It was just past 5 am. I stumbled out of the cave hotel in the dark and wound my way down a stone street to then climb a hill to catch the rising sun. It was our last day in Goreme and I had to see one of its most celebrated attractions and the sunrise was my cue. To the east, a bright yellow band of color lie in the V between two small mountains, and above it, a thick stripe of hot pink. Deep purples and blues filled the rest of the horizon, and in the foreground, flares of red and orange. More than 30 hot air balloons were preparing for take-off. Flames of loud gas fired, and with each, the canvas balloons expanded. Effortlessly, they began to ascend like graceful giants, slowly making their way into an expansive sky.

As the balloons rose higher, they began to drift- some sideways, others behind the mountains. There were a handful that just couldn’t get up, they bobbed mid-range in between the ground and the high horizon, unsure of their place in the sky and struggling to stay afloat. The balloons assumed personalities through their movements: the go-getter, the shy guy, the reluctant friend. More gas fired. The hot pink stripe in the sky faded to white light. A dark rain cloud crept in from the west. I walked down the hill and snuck back into the cave, slipped under the covers, closed my eyes, and ascended with them.

Day 20 of 30; Postcards from Turkey



~ by maureenmoore on July 28, 2013.

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