Schlink Attack: Izmir, Turkey

Saturday, March 26, 2022

Izmir, Turkey

Google did warn us: the Çesme Peninsula on the western coast of Turkey is windy. I mean, the region literally farms wind with over 3,500 wind turbines placed along its Mediterranean hill tops. Windsurfing and surfing are popular pastimes as is flyboarding, a seemingly high stakes water sport where a skateboard/jet ski is attached to a fire hose and propels riders into the air as if they are begging for a head injury.

We momentarily thought about taking windsurfing classes, but then we realized it was still only March and freakishly cold, and the likelihood of falling into the water and having our bodies wash out to sea was too great. We settled on wading and exploring the limestone cliffs at Delikli Koyu, one of several beaches located 10 minutes’ drive from the pedestrian town of Alaçate where we stayed for a week. Ultra, ultra low season meant we had nearly everything to ourselves: beaches, windmills, stray dogs and cats sunning themselves in the middle of the cobblestone streets. It also meant most restaurants and stores were closed too.

Beyond the desire to spend spring break breathing in Mediterranean air, was the desire to visit ancient Greek ruins. While I spent my childhood obsessively reading Babysitter’s Club and books about cats, Mark and the kids spent their time reading (and rereading) books like The Odyssey, The Iliad, and the Percy Jackson and Pegasus series. Lucky for them, the entire Izmir region is a sexy, historic hotbed for anyone with even a remote interest in geology, archaeology, mythology, religion, war and/or weaponry. One day, after parking on the side of the road between plots of farmland in the rolling hills, we visited an unattended temple dedicated to Athena, an amphitheater, and church ruins that overlooked the sea. Stone pillar remnants and pottery shards were everywhere we walked, as if there was so much history that preserving them wouldn't have made a difference.

The biggest event of the trip was visiting the ancient port city of Ephesus, an impressively well preserved UNESCO site. So well in fact, you can easily visualize what life might have been like throughout the centuries with its amphitheaters, temples and tombs, the 2-story library, public bath and bathroom complexes, terraced houses, and stone roads. Christianity hit a crossroad with paganism here thanks to Paul the Apostle, and John wrote his famous Gospel in Ephesus. Tour guides weaved stories in different languages, tourists posed with battle-ready gladiators, cats napped, and thousands photos were taken on this mercifully windless day.

Five kilometers away tucked on a hilltop is Virgin Mary’s retirement home. After walking past heavily armed guards, a short path lead to a small stone house with a stern attendant who monitored social distancing, masking, and noise rules. Inside, we tiptoed on the worn carpet observing relics donated by famous Catholics. Rosaries from a few Popes, paintings and alters from Cardinals and Nuns. Candles and prayer boxes outside were available for use, and the Virgin Mary souvenir stores were open for business. On the way out, the kids paid their respects to their late Great Great Aunt Nancy, who always was a big fan of Mary. Sadly, the Wishing Wall stood empty of wishes. It once had thousands of messages attached to it but had been wiped clean probably due to the pandemic.

Our week ended with a glimpse of what Alaçati is like in high season due to an herb festival that draws about a million people to the town every year. Suddenly, the quiet cobblestone roads and closed restaurants were filled with extremely well dressed people who were determined to see and be seen, who drank tea and raki well past sundown. Art galleries, wine bars, jewelry and sunglass stores threw open their doors, and modeling shoots were spotted in the popular alleyways. Music and dancing lasted well into the evenings, and the amazing smell of freshly cut herbs, fruits, and vegetables permeated the air during the cooking demonstrations. I ate many, many olives, determined they were far superior to Spanish olives, and I kicked myself for not bringing home a suitcase's worth.