4/10/98: Slept in. Checked out. Rode in a dolmuş (shared taxi, pronounced “DŌL-moosh”) to Denizli, and caught the bus to Selçuk.
4/10/23: Ömer, the owner of WeisseBurg pensione in Pamukkale, had recommended us to Homeros Pension in Selçuk (named after the poet Homer, of Illiad and Odyssey fame). He also entrusted us with a package (business cards and a box of sweets) to deliver to the owner, his friend Dervish. As we stepped off the bus in Selçuk, we were surrounded by touts (salesmen) trying to convince us to stay at their pensiones. We declined all offers, explaining we were already heading to Homeros Pensione. Happily, Dervish stepped forward, accepted the box of candy and business cards, and explained that his hotel was presently full, but he would personally walk us to another friend’s hotel, the Karahan, where there were vacancies.
After checking in and dropping our backpacks off at the pensione, Dervish brought us to his office to help us with tourist information. Sadly, the “office” turned out to be a carpet shop, where we were plied with tea and fast talk. That was when we suspected we had been duped. We left the shop and walked to Homeros, by way of the map in our Lonely Planet guide book. Suspicions confirmed, we embarrassingly made apology to Dervish for having given away the cards and candy, made plans to move there the next day, and stayed for dinner.
We dined with guests Leroy and Toni, and had quite a conversation with them about everything from the time-space continuum to spiritual development. He was a retired Freudian psychiatrist, she was a retired librarian, and both were self-proclaimed “seekers, not finders.” I’m familiar with the expression “It’s not about the destination, it’s about the journey,” but I never have found that phrase satisfying, because its logical conclusion is ultimately nihilistic. All ends in meaninglessness. I do believe that there is a joy in the journey, but I also believe that there is an actual and substantive destination, just like there is a real sun in a sunrise or sunset, and a real landscape with real towns and real people over which the rays of sun shed light.
