It is possible to visit Ephesus and never notice that the ruins have neighbours — tens of thousands of them, living lives whose rhythms would be half-familiar to the ancient city. We think meeting the living town is part of understanding the dead one, so here is the local almanac.
Tea, first and always
Everything social in and around Selçuk runs on çay — small tulip glasses, endlessly refilled, offered to guests, customers, strangers and people who merely paused nearby. Refusing the first glass is acceptable; refusing the second borders on eccentric. In carpet shops the tea is simple hospitality — it predates commerce here, and outlasts it.
The eye, everywhere
The blue-and-white nazar boncuğu — the evil-eye bead — hangs over doorways, dashboards, cradles and cash registers across the region, deflecting envy exactly as the Medusa on the Temple of Hadrian did two thousand years ago. It is the oldest continuous tradition on this page: apotropaic glass has been made on this coast for millennia, and nobody sees a reason to stop now.
The calendar
Saturday is market day in Selçuk — produce mountains, village cheese, olives by the bucket, and the week’s social exchange conducted at volume. Autumn belongs to the olive and tangerine harvests (Selçuk tangerines are a point of fierce local pride), spring to weddings, with drums and pinned banknotes and convoys of horns. And on the third Sunday of January comes the region’s great spectacle: the camel wrestling championship, when decorated tülü camels grapple before picnicking crowds in an atmosphere — sausage smoke, brass bands, gossip — that Ephesus’ old festival crowds would recognise at once. No camels are harmed; dignity, on all sides, is negotiable.
