Arrival in Pamukkale: white terraces under evening light

It's just past 6:30 pm, and I'm sitting on the balcony of my small hotel room in Pamukkale, wrapped in an extra blanket against the chilly evening air. The temperature has dropped to about 3°C, but I can't bring myself to go inside just yet. Not when the view before me is this mesmerizing.

The famous white calcium terraces of Pamukkale stretch out below, catching the last light of day. Even from this distance, they look like a frozen waterfall cascading down the hillside. The mostly cloudy sky has parted just enough to allow some fading sunlight to paint the white surfaces with subtle amber hues. I've seen countless photos of these travertines, but seeing them in person – even from a distance – brings an unexpected feeling of wonder.

The journey from Izmir

This morning started early in Izmir. I'd packed most of my things last night, so I only needed to gather my toiletries and electronics before heading down for a quick breakfast at the hotel. My bus to Pamukkale was scheduled for 9:15 am, which meant I needed to be at the bus station by 9:00 at the latest.

I arrived at 8:50, of course, and found the correct platform with little trouble. The bus was comfortable enough for the approximately three-hour journey, though as always, the seats weren't quite designed for someone my height. I've mastered the art of the diagonal leg position by now – a necessary skill when your knees press firmly against the seat in front.

The landscape changed gradually as we moved inland from coastal Izmir. The hills grew more pronounced, farmland stretched across valleys, and small villages appeared and disappeared from view. I spent most of the journey alternating between reading and watching the scenery, occasionally checking our progress on my phone's map.

We arrived in Pamukkale village around 12:30 pm. It's a small place, clearly built around tourism to the natural wonder that gives it its name. The streets near the bus station are lined with souvenir shops, restaurants, and hotels, all relatively quiet during this winter season.

First impressions and settling in

I found my hotel easily enough – a family-run place with simple but clean rooms. The owner, an energetic man named Mehmet, greeted me warmly and insisted I have a cup of tea before even checking in. We sat in the small lobby while he explained the best times to visit the terraces (early morning or late afternoon to avoid what little crowds there are this time of year) and marked a few local restaurants on a map for me.

"You are lucky with weather tomorrow," he told me, showing me the forecast on his phone. "Tonight cloudy, but tomorrow all sun. Very good for photos."

After settling into my room and resting for a bit, I decided to explore the village itself. It's small enough to cover on foot in less than an hour – just a few main streets with shops, restaurants, and hotels. I stopped for a late lunch at one of Mehmet's recommended places and enjoyed a simple but delicious meal of lentil soup, fresh bread, and köfte (Turkish meatballs).

The village sits at the base of the hill where the travertine terraces and ancient Hierapolis are located. From certain vantage points, you can see the white calcium formations in the distance, creating an almost surreal backdrop to this otherwise ordinary small town.

Afternoon explorations

Rather than rushing straight to the terraces, I decided to save that experience for tomorrow when I could dedicate a full day to both the natural formations and the archaeological site of Hierapolis. Instead, I spent the afternoon wandering the outskirts of the village, where the tourist infrastructure gives way to more authentic local life.

I found myself on a dirt path that led through some agricultural land. Winter has left the fields mostly bare, but a few farmers were out preparing the soil for spring planting. One elderly man waved as I passed, gesturing proudly at what I assume was his land. Despite not sharing a language, his pride in his work was unmistakable.

As the afternoon progressed, I made my way to a small viewpoint at the edge of town that offers a panoramic view of the valley below and the distant mountains. A handful of cypress trees stood like sentinels along the ridge, their distinctive silhouettes stark against the cloudy sky. I spent nearly an hour there, just taking in the view and reflecting on how quickly the days seem to be passing now.

Day 176 of 500. I'm past the one-third mark of this journey, with 324 days still ahead. It simultaneously feels like I've been traveling forever and like I've barely begun. The rhythm of movement has become so familiar – arrive, explore, connect, depart – yet each place brings its own unique variations to this pattern.

Evening thoughts

After returning to the hotel and resting for a bit, I ventured out for dinner around 6:00 pm. Most restaurants were nearly empty – February is definitely off-season here – but that meant attentive service and a quiet atmosphere. I chose a small family-run place and enjoyed a traditional Turkish meal of various mezze (small dishes) followed by a hearty stew.

The owner's daughter, who spoke excellent English, told me her family has run the restaurant for three generations. When I asked about the best time to visit the terraces tomorrow, she suggested arriving right at opening time.

"In summer, hundreds of people are there when it opens," she explained. "But tomorrow? Maybe ten. You will have space to yourself."

And now I'm back on my balcony, watching darkness settle over Pamukkale. The terraces are now just white shapes in the distance, but tomorrow I'll walk among them. I can see tiny lights from the archaeological site of Hierapolis at the top of the hill – the ancient city that once thrived here because of the thermal springs.

There's something poetic about this place – natural calcium deposits slowly creating these stunning white formations over thousands of years, while above them, an ancient city rose and fell within what is, geologically speaking, just a blink of an eye.

The air has grown too cold now, and my fingers are stiff as I type these final thoughts. Tomorrow will be a full day of exploration, so I'll sign off and prepare for an early start. The terraces await, and I want to see them in the first light of morning, before anyone else arrives.

Good night from Pamukkale, where ancient history and natural wonders exist side by side, and where I'm reminded once again of how brief our human presence is in the grand scheme of things.