Day 31 (26 June)

Today, as opposed to yesterday, we had time to enjoy the very tasty buffet breakfast provided by the friendly people at the Urkmez Hotel in Selcuk.

And then we were off again. Back on the train. Destination Denizli.

At 3.5 hours, today's was a much longer journey than Monday's but also a much nicer one (and at TRY 17.5 per person, anything but expensive). This time the carriage was properly cooled (and there was even an air-conditioned waiting room to keep everyone fresh until the train arrived).

As last time, an attendant was moving up and down the cars offering ayran (a yoghurt drink) and simit (the fatter Turkish equivalent of the sesame-crusted bread rings that I liked so much in Greece).

The scenery was splendid. For most of the way you travel along a very broad valley, with mountains on either side. The valley is extensively cropped; the hillsides have been left to their own grand devices.

We also passed several geothermal power stations, and not far from Denizli, the famous splash of whiteness that is Pamukkale.


Denizli is low-key, non-touristy, and pleasant.



Afternoon achievements:

1. Eating nice stuff. Turkish lentil soup (yellow, the consistency of thin cream, the taste set off nicely by a squeeze of lemon). And (this is wicked) kunefe, a dessert made with shredded phyllo dough, cheese, butter, and a sugar syrup. It arrives at the table piping hot, all crispy at the top, and stretchy and melting underneath. Delicious.


2. Buying medicine. There's a bit of a back-story here. Every day I have to take a medication that is supposed to stop last year's cancer returning. I left Malaysia with a number of weeks' supply, but you can't carry too many, and I've been away for a while now.

I attempted to replenish my stock in the UK, but to no avail. Newark doctors are hard to penetrate. I didn't even try one practice, having been rebuffed on a previous occasion. Another has a system whereby you can't pre-book -- you have to phone after 11 am, see if you can get through, and trust to luck as to whether there are any appointment slots left for that day (I can imagine this is a sure way to drive up blood pressure).

OK, I thought, I'll try in Birmingham. One surgery I phoned said they didn't take any temporary patients (I was later told by two different people that this is illegal). They gave me the number of another surgery, but that one didn't even answer the phone... I checked out private services, but the consultation would have cost me GBP 60, plus GBP 10 for writing out the prescription, plus whatever the medicine would have cost. No way...

So, with a few weeks' supply still in hand, I kicked the can down the road a bit.

Today, with my stocks dipping to dangerously low levels, I tackled the pharmacies of Denizli (having read that most medications can be obtained over the counter in Turkey). I drew a blank at the first one. At the second, the two guys searched their database, brought up the requisite drug on the computer screen, got me to check it was what I wanted, and showed me the price (very reasonable).

But there was obviously a problem. The challenge was to fathom out what.

My Turkish is limited to good-morning, thank-you, and a rapidly growing compendium of food vocabulary. Their English was no more extensive (why should it be?). So communicating that they didn't have this drug in stock right at this moment, but could get it in 15-20 minutes this very afternoon, actually took a bit of time and imagination.

But they stuck with it.

Where communication is concerned, the world divides clearly into two: those who fall at the first fence of incomprehension, and have no tools or will to deal with it; and those who will not be impeded from communicating, come what may.

These guys were in the latter category. They persevered until we all understood what was going to happen.

So, Nigel and I did a 20-minute lap round the block. As we returned, we spotted a motorcyclist delivering a package to the pharmacy -- my medicine.

I paid, and we parted with smiles and handshakes and attempts at politenesses in each other's languages.

So there we are. Almost certainly a much lower fee than I would have paid even under the UK's National Health system -- and a nice memory.

Turkey is keen to develop its already flourishing health tourism sector. I wish it every success.

Day 32 (27 June)

We're staying at the family-run Yildirim Hotel, which is really close to the train and bus stations, and does a really, really good breakfast...


To get to Laodicea, you catch a minibus from Bay 76 on the lower level of the bus terminal. It costs TRY 2.50 per person, and the journey takes about 10 minutes (at which point you cross the road, and walk about another 10 minutes up to the site). It's all very easy.

Why the ruins of Laodicea, you may ask -- and not Pamukkale, the famous mineral terraces with the gorgeous turquoise pools?

Well, that had been our original aim in routing our journey through Denizli. But then I read that you have to walk the travertines of Pamukkale barefoot, and it's quite slippery. (Given that my bones aren't all they should be, I try to avoid "slippery" whenever I can.) Even more discouragingly, I read this... If 2 million people per year visit Pamukkale, that's an average of about 5,500 per day. And of course far more visit in the summer than the winter...

So, we decided to postpone Pamukkale, until such times as I have better bone density scores, and we're able to come back in the off-peak period.

No problem, though, as Laodicea (even closer to Denizli than Pamukkale) was really wonderful.

It's a much quieter site than Ephesus. The relatively few groups that come are much smaller, and go through quite quickly. It's easy to find space.

The landscape is fantastic. You're ringed by big mountains. Down in the valley (the Lycus Plain), it's really green, and lush with crops. (And judging by the number of baths and fountains and nymphaeums in the old city, it's never been much of a problem to get hold of water.)



There's a cafe, where you can enjoy a traditional Turkish tea on the breezy deck for not too much money.

And the archaeological restoration (still proceeding) has done a great job of showing us how the Roman version of this great trading, banking, and textile-producing city must have looked.












Like Smyrna and Ephesus, Laodicea also had a notable early Christian community. And this church, too, received a "letter" via St John's Revelation. It was highly uncomplimentary, signalling clearly the spiritual dangers of being in a position where you can say: "I am rich, I have prospered, and I need nothing."

Nevertheless, the church at Laodicea continued, and gained considerable prominence. It became a bishopric, and a significant place of pilgrimage.

One of the signboards explains that the Edict of Milan in 313, which allowed Christians freedom of worship, meant that "the socio-economic and spiritual balances started to shift and consequently councils became unavoidable in order to clarify issues on interpretations, rites and church regulations". The first council was held at Nicea in 325; there was one at Laodicea somewhere between 341 and 381. The board goes on to give a potted version of the "canons" (rules) it came up with.

All very understandable. Institutions need order and predictability. There needs to be discipline. And of course all these rules were born out of the specific cultural challenges of the time. But it does all start to sound a bit dictatorial... Not to mention restrictive and exclusionary... You start to wonder what was happening to the inclusivity of Jesus -- and his radical social agenda.

Be that as it may, the archeological teams have done a great job of piecing together (literally) key elements of the 4th-century Church of Laodicea. It must have been fantastically colourful, a riot of mosaics, frescoes, marble, and tiles.









Very pleased with our morning, we caught the minibus back to Denizli, and headed for the bazaar area to the east of 420 Sokok. This is picturesque and very local. As you move from area to area in the narrow streets, you come across offerings of pans, festive clothing, jewellery, spices, metalwork, shoes, and so on.



Denizli's been great. Fruit, from the orchards that surround it, is cheap and plentiful, and we've gorged on apricots and nectarines since being here. And we've discovered Turkish "tost" (basically toasted panini), courtesy of the Yildirim's roof terrace (free Turkish tea after 7 pm).

Tomorrow -- the long journey to Ankara.