I’m in San Francisco now, near the end of my marathon 38-day trip around the world. I’ve got a fun week ahead, but before I forget, I want to share a bit about what I did two cities ago. Last weekend, I passed some time in New York, my favorite city in the world.

One drawback to New York is that it’s expensive. I knew I could spring for a hotel downtown, but that it would cost me $200 or $300 or $400 a night. Instead, I made use of one of my favorite new websites. Airbnb connects travelers with rooms. If you have a spare room (or even a spare home), you list it on Airbnb and then people like me rent it from you for a night or three. You make money, and I get a good deal on lodging.

In this case, I rented a room from Rose, a young woman who was born and raised in New York City. Rose pays $3600 a month for her three-bedroom pre-war walk-up flat near Gramercy Park. She rents one room for $90 a night and a smaller room (my room) for $70 a night. She lives in the third.

My New York City apartment from Airbnb

“How well do you with this?” I asked Rose one night over a bottle of cold beer.

She smiled. “Airbnb pays my rent,” she said. Seems smart to me.

For my part, I liked being close to downtown but saving tons of money. I figured I saved about $200 per night on lodging. I was able to put that money to good use by eating well and seeing Broadway shows. That, my friends, is conscious spending in action.

Sunday

When I arrived in New York, I was still suffering from food poisoning that I’d picked up during my final night in Istanbul. The flight on Saturday was miserable, but I woke Sunday feeling rested and ready to go. The last of the food poisoning had finally passed, and I was eager to be active again, to see the city.

I left the apartment at 26th and Second intending to just pick a few things up at a corner grocer. Instead, I walked for more than an hour, finding myself near Wall Street in the Financial District. Then, just because I could, I slowly made my way up to Times Square.

I paused often along the way to take look and listen at the people and places around me. And once I actually reached Times Square, I climbed onto the red bleachers (new since I was last there in 2007) to watch the sleepy people gawking at the lights — just like me.

After a brief rest, I walked up to Central Park. At the entrance, I paid twenty bucks to rent a crappy bike for two hours. The thing had no rear brakes (and sketchy front brakes), and it was far too small for me, but it did the trick. I joined thousands of other folks who where walking, running, and biking through the park on a sunny autumn Sunday morning. I felt just one thing: joy.

Then, midway through my ride, I got a call from Kim. It had been exactly three weeks since we’d last spoken, and I was concerned that things might be awkward. What would it like to be reconnect after so much time apart? I needn’t have worried. Within minutes, we were chatting away like we always do. Talking with her felt like home.

We talked for two hours before we both decided it was time to get on with our days. And just in time too. Though the day had started sunny and warm, as I hung up the phone, the rain set in. All the people in the park dashed for cover, and I did too.

Later in the afternoon, I met up with Flexo from Consumerism Commentary for an early dinner at Chimichurri Grill, an Argentine restaurant on Ninth Avenue. Because I’d just returned from Turkey, a Muslim country where there’s no pork to be had, I ordered the Chuletón de Cerdo a la Parrilla: “grilled center cut pork loin, served with sautéed red cabbage, apples, sweet onions and crispy bacon”. Delicious! As we ate, we talked about blogging, about flirting, and about musical theater.

When we’d finished, we joined Ramit (of I Will Teach You to Be Rich) to catch The Book of Mormon on Broadway. This musical, from the creators of “South Park” and Team America: World Police, was shocking, offensive, and hysterical. I loved it.

I’ve never seen much “South Park”, so I didn’t know what I was getting myself into. But I grew up Mormon and I love musical theater, so I was predestined to like it, right? I’m not the only one. Flexo and Ramit liked it too, as have many other people. (The Book of Mormon won nine Tony Awards, including Best Musical.) The show is coming to Portland in early January. I’ll be there!

Monday

I spent much of Monday morning breaking apart the bulky bag of souvenirs I’d brought back from Turkey. I walked back and forth from the UPS Store at 27th and Fifth (right next to the Museum of Sex) carrying first supplies and then boxes for home. (And only after making three trips did I realize there was another UPS Store just around the corner from my apartment. sigh)

The Museum of Sex gift shop — right next door to the UPS Store

At noon, I made my way to the Time-Life Building on Sixth Avenue, where I met my editor for Time Moneyland. Over a lunch of Japanese noodles, we talked about my return to that blog later this month (or early in November). Next, I met one of my readers, Craig Anthony who writes at Money, Sex, and Focus. We chatted for a bit, and then I mentioned how much I love notebooks.

