That's a tea and an apple tart.
The ruins at Ephesus were both delightful and disappointing. They are disappointing in that (a) they are over run by tour groups, the leader of each trying to explain what his charges are seeing, and (b) some interesting parts were closed. The place was very noisy from the visitors and their guides chatter, and I couldn't understand most of it. To make the best of it, I occasionally paused, closed my eyes, and pretended I was hearing the inhabitants from a few millennia ago going about their business.
I will post pictures later, but I should say that the Austrians doing the excavation and restoration in association with the Turkish government (see, e.g. the less well kept excavations and restoration undertaken by New York University at Aphrodaisias) are doing an excellent job. Their work is ongoing and extensive. I did find some spots that were open and not on the tours, like the Church of The Virgin Mary, but they are still working in the immediate area so it's not as clean as the other areas. I wonder if they will do a complete excavation of the Bishop's Palace which is near that church. That would be very interesting.
The layout of the city is very interesting, with a long street that ran straight from the harbor to the huge theater. Sitting in the theater, you could look down this street towards the harbor. The harbor silted up, and in spite of dredging attempts, became unusable. That led to the demise of the city.
A cross street in front of the theater led past the Library of Celsius, and turned and went up the hill past temples for gods and emperors and such, as well as dwellings and shops. They had sewers under the streets and pipes bringing water into the city to fountains and baths and cisterns. They were going a lot better than, say, the hovels that would become Paris. . .
It was difficult for me to get a sense of daily life there. On reflection, I think it must be because the city was alive for so many centuries under different cultures and rulers. Life would have been different from one century to another, I suspect. And they still don't have WiFi.
After several hours wandering and photographing and pondering, I headed out through the exit, past the shills and hawkers of old (as if!) coins, and past the delightfully honest signs "Fake Genuine Watches" to the moto, and realized I needed gas. I thought I would ride to the nearby Grotto of The Seven Sleepers, but when I got to the parking lot, the area reminded me of Tam Ky Village in South Viet Nam in 1966, and you never, ever, ever left anything unattended in Tam Ky. Ever. So I left to get that gas.
Gas stations are like booby trapped mine fields for motos. Lots of liquids are pumped and poured into vehicles at gas stations. There's gas and oil and windshield washing fluid and grease and you get the idea. Right around the pumps the concrete is usually finished with a smooth finish, and that's where a lot of those fluids are introduced to the vehicles. Not all those fluids make it into the car or truck or tractor or whatever. Sometimes they just spill onto that smooth concrete.
At the gas station where I stopped, they had a very large concrete apron, finished with a nice, smooth finish. They were also washing cars and motos away from the pumps, but the water was draining right across the smooth apron, which had some other fluids on it from earlier mishaps.
After filling up, and the moto having received it's appropriate attention and approval from the attendants, I started off, forgetting about that sheet of oily water I had noted when I pulled in. I thought the trip was going to end right there. The back end of the bike started to slip, went one way, then the other, and I thought for sure I was going to high-side right off and onto the concrete. God must have intervened, because it sure wasn't anything I did. The bike straightened up, allowed me to stay on it, regained traction, and off I rode. I said a prayer of thanks. I have no idea how it straightened out. But I'm sure thankful it did.
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