Walking on Clouds: The Magic of Pamukkale's Travertine Terraces: Part 2

Holding my Hot Air Balloon Certificate like a proud graduate, I eagerly waited for the rest of our group to join us. Our new tour guide for this leg of the journey hopped into our van and introduced himself (I promptly forgot his name—let's call him Mike). He resembled every secondary school music teacher—a slim, bald European man with a hint of grey stubble and a distinctive accent. Mike proudly informed us that Pamukkale was his hometown, where he had lived his entire life.
"Before we head up to the Travertines of Pamukkale, since you've come from afar, I'll be taking us to 'Red Water' first. It's the best way to start your experience," Mike announced with a smile.

We were a bit disoriented about our next destination; some in our group were sleepy or hungry, and not everyone spoke English. Personally, I was eyeing a donkey I wanted to befriend, though I doubted I could stroll into someone's garden just to hang out with it. Eventually, we arrived at a fascinating spot called 'Karahayıt'. At its center was an adorable, volcanic-shaped rock structure with water gushing out at a scorching forty-four degrees Celsius. Mike enthusiastically informed us of its purported benefits for skin and health, encouraging us to touch and even drink the water. As we cautiously tested the water's heat one by one. We were told the area around the spout was not meant for consumption. Then, to my surprise, a Labrador decided to take a dip, prompting me to realize, "Ah, it's a dog's bath." Yet, one adventurous tourist took it a step further, stripping down to his underwear and plunging into the same water. I couldn't help but think, "You do you, buddy," while silently questioning his choice. Behind us, a set of steps cascaded with clear, red-tinged water, creating a stunning waterfall effect. This picturesque scene became a favorite backdrop for husbands-turned-photographers, diligently capturing their wives' poses. One woman, in particular, meticulously retook the exact same picture seven times, each a foot apart—a quirk that made me appreciate the perks of solo travel.

As we finally approached the Unesco Site of Hierapolis, I found that this place was more than just a few glaciers on a mountain. Our guide explained to us this was The Ancient Greco-Roman city, a religious site dedicated to Pluto, the God of the underworld, where toxic gases emanated from a cave, believed to be a gateway to the underworld. Hierapolis was famous for its thermal springs, and the Pamukkale Terraces were formed by mineral-rich thermal waters flowing down the mountainside, leaving behind these beautiful structures resembling terraces.

Stepping into the site, I was immediately struck by the rugged beauty surrounding us. Large rocks dotted the distant mountains, a crumbling dome structure (the ancient theatre) loomed to our right, scattered remnants of buildings lay randomly, and dried grass added a rustic charm under the blazing sun. After the rest of the group opted for a dip in the sacred pool believed to be used by Cleopatra, I ventured off towards the Travertines of Pamukkale. The terraces descending in a mesmerising cascade of blue and white, creating a stunning mosaic against the backdrop of Pamukkale in the distance. It was one of the most breathtaking sights I had ever beheld. Removing my shoes and carefully placing my bag to the side, I entered the first terrace, mindful of Mike's warning about the slippery terrain. True to his word, the ground was indeed treacherous, causing more pain to my feet than I had anticipated. The water, only reaching up to our knees, provided a refreshing relief. An American girl from our group struggled to capture her own photos, so I offered to save her the struggle, and although I initially declined her offer due to my self-perceived unphotogenic state, she insisted. I relented, and she ended up filming one of my favourite videos. We both realised we could not really get all the way to the furthest terrace. I dropped down to one more before heading back. As a Chinese family approached slowly, I asked them to snap a picture of me in the pool since my selfie stick couldn't stand upright on the rocky ground. The father, a kind elderly man with a cheerful demeanor, assisted me out of the pool to prevent any slips. In return, I offered to take their photo, but my attempt to assist him backfired when he simply wanted his phone returned. Sheepishly, I took one last lingering look at the captivating view before reluctantly making my way back—there was no way my feet could handle this anymore.

Now, I wasn't keen on joining the crowded pool. Instead, I opted to trek uphill to the ancient theatre—a fifteen-minute journey through scorching heat with a breathtaking view of the mountains. I was so ecstatic: just me, my overpriced sparkling water (don't judge), and my legs that hadn't seen a workout in over a week (go ahead and judge me). Once I reached the top, I was taken aback by what lay before me. It was a colossal theatre, with towering pillars that seemed as large as buildings. The structure was unreal yet utterly breathtaking. My initial thought was, "Isn't this meant to be in Rome, or Athens?" I found a seat and absorbed the grandeur around me, still trying to catch my breath from the uphill trek. Setting up my selfie stick, I began capturing the scene when Dani, from Devon, approached. She kindly offered to take my picture, but I politely declined. Both solo travelers, Dani and I spent the next twenty to thirty minutes sharing our travel experiences. I even tried to convince her to go paragliding too—I hope my enthusiasm convinced her!

After having now left the site, we had eaten and were about to head home. Until Mike surprised us with a wine tasting session at a cozy little venue, where we sat in a dimly lit room surrounded by shelves of wine bottles. Tasting wines made from pomegranates, a unique twist on traditional wine. Alongside the tasting, they offered us other products like sinus-clearing solutions and migraine relief ointments, but I stuck to enjoying the wines poured into my shot glass. One particularly intriguing wine supposedly enhanced libido and was only made every few years—I passed on that one; who knows when it might decide to kick in!