Umm al-Jimal

A place of lack. No roofs to shelter from the cloudless, birdless sky. I've never seen anything so desolate. Empty desert would be less so. Alone, I wander aimlessly through the ruins. The bleating of a goat somewhere sounds like a warning. My mouth dries up. Black basalt stones smell sweet and musky in the midday sun. A pencil sketch of a city rubbed out with damp eraser. The stones absorb time like a dry sponge does water. Looking at the time I sprint to the entrance to catch the next bus back to town; I realize I'm terrified of being left here.

Petra

I'll always remember this Wonder of the World as the place where I realized I had contracted traveler's diarrhea only after hiking up a mountain, five kilometers from the nearest toilet. An old beggar woman stopped me to play her flute; I gave her more money than I should have to avoid being rude as I shouldered past her, intestines roiling. My steely resolve as I marched through that desert canyon was an homage to the rock-face fortresses of the Nebataeans.

Marmure Castle

I rode a rented bicycle along the beach, majestic Mediterranean lapping at my feet, to the Armenian castle. I climbed the stone ramparts, worn smooth by millenia of salty exhalations from the sea, to the highest lookout. I could see the whole town of Anamur and beyond, lush mountains to the north evaporating mist into the sky. The sea reflected the sun so violently it looked like molten chrome frothing against the rocky shore. I felt more than ever like turning and saying to someone, "Are you seeing this?" But there was no one there, only a rusty pole carrying the Turkish flag. I'd never felt so lonely.

Olympos

I set out with a conviction to be awed by the history of the ruins, a place that Cicero had called "ancient." Clambered over the stones of the necropolis and rested under an olive tree to write. Then I saw an incongruous object jammed into a crack in the wall. "The hell is that? Ram's horn? Snake skin?" No. The mysterious artifact was a dildo. Not an ancient one either, very modern.

The discovery precipitated something of a revelation for me. Rocks are just rocks. These rocks may have been a kingdom millenia ago, but now they're little more than the private refuge of some orange farmer's wife. The Hagia Sophia in Istanbul was a church, then a mosque, and now a playground for bovine tourists to be herded through by guides whose tinny voices ring over the chatter to say, "This way please! Keep moving!"