Turkish Muse

How To Plan a Trip Within Turkey

It's easy enough to find information about traveling to Istanbul or Cappadocia but what about to Urfa, Batman or Mardin?

It can be a bit more complicated to plan a trip outside major cities and tourist areas, but that doesn't mean it's impossible. Knowing a few tips and tricks can help you plan a trip in Turkey. We're going to Mardin next weekend for Newroz, so I'm going to use that city as an example as to how I go about planning a trip here in Turkey.

Buy plane tickets directly from an airline's website.

Unlike when buying international tickets, it's always best to buy a domestic flight ticket directly from the airline. There's no use in using Kayak or Momondo here; their rates won't be any cheaper. And you will always get a cheaper ticket from an airline's website than if you go to their offices in Taksim or Sultanahmet.

There are five airlines I check -- Turkish Airlines, Atlas Jet, Pegasus, Sun Express and Onur Air -- but I only fly regularly with the first two and only occasionally with the third. I know for a fact that THY flies to Mardin, so I go there first. Tickets to Mardin are cheap -- 29 TL for each leg of the trip (with a stop-over in Ankara) -- adding up to a total of 326 TL for two people. (I have since learned that Pegasus flies direct from Izmir to Mardin, but I didn't know that until after I purchased my THY tickets).

Call, don't email, hotels.

For hotel recommendations, I turn to my trusty Lonely Planet Turkey guidebook, in this case, the 11th edition, published in April 2009. About 75% of the time, I choose my hotel accommodation according to the Lonely Planet guidebook. If the city is small, like Mardin, it's more likely that I'll make a hotel choice based on my guidebook; if the city is larger, I'm more likely to ask friends for hotel recommendations.

In Mardin's case, it looks like the Erdoba Hotel is my best bet. Mardin's not known for inexpensive hostels (the way that, say, Selcuk is) so if I'm going to pay like a king I figure I might as well sleep like one too. I know from experience that sending an email through a hotel's website often gets me absolutely nowhere in Turkey, so I pick up the phone and call. Here's where speaking a little bit of Turkish comes in handy; most hotel receptionists outside of large cities don't speak English and if they do, they'll quote you prices in dollars or euros. I ask about the price of a double room for March 19-22. The nightly rate is 150 TL, I'm told.

I balk at the price and on a whim decide to ask my friend, a travel agent, if she can get me a better rate. In the meantime, I also call up the Artuklu Hotel and they tell me a room will be 140 TL. I decide to hold out on Erdoba.

A week passes and it turns out my friend can't get me a better rate. By the time I call Erdoba back, the rate has gone up to 180 TL. Sigh. Time to turn to my second choice, the Artuklu Hotel. At this point, they're charging 160 TL a night. I bite my tongue and book a room for three nights. Next time, I tell myself, I'll do it early and I'll do it myself.

The internet is your friend.

My guidebook gives me a basic overview of Mardin (population, exact location, a general description) and offers up a brief history. The book also offers a list of sights -- the famous bazaar, Ulu Cami, the Mardin Museum, Sultan Isa Medresesi, Forty Martyrs Church and the Kasimiye Medresesi, to name a few.

I then turn to the more updated Lonely Planet web page about Mardin. Can you tell that I have a thing for Lonely Planet? The info online is sometimes different than what is presented in the book, so I usually look here for updates. In the case of Mardin, though, Lonely Planet's website doesn't offer anything different than what's in my guidebook; in fact, it had a lot less information (which makes sense because they want you to buy the guidebook, not use their free website for everything).

While I'm on the Lonely Planet website, I jump over to its Thorn Tree travel forum, a place where travelers can post questions and answers about their trips and experiences. I do a search for Mardin and see what pops up. Most of the questions have to do with accommodation, which apparently is on everyone's mind because Mardin doesn't offer much in the way of budget lodging. The forum doesn't help me much.

