Central Turkey’s scenery evokes Lucas, Spielberg, and Bertolucci simultaneously: fantastic, stunning, and magically beautiful.

How long does it take to create a masterpiece? It could take four million years.

That is the case, at least, with Cappadocia, where Anatolia’s volcanoes erupted with such genius persistence that they created one of the most fantastic landscapes on the planet: valleys strewn with sand cones; tall stone pillars with triangular roofs; canyons in rocks, seemingly made out of melted butter.

Here mankind began building its Old Testament human ant-hills – over and underground colonies, as early as prehistoric times. Thousands of metres of corridors link the different levels of dwellings dug into the rocks, in places chiseled into elegant façades. Millions of pigeonholes frame the heights like freezes, adding a slightly urban feel to the magical landscape.

10,000 years later – i.e. nowadays, these colonies continue to be inhabited to a great extent. They have become “picturesque” in the way John Ruskin defined the term – with time, they have developed a beauty which was not intended by their creators: satellite dishes stick out of the sand igloos, guarded by the enormous local kangal dogs; windows have been put into the openings and motorbikes lean against walls here and there.



Cappadocia spans over a territory roughly the size of Belgium. It stretches between Kayseri in the east, Aksaray in the west, Hacibektas in the north, and Nigde in the south. Many centuries ago this was the centre of the Hittite Empire. Later it became an independent kingdom, and then it was turned into a large Roman province mentioned in the Bible. Carved into the rocks, there are hundreds of Early Christian churches scattered around the valleys.

Because of its diverse terrain, Cappadocia can be explored by trekking, climbing, crawling, and abseiling, but it is most impressive at sunrise, viewed from under the multicoloured canvas of a hot air balloon.

For me it all begins on the day of the flight. A little before dawn, I sip my coffee in front of my cave – the hotel apartment dug into the sandy cones of Göreme, in Central Cappadocia. While I’m trying to wake up, something emerges silently from behind the garden’s white wall and obstructs the dawning sky.

Because I am unused to balloons flying low over me, I spill coffee all over myself. I go to wash up in the luxurious a la franga, or ‘French style’, bathroom – meaning there is a sitting toilet rather than a hole in the ground. It occupies a spacey room, dug out when the cave was being turned into a hotel. Before, sheep were kept here and on the walls, there are still rings to which the Anatolian stock-breeders used to tie cattle until 15 years ago.

When I get to the takeoff site, I find a crowd of sour faced people, wrapped up in scarves and gloves. Even though it is September, Cappadocia’s high plateau is piercingly chilly and, at 50 metres above the ground, a sharp wind blows.

At least ten balloons take off in succession from three sites in Göreme while it is still dark. The only sound interrupting the quietness is the whishing of their gas burners. Their bluish red flames are the only patches of colour in what appears to be a nearly diaphanous world around us.

After a while the sun begins to rise, but the mountain range to the east prevents it from reaching the valley. The balloons ascend noiselessly higher and higher and, one after the other, come into the light, which, as if all at once, covers them with vivid colours.

We fly low over Göreme, the Honey Valley spreading out beneath us. The oblique light makes its fairy chimneys and houses even taller and more mysterious.



Cappadocia's natural phenomenon is the result of a process known as differential erosion. For thousands of years the rains have washed away the soft volcanic formation particles and, continuing their way through the hollows, carved canyons. Of similar origin are the Belogradchik Rocks in Bulgaria and Meteora in Greece. The "fairy chimneys", Cappadocia's symbol, were formed in the spots where a more resistant rock protected the sandstone below from erosion.

The most impressive ones are in Devrent Valley. There, the chimneys have grown up as if in tufts, and the bigger "houses" have as many as five of them. Some are used as towers in the dwellings that are scooped inside. Slightly hyperbolized, they are the most widely reproduced souvenir kitsch in the area: small clay agglomerations, something between an eight-fingered hand and Grandad's Glove (mind your knowledge of Bulgarian folk fairy tales).

Our balloon takes a wide turn around the tall mountain east of Göreme and we find ourselves over Zelve. Below we can see the partly collapsed houses of the sand city, whose inhabitants were evacuated as late as the 1950s due to safety concerns. At the foot of its hill starts an endless succession of low vineyards and melon fields. Despite its ashen look, the plateau's volcanic soil is exceptionally fertile and Cappadocia is the largest producer of grapes and fruit in Turkey.

Then we pick up height and, after a while, Üçhisar emerges right in front of us: an imposing castle which affords the most beautiful view over the Göreme Valley. The best time to climb it is at sunset, when the whole valley and the huge, snow-covered Erciyes Mountain across, glow in yellow and red. The castle itself, however, is most impressive at sunrise when its upward-leading tunnels and windows remain the only dark spots on the slope.

After one and a half hours in the air, we start to descend and I am shocked by the scale of things again. Because the surrounding landscape’s elements are so unusual, they do not give an idea of their real size and they vary with every change of distance: yet another fairy feature of the area and one that hit a spot for a number of artists, among them Salvador Dali.



And the comparison with George Lucas, Steven Spielberg, and Bernardo Bertolucci is not without a point. According to a local rumour, one of Cappadocia's rock monasteries was the immediate inspiration for the stage design of Star Wars.

Practicalities

Despite producing what are probably Turkey's best wines, Cappadocia's major industry is tourism. For this reason the prices there are relatively high and don’t vary significantly from one region to the other. A flight in a hot air balloon, lasting about one and a half hours, costs $150-250. In Cappadocia there are about a dozen balloon operators, but they are constantly at war with each other over who is better, who is more experienced, whose insurance is more extensive, and whose licence has expired. Balloon flights can be dangerous and it is your responsibility to check thoroughly the reliability of the services being offered.