elaborate temples. At one time, the Egyptian Temple of Isis had dominated the center of this roofed gathering place. Surrounded by law courts, official buildings and stock exchange during ancient times, this immense public space would have been alive with shops and eateries of every description. We imagine eminent toga-robed citizens in leather sandals discussing politics, sharing the news of the day or philosophizing endlessly…or even playing backgammon in the shade next to the well-preserved town hall.

The nearby communal baths and toilets demonstrate surprisingly sophisticated sewer systems running beneath the pavements. Pausing ‘to visit’ these public latrines, we discover an unexpectedly large privy! A smooth polished marble ledge provides twenty-five perfectly round holes; sitting there side-by-side, I wonder whether aristocrats of old ever had to line up to get a seat here…

Following Marble Street to the breathtaking Library of Celsus, this two-story structure proves most glorious of all. Exquisitely carved columns soar into sapphire skies, enduring monuments to 2000 year-old artistry. Behind the exquisitely carved front columns, four alcoves held replica statues representing Wisdom, Excellence, Goodwill and Knowledge. At one point, the library held an estimated 12,000 volumes, all hand-written papyrus and parchment scrolls stored in niches around the walls to protect them from humidity. Borrowed manuscripts had to be read in a central on-site reading room flooded with light from upper balconies.

Amusing us with stories of secret underground passages connecting this resplendent library to a luxurious brothel just across the street, Tino winks, “I guess in those days, when guys said they were off to read a few good scrolls in the library…it might mean something else!” Reclining awhile on the timeworn library steps, we let our imaginations run wild, speculating about grand schemes and mysterious intrigues of those days…

From Library Square, the partially excavated lower commercial Agora beckons. Towering marble columns had defined the immense square; along the sides, porticos had sheltered long rows of busy shops, trading markets and cafes; at the center stood a sundial and water clock. Approaching the open-air amphitheatre nearby, I could almost hear chariot-wheels cutting ruts into marble pavements as they ground around the corner…

Those carved grooves remain in the marble roadway near the spectacular amphitheatre. Tino observes, “Built by Greeks, this Great Theatre was the largest of its time, especially important during the annual Festival of Artemis. As well, it became an important religious center for early Christians. Saint Paul regularly preached here before capacity crowds of over 25,000. Arrested for denouncing fertility goddess Diana, some say Paul fought wild animals in the amphitheatre before he was cast out from the city…”

Dwarfed among row-upon-row of smooth stone seats curving upward forever, we cautiously climb steep aisle-steps to what had been a grand columned gallery at the top, over 30 meters from the orchestra. As if auditioning for a chorus or drama, we take turns doing experimental sound checks from the stage below…and are amazed to hear every word spoken or note warbled, even from the loftiest of heights.

Moments later, our daughter reveals a newsy tidbit, “Remember Sting… you know, British rock-musician? Well, this is where he performed in a sold-out concert years ago…I can see why: perfect acoustics…no echoes!”

Parading ourselves back to the bus down the Arcadian Way, we feel a bit like the celebrated Mark Anthony and Cleopatra. During their legendary glory days, they’d ridden here in grand processions, their elegant golden chariots pulled by plumed horses prancing past crowds of passionately cheering Ephesians…

Down the hill outside Ephesus, Tino points out the bus window, “At one time, multitudes of pilgrims flocked to that Temple of Diana, revered Seventh Wonder of the Ancient World. Now derelict, only one column and scanty fragments remain there.”

Not far away, we stop at a humble chapel standing on the site of a little house where the Virgin Mary lived her last days. She is thought to have come to Ephesus with Paul around 37 AD. Tino tells us, “In the 1960’s, Paul VI was the first pope to visit this place. And in the 1980’s, Pope John-Paul II sanctioned this Shrine of Virgin Mary as a Christian pilgrimage place. On August 15th every year, a ceremony commemorates Mary’s assumption.” I learn that Muslims also recognize Mary as mother of one of their prophets and visit this holy shrine…

Returning to the bus, we fill our bottles at the fountain; the water of Mary is said to have curative powers. “And atop that distant hill,” Tino points out, “In the 6th-century, Emperor Justinian built a domed Basilica over Saint Paul’s grave, recognizing his years of preaching at Ephesus…

Though abandoned in the 6th century, Ephesus still attracts pilgrims from far and wide, just as she did over two thousand years ago. Like us, countless travelers trek to the Eastern Mediterranean’s best-preserved classical city where Roman grandeur outlasts time.