Every now and again I'll check out Tom Brosnahan's Turkey Travel Planner. At the bottom of the page, I plug "Mardin" into the search box and away we go. I learn on this site that the Saffron Monastery, a holy place in existence since 495 AD and now an orphanage run by monks, is the city's number-one attraction. I definitely add this to my to-do list. Sometimes I also visit All About Turkey to see if there's anything there I haven't seen elsewhere.

Social media is also your friend.

After that I post a message to Twitter and Facebook saying that I'm heading off to Mardin. No, it's not to boast -- well, maybe a little -- but to ask if anybody has recommendations or tips regarding hotels (you never know), restaurants, museums and the like in Mardin. That's how I find out that Cercis Murat Konagi is not to be missed. Another friend sends me the link to this Syrian wine house in Midyat, so we're totally going to check that out.

At this point, I figure, I'm as prepared as I can be. I know how I'm getting there, where I'm sleeping and what I'm going to do. The rest will come easily and naturally while I'm there.

Provided that nobody makes ME jump over a flaming fire, it's going to be a great trip!

What about you? How do you go about planning for a trip in Turkey? Do you have any secret tips and tricks? Do share please!

*Note: Not one of the websites mentioned above -- including Lonely Planet, THY, or the Erdoba or Artuklu hotels -- know who I am or care about this website. I wasn't paid to write about them and they wouldn't care if I keeled over tomorrow. Just an FYI.

What I've Missed Out On

I'm the oldest of all the kids on my mother's side of the family -- there are 8 of us -- although I guess one could argue that I am no longer a kid seeing as how I am 27, married and living under my own (rented) roof. But still. My Grandma thinks I'm still a kid, so I guess that counts.

I was the first kid among us to graduate to the adults' table at Thanksgiving and I'm the one who babysat all the younger ones on Saturday nights. I'm the cousin who organized the Easter egg hunt at Grandma's house and set up a kids' crafts table at holiday parties.

Truth be told, I always preferred hanging out with my punk cousins even though I am more than a decade older than some of them.

See that kid on the right? That's my cousin Dustin, and actually he's not a kid anymore. He's going to be 21 in June and is planning to come to Izmir this May and spend a few months with Jeff and me. I really can't wait.

I remember distinctly the day his parents, my aunt and uncle, brought him home from the hospital. I remember how small he was and how, even though I was only 7 years old, they let me hold him in my lap. This summer, I'm going to introduce him to raki.

 

In the middle there is my cousin Annabella, Dustin's sister, with me and my mom. The last time I saw Annabella, two and a half years ago, she was still a kid. Now she's the hippest young lady I've ever seen, sporting pink hair and knee-high boots. I was totally not that cool when I was 14.

And I remember babysitting her when she was just an infant. But don't worry. I didn't bring that up. No hipster teenager wants their cousin reminding them that they used to change their diaper. That's not what cool cousins do.

 

See my cousin Brittney, on the far left? She's as tall as I am now. She's smart and funny and asks good questions and is learning how to drive.

And that kid on the far right, Cody, Dustin's brother? The last time I think I saw him was at my wedding almost four years ago when he sprayed an aerosol can onto my friend's head while he was on the toilet.

For some reason Cody thought it would be funny to stand on the toilet, lean over the stall and spritz my friend with some lemony air freshener.

But don't worry. I'm allowed to tell you this. Cody and I made amends last week when he apologized. I told him not to worry about it. You were a different person, I said.

And he was. All of my cousins were different people the last time I saw them. While I was here in Turkey, traveling, going to work, doing my thing, they were all growing up, coming into their own, becoming real human beings.

Speaking of which .. That guy on the right is my little brother Brandon. And yes, I know, he's not so little anymore. He's married. And 24 years old. My kid brother. The lovely lady sitting to his right is his wife Erin.

If I let myself think about it too much, I miss my family very, very much. So I don't think about it too much. It's easier that way.

But after having seen them, hugged them, laughed with them, loved them, I miss those darn kids now more than I ever have.

