More on Ephesus and beyond

Ephesus, like Varna and Plovdid before it, was a place in which more than elsewhere I've drunk beer, smoked cigarettes - normally now I smoke none- and socialised with other predominantly young travellers in a 'party atmosphere'. In Ephesus this was because I stayed at the apparently near legendary Attila's Getaway Guest House, 2km from Selcuk next to a quiet village. Equipped with pool, swimming pool, a volley ball court, a late night bar (with chatty English barmaid, Emily), a plethora of organised trips and a regular shuttle service into town, it was nice, as it was in Varna - at Gregory's Getaway hostel - to stay in a place far from the throng of town and yield to the flow of organised hedonistic tourism. In the absence of my wandering MP3 player, it was engaging to listen to western music for a change, too.

But I made a decision not to continue further on the well- oiled backpacker conveyor belt. That circuit of Western Turkey which whisks travellers from Istanbul to Gallipoli to Ephesus to Fethiye, and from there puts them on one of the many boat cruises sailing round the south coast to Olimpos. I can take and enjoy 'hedotourism' (if that can be a word) to some extent but I cannot let it drown me. I'd already flown a flag of defiance at Pergamon by slipping off the system. Here is where it must end, for now.

Apart from the ruins, Ephesus is famous for St. John's tomb and the house where the Virgin Mary lived her declining years, and was buried. Or at least, supposing she was assumed into heaven, it's the place John took her to escape Jerusalem's tensions. Apparently - how do people know this?- it was here John wrote the Fourth Gospel, and to here he returned after writing his epically flambouyant, disconcerting Book of Revelations on the island of Patmos. I'd always thought scholars believed at least two, maybe three, different Johns were involved in the Beloved Disciple- Fourth Gospel- Book of Revelations 'John nexus'. Can we really believe a man who wrote in his Gospel that 'God is light and in him there is no darkness' could have whipped off the lake of fire and brimstone wonderwhirl that the last text of the good book enshrines? Oh well, I don't suppose the modern Ephesians care much about John one way or the other. Unlike his hero, Jesus, he wasn't one of the greatest prophets of the as yet unknown Allah. Whilst immediate followers of the greatest prophet, Muhammad, might qualify for reverence, from the exclusively Christian audience John's tomb gets it seems disciples of silver medal prophets don't qualify. The same can not be said for Mary, however, whom Turkish Muslims, as Meryama, do revere as the mother of the great forebearer of the last of the prophets.

As an aside, the Muslim attitude towards Jesus, and Israel before him, is interesting. It's something I must look into further. Joshua, a cool dude American I met in Pammakale, told me Muslims are supposedly still required to consider the Jews God's chosen people, and for that reason not to hurt them. That was definitely news to me. True or not, it definitely jars with what I understand of the impression some modern Muslims have of the tribe of Judah... ie that they sacrifice children and drink blood and are descended from the devil etc, and should be killed whenever possible.

Another good thing about Ephesus was having time to read Attila's Middle East Lonely Planet guide book which I was fleetingly tempted to steal, and which I would have loved to exchange for either of my Greece or 2003 Eastern Europe Lonely Planets. Reading about Lebanon's absurdly complex politics of the past thirty years was freaky. Even LP, usually adept at simplifying and distilling, was struggling. The book confirmed what I knew, that getting to Lebanon is visa-easy, even though I'd have to fly, and that from there it's much easier to get a Syrian visa. But Greg, a Canadian guy I had a Turkish coffee with and who's just spent a couple of weeks in Eastern Turkey, told me he heard it's straightforward to get Syrian visas after all, for example at the consulate at Urfa. So, as usual on this trip: We Shall See. Bloody visas. Do these visa-chippy countries want us to visit, and spend our ill-gotten gains on them, or not? Well, perhaps not as it happens; and who would blame them: culture sucking vampires as we so often are, turning everything we touch into plastic crap. Cynical, moi? Anyway, what I don't understand is why a country that will certainly grant you a visa anyway - like Armenia, or Syria for example, - can't just sell you one at the border. This way they'll still get their wonga and not discourage travellers who, like me, don't want to go to Ankara, for example, and hang around embassies for a few days.

In Pammakale I stayed in my own Tree house. Tree houses are one of the major draws of Olimpos, so I thought this would make me feel better about skipping the boat cruise from Fethiye. It was fine, apart from one of the steps leading up almost cracking under me, and the fact I had to position my mattress diagonally because my legs were too long.

Pammakale is famous for its white calcium rocks and warm springs that, combined, create luxuriosu pools for paddling and wallowing in. The sheer whiteness of the rock reminded me of the whiteness of the Bolivian salt flats I saw when I was 18. The rocks, called a cotton castle by some, are best visited at dawn or dusk when there are fewer people and the slanting, refracting sun dances off the surfaces charmingly. And so it was. Though it was also by then a bit too cold for me to wallow and gaze at the dying sun, as I'd planned, alas. Above these pools is Hierapolis, on which I touched in my last entry. Lots of Korean tourists in Pammakale, curiously, and more and more French and fewer Kiwis and Ozzies, as I go east.

Lake Eigirdir, where I went next, is a 1000m fresh water lake that is a premium holiday destination for Turks as well as tourists. It was also the weekend, so the place was 'heaving', as it is said. But it retained its astonishing beauty. It was only annoying sometimes to have to move from my seat in the roof top terrace, with its spectacular views, to make way for the many groups my otherwise excellent pension caters to. I met a Australian guy here, called Chris, a hard core traveller whose long hair and breezy, upbeat manner suited him, given he's spent 6 months travelling around India and is later going to Africa and who said anything's better than work, which is only to be done in financial extremis. It seems he does work as he travels though, preferably in Europe where the money's better. His assiduous attention to budgeting seemed appropriate and not at all petty, given his love of the road. After all, as he said 'when the money runs out, you've got to go home' which sounds like it should be some backpacker mantra, if it isnt already. It was interesting to hear of his run in with dengue fever in central India, which very nearly killed him. Like many, even in southern India it seems, he didnt take malaria pills.

According to Chris, the 'only' thing to do in Eigirdir (pronounced 'eh-yeer-deer) is swim in the lake. Well, maybe not the only, but it's what many people do. Curiously though, I didn't, and I'm not quite sure why. It certainly looked enticing enough. The closest I got was when I was out alone in a rowing boat I'd hired off Yesilada. In the tremendous heat of noon, a swim was just what I needed. But not-so-little-old-me wasn't sure he'd be able to get back in again without a capsize. So instead I just dipped the fake Lacoste top I bought in Istanbul into the water and put it on, which worked incredibly well. Returning to harbour, I reversed the boat and rowed awkwardly forward; silly looking but at least it was effective and ensured no collisions.

Afterwards I spent 5 km climbing up a hill to Akpinar, overlooking the town. A third of my brain wondered about hitching a lift but the other two thirds succumbed to my body's desire for some proper exercise at last. It was very rewarding to reach the top and the views of the lake - more beautiful than Lake Ohrid- were better than ever.

It was pleasant and fun to meet English Jenny on my first night, who had to listen to a long speel about my early loves and who joined me in a bout gender philosophising. Earlier we discussed religion, which seemed to interest her (oddly enough?), as I explained how it intrigues me, the larger picture of the differences between the faiths, despite their underlying unities in the face of materialism. She kindly tried to counsel me through the minefield mindfuck of an issue entitled 'What should I do for work' but I selflessly tried to limit the urge to drag her into my complexities.

And now I'm in Konya and soon I watch the dervishes, about whom I've been reading. Here's me in a good mood, wishing you a very fine evening.