Thirty minutes from the hotel, the marble streets of Ephesus are at their most generous before the coaches arrive. A quiet guide to the early hour.
There is a window, roughly between the opening of the gates and half past eight, when Ephesus belongs to almost no one. The stone is still cool. Swifts move above the Library of Celsus. The light comes in low and long down Curetes Street, and for a while the city reads less like a monument and more like a place people once lived.
We recommend leaving La Vista at seven. The drive inland takes about half an hour, past fig orchards and the low hills that hold the morning mist. Our concierge arranges the car and a private guide who knows when to speak and, more importantly, when not to.
The stone is still cool, and the city belongs to almost no one.
Enter from the upper gate and walk downhill — it is kinder on the legs and it delivers the Library at exactly the right moment, framed at the end of the descent. The Terrace Houses, with their frescoes and mosaic floors, are worth the additional ticket; they are covered, cool, and almost always empty at that hour.
By ten you can be back on the terrace with coffee and the sea in front of you, having seen one of the great cities of the ancient world before most of its visitors have finished breakfast.