Travel To Do List

By the time you read this blog post, I will be high in the sky somewhere above Bulgaria, about one hour into an 11-hour flight to JFK airport in NYC. I had a lot of work to do to prepare for this 10-day trip to the US and it took me nearly all of a week to get it all done.

There were gifts to buy and wrap, laundry to do and the house to clean, dry cleaning to take in, cat food and litter to stock up...some days last week, in fact, just felt like one long to-do list -- every time I checked something off, I added another item.

But I did all of these things so that in the US I could rest easy in the knowledge that everything at home was taken care of and I had nothing to worry about. And I will certainly rest easy knowing that Lou and Andy don't have cat AIDS.

Last June I talked about how to pack for a trip, but I'm curious to hear about your other pre-departure rituals. What kinds of things do you do before heading out the door?

My list is pretty constant. Here it is:

Arrange care for cats.
Stock up on cat food and cat litter, enough at least to last the caregivers while we're gone.
Clean out the litter box.
Empty garbage and take out the trash.
Clean out the refrigerator.
Turn off computers (in case of an electrical outage).
Either clean house or arrange for house cleaner to come in while we're gone. I hate coming home to a messy house.
Turn down the heat (in winter); turn off the AC (in summer).

What about you? What's on your to-do list before you travel?

On Going Home Again

A little more than a week from today -- next Tuesday, February 9, to be exact -- I will begin the arduous, 14-hour journey to the US where I will spend 10 days visiting family.

I have many mixed feelings about this trip. On the one hand, I am looking forward to seeing my family, some of whom I have not seen for two and a half years, and on the other hand, I am dreading the travel time it requires to get from Izmir to Istanbul to New York City to Connecticut to central Pennsylvania to Philadelphia to New York City again to Istanbul to Izmir.

All in 10 days.

Gug.

Unlike some of my other expat friends, I don't get back to the US very often. In the two and a half years that we have lived in Turkey, Jeff and I have gone back once, in August 2008, when he defended his dissertation in Philadelphia. Our immediate families have all come to visit us at least once during the time we've been here, and for that reason, it has not been particularly pressing that we get back.

But it only seemed fair that we go back now because, after all, it's been a year and a half since we've last been. Plus, February is when Jeff has his semester break from school and airfare to the US is much, much cheaper now than it is in the summer months, when I would much prefer to spend my holiday in Cesme than the eastern seaboard. Sorry, Pennsytucky, but you got nothing on the Aegean.

There are some things about the US -- other than seeing family -- that I am sincerely looking forward to. Mexican food, for example. Indian food. Pubs. Stocking up on tampons and Tylenol at Target. And visiting some of our favorite old haunts in Philadelphia, where I plan to gorge on shopping and drinking and eating for 48 whole hours.

There is really not much that I miss about the US. Forgive me if that sounds flip or cruel, but it is true. Although sometimes I do get frustrated with Turkey and sometimes I do romanticize life elsewhere (although usually my fantasies take place in the UK or France, not the US), I really do like Turkey. If I didn't, I would hightail it outta here in a heartbeat.

I sometimes wonder if I am an anomaly among expats, like I should be really, really excited to go home all the time every time.

I am wondering how you all feel about going "home", wherever that may be. Do you go back every chance you get? Are you always excited to go back? Or are you conflicted about it like I am?

Hotel Review: Hotel Grand Kervansaray

While I'm on my way to Mardin this morning to spend the weekend celebrating Newroz and drinking Assyrian wine, I thought I'd take a look at my favorite south-eastern city (so far), Diyarbakir, and the hotel we stayed at while we were there recently.

Though we had a choice between staying with our friend Ümit's uncle in Diyarbakir or even his family in Batman during our trip to the south-east this winter, Jeff and I opted instead to spend two nights at the Hotel Grand Kervansaray*, a 500-year-old hotel along the Silk Road near Diyarbakir's old city walls.

