Evening thoughts as I prepare to leave Ephesus

It's my last night in Ephesus, sitting on the balcony of my small hotel just outside the ancient city. The temperature has dropped to about 5°C, but I've wrapped myself in the thick wool blanket provided by the hotel. The stars are exceptionally clear tonight, and I can just make out the silhouette of the ancient theater in the distance.

I spent most of today in Şirince, a charming village about 8 kilometers from Ephesus. I arrived at 9:50 this morning (the first minibus from Selçuk departs at 9:30), just before most of the shops opened. The village was wonderfully peaceful - stone houses climbing up the hillside, narrow cobblestone streets, and fruit trees in the surrounding valleys.

What struck me immediately was how different Şirince feels from Ephesus. While Ephesus speaks of grand imperial ambitions and monumental architecture, Şirince represents the quieter, more intimate side of Turkish history. Many of the houses were built by Greeks who lived here until the population exchange of the 1920s.

I wandered through the quiet morning streets, stopping at a small café for Turkish coffee served in a copper cezve with a side of Turkish delight. The proprietor explained that Şirince is famous for its fruit wines, and despite the early hour, offered me tiny samples of mulberry, blackberry, and apple wine. I purchased a small bottle of the blackberry to enjoy later.

There's a melancholy beauty to this village in winter. Grapevines, now dormant, crawl up stone walls. Olive trees dot the surrounding hills. I hiked up to the old church at the top of the village, which offered spectacular views of the countryside. The church itself is partially ruined but has been stabilized enough for visitors. Standing there, I could almost feel the layers of history beneath my feet - Byzantine, Ottoman, Greek, Turkish.

I had lunch at a small family restaurant where the grandmother was making gözleme (Turkish flatbread) by hand on a large circular griddle. The spinach and cheese filling was perfect for the cool day. As I ate, I chatted with the owner's son who mentioned the village is undergoing changes with the new visitor management plans for the Ephesus region. He seemed concerned about how redirecting tourist flows might affect smaller places like Şirince.

I returned to Ephesus in the late afternoon, just in time to learn about the nighttime tours of the ancient city. What a stroke of luck! I hadn't planned this, but the opportunity to see Ephesus lit up at night was too good to pass up. The special lighting cast dramatic shadows across the ancient marble, creating an entirely different atmosphere from my daytime visits. Walking the Curetes Way at night, with the columns of the Temple of Hadrian illuminated against the dark sky, was almost mystical.

Now, as I sit on this balcony counting stars, I'm reflecting on my time here. Three days isn't nearly enough to fully appreciate Ephesus and its surroundings. The ruins themselves could occupy a week of careful exploration, and that's before considering Şirince, the House of Virgin Mary, the Ephesus Museum, and other nearby sites.

I've packed my backpack for tomorrow's departure. My bus leaves at 10:30, which means I need to be at the station by 10:20 at the latest. I've already set my alarm for 8:00 to give myself plenty of time for breakfast and one last walk near the ancient city.

Looking back at my notes, I realize I've been traveling for exactly 180 days now - the precise midpoint of my 500-day journey. It feels significant that I'm marking this milestone among ruins that have stood for two millennia. What is my half-year of wandering compared to the centuries these stones have witnessed?

I keep thinking about that lone column standing where the Temple of Artemis once stood - one of the Seven Wonders of the Ancient World reduced to a single pillar. It makes me wonder what will remain of our modern achievements in two thousand years. Will future travelers stand among the ruins of our cities, trying to imagine how we lived?

The night has grown colder, and I should probably head inside. Tomorrow brings a new destination and the beginning of the second half of my journey. But for these last few moments, I'm content to sit beneath the same stars that shone on the ancient Ephesians, connected across time by this shared experience of looking upward and wondering.

Day 180/500