“Have you seen the notebooks at Kinokuniya?” Craig asked.

“What’s Kinokuniya?” I asked.

“Follow me,” he said. And I did. Craig led me a couple of blocks to a Japanese bookstore. We headed downstairs, where I was greeted by a vast wall of notebooks, all of them lovely.

On Monday evening, I bought tickets to see Chicago, but I was disappointed. I like the film version of this show, but the Broadway production was mediocre at best. After the curtain fell, I walked home slowly, noticing the New York night life, even early in the week.

Tuesday

I started my last day in New York City by meeting Mike from Roboinvest in Bryant Park. Over coffee and cinnamon rolls, we chatted about travel and investing. The conversation was fascinating. After ninety minutes (that seemed like nine), I said good-bye to Mike and met up with Maneesh (best known as Ramit’s brother, but who is making his own name in the world — just watch and see).

“Let’s eat at Cafe Zaiya,” Maneesh suggested. I was open to anything, so I followed him across the street to…the very same bookstore Craig had taken me to on Monday. While Kinokuniya is filled with lovely notebooks downstairs, there’s an Asian cafe upstairs. Maneesh and I ordered food and then spent an hour chatting about his latest projects. (We also talked a lot about precommitment, a method Maneesh and I have both been using to make good choices.)

After lunch with Maneesh, I met up with Aaron, a former candidate for a staff writer position at Get Rich Slowly. We had a great conversation over coffee and donuts. When we’d finished, he showed me how to hop the subway down to my apartment so that I could avoid the rain, which was coming down in buckets.

Late in the afternoon, I met up with Maneesh again. This time we joined Sarah Peck, who was in town for a conference. When she was in Portland last month, Sarah stayed at my apartment (since I was in Turkey). While I’m visiting San Francisco, I’m staying at Sarah’s place. (I’m writing this story from her bed. She’s still in New York, so I’m using her room.)

Maneesh, Sarah, and J.D., eating at Chipotle in honor of Chris G.

In the evening, I hit my third Broadway show in as many nights. This time, I saw Once, which is based on the sweet romantic film of the same name. Whereas Chicago disappointed, Once did not. I had agonized over how much to pay for my ticket, ultimately opting for a $200 premium seat. I’m glad I did.

This show is brilliant, quite possibly the best musical I’ve ever seen. Bittersweet and lovely. The set was simple but elegant, and I love the way all of the music is played by the cast members themselves (not an orchestra). No wonder this show won the Tony for best musical. Here’s one of the songs from the show:

It was a perfect ending to a perfect three days in New York, my favorite city.

On Tuesday morning, I caught a cab to LaGuardia. There, I flew to Atlanta for the third annual Savvy Blogging Summit. More about that tomorrow at Get Rich Slowly…

I’ve been back in the U.S. for a week now. Tomorrow, I’ll share more about my trip to New York, and on Monday at my personal finance blog, I’ll write about my experiences at Savvy Blogging Summit in Atlanta. But today, I’m missing a little bit of Turkey.

One of my favorite things in Turkey was the Muslim call to prayer, which is broadcast from every mosque five times each day. This announcement rings through the city and summons the faithful to perform their duty. It’s beautiful.

I recorded this video in Istanbul, Turkey on the evening of September 14th while standing between the Blue Mosque and Hagia Sophia. I’m glad I did. It may be my favorite souvenir from my time in Istanbul.

“What are you going to do today?” I asked Nick this morning at breakfast. It’s our last day in the Cappadocia region of central Turkey, and we’ve already done most of the touristy stuff.

“I think I’m going to hike up to the Open Air Museum,” Nick said. “What are you going to do today?”

“I think I’m going back to Avanos to buy those cute shoes,” I said, wincing at the fact that I was calling a pair of shoes “cute”. “Plus, I’m going to rent a scooter and just ride.”

You see, Kim (a.k.a. The Girl) is an avid motorcycle rider. In the nearly six months we’ve been dating, Kim has sung the praises of motorcycles many times. In June, she and I joined Jenn and Cody one Saturday afternoon to sit on the bikes at a local Harley dealership. Kim doesn’t have a bike now, but she wants one. (She’s had one most of her adult life.)

Sitting on Harleys with Kim

I, on the other hand, have little experience with motorcycles. I have lots of experience riding bicycles, but not bikes with motors. When I was a boy, my friend Torey would take me for rides on his dirt bike from time to time, but I have no concept of how to operate a motorcycle. I want to learn, though, and a scooter seems like a good first step.

