THE BEAUTY OF FLOATING SILENTLY THROUGH THE FRESH MORNING AIR AND WATCHING THE SUN HEAT THE MAGICAL LANDSCAPE IS SOMETHING SO SPECIAL THAT YOU FALL SILENT TOO.
We had a 5am pick -up time for our incredibly expensive balloon ride. We were stuffed into a van quickly filling to beyond capacity with people from all over the world. When we got to the site we were excited to see a multitude of vividly colored slack balloons quickly being filled with hot air (they use less flammable propane). Our balloon held 20 people in a rectangular cage divided into 4 compartments with the captain in the middle with his GPS, levers, tanks, and so on. The cage was very fancy, quite new with leather trimming and sturdy wicker sides. Suddenly we lifted up and started to float through the awakening landscape. Wherever you looked, balloons hung in the air, and as the sun began to rise above the surrounding mountains, their shadows accompanied us on the ground. There was no sound except for the occasional jet of hot air being blasted into the canvas above. We took pictures incessantly, and there was joy and excitement on all faces as we floated though the lovely scenery. The ride took an hour and we realized that landing was highly wind-dependent, when the accompanying trailer and van, which were trying to position themselves on our landing site, had to change direction several times. But we landed, and were tied down with not a hitch, and had to wait nicely in our compartments, as they were emptied and filled with the new group one by one. Then we had a champagne toast and received a certificate. 
Later the same day:
LAST DAY WITH OUR GUIDE MEHMET, OF WHOM WE HAVE BECOME QUITE FOND. I AM THINKING EAST TURKEY NEXT TIME - AND MAYBE THE SOUTH....
Our last day in Cappadocia. The complicated packing for the one-suitcase limit for the domestic flight, we will catch later back to Istanbul, where we will spend a night before taking Air France to Rio via Paris. The usual remonstrations: Why do we always take too much stuff?
Mehmet takes us to a landscape of caves that were inhabited until sometime in the 1980s, when it became illegal to live in the caves. We visit one, complete with rug adorned living room and enjoy a ‘medium’ Turkish coffee, meaning with just a little sugar. Then we move up through the former dwelling, noting that the ‘Bride’s room’ has a cradle, a double bed, a WC, and a big shotgun on the wall. At the very top are the pigeon coops. These we have seen everywhere. The pigeons were kept for the guana - fertilizer they produced, but as the caves were gradually vacated, nobody took care of the birds any more, and by now you see very few.
After another spectacular lookout we are dropped in Ürgüp, so that we can go haggle with Ali Baba and his nice wife, Then Mehmet finds us another lovely spot for lunch, almost a private house, where we can see the pot with the stew slow-cooking in a deep hole, much like the one used by the monks. As we eat yet another delicious meal, we observe a gallant rooster patrolling his area, where five or six placid chickens are huddled under an old cart. This is necessary, because across the valley another black rooster is crowing in a challenging manner.
The clouds have been getting darker and we have heard distant thunder. When Mehmet drops us in a little village to take a look around, we are surprised by lashing rain. Fortunately, he returns quickly to rescue us, and we return to the hotel to relax and wait for the shuttle. We are sad to say good-bye to Mehmet. He was a lot of fun to be with, and quickly figured out what would be our preferences.
Much too soon a van filling with international tourists, including, incredibly, a young woman Wharton School student, is whisking us away from all this beauty, traveling through an increasingly industrial landscape to the Kayseri airport, where we go through security a record 4 times.
Back in Istanbul we are met by the airport hotel shuttle, wthe driver of which again seems surprised that we are 2 couples and not 2 persons. We split up, the Lehrer's in a cab with one guy, and us in the shuttle, an ancient red Renault sedan. The driver doesn’t speak English, but even I can tell he gets lost several times. Thus, it is very late when we reach the hotel, supposed to be less than 4km from the airport, and we are horrified when we are let into a dingy room with twin beds and a view of an apartment a few meters away. Everything smells of smoke, towels, sheets - everything. But it is late, we are exhausted and too tired to argue. We go to sleep sad that our beautiful trip should end this way.
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