A rainy Valentine's Day in Pamukkale

It's Valentine's Day, and I'm sitting in a small café near my hotel, watching the rain create ripples in puddles outside. The weather hasn't improved since yesterday – still that persistent drizzle that seems determined to follow me through Pamukkale. The café owner just brought me a fresh glass of Turkish tea, the amber liquid steaming in its tulip-shaped glass, a small comfort on this wet afternoon.

I woke early this morning, around 6:30, and spent some time organizing my pack for tomorrow's departure. It's strange how after 172 days of traveling, I still haven't perfected the art of efficient packing. My socks always seem to disappear into mysterious corners of my backpack, and my cables tangle themselves when I'm not looking. I've developed a system though – electronics in one packing cube, clothes in another, toiletries in their designated bag. Small victories.

After a quick breakfast at the hotel, I decided to make the most of my last full day here despite the weather. The rain had lightened to a misty drizzle, so I headed back to the travertine terraces one last time. I arrived at 8:50 for the 9:00 opening – the site nearly empty except for a few determined tourists with umbrellas. The white calcium formations take on a different character in the rain; the pools fuller, more vibrant turquoise against the stark white backdrop.

I walked barefoot through the shallow pools, the warm mineral water between my toes a pleasant contrast to the cool rain on my face. Without the crowds and harsh sunlight, there was something intimate about experiencing the terraces this way. Water droplets clung to my jacket as I made my way up the hillside, stopping occasionally to take photos of the misty landscape below.

Near the top, I met an older Turkish couple who were celebrating their 40th wedding anniversary with a trip to Pamukkale. They shared some homemade cookies with me and showed me photos of their children and grandchildren on their phone. When I mentioned I was traveling solo, the woman patted my hand and said something in Turkish that her husband translated as: "On Valentine's Day, the world itself becomes your lover." Something about that sentiment struck me deeply.

By 11:30, the rain had intensified, and I retreated to the small archaeological museum near the site entrance. I spent about an hour there, moving slowly through the exhibits of artifacts from Hierapolis. A collection of ancient medical instruments particularly caught my attention – evidence of the healing traditions that drew people to these thermal waters for thousands of years.

Now, as I sit in this café at 13:20, I'm contemplating what to do with my remaining hours in Pamukkale. My bus to Antalya leaves early tomorrow morning, and part of me wishes I had more time here. There's something about this place – perhaps the literal layering of history with geology – that resonates with me. The constant formation of new calcium deposits over ancient ruins feels like a perfect metaphor for how experiences build upon one another during long-term travel.

The rain is tapering off slightly. Perhaps I'll venture out again soon to find a late lunch and walk through the modern town one last time. I've noticed a small bookshop near the main square that might be worth exploring, and I should probably pick up some snacks for tomorrow's journey.

I've been thinking about time a lot lately. Day 172 of 500. More than a third of my journey complete. The days sometimes blur together, but moments like watching the rain fall on ancient thermal pools stand out in sharp relief. I wonder what memories will surface when I look back on all this from home.

The café owner just asked if I wanted another tea. I nodded yes. Some decisions are easy.

!Rainy view of Pamukkale terraces The travertine terraces under today's rainfall – fewer tourists, more atmosphere