May 22: Pamukkale

A three-hour bus trip brings us to the magical Pamukkale – literally, the “cotton cliffs” – fantastic formations of white stone due to the crystallising of calcium in subterranean water that has risen to the cooler surface. The afore-mentioned water comes forth from the top of a large plateau and forms shallow pools that were thought to have had restorative properties. Hence, the ancient spa town of Hıerapolis – complete with ruins – is perched above this marshmallow terrain, and in Roman times the infirm and unwell were drawn here hoping for a cure for their ills.

These days, the pools (or travertines) attract scores of scantily-clad tourists – mainly (gasp) Russians! – who seem a little out-of-place alongside the conservative locals. It’s as if everyone who packed a bikini or Speedos, overweight men included (ugh), decided that this was the time to break out the togs and the beach behaviour, at 500 m above sea level. Despite this wailing, it is still an incredible place.

The ruins of Hıerapolis bear similarities to Ephesus, and we’re not really ruin buffs, but the 2 km of graves and empty sarcophagi on either side of the ancient road are pretty impressive.

The day ends with a twelve-hour overnight bus trip from Denizli to Göreme, in the heart of Cappadocia. A note about Turkey’s buses: they are excellent, providing among other things, comfortable seating, a bus steward who serves snacks, and complimentary lemon cologne for your hands and face! Unfortunately they also don’t mind occasionally piping in some thumping contemporary Turkish techno at a volume that blows away puny little iPod headphones.

Finally, apparently there was some sort of bomb in Ankara, the capital, that killed six and injured dozens. Some suspect the Kurds, but no-one really knows. However, that stuff was miles away, and we are fine.

BTW, a long-overdue apology to fans of good grammar for constantly switching between present and past tense in this blog.