Private Tour: Ephesus and St. Mary’s House

If You Go:

• Check out Hello Turkey
• Most tourists visit Ephesus by taking a ferry tour from the Greek islands or mainland Greece, arriving in Kusadasi in the morning and leaving before dinnertime.
• Buses depart Kusadasi for Ephesus every half-hour.
• Some visitors tour Ephesus as part of eastern Mediterranean Cruise ship itineraries.

About the author:
A retired Elementary School Principal living in Delta, BC, Chris Millikan enjoys traveling the province and the world with husband Rick and sharing her tales with others in local newspapers and magazines. Experiencing zany, off the beaten track, historical and cultural adventures for many years, she looks forward to introducing Willamina, her first grandchild, to the wonders of travel.

Photo credits:
First photo of Celus by Salih Altuntaş from Pixabay
All other photos are by Rick & Chris Millikan.

Rubbing Off Luck at a Wedding in Turkey

by Inka Piegsa-quischotte

I was thrilled when I was recently invited to a Turkish wedding. The invitation immediately raised an important question: what gift to take? Tradition requires the guests to give money or gold or both. Luckily, every jeweler has a selection of gold coins, adorned with a red silk bow and a pin for just that occasion. That’s it. No wedding list, no towels or toasters.

As I approached the venue, I was greeted by a crowd spilling over into the nearby park. Plenty of children ran around, ladies stood together, men on the other side. But the separation of sexes didn’t last long.

The bride’s parents don’t spare expenses on the occasion of the wedding. Rich or not so rich, they’d rather starve the rest of the year than bringing shame to the family name by not entertaining and feeding their guests lavishly. Often, professional dancers and musicians are hired. I was greeted by the music from a traditional group from the Black Sea. Within minutes I was a member of the entire happy family and made very welcome. The music stopped and we took our seats at the beautifully decorated tables.

The lights were dimmed, candles were lit and the band struck up a bridal march Turkish version. The door opened and in came the bride, on the arm of the groom, not her father. She wore a white lace dress and veil and a broad red sash. Red is the color of luck and plays an important role in the wedding ceremony.

What was new to me was that the civil marriage took place there and then. A table was reserved for the bride, groom and witnesses and an official from the Town Hall married them. Signatures, cheers and they were husband and wife!

After that came the Dance of the Fathers which is an essential part of every Turkish wedding. The father of the bride and the groom take to the floor and dance around each other accompanied by the claps and cheers of the guests and the music from the orchestra. Everybody gets up from the table and throws coins and bills onto the dance floor. It’s the task of the kids, to scurry around and collect the money.

Then it was time for dinner. We were served a heaped dish of meze, the Turkish starters, followed by lamb shanks which were so tender that no knife was needed to cut them. Baklava and other sweets followed and, of course, no alcohol.

After that, the bride, accompanied by her bridesmaid, made the rounds from table to table to receive hugs, kisses, good wishes. That’s when the gold coins are attached to her sash, gold bracelets clasped on her arms and more money is discretely put into a red lined basket one of her maids carries for just that purpose.

I could already hardly breathe from all that food, when, with another roll of the drums, the wedding cake was rolled in and ceremoniously cut. Each guest got a piece and it would have been extremely rude not to eat it there and then.

Fortunately, after that, we could get some exercise hitting the dance floor. Couples dance together, women with women, men with men, everybody does as they want and has a good time.

The bride had disappeared and returned after half an hour in a traditional Turkish wedding gown and head dress. Gone was the white western dress to be replaced by red, purple and gold, a dazzling sight which evoked all the splendour of 1001 nights. All the ladies all received red scarves to put around their necks and we gathered in a circle around the bride. Her hands were elaborately hennaed and so were ours. Another good luck ritual which was extended to all the female guests as well. Then it was our turn to dance around the bride, wish her good luck, happiness and many children.

A Turkish wedding is a joyous affair. What fascinated us was the combination of modern and tradition, reflected in the change of the bride’s outfit, the traditional dances and the hennaing of the hands.

Close to midnight, the newly weds and their parents said good bye to each guest and we all were given a beautifully wrapped little parcel with a piece of wedding cake in it and decorated with another good luck charm: a tiny evil eye. And the ladies got a small piece of henna to extend the luck.

At first I didn’t dare wash my hands for fear that the good luck would just gurgle down the drain. But, the stuff is quite water resistant and it took several days to fade, despite soap and water. And of course, I had my little piece of henna to renew the good luck whenever I wished.

Turkish Customs:

More information about Turkish Weddings traditions

Istanbul Private Tours

About the author:
Inke Piegsa-quischotte is an ex-attorney turned travel writer and novelist. She writes for online travel magazines and has published two novels and a travel guide to Galicia/Spain. She lives between Turkey and Miami.

All photos are by Inka Piegsa-quischotte.