A year ago today I was in Euromos.
We were driving from Bodrum to Selcuk, and on the map, alongside the highway, there was a little star on the map indicating an ancient site.
The road wasn’t well marked, but we managed to find it and bump along a rural two-rut lane until we came out of the trees and saw what was probably the best-preserved temple of our journey.
Euromos was a polis created when a number of local cities decided to move to a single site better situated for defense. They chose an appropriate name for their new city: Euromos means “Strong.”
The Temple of Zeus is about the only part of the city excavated. There’s a theater completely covered by trees and brush, and bits of a massive wall, and of course everywhere you go, you’re walking on ancient potsherds, which is simply normal for Turkey.
But the temple is just perfect. It’s survived the centuries and the earthquakes wonderfully well, and its setting is breathtaking. It’s perfectly proportioned for its site, and I haven’t yet seen a photograph that does it justice.
After this little detour, the ladies began to call me “Zeus.” As I am not inclined to analysis when people flatter me, I will not venture to guess why.