We reserved two rooms at the hotel, one for us and one for Ümit, and paid 380 TL (a steep discount) for the privilege. For the price, and given the hotel's history, I expected much more than what we received. In the end, I walked away somewhat disappointed.

My thinking in reserving the rooms was, we can stay in a four- or five-star hotel or a cheap hostel anywhere; why not join the ranks of thousands of people who have slept under the roof of a basalt stone han (inn) along the Silk Road? Sounds cool, right?

The rooms are small and spartan, which really isn't a big deal because of the hotel's spacious inner courtyard. However, the courtyard looks like it's seen better days and wasn't exactly user-friendly, despite the unseasonably warm weather we had.

During our stay, the restaurant was closed for renovations, thereby closing off any indoor public space where we could hang out or eat. Ümit, whose family owns the largest restaurant in Batman, pointed out that for a hotel of its caliber, the smarter thing to do would have been to wait until summer to restore the restaurant because, even though the hotel would be busier, at least people could sit outside.

Even though the restaurant was closed, the kitchen was still open, although it could only make one thing: sac tava. And it turned out that that was a-ok because it was absolutely stupendous. Sac tava means "metal pan" in Turkish and that's exactly what this spicy medley of diced meat, tomatoes, onions and peppers is cooked on.

A specialty of the region, this dish, served still sizzling with a big plate of just-baked pide, was hands down the highlight of the hotel. Just be sure to ask how much a plate of this goodness is before ordering. Prices seem to, uh, vary.

As I mentioned, the rooms are on the small side, but they do hold these gems:

Kilims as curtains! How cool is that? I've seen kilims used as carpets, draped over chairs and sofas, hung on walls but never have I seen one used indoors as window dressing!

Unfortunately, all told, I think that the hotel is banking on its reputation as one of the oldest hotels in Turkey, and the glowing recommendations it receives from travel guides.

Am I glad I stayed there though? Hells yeah.

Would I stay there again? Nope.

*I will point out here that nothing you read on the hotel's website is true: the prices are wrong, no triple rooms exist and don't even think about sending an email. If you want to make a reservation, you'll have to call.

Back to Diyarbakır

A leading travel guidebook says that Diyarbakır is often considered rough around the edges, and I couldn't agree more. The south-eastern Anatolian city on the banks of the Tigris River is the stronghold of the Kurdish population -- indeed, it is often considered the unofficial capital of Kurdistan -- and has been known since the 1980s as a city wracked by violence and brutality.

Things have quieted down in the past several years, although battles between Kurds and the Turkish police still exist (as they did last Sunday when we were in town).

But, and I say this with all seriousness and not at all flippantly: you shouldn't let that stop you from visiting.

Diyarbakır is a city unlike any other that I've seen, though I should point out here that it's only one of three cities in south-eastern Turkey that I've ever stepped foot in. It's got a vibe that's different from neighboring cities like Batman or villages like Hasankeyf. It's got a vitality and an energy that shines through the dirt and the grime that fills in the cracked sidewalks and lodges itself in between cobblestones.

But scratch away at the surface of the city just a little bit, make a small effort to speak to people in shops and restaurants, and you will find that there is much more to this city than first meets the eye.

 

 

 

 

There's lots to do in Diyarbakır, but the city doesn't sell itself as a tourist destination as well as some others (see: Cappadocia). That's a real shame, though, because a discerning traveler who is willing to take a chance on Diyarbakır will walk away with an appreciation of life here and maybe even a new friend or two.

The city has had a long and storied history, and now only churches linger as reminders of its once-vibrant Armenian and Christian population. My favorite of such places is the Surpagab Kilisesi. Despite the roof caving in and a lack of general upkeep, the church is hauntingly beautiful....

 

The best way to explore Diyarbakır, I think, is to wind your way through its labyrinth of cobblestone streets to admire the stone houses and hidden churches and mosques.

