FLOATING OVER CAPPADOCIA

The simple act of waking up in an unfamiliar place has always been a quiet moment of discovery. It begins not with sight but with sound and smell. It is 5:12 a.m., still quite dark, and an Islamic call to prayer fills the air. The unique aroma of the cave hotel, a deep, earthy scent, blends with the arid conditions outside and the fragrance from a pot of blue flowers just under my open window. These small physical differences are disorienting, reminding me that I am not waking up at home.

This realization, rather than being jarring, offers a liberating sense of possibility. As I am unpacking my camera gear, I realize that my day has no prewritten script and no tasks to perform. I decide to climb up to the rooftop terrace for a strong cup of Turkish coffee and to watch the sun rise. The sunrise did not disappoint, with over one hundred and fifty hot air balloons ascending into the new day. The coffee will have to wait.

A few days later, it was my turn. As the sun's first rays spill over the horizon, one by one, the large woven baskets begin their gentle, dream-like ascent to join the canvas of the sky. It is a calm, peaceful sensation in the air, as you move with the wind, not through it.

The basket is very quiet, everyone is in awe, and the only sound is the occasional whoosh of the propane burner as the balloon rises. We rose about 3,000 feet (balloons can go 6,000 feet). The view was a stunning panorama of fairy chimneys, rock formations, valleys, and ancient cave dwellings, all bathed in the warm glow of sunrise as one hundred fifty balloons filled the sky.

Drifting through the sky is such a sense of freedom and exhilaration. You're not just a passenger, you're a part of the sky itself, surrendering to the direction of the wind. If you ever have the chance, do it.