You woke up early to catch the train/bus/dolmus to Selcuk.
You died a little inside as you forked over too much cash for a taxi to Ephesus — or you hoofed it there to save a buck (and your dignity).
You battled the crowds. You waited patiently for the entire Club Med tour group to finish their school picture-day reenactment in front of the Library of Celsus.
You lost yourself for a minute staring out across a field of gleaming white marble, humbled by the accomplishments of our ancestors.
You imagined yourself in a toga at least once.
And now, you're starving.
The "comfortable walking shoes" you so dutifully packed now feel like weapons of mass destruction — particularly on the back of your left heel and the knuckle of your baby toe where it seems your sock has turned to sandpaper dipped in snake venom.
There is only one solution to all your problems.
Luckily, you're in the right place. Hop a dolmus to Sirince, ride it to the last stop, and hobble your way to Le Jardin. (It's about 25 meters back up the road from the dolmus stop. Look for a sign by a stairwell leading up to the terrace.)
Plop yourself down, point to anything on the menu, and succumb to the Turkish countryside. The rolling hills, dotted with terra-cotta-roofed cottages. The sarma, kofte, and "whatever's in season". The attentive, but not overbearing, Turkish hospitality. And of course, the house-made wine. That's what Sirince is known for, after all.