There are tons of places to rent scooters here in Göreme. For 40 lira (about $20), you can rent a scooter (or a motorcycle or an ATV) from dawn ’til dusk. So, that’s what I did today.

The first place I tried to rent a scooter wouldn’t let me take one out.

“How do you ride it?” I asked.

“You don’t know how?” the man asked.

“No,” I admitted.

“I can’t rent to you if you don’t know how to ride,” the man said. “It’s dangerous.”

One rule I’ve learned here in Turkey is what one man won’t man sell you, another man will. And there’s a related rule: What one man will sell you, another man well sell you for less. (These rules aren’t obvious at first, but become quite clear with time and experience.)

The next shop owner I approached was happy to rent me a 100cc Yamaha scooter. He took my money, gave me a brief lesson (“Lights here. Accelerate here. Brakes here — only use left brake, no right.”), handed me a helmet (which was pointless because the chinstrap was broken), and I was on my merry way.

What can I say? WOW!!

It took me about half an hour to get comfortable with the scooter. I took it on a deserted dirt road to get familiar with how it handled and maneuvered. After that, I gained confidence quickly. And soon I was in heaven.

I zipped through Göreme and Çavuşin and Avanos, and then headed out into the countryside. I passed the ranch where Nick and I rode horses on Monday. I wound my way through the hills, climbed to the top, and descended into the vast swaths of farmland beyond.

Climbing the hills outside Avanos — curves ahead!

As I rode, I relished the warmth of the wind on my face, the smell of the earth and the grass and the trees, the staccato stutter of the scooter’s tiny engine. I loved the feeling of being outside in the scenery instead of inside a car looking out. It reminded me of this passage from Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance:

You see things vacationing on a motorcycle in a way that is completely different from any other. In a car you’re always in a compartment, and because you’re used to it you don’t realize that through that car window everything you see is just more TV. You’re a passive observer and it is all moving by you boringly in a frame.

On a cycle the frame is gone. You’re completely in contact with it all. You’re in the scene, not just watching it anymore, and the sense of presence is overwhelming. The concrete whizzing by five inches below your foot is the real thing, the same stuff you walk on, it’s right there, so blurred you can’t focus on it, yet you can put your foot down and touch it anytime, and the whole thing, the whole experience, is never removed from immediate consciousness.

Twenty kilometers (12.5 miles) outside of Avanos, I stopped at the edge of a field. I was alone on a warm autumn day. It was peaceful. Quiet. Relaxing. Though a part of me pined to be home (I miss The Girl), another part of me was happy to be here, now, in this moment.

Alone in the farmlands of Cappadocia

After fifteen or twenty minutes of meditation, I hopped on the scooter and returned to town. After buying my cute shoes, I buzzed to Göreme and rode up the hill to Uçhisar, where I did a little souvenir shopping. I took the long way back to the hotel, dropped off my stuff, and then headed out for another ride.

At the edge of town, I spotted Nick sitting on a bench, waiting for the bus to Ürgüp.

“Want a ride?” I asked.

“Will that thing hold both of us?” he asked.

“Let’s find out,” I said, and he climbed on.

I quickly learned that while a 100cc scooter might feel nimble with one person on it, it feels like a slug when two people ride it. What’s more, the handling is completely different. I felt as if I were steering a hippo. We s-l-o-w-l-y made our way out of town on the cobblestone streets and began to climb the hill past the Open Air Museum.

“That sign says there’s a 10% grade ahead,” I shouted to Nick. “I don’t know if we’re going to make it.” And we didn’t. In fact, as the scooter sputtered and gasped at the steepest part of the climb, we almost went into the ditch. I couldn’t control the bike. Nick had to get off and walk about 100 meters while I got past the worst of the hill. After that, the last nine kilometers to Ürgüp were uneventful.

When I dropped Nick off, I drafted him to take a photo:

Nick had an English/Turkish exchange with the girls behind me

On the ride back to Göreme, I tried to see how fast the scooter would go (answer: 97 kilometers per hour, or about 60 miles per hour). I also learned that going down a 10% grade on a cobblestone street is tough to do on a scooter.

