After Ephesus, our next stop, like the sunset in Kusadasi, was another unanticipated surprise. With only one hour left until needing to be at the Izmir airport, we loaded up our silver chariot and gave it and Yildez (our driver) a workout as we snaked our way to the summit of a mountain outside of Selcuk. What we saw were sheer hillsides planted in olives, grapes, and figs, and draped in the last rays of the fleeting sun. Hairpin curves afforded drastic views down the confluence of wooded valleys until arriving at a small Turkish village called Sirice (pronounced Cheriche).

Part of the "Great Exchange" after the Greek-Ottoman Wars, this whitewashed village was built and inhabited by Greeks until the Greeks moved out and the Turks moved in. It was definitely dinner time as we started to roam the streets lined with houses made of stone and thatch and painted with white. With every new cobbled street we continued upward towards the apex of the mountain and the village until we could watch the sun depart over the village and cast its amber hues on man, beast, and the town of Sirice.

We were blessed to be at the summit while watching the sun go down behind the fall induced colors of the grapes, figs, and olives, while a goat herder walked his his bell-clanging herd home for dinner. During that wonderful moment, we felt like we were incredibly blessed to be among the trees, the earth, the goats, the wafting smoke from the hearths, and the wonder of a Greek village. This was a time that I wish I could have bottled up forever, opening the cork every now and again to be transported back to that symphony at Sirice.