 

It's hard to visit a place like Diyarbakır and come to terms with the fact that this place is still Turkey. A very different Turkey than the one you see in Istanbul or Antalya, yes, but Turkey nonetheless. That's why the city is totally worth a stop on a trip through the country.

Unfortunately, it's not just tourists who need convincing that Diyarbakır is worth visiting. At the hotel we stayed in, Jeff was chatting with an employee who asked him what we were doing there.

"Geziyor musunuz?" he asked. ("Are you traveling here?")

"Evet," Jeff said. ("Yes.")

"Neden?" the employee asked. ("Why?")

A tip: There are lots of kids on the street selling tissues and begging for money, much more than in Istanbul. Carry plenty of one-lira coins to buy some tissues from them (which you'll likely need since every toilet in the city is a la turka) or put candies in your pockets to give them. Life is hard here, not least of all for the dogs and cats roaming the streets. They don't have it anywhere as easy as their Cihangir counterparts do. Last time I was in Diyarbakir, I brought a big bag of dry cat food in my purse to give to the street cats. It helps lessen the pangs I feel in my heart when I see those poor creatures if I can give them some food.

Finding Friends in Unlikely Places

If you looked just on the surface, it would be understandable for you to wonder why we have become such good friends with Ümit Kızılırmak.

To be sure, there are a lot of differences between him and us.

He is a devout Muslim, for example, and prays four times a day, only skipping the early morning prayer.

He doesn't drink booze. One of the few things he knows how to say in English is "I am Muslim. Boycott alcohol."

Ümit doesn't speak English, which means we speak Turkish together and sometimes Kurdish. Well, he speaks Kurdish and we go "huh?"

He reads crazy conspiracy theories on the internet. He refuses to buy a cell phone with wireless capability because he believes those phones have more radiation in them and thus, will give him cancer. (I would tell him to read this, but I don't think he would believe it.)

Ümit doesn't like cats. At all. He thinks it's sweet that I carry a bag of cat food in my purse to feed random street cats but probably thinks I'm crazy nonetheless. But when he comes to visit us for a week in May, I think he'll change his tune when he meets my four cats.

But for all that....for all the surface differences and the language barriers and the cultural misunderstandings....

For all that, somehow, we have become really good friends. And if you ever meet Ümit, you'll know why.

He is one of the most generous and altruistic people I have ever met. I've met some very generous people living in Turkey, but Umit and his family by far take the cake.

Ümit is open minded about a lot of things in ways that a lot of people here are not. True, he does have staunch views about some things (see above), but for the most part, he doesn't make assumptions or jump to conclusions.

In a lot of ways, some similar, some not so similar, we three know that we are foreigners in this land and don't quite fit in with the status quo.

We learn from each other. Ümit teaches us about Kurdish folk music and dancing and explains cultural nuances to us that we don't understand. We, in turn, tell him about life in Philadelphia and what Christmas means to us.

Really, when you think about it, we're friends for the same reason that you become friends with anybody. It doesn't get any more complicated than that.

How to Buy a Turkish Carpet: Lesson 1

I stink at poker. I'm really, really bad at lying. I squeal when I see something I like, wrinkle my nose at something that smells bad and immediately start proclaiming my love for anything that tastes good.

I just can't help it. My tendency is to be as honest as possible, to say it straight, get it out there, let the world know how I feel.

This has led to several hilarious incidents that Jeff and I still laugh over, like the one time several years ago when I was working as a ballroom dance teacher and my colleagues and I went into a Ben & Jerry's in Philly to have ice cream.

Before I tell you the story, let me say this: I notoriously confuse the flavors Chunky Monkey -- a most disgusting combination of banana ice cream and fudge chunks and walnuts -- and Chubby Hubby -- glorious fudge-covered peanut butter-filled pretzels in vanilla ice cream with fudge and peanut butter. It is -- if you don't count Turkey Hill's Tin Roof Sundae -- The Best Ice Cream on The Planet.

