My day started at 4:55 am when i woke up to Adam snoring, a couple of cocks crowing, the call to prayer from the mosque next door, tourists slamming their doors as they rushed to catch the shuttles to the hot air balloon rides, then the whoosh whoosh of the balloons themselves being lit.One of the most popular things to do in Kapadokya is to take the hot air balloon ride between the fairy chimneys at sunrise. It's on the list of 10,000 things to do before you die, but because we're on a tight budget and in no danger of dying soon (we hope), Adam and I gave it a miss.
At 6am, I got out of bed, pulled on my running clothes, laced up my shoes and took off for a run up the hill behind the mosque. The sky was just beginning to light up but it was still a cold morning light, with long shadows cast into the valleys. All the balloons seemed to be drifting in one direction, so I decided to follow them, choosing a trail that led out of town and towards the fairy chimneys of Rose Valley. As I approached the valley, I could see a balloon lying on its side, a long sigh of hot air being pumped into it. Like some sleepy dragon being awoken from a slumber, it started to take shape and stand up, massive and proud.
The trail I ran was sandy the whole way and corkscrewed up in tight twists and turns like a luge track. It had high walls on either side, but would occasionally open up to reveal these spectacular vistas of the valley below. The other side of the valley was ridged like the tendons of an outstretched hand. As the sun came up over the hills, the fairy chimneys started turning a mellow rose and gold. I ran to the highest point, with a couple balloons tailing me, gracefully hovering like gentle giant jellyfish above my head. People would shout down at me and wave. After the sun had fully risen, I ran down the mountain, but got lost on the way back and took a different route that ran past an austere old cemetery and enormous ruins carved in a concave semicircle with a large rock overhang. During the day, these ruins are teaming with tour buses, but at 7am there was no one there and I hiked up to watch a few birds swoop in and out of their scenic perches.
.... Since we finally got a sunny day, Adam and I found ourselves a place to watch the sunset, climbing to the top of the tallest fairy chimney we could find. Did I mention I'm terrified of heights? With our feet dangling over the edge into the valley below (Adam guesses we were at least 250-300 feet up), we had at least a couple of hours to kill until sunset. Adam got out his harmonica and we took turns picking out tunes we'd learned in the Scouts, like By the Swanee River, Oh Susanna! and everything we could think of in the key of C. We snacked on some honeycomb I'd picked up at the market that morning, clawing off huge chunks with our hands like bears, getting both our fingers and chins sticky. It was one of those rare, carefree moments that remind you of being a child. Eating sweets with no one to tell you you're going to ruin your appetite, scrambling up rocks, playing music, and singing. The sunset, by the way, was pretty. Not as breathtaking as sunrise, but a different -- a shared moment of blissful simple pleasures.
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