Steve Irwin, A Lost Boy, Ancient Ephesus and Real Turkish Coffee - Our 26 hours in Selcuk

We arrived in Selcuk right on dinnertime, and having checked into our perfectly located pension, we headed off for the reputed Ejder Restaurant. We didn’t need to go far. Consisting of 3 tables crammed between a bar where Mehmet cooked the meat and a kitchenette where his wife prepared the (delectable) sides, the dinner felt more like a visit to your Grandparents place. Mehmet made easy conversation while the tv played funny video clips which would result in bouts of laughter (mostly the other guests laughing at Josh’s reactions to the slap-happy clips!) When we got to talking about where we lived, Mehmet dragged out a ledger from a giant stack, instinctively opening it to the page where another Australian had once been. “Do you know Steve Irwin?” he asks with a cheeky smile. “Um...yes,” we play along “we know of him.” Sure enough there were messages and business cards stuck in the book from both Steve and Terri.

After finishing the sword that was the chicken kebab, and a plethora of vegetarian mezzes and casseroles (didnt know which one to order for Josh so we just shared the lot,) we stumbled back out into the wet night and decided to walk the meal off. Again, we didn’t get very far! Standing beneath the aqueduct all lit up – we were under its spell.

What impressed me most was how this town appeared to take ownership of its history, without letting it define it. Modern sculptures stood proudly beside byzantine aqueducts, in a main street where the touristy restaurant strip actually felt like it belonged to a community of people. People here looked relaxed and proud, as if well aware that their ancestors had passed down the gift of history to them, but still busy creating their own gifts for future generations.

We decided against our scheduled visit to Pammukale, and instead added those precious hours to our stay in Selcuk and Istanbul. The bus trips were starting to wear us down and travelling all the way inland only to have to return again did not feel as appealing as spending more time here. Our new plan was to catch the night bus to Istanbul after a full day exploring Selcuk and Ephesus.

We started our morning at the Basilica of St John, where Josh unknowingly merged with a tour group and I spent 8 of the worst minutes of my life searching for him. Having settled down and agreed on some new rules about the number of allowable centimeters he was to be from me at all times, we wandered around, declined the opportunity to buy some authentic ancient (not) coins from a gentleman claiming to be a ‘site manager,’ and quietly observed the final resting place of St John the Evangelist.

Next on our self-guided tour was Ephesus Museum, which houses most of the art discovered in the excavations of Ephesus since 1964. Dodging tour groups, we browsed the many statues, coins, artifacts, and jewelry which werethe missing pieces in the vast archeological jigsaw puzzle we would later walk through at Ephesus itself.

After another visit to Mehmet for lunch, who went out and bought an umbrella on our behalf, we freshened up in our room, arranged a ride out to the excavation site, popped down to a cafe for a game of backgammon (we made the rules up after realiasing none of us knew how to play) and enjoyed our first real turkish coffee.

With our batteries recharged, and despite the lashings of rain that had our driver trying to convince us to postpone our trip to the muddy site, we pressed ahead for Ephesus.

Paying our entrance fee we discovered we were not the only ones crazy enough to slop through the ruins. Tour group after tour group arrived in their buses, each with their own guide spouting facts and figures in languages that were occasionally English. We positioned ourselves outside of earshot (and camera shot), and set forth to take in this piece of history.

With the sunshine now on our backs (again, beautiful timing) we splashed through puddles, climbed up amphitheatres, slipped around on marble, gazed in wonder, posed for photos and attempted to decipher ancient inscriptions until we were finally upon the steps of the Ephesus Library – or what remains of it today. Built in 135 A.D by Julius Aquilla, and named the’ Library of Celsus,’ its facade is an impressive memorial to Julius’ father Celsus, Polemaeanus of Sardis.

After an hour and a half we reached the other end of the site, satisfied at having had our fill of ancient ruins (which Josh had called ‘asian ruins’ until we were finally able to convince him otherwise.) On our walk over to the taxi stand we spotted a shop that made our day - ‘Genuine Fake Watches.’ Hilarious!

Back at the hotel, with our bus tickets sorted and a shower under our belt, we were ready for a good meal. Since our lonelyplanet guide had proven spot on last time, we opted for a meal at the no.2 recommendation. We were not disappointed.

At 9pm we waved off our ever-so-helpful hosts (who had also found a great place to stay for our unplanned extra night in Istanbul) and made our way to the otogar ready for our last big bus trip. This one would get us there at 7am the following day, 10 hours later... 10 hours on a bus with a 7 year old and his constant (and urgent) need to pee. Oh, did I mention the bus had no toilet?

As with every situation that worried me, Josh surprised me with his unexpected ease. When he finally did desperately, urgently, “right now mum!” need to pee, he held on until I had politely requested that the driver make an unscheduled pit stop (something they REALLY don’t like to do). After watering the flowers on the side of the road we were back on our way with hardly anybody noticing. That is, of course, except Josh, who, now free from pain, was asleep in my lap with a smile on his face.