Haifa: Life in Modern Palestine
9781465685728
213 pages
Library of Alexandria
Overview
There are two ways of doing Ephesus: you may either go there and, like the Apostle, “fight with beasts,” in the shape of donkeys and donkey boys, or you may wear yourself to death under the blazing sun, alternately scrambling over its rocks, and sinking ankle deep in the mire of its marshes. In old days it was an easy two days' ride from Smyrna to Ephesus, the distance being about fifty miles, but the Smyrna and Aiden Railway speeds you to the ruins in about two hours now, first through the romantic little gorge from whose rocky ledge rises the hill crowned by the ruined castle which overlooks the town, past a modern and an ancient aqueduct, the latter moss-grown and picturesque, with its double sets of arches rising one above the other; through orange and pomegranate groves, and vineyards yellow and languishing at this season of the year from the drought; across fertile plains from which the cereals and corn crops have been removed, and where flocks of sheep and goats are scattered on distant hill slopes, or follow in long lines the striking figures of the shepherds in their broad-shouldered felt coats; past the black tents of the Yourouks, a nomadic tribe of Turcomans, whose kindred extend from here to the great wall of China, and who vary their pastoral operations from one end of Asia to the other with predatory raids upon unsuspecting travellers; and so on into a wilder country, where the mountains close in upon us, and the Western tourist begins to realize that he is really in Asia, as groups of grunting camels, collected at the little railway stations, and their wild-looking owners, tell of journeys into the far interior, and excite a longing in his Cockney breast to emancipate himself from the guidance of Cook, and plunge into the remote recesses of Asia Minor or Kurdistan. As we approach Ephesus the country again becomes more fertile, and groves of fig-trees, surpassing all preconceived notions of the size ordinarily attained by these trees, reveal one of the principal sources of supply of those “fine fresh figs” which find their way in such abundance to American railway cars. As the modern Ephesus is a miserable little village, containing only a few huts and a very limited supply of donkeys, the wary traveller will see that his are sent on from Smyrna beforehand, and will probably find some consolation for the absence of any competent guide or decent accommodation, or appliances for seeing the ruins, in the evidence which this fact affords of the comparative rareness of tourist visitors. So far from being assailed by shouts for backsheesh, or bombarded by sellers of sham antiques, or struggled for by rival guides, one is left entirely to one's own devices on that desolate little platform. There is an apology for a hotel, it is true, where cold potted meats are to be obtained, and, by dint of much searching, a guide, himself an antique, turns up, but we are very sceptical of his competency. A row of columns still standing, which once supported an aqueduct, and the crumbling ruins of a castle on a conical little hill immediately behind the railway station, suggest the mistaken idea that these are the ruins of Ephesus. They are very decent ruins, as ruins go, but the castle is a comparatively modern Seljük stronghold, and there is nothing certain about the antiquity of the aqueduct. In exploring the castle we find that the blocks of stone of old Ephesus have been built into its walls, and that a still more ancient gateway, dating from the early period of the Byzantine Empire, is also largely composed of these antique fragments, upon which inscriptions are to be deciphered, proving that they formed part of a Greek temple.