What does this have to do with Turkish carpets? you ask. I'm getting there!

Anyway. So we go into the store and I order Chunky Monkey because I get confused. Don't they sound the same to you? They sound the same to me. I seriously think the people at Ben & Jerry's need to rethink this.

So the teenage girl behind the counter gives me a small cup of Chunky Monkey -- which, have I pointed this out?, is the most disgusting thing ever -- and I start going to town on this ice cream.

And I'm putting the first spoonful in my mouth and I realize, hey, wait a minute. Where's the peanut butter? There's fudge in here but there are no pretzels.

Then, is that a walnut? What the f*&k? It's banana!

Immediately, I start going apeshit.

"OH MY GOD. What IS this? This is disgusting. No seriously, it's gross."

My colleagues turn to look at me in horror. Out of the corner of my eye, I see my friend's husband back away from me.

"No seriously, you guys, I don't know what this is but it's disgusting. Like really gross. Ewwww...I can't even believe it. Are you sure this is Chunky Monkey, because it really doesn't taste like it."

The girl behind the counter asks me what I was expecting and when I tell her she says, "Oh, you wanted the Chubby Hubby."

"YES, that's it. Of course, Chubby Hubby. Isn't that what I said? What is this anyway? It's gross."

As if she didn't already know that.

So you can see how I am. It's not just with bad stuff too. It's with good stuff. I walk into a pazar (market), find something I absolutely love and think MUST HAVE THIS ITEM and immediately start squealing in delight. And then of course the price of said item goes up about 500%.

Now do you see what this has to do with carpets?

This happened right before Halloween when a friend of mine and I spent all day visiting those fake jewelry shops (a bijuteri in Turkish, I think) for a boa for my 1920s flapper costume. Don't ask -- long story. Anyway, the 12th -- 12th!! -- store we went into had one and I simply could not help myself. I squealed, I giggled in delight, I think I may have jumped up and down. My friend (Hi, Cherie!) stood by in horror. When I asked how for the price, the sales woman, whom my friend said exchanged a knowing glance with her colleague just a second earlier, said, "26 TL."

26 lira for a stinkin' boa. Needless to say, I didn't buy it.

Anyway. All of this is to say that Jeff and I are back in Diyarbakir today to visit our lovely friend Umit and I have big plans to buy a carpet. Or rather I have plans to buy a big carpet.

And I must, simply MUST keep a straight face when bargaining with the salesman. The minute your facial expression conveys any kind of pleasure or interest in something, not only do you risk only being shown items similar to it, you also jack up the price.

You see how this is very hard for me. I can't help but look at a carpet and go "OOOOO, PRETTY!!"

Last January when Jeff and I were in Diyarbakir and bought a few smaller carpets, Jeff played the straight man to my "OH MY GOD I LOVE IT" persona. Of course, having our friend Umit there, who speaks both Turkish and Kurdish, also helped a little bit. Okay, it helped a lot, which is why we haven't bought a carpet all year and have been waiting to go back to Diyarbakir so that Umit could help us again.

During all our negotiations, this is the facial expression Jeff tried to play to counter balance me:

It basically says "Yeah, I'm drinking your tea and I'm even semi-interested, but since I'm the one with the wallet, don't listen to my wife. And she sure as hell ain't buying the most expensive carpet in here."

Shopping with Umit was a real learning experience for me. I can drink the tea, I can muhabbet sohbet (chit chat) with the best of them, but I really need help in the negotiating department (see: how I bought my Birkenstocks). I'm really hoping that this weekend I can pick up some good tips.

Or at the very least, come home with an awesome carpet worthy of going "OH MY GOD I LOVE IT."

Sirince, or, New Hope, Turkey

When I was living in Philly several years ago, I often drove north for day trips to a small town called New Hope along the Delaware River. The little borough in Bucks County is known for its antique shops, art galleries, handmade jewelry and small theatre. It's a lovely place for a day trip, and as it was an hour away for both my mother and I, it was the perfect place to meet up.

