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Travel - Learning from the Classics

Ephesus, ‘The Imperial Capital of Asia’ — Hadrian, AD 125

Among our travel mementos is a small rug that hangs on the wall behind the piano. Like the prayer wheel, the Aztec mask, the jade pagoda and the rest of the flotsam and jetsam we have dragged home from the far corners of the earth the rug has a story. But unlike the others, which simply recall a place, a person, or an event, the rug recalls a domestic crisis – a reminder that even the most stable relationships can face rocky times. But that's the end of the story, it begins with a visit to Ephesus on the Aegean coast of Turkey.

In the course of our island-hopping aboard the Greek motor vessel Atlantis we decided to make an optional side-trip to the ruins of Ephesus. The Atlantis docked at Kusadasi where we were introduced to Rosa, our vivacious and knowledgeable guide for the day. She led us to a dilapidated old bus and, during a short drive to Ephesus, explained that the existing ruins are those of Ephesus three, the city having moved from its two previous locations in an effort to keep up with its ever receding harbour.

The area was first settled around 2000 BC and for more than 3,000 years it was a principle gateway between East and West. Located in a fertile valley near the mouth of the Cayster River its protected harbour linked the sea lanes of the Aegean and Mediterranean with land routes used by camel trains from the East. At the height of its glory, during the Greco-Roman period (290 BC to AD 300) Ephesus had a population of 250,000 inhabitants and was a thriving centre of commerce, religion, and culture.

But by the fourth century, as power and influence shifted to Constantinople, Ephesus went into a slow decline. With its silted-up harbour no longer accessible and living conditions plagued by pollution and malaria the population faded away. By the time it was taken by the Turks and incorporated into the Ottoman Empire little remained of the once great metropolis. In the end silt from the Cayster River claimed not only the harbour but much of the city itself. Not until archaeological excavations were begun in 1863 were the marble streets and elaborate frescos of ancient Ephesus revealed to the modern world. The excavations are still in progress and the ruins, which now attract thousands of visitors each year, have become a lucrative source of tourist dollars for Turkey.

We left the bus near the ruins of the Magnesia Gate and followed Rosa along a pathway, leading past the Roman baths, to the Upper Agora, a complex of buildings where the state archives were kept and where important political and social items were discussed. Situated high on the southern edge of the city the Agora gave us our first overview of the sprawling ruins. They are vastly larger than I had imagined and the ornate detail of the architecture is truly remarkable. Broad streets of fitted marble are lined with rows of columns and the remains of statues. Archways, walls, pedestals, and the facades of buildings are all intricately carved.

According to Rosa Ephesus has always been a tourist destination. In pre Christian time it was the sanctuary of the multi-breasted Goddess Artemis (Diana), symbol of fertility and protector of nature. Pilgrims from all over the ancient world came here to pay homage and visit her temple whose 137, 58-foot columns made it one of the seven wonders of the ancient world. The site was a haven for vacationing Romans and among the better known visitors were Nero and Julius Caesar. Antony and Cleopatra are said to have wintered there in 33 BC and the peripatetic emperor Hadrian, best known for his wall across the British Isles, called Ephesus his favourite city.

From the Upper Agora we followed the broad, colonnaded Street of Curetes, past the elaborately carved Hadrian’s Temple, to the Library of Celsus. The Library, one of the better preserved buildings, is adjacent to the vast Lower Agora or market place and conveniently located close to the brothel and public toilets. Recent excavations have revealed a tunnel connecting the Library directly to the brothel – obviously an innovation designed to facilitate the needs of both mind and body.

Rosa lead us into the public toilet which was clearly designed for conversation rather than privacy. A multi-holed marble throne stretched down both sides of the room. In the less squeamish age of the Ephesians this was a place to socialize and discuss the affairs of the day. And the fallout from such meetings was swept away by water flowing through a channel below the seats.

From the Library a marble road leads to the Grand Theatre. Started in the third century BC and completed about AD 100 it has a seating capacity of 24,000. It was used by Roman Gladiators and Greek actors, but it was also a magnificent forum for getting your message out to a lot of people – a fact that was not lost on the Apostle Paul who, along with John, had come to Ephesus to spread the new Gospel.

The Pagan Gods of Greece and Rome had begun to fall to the new religion of Christianity. When Apostles Paul and John arrived in Ephesus around AD 54 their teachings were accepted as long as they stuck to the smaller venues but Paul crossed the line when he proposed to preach in the Grand Theatre. The loyal followers of Goddess Artemis were outraged and, led by a silversmith named Demetrius, they rioted and threatened to kill St. Paul. He was imprisoned for a time in one of the watchtowers of the city walls and finally booted out of Ephesus.

St. John, writer of the Gospel and Revelations, fared better. He brought Mary to Ephesus after the death of Jesus and settled her into a small stone house that still exists near the top of Mount Solmisos. St. John himself lived, died, and is buried in Ephesus.

During the Middle Ages the Basilica of St. John, built over his grave, became one of the most holy edifices of Christianity – and both it and the House of the Virgin Mary are still places of pilgrimage. But time and history move on and Christianity, which replaced the pagan gods of Rome and Greece, has itself been largely replaced by the Islamic faith in modern Turkey.

Oh yes – the rug.

At the end of our tour, and with an hour to kill before the Atlantis was due to cast off, Rosa invited us to visit a Turkish carpet factory. We returned to Kusadasi and were ushered into a large warehouse piled high with of carpets – large carpets, small carpets, literally acres of carpets, but no evidence of production. An unctuous fellow in an immaculate black suit and tie invited us to sit back in one of the comfortable chairs.

"Would we care for a cup of Turkish tea?" and with a flourish, before we could reply, he presented us with cups of the sweet reddish brew.

"Yes," he said "we call it the factory because of the vast selection. The carpets are made in many parts of Turkey but here we offer only the finest examples."

Hoping to escape from what was an obvious sales trap I explained that we lived in Canada and were travelling out of back packs.

"No problem! No problem! I look after everything – packing, shipping, customs, just leave everything to me."

Betty made the mistake of admiring "the rug" and the trap sprung. The salesman zeroed in for the kill.

"Ahh," he said, "the lady has exquisite taste. You have chosen a unique piece of art, pure silk and of such fine texture that it could only have been fashioned by the small hands of a talented child."

His voice broke and his eyes misted over as he explained that in buying this rug we would not only acquire a priceless work of art but also help some young girl who had spent years toiling over the village loom in hope of earning a better life. Would we like another cup of tea?

I excused myself and went out onto the dock.

The Atlantis sounded her horn and Betty rushed out of the "factory" with the rug under her arm. I was incredulous.

"You bought it? You actually let that smarmy jerk talk you into laying out that ridiculous price for a rug?"

"I got a good deal," she said.

The rest of our conversation is best left untold.

Over the years my relationship to the rug has mellowed. We had it appraised and it is a hand-made, silk original. Its pattern, the tree of life surrounded by exotic birds and beasts, is rendered in incredibly fine detail that must have taken years to complete. Though I don't believe a word of the sales pitch I expect it may have been made by a child. Whether in a remote village or an Istanbul sweat shop I will never know. But I hope, after the salesman and Rosa took their cut, there was something left for the young Turkish man or woman who made it as a child.