The only bad thing about the entire scooter experience came at the end of the day. Before I returned it, I had to fill the gas tank. But there are no gas stations in Göreme. The nearest one is at the top of the hill in Ortihisar, about 5km away. To get there, I had to traverse that same 10% grade again — this time at dusk with a horde of tiny bugs swarming the valley. They kept getting in my eyes and nose. By the time I’d fueled up and returned to the hotel, I was covered with little black dots — bug corpses. Gross, huh?

When it came time to return the scooter, I’d logged just under 150 kilometers (93 miles) for the day. It cost me 18 lira (about $9) to fill the tank before I returned it to the rental shop. For a total of $29, I’d had one hell of a time.

This was a successful test. When I get home, I intend to sign up for a training course so I can get the motorcycle endorsement to my driver license. And who knows? Maybe come spring, I’ll be riding a motorcycle through the Oregon countryside with The Girl.

Nick and I have been in Cappadocia for 48 hours. It’s awesome.

Cappadocia is a region in central Turkey, high on a 1000-meter plateau (much like the great African plateau). It’s a place filled with strange geologic formations, including the famous fairy chimneys (or hoodoos). Many of the canyons and hillsides contain hundreds-of-year-old churches (or even cities) carved into the rock by the former inhabitants. And Cappadocia itself is a Persian name meaning “land of the beautiful horses”.

Nick and I are staying nearly a week in Cappadocia. We reached Göreme by bus on Saturday afternoon and spent the rest of the day getting acclimated to our surroundings. We walked around the town, and then followed some of the trails on the surrounding hillsides.

Nick photographing me snapping a photo (with Göreme in the background)

We paused for a few minutes to watch the sunset. From a bluff overlooking the town, I joined other tourists to take photos of the valley below.

Sunset in Cappadocia

Hiking the Rose Valley

On Sunday morning, Nick and I hopped a dolmuş to the nearby town of Çavuşin. From there, we hiked into rose valley to explore the rocks and the ruins.

As we left the city limits, we were joined by one of the many dogs who were wandering the street. This dog stayed with us for about five kilometers (three miles) before being scared off by a bigger dog. He became our guide, and was actually quite loyal to me for the two hours he was with us. I liked it. Plus, we’d lose the trail at times; when that happened, the dog would walk on ahead a ways, and then turn to tell us to follow him. He was like a personal guide.

 
Nick climbing up to a cave church; our “guide” is behind him. Inside the cave church.

The hike through the rose valley is probably the highlight of my trip to Turkey so far. It was beautiful. The weather was perfect. And despite the fact that Göreme (and surrounding towns) are flooded with tourists like us, there were surprisingly few people on the trails.

We walked up and down the cliffs and canyons, exploring the caves and churches along the way. We picked grapes from the vines planted throughout the valley. At one point, we met a man named Hussein who was harvesting walnuts. He asked us to stop and chat with him a bit, and he shared his (bitter) fruit with us.

“Walnuts: original Viagra,” Hussein laughed as he cut the walnuts apart with his knife.

Nick sharing walnuts with Hussein

Our path twisted up and around and down again. Eventually we passed a British couple who advised us not to miss the cave church up ahead. “It’s magnificent,” they said. And it was.

We crossed a wooden bridge into the church and began exploring. My old fear of heights has mostly vanished, so I did stupid stuff like crawling out windows of the church so that I could scale the cliff outside to reach other sections. At one point, I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to get back down except by falling!

The day had grown hot, and I had grown sweaty. For much of the morning (and afternoon), I ran around without a shirt on, which is totally not my normal style. In the magnificent cave church, we bumped into an Australian man (also shirtless) and his wife. They live in the area and visit the caves often. They noted that the bridge into the church wasn’t there a month ago.

Inside a cave church. This is more primitive than some of the ones we saw.

After we’d finished the rose valley, we walked back to Göreme under the blazing sun. Over four hours, we hiked about twelve kilometers (or 7.5 miles). In town, we scarfed down a hearty meal.

In the evening, we took a trip to a nearby cultural center to see the whirling dervish ceremony, which was fantastic. Nick and I were mesmerized. It cost €30 each and lasted 45 minutes, which seems like a steep price. But we’re both glad we saw it. It was haunting and beautiful. The music was enchanting, and unlike anything I’ve ever heard.

Unfortunately, photos of this religious ceremony were not allowed, but I found this clip on YouTube, which shows something similar.

Hot-Air Balloons in Cappadocia

This morning, we rose at 5am to participate in a tourist ritual. When you come to Cappadocia, you must ride the hot-air balloons.

