Wednesday was the day we’d been waiting for, the reason we’d come to Cappadocia. We were going for a hot air balloon ride. If you’ve searched for Cappadocia, you’ve no doubt seen images of tens of hot air balloons filling the sky above the hills. We were jumping on the inflatable bandwagon.

The downside to this was having to get up at 3am to meet our driver at about 3:30am. I’d woken up sometime around 1am, anxious to not miss the bus, and then struggled to sleep the rest of the two hours before we really did have to get up.

We were downstairs to meet the driver well before our allotted time so off we went to pick up the other people and then drive to a restaurant which served as a meeting point. We were given breakfast, which was unexpected, and assigned a bus (ours was number six), and then we waited.

The plan had been to take off sometime just after sunrise but the sun rose and we were still sitting in the bus, having not gone anywhere. We were then given notice that we weren’t going anywhere as they were still trying to decide whether the wind was too strong for us to. Uh-oh!

Glen and I groaned. This was rapidly turning into one of those other experiences we’d booked ourselves in for but never got to complete. So far the list includes seeing moose in Canada, the Northern Lights anywhere, and Antelope Canyon/Grand Canyon. Why not add Cappadocia to the list?

We were told we had to wait another half an hour which, for us, sounded like the death knell. But suddenly there was a rush of activity and we were on our way into a field with a lot of semi-limp balloons being inflated.

There were so many!

Each balloon’s basket fit about 20 people and I’d say there were at least 50 balloons out there. At €150 per person that was a lot of dosh for an activity that takes place every day. Good for them.

We took our photos and then climbed into the basket; there being four sections for us and one for the pilot and his canisters of gas. We were soon ascended into the sky and the ground getting further and further away from us. Some balloons were already 700m up before we’d gotten off the ground, seeming impossibly high up.

We drifted over valleys and mesas and fairy chimneys, going up and down, bumping into one balloon at one stage, and covering a fair amount of distance. Despite the height and not being able to do something if it all went pear-shaped, I wasn’t scared. I’d been on a balloon ride before and was glad that I didn’t get into a panic about being so high up.

In fact, it was an amazing experience. Usually these sorts of things, with mass market appeal, leave me a little disappointed. If I’ve seen the photo, is there much else that I need from it? But this one far exceeded my expectations. It was tranquil and the landscape was awesome. I can’t recommend it highly enough.

After about an hour we came down to land. We’d been given our instructions on assuming the landing position, which was a bit hard as the five of us didn’t quite fit side-by-side in our section of the basket. When I’d been on a ride before we had a crash landing and definitely had to hold on. We ended up sideways and despite the seriousness of it, the landing was a lot of fun. This time, there was no tipping and the basket was landed on to the basket’s trailer being pulled by a ute. Talk about skill!

We climbed out and had champagne, received our certificate of completion, and then got back into the bus and taken back to our hotel. We were home by 8:30 and back in bed by 9.

A Rest Day

We stayed in bed until 12:30 (it taking me far longer to fall asleep than Glen). Originally we’d considered going for a walk in Ihlara Valley. If it had been closer, we would have, but as it was an hour and a half away, and the middle of the day, and looked a bit less impressive than Karijini, we decided we didn’t need to see it. I hope I don’t live to regret it.

Instead we went for lunch in the town, in the same place we had lunch yesterday, then came back to the hotel to take it easy. I finished the proofs of my book, while Glen read a book.

In the evening we walked down the hill and across to a restaurant that was described as a ‘hidden gem’ on TripAdvisor. Glen and I joke about hidden gems all the time; sadly this was not one. The food wasn’t that great, and service pretty poor (maybe because it’s the end of Ramadan). The only thing they had going for it was the view, which was spectacular, especially as there was a storm drifting in and we could watch the lightning for a while. We left once it got really dark and the rain started to spit.

As an aside, one of the nicest things about being here has been the gardens filled with fruit-bearing trees/vines—mostly grapes, apricots and mulberries. Tonight we saw a bunch of women picking blueberries from the trees, laughing away as the did so. For a place that’s strongly marketed towards tourists, it was nice to see this slice of ordinary life.