One of my favorite memories of our trip will be our 30th anniversary night on July 12. We had arranged for a "home-cooked" Turkish meal at 7:30 p.m. at our hotel. Jim and I returned from our all day tour around 7, fairly exhausted. But, a quick shower and change of clothes later, we joined Beth, Mark and Leon on the terrace. It was a beautiful, clear night. We drank wine and shared memories of our wedding day with Beth. We were toasted and feted. Leon, Mark and Beth then surprised us with a present - a hot air balloon ride, scheduled for the next morning! What a gift.
Our transport to the balloon site arrived at 5:45 a.m. the next morning. We join several others already in the van and went up a hilltop launch site. There, four balloons are being inflated with huge propane heaters. Once filled with hot air, all five of us climb into one of four baskets tied to the balloon.
Our pilot stands in the middle of the four baskets. He's from England, and flies hot air balloons in Goreme, Cappadocia in the summer and Burma in the winter. He says most people work 9 to 5, but he prefers his 5 to 9 schedule. According to him, thirteen years ago, there was only one hot air balloon company in Goreme. But due to the unique beauty of this landscape, there are now dozens. And we see them. As the sun rises, so do the balloons. One by one, balloons of every hue start drifting across the horizon; we count over twenty-five. Soon, we are sailing, too!
Our ride lasts about an hour. We dip down into the same Love Valley that we walked two days before, then rise over farm fields, rock chimneys, and fairylike hills. The morning light sparkles. We see forever. We land right where the crew is, manuveur ourselves out of the basket, and enjoy flutes of champagne. What a perfect last morning in Goreme!
The rest of the day is spent traveling to Kyrgyzstan. Earlier, Jim had sent Kunduz a note saying that since we were arriving so late (after 1:00 a.m.), we would take a taxi to the hotel and meet her father in the morning. Kunduz replied that she wouldn't even pass that note along - that he would want to meet us upon arrival. And, he did. We left passport control, and there were three gentlemen with a hand-printed sign saying "Jim", and bouquets of roses for Beth and me. Kunduz's father Rysbek was one; the other two were Kunduz' brother-in-law and and a dear family friend named Babur.
We arrive at our hotel at 3 a.m., and fall into bed - grateful for the bed, but mostly for great friends.
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