Three weeks ago in Portland, I went hot-air ballooning with Kim. Our flight took off from the Aurora airport, and we drifted south past Woodburn. It was a peaceful flight, and it was fun to see my native region from a different perspective.

Inflating the hot-air balloon

Today’s flight was different than the one back home. For one, we never reached the same altitudes. For another, we rose and descended over and over again, exploring the many valleys around Cappadocia.

Another major difference between this flight and the one in Portland was that this time we were not alone. In Portland, Kim and I could see a couple of other balloons in the distance (in Newberg). Here, there were almost 100 balloons all taking off at once, and all within a few hundred meters of each other. The sky was crowded.

Just 55 of the roughly 100 balloons that were out this morning

Taking the balloon ride was expensive. At €200 (or $275) each, it’s easily the most expensive single thing we’ll do on this trip. But, like the dervishes, this was an experience we’re glad we had. It’s once in a lifetime.

Cappadocia from above in a hot-air balloon

After seeing Cappadocia from the air, this afternoon we’re going to see it from the ground. We’ve booked a four-hour horseback ride, which ought to take us down and around some of the valleys and canyons we haven’t seen yet. Tomorrow, we’ll take a guided tour that touches on even more of the natural beauty around here. Wednesday, I plan to rent a motorbike or scooter, get a quick lesson, and then head out on my own.

There’s a lot to see here in Cappadocia — which means I ought to stop writing and get out there again to do stuff!

For me, this trip to Turkey is different from past trips in many ways. The biggest difference is that I can’t communicate. On every past visit to a foreign country, I’ve been able to get by with a bit of the native language (and lots of English).

Yes, there’s some English here, especially in tourist areas. But the deeper we get into Turkey, the less that’s true. Late last night (actually early this morning), we flew into Kayseri, launching point to Göreme in Cappadocia. From the moment we landed, we’ve been going on sign language and trust. (Trust that the other person gets our meaning — and we get theirs.)

So far, it’s worked. We took a taxi from the airport to the hotel. We checked in. We slept, ate breakfast, checked out. We took a taxi to the bus station. And we just bought two kilos of cured meat while waiting for our 11am bus to Göreme.

Nick, shopping for cured meat at the Kayseri bus station

That’s another big difference on this trip. Here in turkey, the otobüs (bus) is a Big Deal and an otogar (bus station) like this one in Kayseri is usually big and modern, like a U.S. airport. The otogarlar (bus stations) have restaurants, shops, banks, newsstands, and plenty of ways to get you to your destination. Cheap ways to get you to your destination.

For local, in-town transport, you don’t even have to got to the otogar. You can use a dolmuş, a sort of shared taxi. You find the van you want, pay the driver three lira (about $1.50US), and hop on. Once the dolmuş is full, it leaves for its destination.

For longer journeys, you have to purchase tickets on a coach. That’s a little more complicated, but not much — even if you don’t speak Turkish. When I need a ticket, I find the information booth at the otogar and give the name of my destination. The attendant always points me to a bus company that can get me there.

Then I walk up to that company’s ticket counter and repeat my destination. The clerk points to a clock to tell me when the next bus leaves, and is always able to show me the price in Turkish lira. And those prices!

Inside the Kayseri bus station.

If you’re traveling on a budget, taking the bus is certainly the way to go. You save big bucks over a taxi or an airplane. (To get from Kayseri to Göreme by taxi would have cost between 180 and 220 lira. By bus, Nick and I were able to get there for 20 lira total. That’s a savings of $100!)

The downside? Buses take time. Often, lots of time. The bus from Istanbul to Izmir took us nine hours, but we coud have flown it in one. (It probably would have taken four hours total counting transfers to and from the airport.)

Here’s a run-down of our bus expenses (in time and money) so far:

• Istanbul to Izmir: 70 lira each, 7 hours
• Izmir to Selçuk: 9 lira each, 1 hour
• Selçuk to Pammukale: 25 lira each, 3.5 hours
• Selçuk to Antalya: 40 lira each, 6 hours
• Kayseri to Nevşehir: 10 lira each, 1.5 hours
• Nevşehir to Göreme: 3 lira each, 20 minutes

There are other upsides to riding the bus:

• Much more leg room than a plane
• Free wi-fi on long trips
• Occasional stops for toilets and food
• Better air (often air conditioned)
• Able to move freely about the cabin
• Free snacks and drinks served by a steward on a rolling cart, just like plane

The bus isn’t for every traveler. Using the bus requires patience. Things go wrong. Buses leave late (or early) and get flat tires. You meet…interesting people, for good and ill.

