Tuesday afternoon, Steve and I flew to Izmir (once known as Smyrna). It’s the third largest city in Turkey, but we didn’t pause to tour it. Instead we caught a taxi at the airport and rode south for about an hour to the town of Selcuk, the ancient site of a once great city known as Ephesus. We spent all of Wednesday in and around it. Following the example of St. Paul, I have a few observations to offer the locals:
You need to consider expanding your touristic marketing. You’re not doing enough to attract women. Not only feminists but those who don’t embrace that label might go out of their way to visit a place where women thousands of years ago held enormous power; were worshipped as goddesses! I know you’re not trying to hide this information. I read about it in the guidebooks. But you’re not promoting it much.
The guidebooks tell readers that long before the Greeks rose to dominate this region, the locals worshipped a goddess of fertility known as Cybele.
Over the course of thousands of years, she morphed into Artemis, the Greeks’ maiden of the hunt and a divinely Mother Nature figure. To honor her, King Croesus of Lydia (he of the enormous wealth) built one of the Seven Wonders of the ancient world here: a temple three times the size of Athens’ Parthenon. The Ephesus museum contains a model that suggests it looked like this:
Only a solitary column of that colossal structure remains today; Steve and I didn’t try to visit it. In the distance, it looked underwhelming. (You can spot it in the photo below.) But why hasn’t someone built a cool multimedia center that would bring the past to life?
The museum does display two marvelous statues of Artemis that were buried for ages and thus escaped the grubby paws of marauders like the Goths, who destroyed the temple in 268 AD.
The big Artemises are next to a gallery devoted to the ancient woman-worshipping fertility cults believed to have flourished in this area between 8,000 and 10,000 years ago. But the statues in it are quite small, the room is dimly lit, and the explanatory signage in the museum isn’t great. It’s easy to blow right by and miss them.
In the gift shop, I did find a pocketbook adorned with an image of the statue of Artemis that’s covered with breast-like follicles — or are they seeds? Or bull testicles? Certainly something deliciously fertile. I would have jumped on a nice t-shirt bearing that image, but this is all there was:
Don’t get me wrong, Ephesians. The big attractions that draw the hordes of visitors didn’t disappoint us. Strolling over the marble streets of the vast archeological site, once home to a half-million people, cut with grooves from their chariot carts, let us connect with Greek and Roman daily life 2000 years ago.
Our guide claimed that this footprint advertised one of the many brothels.
We spent about two hours there, then drove up a nearby mountain to the site where the Catholic Church has declared that the Virgin Mary spent her waning years. Later in the day, we also roamed the enormous ruins of the basilica erected by Emperor Justinian on the spot where St. John was said to be buried.
The weather was lovely. No place was jammed with tourists. We enjoyed it all.
And yet even Mary’s house left me shaking my head. A humble stone dwelling has been constructed to suggest what her dwelling might have looked like.The Catholic Church says it was somewhere near the house that the body of the elderly Virgin was lifted off the ground and physically assumed into heaven. Catholics all over the world celebrate this event every August 15. But we found not a single plaque on the site mentioning it.
Somehow it felt like just another example of ignoring spectacular history starring women.