Last year, I witnessed something that shook me to the core.
It was early afternoon, and I was casually strolling down the boulevard of Necropolis in Pamukkale. (Well, I was trying to be casual, but truth to be told, I was still reeling from shock, mingled with relief, after what had transpired some time before. I was this close to being accosted by a police. No kidding! It seemed that he suspected I had entered without a ticket. That incident was unrelated to my aha! moment--to quote Oprah Winfrey--afterwards, but perhaps it could help explain my reaction towards what would happen shortly.) The place was surprisingly quiet; maybe tourists preferred to come and visit in the morning? Anyway, if there were more people, I might not notice this young couple taking pictures.
There's nothing out of ordinary about them--Caucasian, early twenties, definitely not Turks. (After a few days in the country, I had learned to discern what Turkish sounded like, at the very least.) The girl posed for a photograph in front of an arch, part of what's left of an ancient tomb, smiling brightly. Seeing her smile like that, an irrational dread came over me. You shouldn't act so cheerfully in a cemetery, even one that's a thousand years old. Show some respect, for God's sake! Or so I thought at that time.
It took time to realize that I wasn't disturbed for the sake of all those people who were buried there. My motive was entirely selfish: I was disturbed simply for my own sake.
----to be continued----