Back on the bus, y’all! Getting ready to board the bus to Nevşehir. Yes, I am sunburned.

Nick notes that the bus system here in Turkey is much like the train system in Italy and other parts of Europe. Everything is connected, and it’s very easy to get where you want. (The difference, of course, is that trains are faster.)

“It’s relaxing and scenic,” Nick says. “It’s very different than the United States. When I rode the bus in the U.S. — and I’ll admit this was 25 years ago — it was for people who couldn’t afford to fly, and it was not fun.”

He and I both thought buses would be more difficult. But they’re not. In fact, while I’m flying back to Istanbul in a few days, Nick plans to take the bus just for fun.

This morning, Nick and I took the otobüs from Kayseri to Nevşehir. The trip was unremarkable because I slept most of the way. One thing of note: As we neared Nevşehir, I spent about ten minutes chatting in Spanish with a man from Bilbao, Spain.

When we reached Nevşehir, the bus made several stops. The driver made sure to let me and Nick know when we’d reached ours. “Göreme?” we asked him as we reclaimed our bags from beneath the coach. “Otogar?” He motioned us down a side street. We followed his directions.

We expected to find a dolmuş (or two), but instead found ourselves outside a supermarket. We stopped to ask for directions. A group of schoolboys was gathered nearby, goofing off. “Where from?” asked the smallest of the boys. He stepped to the front of the group. His friends laughed.

“The United States,” I said, but that only confused him.

“America,” Nick said. The boy smiled.

“Oh, America!” he said. His friends laughed. “Where you go now?” he asked.

“Göreme,” I said. “We need the otobüs.”

“Oh,” he said. “Bus station is near. Maybe 100 meters.” He indicated the direction, but then he thought better of it. “Accompany me,” he said, and he started walking. We accompanied him, and so did his three friends.

“What is your name?” I asked.

“My name? My name is Adi. What is your mame?”

“My name is John,” I said. “He is Nick.”

“Nick,” said Adi. “Nick.”

Adi’s three friends repeated after him: “Nick. Nick.” They laughed.

“You have Facebook page?” Adi asked me.

“Yes,” I said, a little surprised. “Of course.” We stopped so I could write down my Facebook address on a slip of paper. (I’ll be interested to see if Adi finds me there and asks to be a friend.)

“How long have you been learning English?” I asked.

“Two years,” Adi said. “Are you English teacher?”

I laughed. I thought it would be too complicated to explain that I do tutor one person in English. Instead I said, “No, I’m not a teacher.”

“My teacher is from England,” Adi said. “My teacher is beautiful. How old are you?”

“I am 43,” I said.

“Forty-three,” he repeated.

“Forty-three,” repeated his friends. They laughed.

“That’s very old,” I said. “How old are you?”

“Thirteen,” said Adi. And then he stopped walking. “We are here. Bus to Göreme will be here. Good-bye, John.” He extended his hand, and I shook it. He joined his friends and they left, laughing.

Today, Nick and I paid to tour the ruins of Ephesus, which lie just a few kilometers outside of Selçuk. (And which are, quite frankly, the only reason people come to Selçuk.) For the most part, I found the trip tedious. But I had a good day.

Ephesus was a major city in the ancient world, once boasting a quarter of a million inhabitants. The Temple of Artemis — one of the Seven Wonders of the Ancient World — was located here. The apostle Paul lived here as he helped to spread the early Christian church. (He wrote the first letter to the Corinthians here, as well as the epistle to the Ephesians.) Another apostle, John, lived and worked in Ephesus. In fact, he died here. What’s more, he’s purported to have brought Jesus’ mother Mary to Ephesus. (This morning, we visited the supposed house where Mary lived. So did thousands of other tourists.)

With all this history, why didn’t I care for Ephesus? Because frankly, I’ve seen enough Roman ruins in my lifetime. Can you believe I’ve become this jaded? I have. There was nothing in Ephesus I hadn’t seen before, and the place was crowded. Damn crowded. Our tour guide estimated that 30,000 people passed through the gates today. I think he may have under-estimated.

If you’ve never seen Roman ruins, or if you have a particular interest in Christian history, then Ephesus might be a keen place to visit. But if you have seen Roman ruins (in Rome, for instance) or aren’t particularly interested in Christian history, I wouldn’t recommend Ephesus as a “must-see”.

