Woke up to giddiness. Thanks to Kiat. And despite being to worst off in terms of drunkenness, I’m the 1st to wake and wash up. Haiz, they are professional lazers in bed. Ha. Anyway, we woke up late for the earliest bus to Selcuk is at 12.30pm. No point waking up early. And hence last night’s frenzy. Ha.
Breakfast is the Turkish standard, but I’ve got no appetite for bread. Merely finished my share of nice and tender tomatoes, cucumbers and hard-boiled duck egg. Can’t help but think that the Turks really know what’s healthy and good.
Took pictures with Murti. And he is really lecherous. All the time wanting the photo he took with Jo on the 1st night. Not to mention his love for Geylang in Singapore. Haiz. And come to think of it, I’ve yet to send him the group photos. I think I should, but out of respect for Jo, maybe I should leave out the one he desired. Hehe. Jo, you gotta thank me big time.
The coach company sent someone to fetch us from the hotel to the otogar. Coach ticket prices are within expectation, I guess any transport into and out of Bodrum costs that much. We set off on time, down the road winding out of the hills surrounding Bodrum. Bye Bodrum, we’ll miss you. And I’ll be back.
The ride to Selcuk was pretty much uneventful, except for a couple of things that happened. My tummy, a little too lousy for my liking, actually felt bloated since breakfast. And the winding road help to release that bloat. Through my mouth. Haiz. But without a history of motion sickness, I can only attribute to last night’s drinks. Kiat, thanks again. The other thing was I had my MP3 player with me. And coincidentally, the song was 沉默的羔羊。Woot. I was listening to one earphone, and Jo the other. And through the final part of the journey, me and Kiat were singing that song with Jo giggling and learning from us. Of course, all other people in front, behind and beside us can help but stare at us. Ha. A heart-tugging song always helps to lift spirits.
Selcuk is a town where the locals LOVE foreigners. Not much difference from Bodrum. They rever us Asians as much as Caucasians. As long as we have cash on us. Ha. Once off the coach, there’s this man from a company called Metro that offers a lot of help. He helped us call our hotel, which had the manager drive down to the otogar to pick us up. He also offered to give us a timetable of coach rides for our next journey to Izmir. Woot. Now we can plan better, without having last minute delays in our plans. I mean, the ride to Selcuk was quite out of the way for we had to leave Bodrum earlier. Well, not that it make much difference now.
At the hotel, we managed to put down all our stuff, and decided to ask the manager for a place to have lunch. We wanted to go to a guide-recommended place, but a staff of his said that’s not really good. And to our shock, he started speaking Mandarin! It’s really both a pleasant shock but also a ‘oh no’ shock. I mean, it’s always heart warming to know someone in foreign lands could speak our mother tongue. But then, it also means we cannot really speak in ‘code’, ie in Mandarin and hoping Turks do not understand. Well, he recommended a restaurant right beside his hotel. It serves Turkish pizzas. Thinking about it, we had yet to have Turkish pizzas despite ordering in Bodrum. They always reply that they don’t have it yet due to the tourist season yet to arrive. Now we get to eat it.
Actually, the prices there are really reasonable. An all-mixed pizza for 4 YTL is really cheap. Not to mention the servings are pretty huge. And flavours are pretty varied as well. But the most interesting thing is their waiter, a young boy probably at the age of 14 years. He’s well-dressed in shirt and pants and tried to take our orders. And after our meal, he even offered complimentary drinks. All the more reason to tip him. Given his age, the chef making the pizzas in front of us is probably his dad, and everyone helps in the family business. Wow. Actually that’s not very rare. Come to think of it, I start helping my dad man his renovation outlet at the age of 13. Though I really know shit at the time. Haha.
After lunch, it was about 4 I think. And St John’s basilica is nearby. Our next stop. As we walked up the hill, there was a man who suddenly said hi and started to talk to us. He even offered to walk us to the castle behind the basilica, saying it’s along the way to his home. Going home at 4. Tells a lot about how much they are working. Haha. But people here are really friendly, Singaporeans are comparatively more snobbish. Haiz. When will we learn to have such service?
Entry into the basilica isn’t free. And not even our ISICs helps. Well, it’s just 2 YTL. Not that much anyway. The 1st thing that impressed us was the existence of this particular stone set in the west end on the basilica. At first, we were wondering what it really was, coming to the conclusion that it probably is part of the ruin. However, on closer examination, Kiat realised it actually represents a 3D map of the surrounding hills, and even the Temple of Artemis. WOW. That’s an interesting revelation. And I think the tourism board is pretty creative in doing such a thing.