I have many very fond memories of New Hope. It's where I showed off my engagement ring for the first time after Jeff and I got engaged, invested in my first piece of turquoise jewelry, and ate the best pumpkin soup I have ever had in my life. Nearly five years later, I still remember that soup.

The small town, over the several years that I occasionally visited, continued to lose a teeny part of its charm almost every time I went. First a Starbucks moved in, then my favorite clothing store closed, then the prices of all the handmade jewelry started to shoot up.

In that sense, Sirince reminds me a lot of New Hope, PA. A small village just outside of Selcuk, Sirince is known for its fruit wines, olive oil and gozleme. What used to be a quiet spot about 10 minutes from Selcuk is now a bustling village popular with both foreign and domestic tourists.

We went, of course, for the wine, knowing full well that it was likely going to be mediocre and completely unimpressive. We learned our lesson from going to Urgup in Cappadocia, where it is also said that the wine is lovely. And indeed, the wine in Sirince was completely unremarkable. Most of it tasted like grape juice with rubbing alcohol poured into it. Our expectations were, therefore, met

But nonetheless, we did have an oh so lovely time. We walked the village's winding narrow streets, we shopped for leather bags and handmade textiles, we ate sugary syrupy doughnuts fresh out of the oil, and yes, we did partake of the wine.

And we ate lunch at what is supposed to be Sirince's best restaurant, but next time I think I'd rather have a 4 TL gozleme.

As you can see, Jeff was not my only dining companion.

Despite the throngs of tourists that arrive in the afternoon on their "Authentic Turkish Village" tours and despite the god awful wine, Sirince really is a sweet place to visit. And I have a suspicion that we have just scratched the surface of what the little town has to offer.

*To get to Sirince from Izmir: Take the local minibus to Selcuk (7 TL, 1 hour) from the upper level of the Izmir otogar. From the Selcuk otogar, catch a local minibus to Sirince (2.50 TL, 10 minutes). The last minibus from Sirince back to Selcuk leaves at 6pm, so don't miss it or you'll pay 30 TL for a cab to take you back!

Efes, the Second Time Around

I fell completely in love with Efes the first time I visited the ancient Roman city. It was the year 2000, I was 17, and I was on a 10-day tour of the South Aegean and the Mediterranean region with fellow exchange students when we stopped for a few hours at Efes.

It was, and still is, way better than Troy. Efes (Ephesus in English) gives you such a vivid picture of what life was like nearly 2000 years ago for the ancient Romans during the first few centuries AD.

Can't  you just see the politicians bickering over policy and law in the Odeion (theatre) next to the Agora? Just like today!

I bet they walked along the Stoa Basileios (Royal Walk) every day, debating policies, discussing right and wrong, deciding justice.

Imagine yourself walking down Kuretes Street, flanked on each side by tall marble columns with statues of important emperors on stop. Along the way, you would pass markets, pubs, restaurants and shops. (That's us in the bottom right!)

You'd pass gorgeous fountains with fresh running water, like the Fountain of Traianus....

And the Temple of Hadrianus...

And can't you just imagine yourself entering the fine Library of Celsus and checking out a book? I think I'll read the classics, you'd say. Or something like that.

Of course, not everything in Efes is noble and all-important. Can you guess what these were for?

It's a public latrine! Hee hee....I guess I really am just a kid at heart.

And how I would have loved to catch a play or an opera showing in this theatre...

*To get to Efes from Izmir, take a minibus from the Izmir otogar's second level to Selcuk (7 TL, one hour). From the otogar, take a taxi to the southern entrance (guney kapi) of Efes (15 TL, 5 minutes). Entrance is 20 TL, plus an additional 15 TL to see wealthy residents' homes (not pictured). Reserve at least three hours to see the entire site. When you reach the end, either walk the 3 km back to the Selcuk otogar or take a taxi (15 TL, 5 minutes).