Ephesus: feral cats, marble columns, and crowds. Lots of crowds.

Our tour today actually stopped at four sites…and two “shopping opportunities”. I usually hate these come-ons that are built into many tours around the world. But I enjoyed the two today.

First, we stopped at a leather factory. We watched a short fashion show featuring fancy leather garments. Then we were funneled into a leather showroom. The thing is, I really liked the first leather jacket we saw on the runway: a brown, reversible number that I thought would look good on Kim.

So, I boldly approached a salesman and tried to buy it. I had no luck. Price wasn’t a problem. It was spendy, but I’m sure there was plenty of room to negotiate. Instead, all they had were smalls or sizes like 4XL. The salesman tried to convince me to buy another color or to buy a couple of sizes too big, but I stood firm. No jacket for The Girl.

Our second stop was at a…wait for it…Turkish carpet dealer.

Yarn at the carpet shop.

If you’ve never been to Turkey, this might not mean much to you. But if you have been to Turkey, you’re groaning and shaking your head. I know it. You see, you cannot move five meters in Istanbul without being accosted by a man who wants to invite you for tea in his shop. Or to play backgammon. And oh, by the way, wouldn’t you like to see his carpets? Only to look, not to buy!

Weavers are paid by the piece and might finish one piece per year.

At this “shopping opportunity”, we received a ten-minute lesson on how silk and wool are harvested, dyed, and woven into the fine carpets on display inside the showroom. Then we were led into said showroom, where the salesman lectured to us about the beauty of Turkish carpets while his assistant unrolled dozens of them on the floor before us.

It was entertaining.

Nick was drawn to the natural carpets, the ones without dyes. These take on the colors of the fibers of the animals from which the wool is harvested. They’re not nearly as soft as, say, a silk rug, but they’ve got an undeniable charm to them. Seizing an opening, the salesman went to work on Nick.

My cousin Nick getting the hard sell from a carpet salesman.

Meanwhile, I was drawn to a tapestry in the corner of the room. Nobody else seemed to notice it, but I thought it was gorgeous. Plus, since it was much smaller than an actual carpet — maybe 12 inches by 24 inches — I thought I might be able to afford it. I asked another salesman about the price. When he asked me to follow him to another room, I knew I was in trouble.

This reminds me of Sinbad. I love it.

“It’s beautiful, no?” the salesman asked me.

“It’s gorgeous,” I said. “How much is it?”

“Look at how fine the craftmanship is,” the salesman said. He flipped the tapestry over so I could see the back. “It has more than 500 knots per square centimeter. It took very long to make. And here it is signed by the artist.”

“Yes, but how much does it cost?” I asked.

“Twenty-eight thousand dollars,” he said. I just about died.

“That’s as much as a car,” I said. “I can’t afford that.”

“Perhaps you could pay in installments,” the man said. “Plus, we can ship to your country for free. You pay now, you have the piece in six to eight weeks.”

“I don’t think so,” I said.

“How about another piece then,” he said. He motioned to his assistant, who brought out four, eight, a dozen more.

“They’re beautiful,” I said. “But they’re all going to be too expensive. How much is that one?”

“That is $38,000, sir.”

“And that one?”

“Only $9,000.”

“Do people really pay these prices?” I asked.

The salesman looked offended. “Yes, of course,” he said. “These are fine pieces of art. Some people appreciate them. See this carpet on the wall? That one costs $150,000. Many people would gladly pay that much for it.”

“Not me,” I said. And I thanked the salesman for his time.

I went back to the main room, where Nick was still talking with the salesman about the carpet he liked. The price seemed reasonable — only $2200 — but ultimately Nick declined. Nobody in our group bought a thing, and the carpet salesmen went hungry.

A man selling olives in the hillside town of Şirince.

Back in Selçuk after the tour, Nick and I caught a van (dolmuş) up the hillside to the Greek village of Şirince. There we wandered the streets, looking at the handicrafts for sale (which were slightly different and slightly cheaper than we’ve seen in other parts of Turkey), and petting the cats. Because prices were good, I bought my first souvenirs of the trip.

Before heading home, we stopped for dinner. I ordered the chicken and got to watch while the chef prepared it:

Grilled chicken and a glass of wine for fourteen lira (about seven bucks). Not bad!

How awesome is that?

In the end, it was a good day, even if the primary focus — the ruins of Ephesus — disappointed me. That’s just how travel goes sometimes.