What makes the scene even more disconcerting is that many of these forms are trying to immerse themselves in less than five inches of water, in just two small ponds, whilst there is an ongoing furious burst of shrilled whistle blowing, stopping, reprimanding and directing the forms to remove themselves from other ponds and areas that are out of bounds on the terraces and are being swamped upon by thousands of feet, hands and scantily clad bodies.
I'm kicking myself. For not getting up
earlier and hobbling up here at first light. For missing out on seeing the
changing dawn colours of the cascading limestone pools, formed over thousands
of years as the calcium-carbonated spring waters gently flowed over the edges
of the stalactites, and for missing out on soaking up the tranquillity of an
ancient landscape. 
Instead, M and I have joined the hoards of thousands that have
emerged upon the Cotton Fortress and we now all jostle for viewing space, shady seating
and peace and quite to contemplate the uniqueness of it all. I'm also cursing my crutches and the boot for not allowing me to step on the travertines, to feel the contradictory hardness of what looks so intensely soft, and nor am I able to make my way around the incredible ruins of the 'sacred city' - Hierapolis - that butts right up to the travertines.
The ruins of Hierapolis spread out across the
top of the hill, and by the appearance of the map depicting what the sacred
city once looked like, it would seem that Hierapolis was once a large thriving
metropolis. It's also where the Apostle, Philip spent his last years of
life,(along with his daughter and son), and was buried after being martyred and
crucified by the Romans — he was hung in a tree upside down with irons in his
heels and ankles. The tomb of St. Philip was re-discovered in 2011 (although
not his grave) when Italian archaeologists were excavating an area called
Martyrs’ Hill.
M wanders off to explore the magnificent ruins and the travertines, whilst I fight for space at the top of the
terraces and have my eyes and ears accosted by swarms of tourists with blatant
disregard for the nature and history that surrounds them. As I sit here and watch
the scenes around me unfold, my mind keeps screaming "Please People! Put
some clothes on." I totally understand the reason why everyone must take
off their shoes before walking on the travertines, but I just can't comprehend
why there are so many people in next to nothing, splashing in puddles...and
some of the 'bathers' aren't even wearing bathers! I watch one woman (and in
her 60's at least!) pull off her top and skirt and wander about in the water
wearing just her bra and (thankfully) proper size knickers - the water doesn't even come up close to her knees, nor does she even lower herself into the water, so why in the world she even needed to undress. bemuses me to no-end!
M isn't away for
too long and tells me he's found an even more bizarre sight."It's not every day you have your photo taken with a whopping great cock" he says laughing.
As we return to the village of Pamukkale, I notice that there shops are full of trinkets, statues, and printed images of the rooster and am at a loss as to its significance.
Later, when I look up the importance of this rooster to Pamukkale I find a news article, dated only a few days earlier to our visit to the spot, announcing that the Aydın Preservation Board of Cultural and Natural Heritage has ordered the Rooster (which is only 6months old) to be removed as they deem it illegal because it is in a protected area.
All thoughts of 'big chickens' leave our mind
when we drive into the town of Selcuk and find ourselves surrounded by another
leggy bird - the beautiful Selcuk Storks and their fluffy chicks.(Forgive me peeps, Although this blog was written back in May 2014, it and the final blog ramblings for Turkey weren't 'posted' until December 2014.... lots of reasons, lots of excuses, all of which are puffy and irrelevant.) Date of stay: 21st May 2014
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