An Appetite for Adventure

While the soon-to-be-weds prepped, a bunch of the friend contingent got up early for a tour of Ephesus, some of the greatest ruins of the ancient world. Being the consummate host, Onur had arranged a private bus to shuttle us around the Izmir peninsula. While everyone else napped on the two-hour journey, I marveled at the undulating landscape with its pockets of pastel townhouses.

Before Ephesus, we made a quick stop at the House of the Virgin Mary, supposedly where the mother of Jesus spent her last days. As his dying wish, Jesus asked John the Evangelist to take care of his beloved mama. As the story goes, John moved Mary up to the Ephesian suburbs. The simple stone house, dropped atop a hill, failed to inspire the same kind of awe and reverence that I felt when seeing John Paul II’s resting place. Nevertheless, I lit a candle for my Catholic crew back in the US. After leaving the house, tradition dictates that visitors tie a piece of cloth or napkin around a nearby fence, and say a prayer (or make a wish, if you prefer). Many Catholics revere and pray to Mary as a mediator between themselves and Jesus. To dramatically simplify the reason why, it is because Jesus couldn’t possibly say no to his mom.

Next up, Ephesus. Rain dribbled from the dark clouds hovering above us, and we planned a wuick trip through the ruins, nabbing a tour guide to point out the important stuff. I was a bit distracted, and preferred enjoying the ruins at my own pace rather than hanging on the guide’s words. I do recall the public restrooms, which were bench-style and offered maximum opportunity to socialize while doing your duty, and the brothel, for which there was an advertisement in the ground with the outline of a foot. It said that if your foot was larger than the outline and you had money, head left to the brothel. If smaller and/or you were broke, head right to the library. The library was the most impressive part of the ruins, a three-story high façade with statues still shockingly intact.

Post-Ephesus we stopped at a place aptly titled “Ayran & Cipsis.” Ayran is a salty yogurt drink that I was unlucky enough to have tried on my first trip to Istanbul. I’ll pass. Cipsis is more my speed: mini-kebab skewers stabbed with meat and chicken. We feasted on Efes beer, cipsis, yogurt dip and salad at this outdoor meat mecca. The friendly waiters even gave Jane a free souvenir – a glass emblazoned with their funny mustachioed mascot.

After a quick dip back at the hotel, we got ready for a night on the town. Onur never had a bachelor party, so this was the time to get goofy, segregated-sexes style. We invaded a small nearby village with all the fervor or Ottoman maruaders, and after a quick aperitif, the boys headed to one restaurant while the girls headed to another. The dinner, as usual, was excellent (especially the steak), but the real fun came later. On the way to a bar, I had bought Chrissy a bright pink, inflatable plastic bear holding a big heart, which she promptly named “Bongo.” When we entered the bar, Turk extraordinaire Karel filled in the workers as to the occasion. Suddenly, a bowl-sized margarita glass appeared, into which a number of liquors were poured. A bottle held above the the glass, over which some other mystery liquid cascaded. The waiter told us to grab straws and get ready, and POOF! A tower of fire enveloped the makeshift fountain as we guzzled the yummy contents.

The fire was barely out when we heard a ruckus heading our way. Shouting “Onuuur, Onur, Onur, Onuuuur!” to the tune of “Ole, ole, ole, ole,” the bachelor party paraded into the bar, wearing coordinated T-shirts thanks to Herman, the Panamanian. The rest of the night devolved into perfect debauchery, including more fire fountains, alcohol being shot into the bride and groom’s mouth from two feet away and some Bongo humping. I’m pretty sure Onur had a great bachelor party. I know I did.

[08.06.06] Cesme Day 2