Cotton Castles in the Air

It was a long three-hour bus ride from Selcuk to Pamukkale. An interminable procession of low mountains, small towns and cities, and fields. But it wasn't all boring. There were friendly local passengers who tried to strike up conversations and one who actually gave a gift (even though we were just about complete strangers!) And then there was the shining white top of Pamukkale glistening in the distance. It looked somewhat like a huge dollop of toothpaste accidentally squeezed onto that part of the mountains by a giant. Or a huge layer of icing sugar, perhaps.

There used to be a large Roman city and health centre on the top of the Pamukkale plateau: Hierapolis, it was called. The place was like a Roman-era spa resort, complete with hot springs and pools. The Romans sure knew how to enjoy themselves.

The next day, after having watched the Netherlands almost not get beaten 1-0 in the World Cup finals (and it was only 4 more minutes too! Though admittedly Spain was visibly in control of the game by then), we headed back to Selcuk to visit the ruins of another large Roman city. Ephesus, the capital of the Roman province of Asia and home to the Temple of Artemis, one of the Seven Wonders of the ancient world. Some of the ruins were quite pretty---the restored façade of the Library of Celsus, for instance---but overall it wasn't really very impressive. Not even as impressive as Hierapolis---though that's partly because it wasn't as well-endowed geographically. It might have been partly, too, because much of the ancient city still lay below ground, undiscovered, unexcavated, unseen. (Off on a tangent: Istanbul has many ruins underground too; I wonder how many of its hills are not natural hills, but in fact made up of the ruins and rubble of its long history?) But mostly it must have been due to the ravages of time. The Temple of Artemis used to have 127 columns, impressively arranged in colonnades, resting on majestic foundations and topped with imposing roofs. All that remains today is a single, rebuilt column, standing in the middle of an overgrown field of grass. The forces of nature and history have claimed the rest.