After getting is, we realised that everywhere is full of ruins. From broken marble to half-erect pillars and the restored altar, everything is pretty much where they were supposed to be, with exception from some missing pillars and overhead cover. Vegetation was growing in the wild in all places, there were even an entire patch of tall wheat swaying in the wind. Can’t help resist but ask Jo to help me take a photo of me in the swaying wheat. And undoubtedly, she wanted one too. And all this while Kiat was missing. While we were wondering, we suddenly heard a shout. He actually managed to climbed up one of the gigantic pillars! And we don’t even know how he did it. Ha. He could really get down very much by himself, and I had to guide his footing down the pillar. Haha. And one thing is for sure, St John’s basilica is a very good place to take emo pictures. Haha. And shamelessly, me and Kiat took quite a lot. We almost woke St John up from his sleep, with 沉默的羔羊. Haha. Cant help but sing that emo song with emo posing in the middle of a emo place in the emo afternoon. Woot. Before I forget, this was where we shot a ‘See no evil, hear no evil, speak no evil’ shot. Haha.
But the highlight for me was actually the Temple of Artemis. To marvel at this wonder is like another pilgrimage for me. Haha. And it is BIG. Very BIG. Comprising 127 pillars, and with each pillar spanning approximately 2 metres across the diameter, I don’t have to elaborate too much on its size. I already did. And these pillars surround a few healing pools then said to be blessed by Artemis, goddess of healing. And the biggest of these pools, located right outside the temple, spans a few basketball courts. Now it’s infested by water snakes and tortoises. As said, there’s only 1 surviving pillar left and it’s constructed from bits and pieces found in the site. Not to mention the existence of a bird nest situated right on top of the pillar. Nice touch, but not quite appropriate.
I supposed the unforgettable thing for me at the Temple were the salespeople, which were also locals. According to the person, they and their fathers were excavators at the Temple of Artemis and nearby Ephesus. They need cash urgently but local museums do not pay them for coins which they excavated at these archaeological sites. Hence they resorted to selling these coins in the Temple grounds to tourists instead, hoping that we would buy. I think the best thing I could do is to replicate our conversation as below:
Local 1: 1 coin for 20 YTL. There’s Mausolos, Artemis, Roman, Greek, anything you want.
We just walked away.
10 minutes later, local 2 came to me. He showed me 5 coins.
Local 2: Friend, all 5 for 10 YTL.
Me: What?!
Local 2: All 5 for only 10 YTL. Take it.
Me: All 5? Ok, 5 YTL.
Local 2: Give me 7 YTL for it.
Me: Ok.
I handed them a 10 YTL note, and asked for change. Then local 1 came back to me.
Local 1: 1 coin for 2 YTL. You don’t have this coin. Artemis. Only 2 YTL.
Me: No, no. I only want my money. I guess they wanna to dig more money out of me.
Local 2: How about bookmarks? We don’t have 3 YTL change. Only 1 YTL. Bookmarks for 2 YTL. How?
Me: No, I only want my money. No change, then I want my money back. pointing to my 10 YTL note.
Local 2: You see you made everyone look for change for you. And all the locals are indeed frantically looking for change to give me.
Local 1: Friend, 2 YTL for a coin only. Only 2 YTL.
Me: 1 YTL.
Local 1: No, 2 YTL.
Local 2 hands me my 3 YTL change, I hand 1 YTL to Local 1.
Local 1: No, 2 YTL.
I hand over another 0.50 YTL coin, and Local 1 shakes his head.
Local 1: No, 2 YTL.
Me: Alright, I make you as a friend, I give you 2 YTL.
And I walked away laughing, with Kiat can’t stop laughing as well. Jo seems resigned to my battering and bargaining. After that, Kiat commented that he knows I gonna start playing with the locals about the deal when I said ‘what’. Haha. He really knows me best. And he knows that if I don’t play the trick on the locals, I’ll regret it. Well, old ancient coins for 9 YTL. Even if they are fake, it still makes good souveniors. But I’ve a feeling they’re not. Woot. British Museum, I need your help. Heex.
*Update: So far I've identified 2 of the coins as dated back to Alexander the Great and a Greek people known as Syracuse. For the Alexanderian coin, only the shape differs. As for the Greek coin, only it's un-cleaned state differs. Awaiting British Museum's autentication.*
Dinner was settled to be at a local restaurant. And there seems to be quite a number of Caucasians. Well, can’t go wrong I guess. The waiter directed us to sit under Kiat’s favourite, an orange tree. Food here is pretty good, but the most interesting thing is the manager himself. In serving us, we actually enquired what aubergine is. And it seems that Turks don’t have another English name for it. In desperation, the manager went into the kitchen and came out a minute later, holding a eggplant to our surprise and laugh. Ha. Today, despite me not feeling too well, gave me a lobang and a worthy dinner. Woot.
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